Your erotic stories

Sharon was beginning to think her friend wasn't going to meet her. She had been sitting at the bar for over an hour, having gotten there more than 30 minutes early. While she was waiting, she had a couple of drinks and had been flirting a little with some of the guys in the bar. Not really flirting so much as striking a pose now and then to make sure they could get a peek of a nipple here and her ass there.

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When Trevor came in to the Environmental Awareness Center at ten a.m. for his Wednesday volunteer shift a new receptionist was on duty. She looked to be in her mid-twenties with long auburn hair, sparkling green eyes, a rosy blemish-free complexion and a buxom chest. "Hi, I'm Trevor Bridges," he said extending his hand, "are you a new volunteer here?"

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I am a product of thinking patterns and values that were probably always wrong and early training to cherish women. Love and respect was without question the basis of male and female relationships. Until just a year ago, I struggled to find dates my own age or denied my age in an attempt to attract healthier, younger, more active females. Stupidly, I competed with the young broad shouldered, narrow waisted, handsome, deep voiced twenty and thirty year olds. If that is what the women wanted, I could not compete.

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I couldn't believe that my mother had "volunteered" me to help one of her church friends. I barely knew the woman and was just back from a long road trip to a rock concert two states away. I was tired and only wanted to sleep but my mother figured it would be good for me to help her friend move into her new apartment. She had even made travel arrangements that I knew nothing about until she shook me awake that morning.

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Some people say "no good deed goes unpunished." I never subscribed to that armchair philosophy even though I had and saw many good deeds backfire. I must admit, though, that the "unpunished" saying did make me a little apprehensive that my most elaborate good deed might boomerang; but it didn't stop me. I'm a 52 year old guy with keen business acumen but poor social skills with women. I did get married when in my twenties to a bohemian woman that my friends considered a poor match.

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I got to my desk to find a bright orange donut and a small gourd on my desk. Next to it was a note. I opened it. "Halloween Masquerade Ball" and the date on the weekend. I pushed it aside. I hadn't had a date in months and wasn't planning on going alone. I'd stay home and on the real Halloween, hand out cavity causing candy to the urchins on the street. Later in the day Noah from accounting walked by my desk. Then he walked back the other direction.

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Jack heaved the heavy basket of groceries on to the handlebars of his bike and set off on his delivery run. This was the last of his deliveries this afternoon. Mrs. Kelly's large family ensured that her delivery would always be the largest and the heaviest. He liked going to her place and left it to last so he could linger and talk. Mrs. Kelly was a big jolly woman. "I am sixteen stone," she told him one afternoon when he helped her up the stairs.

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I love him to death. I really do. He's a wonderful husband, and the greatest dad in the world. I've been working so many hours and running back and forth to Chicago that he has had to practically becum the full time dad and part time mom. I regret the time I spend away but I'm becoming more and more successful, more and more renowned and I don't want to lose this. I've faded into the background for much too long; it's time for me to make my mark in the world.

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Joe was thirty-eight and lonely. He was tall, average looking and successful. His problem was judgment. He had given up looking for someone to share with, someone to love and be loved by. How he wanted that. Yet, every relationship he ever had ended when his chosen woman cheated on him. That confused him because he was an attentive lover, a good provider, even-tempered and respectful. Wasn't that what the women wanted?

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I had a bit of vacation time that the rest of the family couldn't join me, and our old friends from our hometown, Lori and George, invited me to come out and stay with them. They're a little bit younger than us and have no children. They're both tall, slim and good looking. George is taller than me, blonde and good looking. Lori has the face of a model, is about 5'6, with short dark hair and small breasts that seem to be as firm as when I first met her 20 years ago.

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