Your erotic stories

It was as I was returning from a trip up to Manchester that I saw the sign: 'Stewartby Park Prestige Hotel'. I vaguely remembered hearing that the old place had been converted, some years after she died, but it hadn't really hit home to me until that moment. Before I'd even realised it I'd swung the car between the gate posts and started up that familiar wide, sweeping gravel drive, framed by rhododendron bushes. After a few hundred yards I rounded a corner and saw again the huge, sprawling former stately home I'd last set eyes on more than 30 years earlier, its crooked Tudor chimneys silhouetted against the afternoon sky.

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A pit formed in my stomach. I felt like I had been punched. I stared in disbelief at what I had just read in the paper. Under the obituaries, it was all there: her name, her photo and the details of very full life. The memories came back. She was a part of my past; a good part. I reread her obit. I was alone on my back porch overlooking my garden of colorful flowers, native shrubs, and manicured trees. She had sparked my love for gardening.

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On that particular morning, I woke up with a massive hard-on. So it was quite convenient that my cock was deeply buried in Patty's throat at the time. Chicken or the egg? I had been "dating" Patty, if you can accurately categorize marathon sex sessions as "dating", for about six weeks now. During that time, my dick was usually buried in some orifice, crack, or crevice of Patty's torso and head a great majority of the time. Her eardrums might have been safe, but pretty much every other hole was fair game.

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Travelling for work is not as much fun as it used to be. All those airports, those sleepless journeys, being up to speed on most movies and Discovery Channel documentaries is no substitute for a regular life. Constantly hopping from hotel to hotel, albeit with grander and grander rooms then suites as the work and career progressed. Learning to pack for a week in a walk-on bag and still look smart every day - an unwished for skill but essential nonetheless.

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Let me take a moment to thank al those who have written to me, sent pictures and e-mails. I want to thank ladies and the few married couples first. I think it is wonderful that mature couples can read my stories and get a warm glow that last thru out the day. I have made friends with a lady near my age that is also a widow. We have much in common and are going to meet shortly to exchange experiences of your lives.

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It was hot! Not the kind of heat one would feel in most areas of the country in July, but the humid, oppressive heat that was common in any part of South Florida except the beaches. That's what it was like when Josh stepped out the rear door of the nondescript concrete block house in the Northwest part of Fort Lauderdale. The house had been built in the forties by a family who had aspired towards farming without success and now existed as a lonely rental structure a good three miles from the center of town just a few hundred feet from the North branch of New River.

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"Here she comes boys," he shouted, waggling his eyebrows at me as I walked through the classroom door. My eyes focused on him, I watched while he watch me saunter the ten feet to where he stood with his jock friends. "Jared Casey, you are so full of shit." His grin widened, "I knew you were hot for me, babe. Come on, Adia, let's ditch this class and find a quiet room to do studying up on our biology?"

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Call me Jerry. I was a stranger in a strange town. I know I'm stealing those opening lines from Melville and Heinlein but if you're going to steal, steal from the best. I had recently moved to Florida and I had made a few friends in my new home but had yet to meet that special someone. My business occasionally took me on the road so here I was in another new town, knowing absolutely no one.

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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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