Your erotic stories

During the long wait for his wife to die Freddie Short thought about life after Shelia's death. He'd miss having her beside him in bed, for sure, but what about during the day when she'd chatter on much about nothing and pester him to take her somewhere? He'd REALLY miss that. Freddie tried not to think about missing the sex. Being washed up aged fifty-nine was a little early but like death that was something to accept, not matter how hard it felt.

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I am Anna, a 24-year-old suburban librarian. I have blue eyes and one of those innocent faces, with an easy smile. My hair is long and red; I usually curl and then pile it up for a professional look at work. The rest of the time I love to feel it on my back and shoulders. I have to dress conservatively for the job, low heels naturally, with a skirt and silk blouse -- nothing too showy.

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"No! For the last time, will you shut-up about this?" Rachel was scowling at her boyfriend who was laying in bed beside her. Dan still retained a mildly smug expression after their sex which had finished some minutes ago, although the truth was she had faked her orgasm. She wasn't proud of that but Dan always liked to make a big deal about making her climax and it was far easier to let him feel this way. Like many women she didn't often orgasm through penetration.

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"No! Fuck you! I'm not doing it, and you can't make me!" I could hear the girl next door screaming at her parents again, and I knew that this time, it was about me, or rather, the deal that I had offered her parents. Amber was 18, very beautiful, a bit thin for my tastes, but a raging bitch and brat. An only child, she basically got what she wanted, and when she didn't, she yelled and screamed.

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"Going anywhere nice this month Mr. Tunny?" the nurse asked as she watched Harold get his coat on and head for the door "Oh just for a stroll and maybe to the shops nurse" the old man smiled back as he put his hat on and went to kiss his wife goodbye before he went out. Harold Tunny was 73 years old and lived with his 78 year old wife Angela in a cosy little retirement home, over the course of their lives they had made some good money and could have stayed in their house which was rather spacious,

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I'd never had a massage in the UK. I'd never needed one or wanted the sort of pleasure I gained from attending spas in such places as Crete, Thailand and Spain. I had enjoyed those. They were part relaxing, part sheer pleasure and part, I knew, but they were not sold that way, part erotic. But now I needed one. I needed a proper massage. My back was so tight and had been for two weeks now. I had to do something.

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Unlike a lot of stories in this site that I'm sure are total fiction, this one is mostly true. The names and parts of the story have been fictionalized. I've been a trucker for 20 years now and recently had a sexual experience I'd like to share. Long distance trucking is a solitary life and there isn't much sex when the little lady is thousands of miles away back home.

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Waldo was the only child of Edna and Henry. After her husband died from working too hard, Waldo and Edna were alone. Doting mother and loving son, all they had were one another. Reminiscent of the movie Harold and Maude, if Harold was older by forty years, their story, but for the sex at the end between Harold and Maude, would matched Harold and Maude's story.

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Alice was bored. At eighteen she was old enough to be on her own but she still lived at home and with both of her parents working 50+ hours a week she was bored out of her skull most of the time and she wasn't allowed to have friends over when they weren't home. She'd already done her chores, finished a book, and surfed the net and it was only 11:00 a.m. Usually she could spend all day looking up porn, one of her favorite things to do but recently her Mom had found a few pictures she'd downloaded and forgot to delete.

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Her passing had been very sudden. We had been sat together watching nothing in particular on the TV and she had slipped into a sleep that I realised, eventually, was death. The family had been caring, the funeral sensitive and then followed the lowliness -- that awful sense that something was missing in my life. Our children had all left home, but living close, they had kept in touch, not oppressively, but supportively.

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