Your erotic stories

I still can't remember when this twisted little project first took hold. I think it might have been early last spring. I run an Internet-based business out of a home office in a pleasant old neighborhood downtown. I moved in a year ago and business is good. I have lots of free time and can pretty much plan my schedule any way I want.

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Gloria was glad she finally convinced her husband, Gary, to visit their old friends, the Porters in Orlando. Oh, Gary could be an old curmudgeon, sure enough. Everyone knew that. But even he admitted it would be nice to see the Porters again and Gloria was looking forward to seeing the Potters' daughter and son-in-law at the same time. They lived in a nice old home (or so she heard) right on the beach and they would be hosting Gary and Gloria during their stay in Orlando.

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Life certainly has its ups and downs as everyone can attest to. It just feels like my life has had more downs than ups over the past few years. For instance, my parents had been killed in an auto accident three years ago when I was twenty-three. A semi-truck had veered into their lane when the overworked driver fell asleep at the wheel hitting my parent's car head-on. The doctors assured me that they had died instantly, which was a blessing I guess.

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Here I am sitting here all alone on a Friday night again. My mind is not upon the books in front of me and once again I am thinking of other matters. I frown at that thought, for I am getting behind on my studies. I guess I should tell my story from the beginning. My name is Nick and I am a twenty two year old man attending university and this is my last year of school. I live in a small apartment with my friend of many years.

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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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A wisp of brown-gray hair fell before her eyes. And there was a hint of spittle on her lips I remember thinking how odd it was that this 65 year-old woman, whose manner and appearance was so proper, so in-place, was now riding me like something possessed. Thinking back, I know she grunted like a sow while she was on top of me and I was fucking her. Yes, I remember the hard grunts as she thrust her hungry, aged cunt at my cock. I remember the folds on her neck and how the loose skin on the backs of her arms slapped back and forth while she grabbed at my ass with her hands.

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When I was a younger man, 20 years ago now, I was just 68 and I lost my wife. That same year Edna lost her husband. She was 81 or 82 at the time. Our houses were across the street from one another. She's gone now but I remember her well. I enjoyed her company as she did mine. We always found things to talk about. Our relationship kept the wolves of loneliness at bay and illumined the approaching darkness that would spell the end of our twilight years. And as it turned out, she retained a lively interest in and enjoyment of sex.

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"Atkins, can you spare one of those peach-colored roses for me today?" I looked up at Mrs. Deershorn sticking her head out the window above me. The sweet old lady was about 65 and lived in the floor above me in this small apartment complex. I had moved in about 4 months earlier after a bad breakup with my longtime girlfriend. One of the reasons I took this room was the availability of a garden out my back patio. I had always loved gardening and in my mixed-up emotional state it was great solace.

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