Your erotic stories

As my wife Molly and I got into our fifties, things sort of settled down between us. Things of a sexual nature I mean. Neither of us were as slim and trim as we'd been when we'd met forty years before, and though I still considered her my best friend and sexually desirable, she, I believe, began to think she was no longer attractive. I tried to convince her otherwise (I mean, hey, I'm paunchy too!), and though she said she believed me, I knew that deep down inside, she felt somewhat ugly and unwanted.

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It started on a mate's stag night/bachelor party, - whatever you know a bloke's traditional booze-up before his wedding as. A crowd of us hit the town, crawled the bars and eventually ended up at a lapdancing club, ahem, as you do. . . A good time was had by all, plenty of dances were bought, and the general agreement was what goes on the stag, stays on the stag.

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Peaches, peaches everywhere but not a bite to eat. I was pondering upon my existence and lack of life while downing my second glass of whisky. A hunger deep inside me resided for many months with no opportunity for quenching. Suddenly a gorgeous peach appeared before me begging to be eaten. Mind oblivious to my body's actions, I was madly devouring the fruit with out any thought involved.

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"I've been cheating on you." My body froze as the simple sentence left her lips. I tried to speak but my mind remained completely blank as I struggled to find the words to respond to my girlfriend's confession. Anger. Sadness. Disappointment. A variety of emotions teemed forth, battling one another for supremacy within the maelstrom of my thoughts.

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I'd know Cathy since College where she had dated my best friend at the time for a couple of years. For some reason we'd never gotten on very well, I think possibly because she caught me starring at her once or twice when we'd all been hanging out at the beach. To be honest I didn't really care if we got on, I was never quite sure why Simon liked her so much as she was a bit full of herself.

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Michael Powell was exhausted now. He lay very still, taking small, shallow, quick breaths. On his lumpy single bed, staring at the cracked, white ceiling of his room, Michael recounted the events of earlier that night, in his own private mind movie. He took one deeper breath, closed his eyes and smiled. He opened them again and reached over to pick up the toilet roll from the floor at the side of his bed.

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Seeing his sister standing in the doorway to the living room while he lay on top of her friend freaked Mike out. He stammered, "Kimberly this isn't what it looks like we uh..." "Oh shut the fuck up Mike!" Kimberly shouted in playful anger, "I know you just fucked the shit out of my friend! How did it feel Ashley? Looks like you enjoyed it just as much as Mike."

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"Here you go, babydoll. Cabernet okay?" I nodded and took the glass from him, motioning for him to come sit next to me in the little corner booth. I know it's silly, but I couldn't really bear to have him sit all the way across the table - not when he could be right there next to me, his arm around me, his thigh pressed against mine.

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There I was, lying on my bed with my rigid cock in my hand. I'd been edging myself closer and closer to orgasm for near an hour now, and could tell that I was getting close to maximum pressure. My wife was out with her friend shopping, I'd hoped that she would be home in time to suck me off and swallow this ever growing load, but the chances of that were growing slim. My computer lay next to me on the bed, the screen flickering with a maddening array of eroticism.

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Kate was a very quiet girl, and I often needed to ask her to repeat herself. She didn't really open herself up personally, so even after a few years of working together, I still didn't feel like I really knew her. That said, she was also just a little bit flirtatious, and I flirted with her whenever possible as she was absolutely gorgeous.

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