Your erotic stories

I guess you could say, I have had my moments, I was a widow some seven years, Stan had left a reasonable pension and the house paid for on his passing. Most of the time I was married I was faithful, as I said, most of the time. I had taken the odd opportunity when it had presented itself. Few times I had saved the insurance money, the milk man, things like that, and got my itch scratched. Or was it my snatch pitched!

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Gina Slater knew she was in some bother the moment he walked into her kitchen through her back door. It was Tuesday morning and she had just got over the weekend, she had held a party for her husband's 45th birthday on Saturday night, and it had been a hoot, a riot, a terrific success, one she barely hoped for. All their friends, a lot of his colleagues had come, everyone had a great time, and the party had gone on and on.

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I pulled the Kenworth into the driveway, drove it into its spot next to the house, and shut down the big Cat diesel. After checking everything out inside the cab, I grabbed my bag from the sleeper, opened the door, and stepped out into the chill Alaskan evening. I had just completed a three-day run to Kenai and back; I was tired and smelled of diesel, cigars, and stale coffee.

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CHAPTER 1 Twice divorced with continuing strong interest in working and male company, Lillian Smith, who'd once again reverted to her maiden name, made her seventh application for a new job and secured a position as personal assistant to the female operations manager of a courier company. The two women settled in together fine, both being the same age of fifty-two, and with similar interests except manager Marion had been married to the same man for twenty-seven years and had warned her new recruit she didn't talk about her husband or home life.

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Esther Watson was lounging in her bath; she had never in her life felt as good, or as satisfied as she was right now. She had thought back to when she might have done, but if she had, then it was a long time ago. Esther was wallowing in hot water lashed with scented oils; he was downstairs making her coffee. It was almost 12 noon, she had just got out of bed, or rather, she had just been allowed to. He had been screwing her since 7am this morning.

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John had just dropped me off at the Glendale Galleria Mall because I learned there was a vacant space advertised for rent and I wanted to look at it as a possible branch for my gift shoppe. I had no appointment to see the vacancy but I thought I would give the Mall a general look-see and check if it was what I wanted. John had to take the Navigator to the Lincoln-Mercury dealership nearby for its regular service so I was left alone to look at the stores.

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Average, that's pretty much how I saw myself. Brown hair, brown eyes, busty for sure, but could stand to either lose 20 pounds or grow 4 inches. Nothing particularly remarkable about me but what I lack in the supermodel, standard cutesy looks department, I probably make up for in personality. Great. Just how every woman wants to be described: "she's not really pretty, but she's got a great personality!" Whatever.

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I saw him across the room being greeted by the host. I felt the blood drain from my face. I thought for a moment I was going to faint. I was attending the exhibition of a third rate painter's work, for which, as a freelance journalist, I was to write a review for a minor local paper. I had got sick of the sugary pink and white creations, and was standing around with a cocktail called, I believe, "A Landmine." It tasted of dishwater and kerosene.

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I fastened my seat belt and started the car, sighing with relief to be leaving work early for once. As I drove to the first stop light my car started sputtering. It was then that I noticed the fuel gauge was on empty. I had forgotten to fill the gas tank. Luckily, I spotted a gas station right across the street and began to pray that I would make it there.

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My boyfriend broke up with me several months ago. At first, I was heartbroken because I thought he was the one I was supposed to be with for the rest of my life. As time went on, I realized that I was better without him. He only called me when he needed something; he rarely checked on me when I was sick. And the worst part was that he was abysmal at sex. He fucked me like a jackhammer, which never brought me to orgasm. He never went down on me.

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