Your erotic stories

Esther Watson was lounging in her bath; she had never in her life felt as good, or as satisfied as she was right now. She had thought back to when she might have done, but if she had, then it was a long time ago. Esther was wallowing in hot water lashed with scented oils; he was downstairs making her coffee. It was almost 12 noon, she had just got out of bed, or rather, she had just been allowed to. He had been screwing her since 7am this morning.

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It's not pleasant growing old. They tell you when you retire from work that you can relax into your twilight years, and see out your days in peace and tranquillity. Well, I'm – let's say 70-something – now, and ever since I left the job I'd loved for over 40 years, lecturing in Classical Mythology at Girton College, Cambridge, my life has been in a constant state of flux.

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The drive up was pleasant; small talk was made about the country and its politics, the farm and the old people as well as my son and her daughter. This trip was never supposed to happen but here I am driving 800km or 13 hours to my wilderness hunting area not with my wife but with my mother in law Jenna. I was originally planning on going ahead up North on my own as I usually do but at dinner the previous weekend the whole family decided that she should accompany me on the trip and see what it was like up there.

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'Fantasy is fun and porn makes me playful'. Mariella smiled to herself at her own silly thought as she settled into her chair, adjusted her bathrobe a bit more comfortably around her nicely rounded frame, and switched on her computer. It was her habit, at least two or three times each alternate week, to log onto her favourite amateur erotica site and read a horny story before going to bed.

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Perhaps one of the most sensual and erotic experiences I ever had occurred nearly twenty years ago now. But the memory of it remains with me to this day. Back then I worked with a woman named Lucille. I was in my early thirty's at that time, and Lucille was some twenty or so years older than I was. But the age difference hardly mattered between us, we got along famously, and I looked forward to seeing and working with her on a daily basis. At first there was nothing at all sexual even mentioned between us, she had a very 'rigid' upbringing, and things of that nature weren't easily discussed amongst coworkers anyway, especially between us.

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I rested my neck on the edge of the bathtub and stretched my limbs, luxuriating in the warmth of the foamy water. I surveyed the unfamiliar opulence of my surroundings and sighed with satisfaction. I had learnt on my arrival at the resort hotel in Maui where I was to stay that my confirmed reservation had been deleted by a mysterious glitch in their system and that no rooms were available. Either my panic stricken face or more probably the fact that I am a claims agent for a major marine insurance company persuaded the management to get rid of the problem by upgrading me to a beach side cottage.

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"That's her. Check it out. Wow," whispered Billy Sherman's buddy. They were at the town bar that they had been going to since before they were legally allowed to drink. And there, at the end of the long bar, not far from the door, sat Sue Lockhart, the middle school gym teacher.

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To say that I always wanted her, would not be entirely true. I wanted her oldest daughter, Elizabeth, first. I pined for her until my sophomore year in High School (she was a year ahead). I didn't even try to be with her, only a friend and she blew me off, calling me lame, flat along with a host of other insults. With that avenue closed in my mind, I turned to her. She was the mother of my best friend, Meredith. She was forty years old my senior year and the embodiment of female beauty. She was everything I hoped to become.

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"Wow, its starting to pour." Amy said looking out of the kitchen window. 'How appropriate' I thought to myself. It had been one of those dreary suffocating fall days that drowns your psyche. I was already a bit out of sorts. I had met Kate at the "Werks" earlier for our "Saturday" conversation, but she hadn't been her normal self. She was polite as we chatted but she seemed distracted and distant.

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I hadn't thought about this in years. I've been married for 15 years and stories about ex-girlfriend's and their mothers are not the kind of thing you brag about at the dinner table. The thing that brought this memory back was meeting this particular mother in the mall parking lot. I was getting out of my car and I saw this old lady coming toward me. She seemed familiar. "Mrs taylor?" I said.

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