Your erotic stories

In 1969... I was young, dumb and full of cum, like most other 18 year old boys. At that time, although I was old enough to smoke, drink and get drafted, I was still a boy in the most important sense, as I was a virgin. How did a guy stay a virgin back in that era, when "free love" was the catch phrase and it seemed like everybody was having sex on a daily basis?

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Ellie Barton looked up over the top of the latest copy of Birds and Blooms as the child passed by her patio for what had to be the third time this morning, and Ellie chuckled when she saw the kid's reaction to being caught looking in her direction.

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"I don't understand," my neighbor said, her dark brown eyes wide open as she struggled to comprehend what was going on. What had started out just like the last few nights, an innocent game of rummy in the kitchen of her modest little apartment had changed dramatically in the last few minutes due to my actions and words. My words had come easy because they were what was going on through my mind even since I had met Tara a few months ago, but even though I was the one that said them I couldn't believe that I had actually said them aloud.

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I take the bus to and from work as a matter of choice, but even though one of the reasons I use public transportation is to avoid the aggravation of driving during the rush hours, there are times when the bus can be just as annoying. Like last Monday, for example. For whatever reason, the bus was much more crowded than usual, and I was forced to go toward the back and stand up while hanging on the pole in the center of the aisle.

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Bob was a retired public school teacher who had begun a second career in carpentry. He liked working outdoors and had always been good with tools. He found that without advertising he could stay very busy. He began by building a deck for the bank president and "word of mouth" had kept him busy for over a year. He could pick and choose his projects and found that he especially enjoyed building decks and porches.

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Like clockwork, I happened to be outside around five o'clock, sitting on my front porch and playing the part of the retired widowed gentleman living the life of leisure, and to anyone who happened to go down my road it might have looked like I spent the whole day out there just watching the world go by.

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Chapter One: Bored and alone. It was Saturday night and it was getting late. I had watched COPS for an hour, having gotten my weekly dose of schadenfreude from watching people with lives even more miserable than my own have theirs go down the tube in front of the whole country, and now I was sitting in front of the computer finishing my final beer of the evening. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, but was just skipping around from site to site, hoping to make my eyes tired enough so that sleep would come easier for me.

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The summer of 1970 was the time, and the place was Holland Patent in rural central New York State. Arthur Connors was a recently retired man of 65 with a lot of time on his hands, and after his wife of 36 years had passed away a couple of years ago, that time seemed to pass more slowly. Deciding to take up gardening, Art cleared out the area near the fence out back that divided his property from the Miller's spread next door, and began planting tomatoes.

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1. The love of my life. The first moment I saw her, I knew I wanted to marry her. She was a tall slender woman with flaming red hair who looked like a movie star to me. I watched every move she made all day, every day, and her beauty was unmatched by any woman I had ever seen. She had perfect white teeth that sparkled when she smiled, and that face would light up the room at those times. Her face, neck and arms were covered with freckles, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life counting them.

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