Your erotic stories

To the average outsider, Paul had the world at his feet at the age of thirty. He'd been in charge of the entertainment agency since his father passed away four years earlier. He had a beautiful, spacious office that showed the city's skyline behind his desk, fine, mahogany furniture, with a imported leather couch in one corner. He drove a vintage Mercedes, lived in a dazzling condo in the best part of the city, and money seemed endless.

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Boone, Mississippi. 1976. September In the middle of the night Ginny woke with her bare feet burning and itching something fierce. When she swung her coltish legs out from under the sheets and pulled her knees up tight to her chest, she found her ankles littered with sore, red welts. Ginny rubbed at her big eyes in the hot darkness, trying to rouse herself.

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I had been enamored of Danielle, or Dani as everyone called her, since she had been in high school. She was a young beauty –I will describe her in detail in a minute – who had always run with my son's crowd. I, obviously, was old enough to be her father. She dated my son for a brief time, but seemed to play the field through her high school years as the young seem to do these days. She interned her junior year in my graphic design firm and seemed to have an affinity and flare for design.

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Terry Smith had been friends with Sandy Garner since they were six years old. They were similar in every way, enjoyed the same sports and hobbies and told each other nearly everything. The one thing Terry held back was the biggest secret of all, one that Sarah could never know. When she turned 18, she started a relationship with a man. An older man. Sandy's father.

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I always get very tired along about mid-afternoon of the second day at these conventions. It has something to do with strolling the endless aisles of the exposition in between attending seminars and lectures. The Las Vegas Convention Center goes on for miles and, as is usually the case, I was hitting a wall that Wednesday as I cruised up Aisle 2100, bobbing in and out of booths and making small talk with the salespeople. You can only take so much computer gibberish after awhile.

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When I left the big city I had lots of good reasons. I hated having neighbors twenty feet from my bedroom. I hated that there was always machine noise; from cars, TV's, sirens, brakes, and leaf blowers. I liked that if I wanted something it was close. I hated that whatever it was I wanted I had to stand in line to get it. I was in my mid fifties and figured I'd spent at least a year in line! I got lucky. I came into some unexpected money. I decided that all the reading and work I'd done on me deserved a reward.

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I was spent, my cock was slowly deflating, still wrapping loosely in the sticky condom. My wife lay snoozing beside me sent to dreamland by a late night fucking. This was an anomaly in our household. Monthly sex in the morning or early evening was our typical fare after five years of marriage, two kids and never enough time.

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I met Gwen at the restaurant, where I went for breakfast every morning, before work, after my wife, Linda, left me for a younger man. Just as I had no idea she had a lover, I didn't know my wife was unhappy enough to leave me. I mean, now that I think about it, she was pretty miserable, but what wife isn't? With everything, including sex so routine and predictable, the romance fizzles, after being married for a while. Still, totally clueless, I thought everything was the routine same, until it wasn't and until she was no longer there to cook breakfast.

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Booches was one of the most popular campus hangouts being only three blocks away from the large public university. It was a quiet bar where businessmen, students and professors felt equally at home. The food menu was scant consisting of little more than burgers but the owner always seemed to make everyone feel welcome and he was silent about who met who and did what with whom.

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When Trevor came in to the Environmental Awareness Center at ten a.m. for his Wednesday volunteer shift a new receptionist was on duty. She looked to be in her mid-twenties with long auburn hair, sparkling green eyes, a rosy blemish-free complexion and a buxom chest. "Hi, I'm Trevor Bridges," he said extending his hand, "are you a new volunteer here?"

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