Your erotic stories

1. The first time I met Martha was in the fall of 1975, or thereabout. Her husband, George, and I were college classmates, sharing classes together and working on the college poetry magazine. He was a skinny, beak-nosed fellow with rather lifeless brown eyes, intense, with the typically undergraduate assurance that we were intellectually superior to everyone else around us.

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I was about to retire from my job and was none too happy about it. At sixty-four years old, healthy, vigorous, and suddenly alone due to the passing of my wife a year earlier, I was in no way ready to continue my lonely existence without the distractions of work. My business was sales, and I traveled quite a bit. As the month of my forced retirement approached, I eagerly took any opportunity to go on these road trips. My route was fairly confined and I usually took a Greyhound to make my rounds.

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