Your erotic stories

"Getting old is a bitch!" The words were spoken softly and with proper venom. I had just entered the bathroom after noticing the illuminated dial on the bedroom clock. "2:18am" I didn't turn the bathroom or bedroom light on because I wanted to let my wife sleep. We had a good evening, shared dinner with friends, joked and laughed. Then those friends went home and we went to bed.

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Fading autumn sunset caught the trees as I left the bus. Waited to cross the road, thinking about the last night I'd been with him. Her husband, and my closest friend, Allan. He'd died a few days later, a heart attack in his grim bedsit, during one of their periodic separations. I strode across the park, my head in confusion. Our evening would be difficult enough for me, but I couldn't begin to imagine how hard it would be for Betty.

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She knew I watched her; she knew and she made me suffer. I couldn't help myself, I had to watch her; she was so damn sexy I was hooked. I would watch from the study window on the second floor of our house. I could see down onto the decking at the rear of her house, it was a vantage point that offered a superb view of her whenever she sunbathed during that long, hot summer.

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I usually don't meet people off line, but after several hot chats with this charming young man, he convinced me it was about time I spent a little less time on the net talking about my fantasies and a little more time on my back fulfilling them.

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Our first time together was really amazing. I am still reeling from how many times you got me off. Moving outside my comfort zone has been so rewarding! You enjoyed my body - my peach-sized breasts with their pointed nipples that responded so readily to your eager mouth, loving hands or tireless cock; my tanned body that was agile enough to keep up with you; my warm pussy that responded so wetly to the pleasures you shared.

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"Maybe Mr. Smith would like to tell us what he thinks." I was suddenly jolted back to reality by the voice of my teacher. Realising I had been daydreaming again she'd spotted me and brought it to the attention of everyone else in the lecture hall, much to my reddening embarrassment. "Sorry Miss, I was miles away" I apologised.

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I was making my rounds in an electric cart of a local supermarket, picking up a few things for dinner, minding my own business ... and keeping an eye out for a shapely bottom or a full-sized breast or just a pretty face when ... I caught a glimpse of all three in the same jeans-and-vee-neck-blouse ahead of me.

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It all started with a thought. One thought. Three weeks ago. When my girlfriend, who, let's face it, was never very good at blow jobs, was actually giving me one. It started with me looking down at her and thinking, 'you know, I bet someone with a dick would probably know how to totally rock at this'.

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If the motel were busier, you wouldn't even notice her. She was about five foot five inches tall, brunette, 130 pounds, mid-forties, nice shape and probably fun to look at under her jogging suit. I had seen her yesterday in the operating waiting room. Like now, she had looked tired, down and alone. Company for continental breakfast seemed like a good idea, so I walked over to her table in the corner by the window. "I saw you at the hospital yesterday. My I join you for breakfast?"

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I was tall and skinny in high school. A dork, although I didn't know it. I was interested in making good grades and succeeded at that. I had a few dates. Guys that were dorks also and had no girl friend would ask me to a dance or a party when they needed a date. Socially I was a misfit. And I don't think I ever thought about sex. If any boy ever did try anything sexual with me I don't remember it and I definitely would have rejected him. Sex was something bad and dirty. Good girls didn't do it.

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