Your erotic stories

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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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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It was a warm Saturday night in June. I was preparing for my best friend Tasha's graduation party and I'd chosen a short white sundress, one that that hugged my boobs and barely covered the top of my thighs. It was my last ditch effort to seduce her before we both left for college. With her beautiful cocoa skin, pouty lips and round curves, I hadn't been able to stop fantasizing about her for the last year.

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The living room windows in my house are best described as odd. In the first place, they are huge, there are four of them, each one is four feet by four feet. Nothing so unique about that except each one angles outward at the top at 45 degrees. When I leave the doors and windows open in the warm Summer months, that makes a perfect fly trap, they move up to the top and can't figure out how to get out.

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This story has been buried deep inside of me for a long time. I remember all of it very well, almost like it was last week. I've reminisced and re-lived it all many times over the years. Much of it is quite fun to remember. Some of it is bittersweet. Some of it is painful still. When I was out of college and in my early twenties I got a job selling radio advertising in a suburban/rural area, and although new to the region, I became successful in a fairly short time.

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Kara and I walked side-by-side down the long stone stairs away from the Court House. We and done the same thing for quite a few weekdays; she had been staying with me in my big five bedroom house for two months since David's bail was revoked for drugs and alcohol. His big, young, strong body did not swagger as much when the judge handed down seven and a half to twenty for Murder II. He had stolen my car, my deceased wife's wedding rings and killed a woman while driving under the influence.

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Average, that's pretty much how I saw myself. Brown hair, brown eyes, busty for sure, but could stand to either lose 20 pounds or grow 4 inches. Nothing particularly remarkable about me but what I lack in the supermodel, standard cutesy looks department, I probably make up for in personality. Great. Just how every woman wants to be described: "she's not really pretty, but she's got a great personality!" Whatever.

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I stood in front of my bedroom door and I struck a pose. I had already received several compliments about the dress I had chosen to wear for our special night. I was glad of that, as it had cost me a week's pay. When I showed it to my date, the smile made it worth every penny. My high heels had invoked a similar reaction, making the hundreds of dollars I spent on those worthwhile. I invested a lot to look good for my date, but the end result would be so worth it.

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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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I was beat. The plane had been delayed, the luggage lost and the boarding passengers rude and hoity. The trip was suppose to be a time for getting away, for forgetting about my present life for a little while and fly head first into a week of relaxation, fun and adventure. I had never left the kids and husband for longer than a weekend. I told my husband that one day, when the kids were up there in age, I would be the one leaving for awhile and would be pampering myself because nobody else would. He laughed then and said "sure hon, whatever makes ya happy".

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