Your erotic stories

Fred awoke lazily the next day with the sun shining through his bedroom window. He immediately knew that he must have overslept because it didn't get light in Spain at this time of the year until almost eight o'clock. Nevertheless he still luxuriated in his bed. He turned over and took hold of his firm erection. Fred slept naked, always. He pushed his light covering off and peered down at himself, admiring his thick hard dick.

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Fifty is such a daunting number. Half a century and it seems just yesterday when I was young and the world was new. I sit alone in a crowded bar nursing my third bourbon and coke as music blares around me drowning the sounds of younger people chatting and laughing. Today I am still the 'right' side of that psychological figure. I am forty-nine, but it is the eve of my 'Big 50'. It is only a number, I keep telling myself but in the back of my mind a small voice is chanting in a child-like taunt, "oldie, oldie, you are an oldie..." over and over.

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Nervous! He asks me if I'm nervous. Of course I'm nervous! Wouldn't you be? "A little, Kevin," I tell my husband. "But you're going to go through with it, right?" "Probably," I admit. If he only knew. I can't wait for this, for the past two weeks I've thought of little else. Affairs are one thing, this will be something altogether different, it seems to me.

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"George, are you awake?" The drugs had eased the pain, but they made me groggy, too. My eyes opened, and she stood there, looking sad and yet, concerned. "Honey? Did I wake you?" My mouth was dry. I rasped, "No, just resting." She came up closer, by the pillow. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I'm sorry, I'm John's mother, Lorraine. I'm sure you don't remember me."

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Mariel Archer stared out the front window of her attractive two-story home as her husband, William (not "Bill", too informal) slowly walked down the manicured sidewalk to his car. He was 65 years old now and really didn't need to work any longer (house was paid for, kids all off on their own) but he didn't believe a person should take up space on the planet without working to pay for the privilege. That was William.

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Hi, my name's Ronni Brady, and I'm a feature writer with New York Eye, the internationally renowned humorous news and current affairs magazine. I'm known for my acerbic wit and laconic style. You may have heard of me – I also have a regular newspaper column that's syndicated across the country, and I've been a regular guest on shows like Letterman and the Late Late Show over the years.

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As the pontoons of the seaplane separated from the calm waters of the small harbor, two sentences of Uncle Frank's parting conversation echoed through my head - "Are you sure?" and "See you in a month." All of a sudden I felt more alone than I'd ever felt before. A tear rolled down the side of my nose. I waved until I could no longer see the plane.

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"Why is Gopal not to be seen these days?" My husband had asked once last week. I didn't answer and instead quickly diverted him to some other topic. Somehow, I have been cursing my beloved husband all these days for deciding to leave all the luxuries of Mumbai and settling down in a rather smallish town in the southern most part of India. He wasn't willing to let the lucrative offer go and jumped to grab the new job in a windmill power generation company.

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I am a man that was still in his thirties, even though I had raised a child that was eighteen when she finally left home to move in with a girlfriend and start college. I had dated (and had a very steamy sex life with) her mother, Maria, while we were in college ourselves, and she had gotten pregnant in our second year together. She had been nineteen and I barely twenty when she gave birth to a baby daughter, Briana.

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Misty lie in bed, her hand between her long legs with two of her fingers deep in her steaming pussy. She moved them in and out as fast as she could go. Her other hand toyed with her firm breasts and nipples. She needed to cum so bad every inch of her body was on fire. She had only been with one man in her young life and he didn't know the first thing about pleasing a girl. "Please, cum!" she moaned as her hand began to tire. She'd been fingering herself for close to an hour with no sign on an orgasm.

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