Your erotic stories

What a day! Partly cloudy and in the low-80's, a perfect day for doing some repairs on my boat. Warm enough to wear cutoffs and a tee-shirt, cloudy enough to avoid getting the inevitable burn that precedes my mid-summer tan. I have the good fortune to own a house and dock on a beautiful lake, courtesy of a very generous lawsuit settlement. At age 48, I'm semi-retired. Now, instead of putting bad guys in jail, I'm a self-employed writer and photographer working out of my lakefront home.

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Tim yawned hugely as he padded downstairs, an empty glass in his hand. He almost tripped over his feet at the bottom, and steadied himself with a muted curse. The morning was cool, the house enveloped in a pre-dawn glow. He walked into the kitchen, resting the glass in the sink. Butterball, the fat ginger queen of his home, wrapped herself around his legs. He smiled, and felt the cat's purr against his leg. He bent to retrieve the cat food from under the sink.

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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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"I was afraid you'd never speak to me again, Edie." David ran a hand down my arm and a shiver followed behind, sending goosebumps popping across my skin. "I don't know what possessed me to take a risk like that." He looked at me carefully. I waited, heart beating hard. It seemed to take ages from the time he began to bend toward me until his lips touched mine. I thought, in that seemingly endless interval, I would faint from anticipation and disbelief.

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I am a man that was still in his thirties, even though I had raised a child that was eighteen when she finally left home to move in with a girlfriend and start college. I had dated (and had a very steamy sex life with) her mother, Maria, while we were in college ourselves, and she had gotten pregnant in our second year together. She had been nineteen and I barely twenty when she gave birth to a baby daughter, Briana.

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Given the choice between a young, hot, ravenous stud and an older gentleman, simmering in passionate wisdom and experience, my preference will always be without a single doubt the old man. I often wonder if men realize that while a woman is walking down a street being appreciated for her eye catching silhouette, offering them a break in the usual nothing to get excited about scenery, that she may be doing a little appreciating of her own.

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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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Two middle age men walk down a rain-soaked street on a dark night, and a small neon sign directs them down an alleyway. JIGGLE HUT, it reads. A bright red door at the end of the alleyway is well worn and has a big 'JH' painted on it in yellow. Marcus, the taller of the two, pushes it open and they walk in. Dark stale air glows with dim purple light, and bass heavy music throbs. A fat man on a stool that's way too small for him looks them over.

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