Your erotic stories

Sorry that it has been such a long time between stories. I have enjoyed reading thoughts about my first two stories and getting to know some of my "fans". This particular story happens as the summer months die down and the autumn winds arrive turning all that is green into oranges and brown. I had recently returned to Knoxville to pick up some more of my things from my husband's house (I say husband because at this point we are only separated, not fully divorced).

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It was quiet time at the hospice. The old man was sitting all by himself, wondering if he would still be alive tomorrow. He wasn't worried, just wondering. He presumed he was alone because he couldn't see. His eyesight had completely given out a couple days earlier. Only one ear still worked. He might have been able to walk, but he couldn't see where he was going and didn't care. Doctors could have patched him enough to keep him breathing, but he refused to return to the hospital again, and left orders he was not to be given any extraordinary treatment to extend his life, not even resuscitated.

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My best friend Nick had gotten me a job with him working at a local, Mom and Pop Grocery store. It was small, but then again, so was the town. One of those places with a population that hadn't as yet reached a thousand, though there was hope of that happening sometime during the year. I had just turned 18, and didn't as yet own my own car. Which was one of the reasons I had taken on a near full-time job while still attending school.

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I have always had a yen for mature and older women. This was particularly true during my younger high testosterone years. As I have grown older, the age gap of interest has narrowed if only because women older than myself at this time of my life, are often no longer interested in arousal. I don't know what triggers my erotic interest in any particular woman. Physical appearance is not necessarily significant although beauty can be a catalyst.

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I knew the coming discussion would change my life, yet I debated with myself whether it was for the better or worse. My wife decided that we could not live together anymore and filed for divorce. The court served papers on me today. I spent most of the day packing my clothes and personal belongings into a small U-Haul. The discussion we began was how to split joint property. I knew she wanted the property in town with higher real estate value.

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"How long has it been Carol?" He asked her. "Thirty years?" She pondered, trying to think back all those years. He held her at arms length and looked at his long lost friend, as they danced slowly around the dance floor. She was still very attractive, with her now gray short hair, but as ever with that inviting smile, and those wonderful breasts. Ah! Her wonderful breasts, now a little heavier, but they were as he remembered them, always her crowning glory. "You look wonderful." He told her with relish, meaning every word.

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Lisa was 18 years old, blonde and perfectly filled out for a young woman. She drove over to her old neighbour's house, Mr Wilson. Mr Wilson was getting on in years and had called the house asking if she could come by and help him out a bit. Lisa and her family had known Mr Wilson for years. He had been their neighbour and had helped her and her family on more than one occasion when they needed it.

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"Going anywhere nice this month Mr. Tunny?" the nurse asked as she watched Harold get his coat on and head for the door "Oh just for a stroll and maybe to the shops nurse" the old man smiled back as he put his hat on and went to kiss his wife goodbye before he went out. Harold Tunny was 73 years old and lived with his 78 year old wife Angela in a cosy little retirement home, over the course of their lives they had made some good money and could have stayed in their house which was rather spacious,

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Over the years lots of things had changed in my life. Marriages had begun and ended, kids grown up and left home, houses bought and sold, eyesight got worse, and my once fit body betrayed me. Here I was at 61 with only one vestige of my youth, my sex drive. And, because of medical problems, I couldn't get a hard on to save my life.

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Next month I shall be sixty-seven years old. Before then there will be the fifth anniversary of the day my darling Dorothy was taken from me. A merciful release, said people who had known of her illness; and so it was. I still think of her, of course, and that is why I cannot help feeling just a little guilty about the turn my life has taken in the intervening years.

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