Your erotic stories

I am Frank Stokes, 64 years old, retired from an executive position in a large corporation. My wife of 35 years passed away 3 years ago. I live in Brentwood, a golfing community, in the Atlanta area. There are three 18 hole golf courses. One easy course, one a little more difficult and the third, for experts, more difficult. Lots of sand traps, water and longer. I play the middle course.

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As you will no doubt have read "Nurse Leslie -- First Fist", you will have had a peek into my life with my sexy little vixen. Let me back track a bit here and start at the beginning. Leslie is a lovely woman, ten years my senior and unable to have children. This came as somewhat of a disappointment to me when I discovered it after we had been dating about two weeks. I had always wanted kids -- but, man, she was so damn sexy. Her whole body just oozed sexual excitement.

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I lived in a town where my mom and dad worked at a small state college; mom was an administrative assistant in the human relations department and dad was a lecturer in history. Laura Hughes worked as a women's tennis coach and women's health counselor at the college. She was a good friend of my mom and had straight, shoulder-length, blonde, hair, large green eyes, and prominent cheek bones. She was in good shape. She was the star forward on an over-30 women's basketball team, aptly called, "The Matures," and my mom played a guard on the team.

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About 3 years ago I had an experience that changed my life. I only regret that it did not happen when I was much younger. I was then a 68 year old woman and had been a widow for 12 years. During this time I had no real relationships and certainly no sexual ones. My name is Victoria. As I live by myself one could imagine that this would be lonely and unsatisfying but I gain enough satisfaction from my work and family who visit me about once a month. I work as a tourist guide in the city.

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Down came the windows, though she knew that the interior would have a fine coating of gravel dust by the time she returned home. It was the first truly warm day of the year. The office had hired a couple of people to reduce her workload. She'd finally come to her senses and returned to single life after a string of two bad relationships.

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Beatrice got divorced at the age of 28 because her husband left one day and sent a van round to collect his possessions a week later, and then disappeared. Now, 10 years later, she lived alone and worked as a hospital administrator. She'd always been somewhat overweight. Unkind members of her family called her fat and her older brother called her stout, a word she hated. She thought of herself as cuddly, well-covered, and shapely.

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Tyler let out a sigh of relief as he set down the last fully painted model of his Dark Angels' army. He stood up and made his way across the room tiredly. He stopped abruptly in front of his full length mirror, taking a good look at himself. For an 18 year-old freshman in college he looked pretty damn good, he thought. Short brown hair, fairly tall, and very well toned.

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Her plane landed right on time. She had taken a connecting flight from Charles Du Galle to land here in Nice, in the gorgeous sunshine of a summer Thursday in Province. Most of the passengers had disembarked by the time she appeared at the top of the jetway.

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Donna, Amanda and I have been good friends since we were kids in grade school. We grew next door to each other, Donna on one side and Amanda on the other, and played together after school through our whole grade school years. I caught a lot of flak from some of my other friends, teasing that I was going to get girl cooties if I hung around them, but that didn't stop me. We had fun together and the difference in gender at that age really didn't bother me that much, both of them were pretty tomboyish and we had plenty of fun climbing trees and building snow forts and the like.

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"Half an hour to go," I thought. We closed at six o'clock on Fridays, and I was definitely ready to go home. It had been a long week at the shoe store where I worked. Michelle, the owner, had decided to hold a big summer sale to try to boost the business. It's hard for a small boutique store to compete with the big chains, so I understood the need, but it had been a crazy week. Michelle did a good job promoting the sale.

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