Your erotic stories

First off, it's not as bad as it sounds, really. I'm her step-father, and not her real dad. But in the end it's just an excuse. I mean, I raised her through her teen years and saw her off to college, so I guess, unless she really thought her deadbeat dad was a father to her, I was it.

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I had known Emily since she was a baby. I watched her grow from a young child to an exuberant teen and finally to a very sexy young adult. Yes she was half my age, and to be honest, when she was an 18-year-old gymnast, there were times that I had less than wholesome thoughts about her, but as every father thinking things like that about their kid's friends, I kept them well to myself. I suspect that as she grew into her early twenties, those full body hugs she gave me, the ones where she couldn't seem help but press her hips tight to mine, were an indication that she had picked up on those hidden desires.

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"Hi ya," I jumped at the unexpected voice and fought not to drop the drink I was holding. "What the fuck!" I gasped. Just as I lost my fight, and watched as my beer spilled out on the lawn. I glanced towards where the voice had come from, the next door neighbours garden. What I saw increased my shock immensely. Standing in the garden, now laughing softly at me, was a stunning blonde haired young woman. She was wearing just a small red thong and nothing else, which gave me a good look at her body.

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Chapter One: Never heard of such a thing. Some people have more money than brains, I figured, after listening to the explanation my pain-in-the-ass neighbor Bob Brennan gave me regarding his upcoming cruise. We were talking over the fence, as was our custom, and since he had handed me a frosty Sam Adams, it made the conversation more tolerable. I still thought the idea was goofy though.

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Until my Granddad passed away last year I had been going to see him quite regularly since he moved into a retirement village a few years ago. It isn't like an old peoples home where everyone looks like they have already passed onto the next life, it is a community of decent homes where elderly people are among others like themselves. It isn't a cheap place to retire to, most of the residents are quite wealthy, but they have taken the decision to let someone else look after their needs.

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That day started like any other first day of preschool for Julie. She greeted the returning children as well as the newcomers. Parents milled around the room to see what new things Julie had set up for the children to do. As she was speaking to one concerned parent, she noticed a tall man standing in the doorway, with a large Stetson in his hand. Wrapped around his leg, was a small girl in a pretty green dress and saddle shoes. She seemed to be terrified at what she was seeing.

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For three years since my wife died, I've tried to put a new life together in the more modern day-to-day world around me. My grown kids come to me for money and hint that they want their inheritance early. The women that I pick to date are either pushy or nuts. I don't understand what our leaders are doing to our economy and I am starting to drink and eat too much - time for me to regroup, decide to live alone and work. I'm good at work. I write for a successful living, can build houses and I am a good gardener.

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"Holy shit." I said it out loud, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-step, staring at the picture on my phone. "He's...hot." I scrolled the picture on the screen, increasing the size to get a closer look, noting it was a scan from the back of a book. "Oh, that's right," I thought, "He's a writer." He was definitely hot, for a guy the age of my parents. He had a thin nose and high forehead, dark eyes with fine lines at the corners, and dark hair that fell around his face in waves.

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It had been a long day, and all Jim Reynolds wanted to think about was taking in an evening run and enjoying a quiet Friday night at home. He had a full weekend planned ahead of him, finishing up the renovation work on his latest real estate investment. Running and working was his way of staving off depression. Since his divorce five years ago, he had been buying older homes, living in them while he updated them, and then selling them. If you didn't mind living in substandard conditions for a while, it was a good way to make a tidy profit outside regular work, and keep your mind off growing old alone.

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I originally thought my idea to get the girls to go camping with us, probably for the last time as a family, was a good one. I guess it was an attempt on my part to reminiscence of days past when the kids were little and we all had such a great time enjoying nature and just being together as a family. But the girls were both in college and things had changed. Amy would graduate the next spring and Emily was a sophomore.

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