Your erotic stories

My boss, Mr. Adams, calls me a nanny. He's pretty old school about things so I just let it go. I prefer the term, au pair, because it sounds so much more exotic and important. Mrs. Adams is probably the one who has the best grip on reality. She just calls me her "help." I started working for the Adams' to help pay my way through business college. Then about three months into a graphics designer degree, I decided, "Fuck it."

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Jan's thoughts drifted as she reined her horse to the right at the intersection. She did not know where this road led, but exploring her new "neighborhood" was on the goals of her long Saturday evening rides. She had just been transferred to this small West Texas town from Boston, and she had resigned herself to make the most of it. She had enjoyed riding in her early teen years, and since she now found herself living in a part of the country where everyone seemed to own at least one horse.

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Vikki came into my life through a business venture of mine. I had to make some contractual agreements with several not for profit organizations so they'd agree to lend me certain information that they had in their possession. Vikki put the contracts together so I wouldn't get myself into legal trouble. I was expecting to get a 60-ish balding lawyer when I contracted her firm for legal services and instead they sent her out. When we first met she was dressed quite smartly, as one would expect, and conservatively enough to satisfy even the most up tight executive.

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Monday Harold stood at the door and looked around. On the flipchart at the front of the room someone had written 'Management Skills for the IT Environment,' so he was in the right place. There were probably twenty other people milling about the room or already seated at one of the tables, some were talking and others just staring into space. Everybody looked so young. Harold felt out of place. He took an empty seat at a table near the back and joined those staring into space.

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Sometimes you just have to hit bottom before you start to rise again, and apparently I'd hit bottom a while back. Through a sequence of stupid decisions and choices, some bad luck with the economy, some tragedy and heartbreak, I've found myself alone for the first time since going off to college. Was busted broke but found a new job that actually pays pretty well, actually got pretty healthy and more physically fit than since those college days, and had even managed to buy a tiny house.

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I have never really adjusted to the intense thrill of rotating my practically naked hips in front of a woman staring avidly at my hard eight inch cock, damp in the piss hole by now, her eyes riveted on it as it swayed there, an inch or so from her lips. The heavy beat of Ravel made me surge slowly but lewdly, the moment capturing me as much as her, and I knew she would give me the grand finish to my act when her tongue flicked out toward it.

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It might have been the eleventeenth of Octembruary for old Jack. At 76 he sat in his living room looking out through the panoramic window for his carer, a younger woman of 32 who would soon be there to ensure that he was washed and properly dressed. What was it she had said, something about it being a special day today? He had no idea, one day being no different from the next or last. She had been coming to see to him for more than four years now and he always welcomed her.

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"Have you guys seen Ms. Evans?" "Yeah, she looks even hotter. I mean, man, she was hot before, but NOW ... FUCK, what a MILF!" Another student ran up to join his two friends. "What are you guys talking about?" The Cindy-haired youth wanted to know. "Ms. Evans." "Oh yeah, although I heard she's divorced now and she's gone back to being Ms. Silvers."

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We'd met several times in our local pub on a Friday night. There were various couples used to come down to listen to the live music, and we'd exchanged a few words and smiles now and again. So we kind of knew them. They were in their forties, a bit younger than me and my wife, but I what most attracted me to them was her gorgeous breasts, and the way she always seemed to show off in tight sweaters and cardigans. Sometimes thick and chunky, other times soft, like angora. But always so sexy!

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It was raining and we still had nine or ten miles to go down the long glen before reaching a road and the dubious chance of a bus. I and two mates were backpacking in the Scottish highlands in our first university vacation. We'd bagged a couple of Munros, slept in a bothy, waded a few rivers and almost run out of food. We were sweaty, footsore and tired.

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