Your erotic stories

Every man should have a hobby. Some guys like to collect stamps. Others climb mountains, scuba dive or garden. Me? My hobby is fucking old women. And like any worthwhile hobby, you've got to put the time in to make it worthwhile. I mean, if mountain climbing is your hobby, you know it's about more than standing on the peak of the mountain. It's preparation and the rigor of the challenge. Hell, you could have a helicopter take you to the mountaintop if that was all it was about.

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"Don't worry about it" the young blonde woman said as the older man rolled off her naked body muttering. "Fuck it, I'm sorry Sammi." "Bob it doesn't matter, please don't beat yourself up. It's only a fuck." They had been in bed for an hour or so. The fifty seven year old married man had made the twenty four year old single girl cum three times; once with his fingers as he undressed her standing behind her with his hands in her panties and twice with his mouth as he made awesome, well she though it was, oral love to her.

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Now an old man I was sitting in a railway carriage opposite two women dressed as nuns, one mature, the other quite young, My mind went back 60 years. At that time I was a member of what is now referred to as Special Forces but in my time as Special Operations. I was parachuted into France in early April of 1944 to prepare for the forthcoming landing later in the year. Everything seemed to have gone wrong, the first plane only got 50 miles before it had to turn back.

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Mark had moved in with his 19yr. old girlfriend, Donna, after the break up of his marriage. He was under no illusions that the relationship would last, but at 43 years of age he was thoroughly enjoying the unbridled sexual appetite of the teenager in the meantime. He was, as he readily admitted to himself, making hay while the sun shone! The main drawback was their rather cramped existence in the single room bed-sit on the second floor of what is delightfully known as a 'multiple-occupancy' house.

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He didn't want to be here. Had it not been for his wife's insistence, he would be at the gaming tables in the casino. But a promise is a promise. Jeff stood by the side of the bar and let his eyes roam over the crowd of people. He hated these charity functions. They were the pet project of his wife, Eleanor. And since she had been called out of town on business, she had insisted that he attend in her place.

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"Come on Brian, seriously. What do you want for your birthday?" Rachel pressed. She'd been after him for a hint, some idea of what he wanted or needed. And though his birthday was still several weeks away, there really wasn't anything he could come up with. Brian and Rachel had known one another for several years. Theirs was a "platonic" though very friendly relationship.

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I was watching a movie the other day, with academy award level acting by the way, where a housewife fucks the plumber when he came by to "fix" the pipes. It reminded me of a role playing situation, I found myself in quite unexpectedly one night. It involves me, a certain man of whom I had a very active sex life with (two guesses for my fans), and

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I knew the coming discussion would change my life, yet I debated with myself whether it was for the better or worse. My wife decided that we could not live together anymore and filed for divorce. The court served papers on me today. I spent most of the day packing my clothes and personal belongings into a small U-Haul. The discussion we began was how to split joint property. I knew she wanted the property in town with higher real estate value.

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"Going anywhere nice this month Mr. Tunny?" the nurse asked as she watched Harold get his coat on and head for the door "Oh just for a stroll and maybe to the shops nurse" the old man smiled back as he put his hat on and went to kiss his wife goodbye before he went out. Harold Tunny was 73 years old and lived with his 78 year old wife Angela in a cosy little retirement home, over the course of their lives they had made some good money and could have stayed in their house which was rather spacious,

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I was on my way over to Karen's little home studio, Bob Segar was wailing away on my stereo, I was feeling fine. Karen always made me feel fine, if you saw her you would know just what I mean. Maybe 30 at the most, she is a Licensed Massage Therapist. ALL massage therapists should look like her, long dark hair, a set of boobs to die for. Just a trace of a pouty Bardot type tummy and sway back, blending down to an ass that gave me a reason more than once to reach for my dick.

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