Your erotic stories

"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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I gasped in surprise as I felt the cock force its way into my wet cunt. I knew it was big, but was not expecting it to feel so big. After all, my cunt was not as tight fitting as it used to be when I was younger. I was 57 years old, and had been around the block a bit during my time. I'd been married and divorced 3 times – and to be honest each divorce was my fault entirely – I'd whored myself around quite a bit and acted like a total slag.

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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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My name is Cynthia and I am a happily married 41 year old. My husband Stephen and I live in a plush house in an exclusive suburb which overlooks Sydney Harbour. He is a marketing manager for a large retail outlet and I help out with the on-line side of the business. I have a more or less rubenesque figure and am very proud of my big natural boobs that have huge round coral pink aureoles.

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On the bus ride home from college Amy was unconsciously teasing as usual. There weren't ever many people on the bus and since I was the only one she knew, we usually ended up sat together in deep discussion about life and experiences. She teased with stories of what her boyfriend Nick liked her to do and all the things that really turned her on, not to mention the fact that now it was summer I couldn't help peeking down the gap in her blouse at her pert breasts and the way her short summer skirt displayed almost all of her athletic thighs; thus leaving me to try and cover the tent being pitched in my trousers.

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Joan, my wife, had taken a summer semester course of golf back in college and for some time now I've urged her to come out with me. I figured we would be able to spend more time together that way. Recently she surprised me by taking golf lessons. She started with our local course's female golf pro, but after only a couple of lessons she came home and told me the woman had left and she was switched to one of the male pros.

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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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Carla has visited my NYC office on many occasions. She is a product manager for one of the lines of formal female dress shoes my stores and consignment partners carry. Once she had a late flight and had to check out by noon from her hotel. I let her put her luggage in my storeroom and offered to make her dinner at my week-day apartment just around the corner. She felt safe with that. I'm twelve years older; we have a working relationship to protect; we had little time before her flight and I had no plans to take advantage of her.

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I put the phone down and dropped my head in my hands. Looking round the Office I could see the quiet faces looking at me as I brushed my hair back and sat up straight. Jess was poised by one of the Admin Team, looking expectantly at me. "Wilson, has found out we're on to him. He's spent the last half hour shredding any evidence that might incriminate him. "

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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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