Your erotic stories

I'm a well to do 56 year old professional. My home is very nice and nearly paid for. I'm not married anymore, but not by choice. My wife of 32 years, Sherry, was in the wrong place at the wrong time while riding her motorcycle out in the countryside one day. Some kids came hauling-ass out of a grove and pulled right across her path. Thankfully, she died instantly in the accident. I miss her company very much, but I'm not a lonely kind of guy.

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That Night Life was good, Alicia thought as she tugged the zippered front of her black top halfway down to her navel. The action revealed most of her large tits and another tug promised to release them completely. Her red-hot figure and wavy light brown hair were all part of her persona. So were the short, pleated skirt and knee-high boots that would make a holy man think 'sex.' She looked like a wet dream and her job as a DJ in the small London nightclub not only gave her access to the City's club scene, it hooked her up with a seemingly unlimited supply of young, liberated guys.

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It was another hot and sticky summer's day, so it was to be minimum dress and outdoors, with lots of cold drinks. Julie was wearing her yellow bikini and Simon his cut-off shorts - although he'd no plans to keep them on any longer than necessary! They'd had lunch indoors, during which they'd had a couple of glasses each of ice-cold white wine, and they'd just settled down outside again. They were seated in the recliner chairs, the remains of the wine in glasses beside them.

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"Are you still going out tonight?" Izzie asked Jane over a late breakfast. "Yes" Jane replied. "I'm meeting with a couple of friends, though I don't know where we are going, everywhere will be full of lovey-dovey couples. Bleurgh." Izzie couldn't help but smile at Jane who was feeling more than a bit sorry for herself having recently split from her fiancé.

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It's a balmy August night in the city, the kind where you try getting away with as little clothing as possible. The air conditioning in the restaurant is going full-blast, and I can see your nipples harden through your barely-there sundress, a series of goose bumps forming along your perfect, alabaster skin. Because we are waiting for the guest you've invited, I fight the urge to lean over the table and kiss the ones where your neck and shoulder meet.

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When a man comes home to his wife and a houseful of women, it's either really good or really bad, especially when the conversation stops as soon as the door opens. And most especially when the women looking at him have those expressions suggesting they know something he doesn't (and of course they do -- it's always that way). His wife stepped forward and walked toward him.

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She sat in the sparkling white office in the scratchy, thin paper robe that they make everyone wear. Perched upon the barely cushioned table that sported a pair of metal torture devices that forces women to lie in the most completely vulnerable position, she waited for her turn with an unsympathetic doctor. Yes, Jodi could say without a doubt, that she hated getting her yearly pap smears.

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Maxine stepped into the new black tube dress she'd bought and pulled it up over her body. It clung to every curve and she immediately regretted buying it. Her usual style was simple and classic, cut to her knee with a sensible neckline. The saleswoman told her that she wasn't to wear a bra or panties, as it would ruin the 'line'. At the time Maxine had dismissed her advice but now, looking in the mirror, she could understand.

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I stood there looking in the mirror at myself. I was dressed in my favorite sheer pink teddy and matching panties as I turned to look at my profile I cupped my 34D's and smiled. I had not been fucked in 5 days and that is a long time for me so I was just plain horny. I have two guys for recreational sex but Brad was fucking another girl for a while and Jason (who along with Monica rents a room in my house) was out of town so I decided to do what any red blooded American girl would do, masturbate.

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Brad sat on the floor in his darkened room. Across the narrow side yard that separated their houses, the sheer curtains in Ann's room were not quite closed, and the light in her room made them almost transparent. Brad waited, patiently. A few minutes later he was rewarded, as Ann stepped out of her bathroom, toweling her short brown hair dry. Naked, she walked across the room and stopped in front of her dresser. Brad reached down and began gently stroking his penis.

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