Your erotic stories

"Hi. I came to see you before I go." Fiona was the daughter of friends. We had watched her grow up and go out on her own, been to her twenty-first, seen her get her first job and become an attractive young woman. She stood on my front doorstep on a hot summer's day and she looked good enough to eat. My wife was away for a couple of weeks in Perth, and I was batching.

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The muscular buttocks did not even pause in their rhythmic tightening and loosening as the strongly built young man continued fucking the helpless young woman he had bent over the back of the couch. He was semi crouched over her long white back and had one hand under her pelvis, his forearm muscles bunching as he abused her clitoris while his other hand alternately milked each of her elongated teats.

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I was shopping for an antique cabinet on Saturday; I'd already been to three different Antique stores but found nothing. Fortunately, I had put a bit of thought into the process and had driven to the furthest store first and progressively made my way back home visiting the other stores. So far I'd found nothing that was vaguely suitable. As I wandered into the final antique shop, I saw a cabinet that was perfect for what I wanted. So much for all that planning I thought, if only I'd come here in the first place I could have saved half a day.

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I walked up the sidewalk in the rain towards the lighted porch. The weather matched my mood. I had come home from my office on campus and found a note. "Sorry, I don't think this is going to work our. I've gone back to Tennessee. Karen." I guessed that she had gone back to stay with her aunt. She had left me and I was stunned and angry and depressed and sad-and somehow lighter and freer. But I needed to talk to somebody and that's why I was walking up to Greg and Rosemary's door.

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I have had a fetish for panties ever since I was about 18. I would sneak into my mother's panty draw whenever I got a chance. She had many pairs of all different colours and materials but my favourite were her silky panties. Thongs didn't really do it for me as there isn't enough material to rub over my cock.

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"Happy Fucking Birthday to me!" I thought to myself. If only I knew at that moment just how happy my fifty-second birthday was truly going to be. But as I took my regular afternoon jog through Meyer Park in the northwest suburbs of Houston, Texas; my mind was a swirling mess of self-pity, loneliness and sexual frustration. My husband and I had been divorced for nearly four years, all three of my children were either grown and gone or away visiting their father for the summer and I hadn't gotten a good piece of ass in what seemed like decades.

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"So, what are you going to do for a living?" Vivian asked the young man who was visiting along with her son from college. "I'm retired," Paul Redman replied with a grin. "Uh, you're kind of young for that aren't you?" Vivian asked in confusion. "Yes ma'am, I am." Vivian's son, Cal, said, "Paul was a millionaire by the time he graduated high school." "More like five million," Paul corrected. "Five million by the time you graduated high school! You must be some kind of a genius," Vivian said in shock. She had never met anyone worth that much money.

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Even in my mid-20's some of my friends were a little rounder than they should be. I tried to get to the gym regularly to avoid that. Having a routine and going on the same days each week you see some of the same faces each time at various points during your workout. There were always nice sights to see at the gym and many times on the treadmill I would see the same blond working up a sweat. She had a few years on me and was doing what she could to hold off time.

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My first two years out of high school, I attended a community college, and worked as a delivery driver for a well-known pizza delivery chain we'll call "Checkers" to protect the innocent. It was a pretty good job. Most of the drivers were needed in the evening so it didn't interfere with classes. You got paid a salary, tips and commission (to pay for gas) which averaged more than $8.00 an hour when minimum wage was closer to $4.00.

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The bar was quite noisy with groups of people meeting after work to relay the day's events. There was a football game on the TV screens which was attracting loud groups of men, all with their opinion on how their team was performing. Jan sat in a booth towards the back of the bar on her own. She was contemplating life – it had not been a good day. She had been late for work, had lost a big contract and had been given a hard time by her boss.

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