Your erotic stories

My name is Michael - family and friends call me Mike. At that time I considered myself an unremarkable 23 year-old, English WASP with a degree in psychology and a post-graduate certificate in education. I was working through my last summer before starting teaching in a secondary school near my old home town. I was brought up with the 'protestant work ethic' and had always had a job of some description as I went through my further and higher education.

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It's odd how you tell one car from another just by sound, but I knew it was Aunt Em when I heard the car pull into the driveway. She's not actually my aunt. She and Mom were college roommates and have been joined-at-the-hip best friends ever since. Her parents stuck her with the name Frances Marie. Everyone calls her Marie except Mom, who calls her Frankie. I couldn't say Aunt Frankie or Aunt Marie when I was young so she was always Aunt Em to me until recently. Now I call her Frankie, the way Mom does.

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I'm a 72 year old male in fairly good condition, all things considered. I do my sit-up exercises including push-ups and walk regularly. My regular route is a little over two miles. So I'm in better shape than many my age. However, I enjoy food and a friendly drink so I'm a little soft with too much around my middle. I've shrunk a little with age, used to be six feet and now am about 5'10", getting very close to 200 pounds. I'm also a widower. My wife of 42 years died three years ago. I miss her very much.

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Lois wrapped her hair in a towel and put on a robe. Alan hardly looked up from his newspaper as she walked into the kitchen. "Morning," she said. "Hey," he replied. Another minute of silence as he read. Then, "Coffee's ready." She poured a cup, added some sweetener and sat down at the table. Alan read the Sports section. Lois closed her eyes for a minute and gathered her thoughts. Thursday sales meetings suck, she thought.

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I was 18, almost out of high school and decided that I was missing something in my life. I felt as if there was more out there than I was experiencing and I wanted to find it. So after thinking it over I enrolled in the exchange program offered through my school. After careful consideration and deciding that the best way for me to get the most out of the experience was to not choose the obvious countries of choice by most students: France, Italy, Germany, Spain; but instead to get my grand life experience in the Orient, particularly Japan.

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Dan woke up, glancing at the clock that sat on the head board of his giant California King bed. 5:15 AM, the lighted numbers on the clock radio read. It wasn't set to go off, no need for that. Dan woke up every single day within a few minutes of the same time without fail. It made no difference at all what time Dan went to bed, still he would awake and get up around 5, sleep after that time was impossible.

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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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It was a dark, calm, clear Friday night in May. Layla had just arrived at her friend Joy's house for a sleep over because they had not seen each other in quite a while. Joy lived towns away, so of course they did not attend the same school. They had kind of grown apart with time, but still very much enjoyed each other's company and would be eager to catch up on what was happening in each other's lives.

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