Your erotic stories

September 2003 "Ya got ten bucks Mister?" she asked as she darted in front of me, one of a small group of black clad, pierced and tattooed punkers who'd mysteriously appeared in the neighborhood just days earlier. "Ten bucks? What happened to the fifty cents for squeegeeing my windshield?" I asked with a grin. "Fifty-cents! A rich, hip Miami guy like you," she teased, jiving me as she danced backward as I continued walking.

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I hadn't seen Linda since she and my daughter, Shellie had graduated from high school over four years ago. They had been best friends but had gone to different colleges. They had kept track of each other through email and the phone. I kept track of Linda by accident through chance meetings with her mother. Linda's mother and I would talk and update each other as to our daughter's comings and goings over those four years. In my mind, I still pictured Linda as I last saw her at the High School graduation.

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Andrew Weston was not a man to trifle with. Neither was Alison: his stepdaughter. It was as if they had been fashioned from the same cloth and they understood each other perfectly: often trying to outmaneuver each other in a game of one-upmanship. Both were self assured and attractive to look at.

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I was in college when I first had sex with another man. It was my first gay experience. It wasn't planned, at least not by me. I'm pretty sure he had planned it, or at least had set up the situation so that things might happen. It was enlightening for me feeling those new emotions and physical sensations. It was psychologically intense and redefined how I viewed myself and my sexuality.

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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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Ever had a co-worker you wanted to fuck so badly it almost hurt? I think that's fairly common, especially for men of my age and experience. But to have that coworker admit they feel the same makes it much more interesting. Add to that a 20plus age gap and endless creativity, and going to work can be almost dangerous.

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Converting the small bus into a camper had taken some time but time is something that I, as a retired widower, had plenty of. Now that the bus was up and ready to roll I had only to pick up my passenger to start my long awaited tour of Australia. Heather had been my neighbour for over ten years she had divorced her husband Alan five year ago. Despite being an intelligent attractive woman in her mid thirties she was painfully shy. It had taken me ages to break down that barrier.

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It was about 3 in the morning and Mark rolled out of bed with a keen thirst. He cursed himself for not having had the foresight to bring a glass of water to bed. They had been out to dinner, he and his wife, their son and daughter, plus three of his daughter's friends, Imogen, Hazel and Maddi. It had been a celebration for his daughter's 18th, and it had been expensive. But Mark didn't mind. Not just because he is a doting father, or because he is what you might call comfortably well-off, but because it gave him a chance to enjoy his daughter's sexy friends.

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Crack. The sound slices like a steel blade through the chatter of the conference room. Heads whip around, staring at me, while I stare at the broken glass of water. The glass of water I was supposed to bring. "Well don't just stand there, clean the bloody thing up." I bend down, black pencil skirt riding up slightly as I gingerly pick up the delicate shards of glass.

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My wife's daughter came to visit for the holidays. It's a second marriage for both of us; she has two kids by a previous marriage, and I have three. Susan, her daughter, is in her late twenties and has never married. She's had a few close calls, but for one reason or another, things just never seemed to work out.

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