Your erotic stories

When I was a younger man, 20 years ago now, I was just 68 and I lost my wife. That same year Edna lost her husband. She was 81 or 82 at the time. Our houses were across the street from one another. She's gone now but I remember her well. I enjoyed her company as she did mine. We always found things to talk about. Our relationship kept the wolves of loneliness at bay and illumined the approaching darkness that would spell the end of our twilight years. And as it turned out, she retained a lively interest in and enjoyment of sex.

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I swirled the dark red liquid around the bell of the glass then brought it to my lips. My eyes looking over the edge at her sitting across from me. Her long brown hair looked baby soft as she pushed it over her shoulder, smiling as she raised her own glass in a silent toast to me before she drank deeply.

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Miss Sanders settled her class down after coming back from a break so she can start the English class with everyone calm and quiet. It never took more than two loud firm orders from her to get all of her students to hush up and pay attention. They were especially attentive ever since her sex-ed classes a couple months ago and they were all the more eager to please her and do as she says.

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It felt odd, sitting in front of the screen, waiting to have a conversation with someone. But then it wasn't just a screen. A camera, too. I can see you. Big deal, I can see you too. I like the anonymity of the telephone, I can curl myself up, pull faces, read the news, hell, I can even play with myself, safe in the knowledge that no-one gets anything more than my voice. This felt a lot more dangerous.

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I had my bed shorts pulled down around my knees. Sitting in the dark computer room, I slowly stroked my hard cock while watching one of my favorite porns. It was a pretty standard affair, but for some reason I loved it. And my favorite part of the movie was coming up. "What are you doing in here?" asked a voice from the doorway.

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Summer – the first time. I followed her into the house, still not really knowing why I was invited. I guess I was a little in awe of a woman as beautiful as she, quite speechless, once I had realized who she was. After all, she was rumored to have been (until recently) the lover of a foreign prince;

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I consider myself to be a cheerful and easy going person by nature, but my god some days just defy anyone's ability to stay jovial. My default setting is happy unless something happens to piss me off, and some days it all just seems to come at once!

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Carrie picked irritably at a small piece of lint on her pristinely starched uniform. She would have preferred to wear civilian clothes but she knew the uniform was expected of her and Jonathon 'Jonno' Clark had deserved her respect. She sat dry eyed and numb throughout the service, as the vicar droned on about the terrible waste of human life, the selfless sacrifice to protect human rights and finishing up with the predictable blurb about him now being in a better place.

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Wow, I said to myself, you've come a long way, girl, in the past six months. I glanced over at the girl sleeping beside me in bed, at the long, shapely legs and the full, chocolate breasts that I had enjoyed so much over the past several hours. On the floor around the bed were scattered pieces of clothing - a pretty top here, a pair of shorts over there, and nearer the bed, a lacy bra and a pair of damp panties frantically stripped off and discarded in a lustful frenzy.

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