Your erotic stories

Brad Halstead had never heard of the band Fountains of Wayne, but when he heard their song "Stacey's Mom" playing in his teenage daughter's bedroom memories of a wonderful time in his life flooded back. About fifteen years ago Stacey Keen was his best friend. There weren't many kids their age that lived close by, so they gravitated together much of the time. She was something of a tomboy and they played around the neighborhood together in the long, hot summers of their late teenage years. Stacey had short blonde hair and always wore torn jeans, worn tennis shoes and heavy metal t-shirts.

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I was randy as hell one day and made up my mind I was going to get laid that afternoon, one way or another. If I had to drive into to town and pick up someone at a bar, I would. But first, I had decided I would see if I could attract someone locally. My beach house is rather isolated. It's the only one for about half a mile in either direction. I know this will change over time. This undiscovered barrier island on the Gulf Coast will eventually be over developed and become like all the rest -- an over crowded tourist venue.

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"Nice day to wash a car isn't it?" Dean walked up the driveway seeing his friend's mother in cut-off jean shorts and a black bikini top washing the car. "Oh yeah! Nice and sunny out this morning!" She replied back with a smile while pulling the soapy sponge out of the bucket of water. "Hank home?" He tried his best keeping his eyes off her body if she just happened to look over his way while talking.

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The young waiter smiled and felt his pants tighten and his bulge tingle as the two women emerged from the tennis courts to sit at one of his tables of the hotel's outdoor bar slash café. Nice, he thought. I'd love to give either one of them a fuck before I go home tonight. Maybe both.

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He awoke knowing that he could go to college late that day. Nothing before 1.00 pm, so he could luxuriate and linger in his room. As a second year student, he had greater control over his timetable and today he had to present a paper to his tutor in a one-to-one after lunch. The paper was all but finished so he had no worries about that, and he began to plan his easy morning.

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Peggy Williams taught English at the local public high school. She was a very sophisticated woman at age 42 and she had managed to maintain her figure. Her breasts were large enough for her at a 36C cup. She had a slight tummy bulge but it was not that noticeable. Her ass was a little bigger and fleshier than she liked but it was still round and shapely. Her legs were almost perfect and she liked wearing skirts that showed them off.

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"My sweet Lord," I heard her whisper under her breath, as I framed her face with my hand, and gently turned her to look me in the eye. "Shh," I hushed, my face inches from hers, "don't speak." I curled my lips over hers, my bottom lip gliding into her mouth. I settled in closer, my other hand sliding down her arm to lace our fingers together.

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"You are joking. Please tell me you're joking?" I doubted my mother understood the desperation in my voice, but I was disgusted and disappointed. How could she do this? "I'm not joking Chris." My Mom was still calm, oblivious to reality as usual. "I told Megan to call you. She'll be in town next week and I thought it would be wonderful if you could take her to dinner. It's not like you have this busy social life and you can't fit her in. You're always telling me that you don't get out enough."

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"What's this?!" Harlan said to himself. "Lorraine's the last person I expected to run into tonight. She's married! At least, she was the last time we talked. And, who's that cute, little redhead sitting next to her?" Harlan had never cruised the city's cougar dens to pick up women. Life was complicated enough with his job and the girls he was already dating.

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One summer afternoon, April Price waited stoically in line at the check stand in the small, upscale supermarket where she bought most of her groceries. The old woman in front of her had a whole cartful, so April passed the time by looking at the covers of the array of fan magazines on display. When all the old woman's purchases had been rung up and bagged and paid for, the checker asked her the question he asked all customers.

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