Your erotic stories

The doorbell rang and I went to answer it, it was Tas. Tas has come to see why my broadband was not working. A little bit about me first. Let's start with my name. I'm Louisa, but you can call me Lou; everyone does, even Tas. I'm fifty three and have been a widow for three years. Yes my husband died the day after my fiftieth birthday. He had a stroke. We did make love the night before.

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My name is Jennifer. I'm a thirty-nine year old divorcee and mother of two precious little boys. Of course, they aren't so little anymore for Seth just turned twelve last month and Cody will be ten next month; but they are still my babies. And like any mother, they are my whole life; my whole world and my very reason for living. I spoil them rotten and dote on them constantly. Their father and I have been divorced for nearly five years now and according to the divorce decree, he has visitation with them one night a week, every other weekend and two months over the summer.

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I first noticed him at the opening game of the high school basketball season. I had heard the team was going to be good this year, and wanted to see the top senior scorer. He wasn't the one, however, that caught my eye almost immediately. It was the other senior. The shorter, more rugged guard, who was quick and handled the ball with skill. I wondered who he was, so I casually asked a parent sitting next to me in the bleachers. They told me his name and gave me a little background information.

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Lying in the chair, stretching lazily beneath the summer sun Nikki heard the rowdy voices of her new neighbors. It was just after ten in the morning when the signs of life had started to show next door, and by the sounds of things, the party was in full swing again. Nikki listened. Loud voices talking over the loud music. The phone ringing, someone calling out to another. A young female squealing with laughter, male voices cheering with obvious approval. She had to smile at what she heard.

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Our first time together was really amazing. I am still reeling from how many times you got me off. Moving outside my comfort zone has been so rewarding! You enjoyed my body - my peach-sized breasts with their pointed nipples that responded so readily to your eager mouth, loving hands or tireless cock; my tanned body that was agile enough to keep up with you; my warm pussy that responded so wetly to the pleasures you shared.

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"Go piss off and walk your fucking dog!" My girlfriend shouted at me for coming home drunk late last night. My girlfriend and I share a flat. A new place we recently moved into and a new neighbourhood for us. And as you have gathered, we have, well it's my dog. I had slept most of the day and it was around six o'clock Friday evening. Yeah I know, lazy bastard. Well we both had a few days off work for the move. It was Friday, and we also had the weekend off. I was out with a few mates drinking, chatting, drinking, eyeing up girls, drinking... you know what young men get up to in their early twenties.

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Ah yes, she's here again - the girl. I've been watching her for several weeks now. She and her friends hang out at the pool where I live. Several of them must be sub-letting for the summer because there's no way a college student could afford to live here on a regular basis. Then again, who knows? Parents give their kids everything these days.

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I'm 32 years old. My divorce was finalized about six months ago (no children). I consider myself to be good looking man, am in good shape, have a good high paying job, and somehow managed to keep my large house in the divorce. Prior to getting married, I had had sex with two women. My wife and I had a decent enough sex life before things fell apart, though certainly nothing interesting enough to write about.

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Prologue Today I can't believe I'm smitten by her. Me, a thirtyish professor of psychology at a prestigious liberal arts college—smitten—of all things, by a young counter girl just out of high school. "May I help you, Miss?" she asked in an inviting tone. I stood silent and frozen, staring like a cougar. In her early twenties, the young counter girl looked like an angel. Almost old enough to be her mother, I felt stupid.

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I was on the verge of tears as my car sputtered and wheezed on a seeming death roll into a small town in the middle of the vast emptiness, and nowhere, of southern New Mexico. Hell not even a town; more like a roadside rest area with a zip code. With just four street lights lining the main stretch through the center of "town", I saw only three buildings; thank God that one of them was a service station.

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