Your erotic stories

"Tina, where are your clothes?" I asked the nubile teen I discovered naked in my den. "Clothes, don't need no stinkin' clothes, Mr. B," she slurred. "You've been drinking." Nothing like stating the obvious while trying to buy time, and having trouble dragging my eyeballs from staring at those gravity defying young tits, with the vividly erect nipples.

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You pour me another glass of wine, the night air is cooling but the water in the hot tub is keeping us from getting chilled. The party has moved inside but there are still three of us left. You sit snuggled up beside me, legs intertwined under the water. You have one leg over mine and the other spread out to the side, exposing your pussy without being too obvious about it. S sits across from us, we are talking quietly, enjoying the sounds of the night. I had turned off the lights earlier so we could see the stars but the moon and the light from the house allows us to see each other well.

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"Wake up, you fuck." Jeff opened his eyes and saw the barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead. Before Jeff could even see a face, the trigger was pulled and everything went black. Jeff sat up drenched in sweat. It was only a dream, but it was the same dream he'd been having for the past week. The dream was always exactly the same, always very short, always a gun to his forehead, and he never saw the face. After a few heavy breaths Jeff was finally ready to get back to sleep. He looked at the clock however, and it was almost time to wake up for work anyway.

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We had arrived in my husband's home town. It was really a small village with a main street that looks like it came right out of a painting. The town was decorated for Christmas; all the lamp poles had colored lights running up and down them. A fresh carpet of snow blanketed the town; this place could really get you in the Christmas mood.

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This true story was written for mature women by a mature woman. I am willing to bet that there are many women out there just like me who are over 60 years old, divorced, widowed or single by choice that just don't think that they are sexually desirable any longer. I am here to tell you that is a lot of hooey. I know this because until my 62nd birthday I felt the same way.

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Alexis opened the door in little more than a sheer, silk robe, her full breasts peeking out of the loosely tied bodice. The rotund maintenance man seemed not to notice the tight cleavage peeking up at him, milky skin sneaking out from behind the pale silk. Alexis pouted to herself as she turned, leaving him in the open door. "Shut the door behind you. The man alarm console is by the back door, a secondary one in the master bedroom."

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It was a blistering hot summer day. I had just walked a couple of miles from the auto dealer repair shop where I had left my car for a tune up. Normally it's a pleasant walk but today it was just sweaty. I was nearly home when a voice behind me said, "Oh good, could you help me with this?" I heard her bike come to a stop. It was Kimberly, my neighbor, kitty corner from across the street. I was standing right in front of her house. Kimberly and her husband are a young couple that purchased their first home here several months ago. Kimberly is a grade school teacher.

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