Your erotic stories

Her name was Luann, and before I ended up sitting beside her at the bar of the Madison Grill on an early Friday afternoon, I had never seen her before, even though we worked in the same office complex down the street. If I had ever seen her before that, I would have remembered her, trust me on that. Not because she was incredibly attractive, because to be honest, Luann wasn't, at least not to the average red-blooded American man.

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In 1969... I was young, dumb and full of cum, like most other 18 year old boys. At that time, although I was old enough to smoke, drink and get drafted, I was still a boy in the most important sense, as I was a virgin. How did a guy stay a virgin back in that era, when "free love" was the catch phrase and it seemed like everybody was having sex on a daily basis?

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1. Watching Rani reach. It all started innocently enough as far as I was concerned. I would stop at a gas station on my way to work and pick up the morning paper and a cup of coffee. The only reason I began stopping at this particular place was that it was easy to get in and out of. The reason I continued to go there was Rani.

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I had made the trip from the little cottage across the street and about 50 feet down countless times but never faster than that afternoon in June of 1976. After I sprinted blindly from our neighbor's back yard, a yard I had mowed for the last four years - not even watching for cars on the rarely traveled gravel road - I ran into our house and closed the door. Closed it and locked it and then looked through the blinds for what was about to happen.

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When the drizzle we had been standing in began to turn to something more substantial, the trees that had been sheltering us began to let in some of the rain, and that was just as good a reason to end this "party" I had been having with my best friend Jeff. We had been celebrating a couple of things, the most important as far as I was concerned being my 18th birthday. The other, more sobering event was my friend getting ready to go off to college.

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I take the bus to and from work as a matter of choice, but even though one of the reasons I use public transportation is to avoid the aggravation of driving during the rush hours, there are times when the bus can be just as annoying. Like last Monday, for example. For whatever reason, the bus was much more crowded than usual, and I was forced to go toward the back and stand up while hanging on the pole in the center of the aisle.

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It had become the highlight of my day, sitting out on the bench in front of the apartment complex I called home, waiting for the school bus to drop the students off. This gives you an idea of how exciting retirement was for me, but at 65 you take your thrills anyway you can. Each day at 3:35 or so, the Catholic school girls go by, dressed in identical outfits that were as stereotypical as they come.

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Like clockwork, I happened to be outside around five o'clock, sitting on my front porch and playing the part of the retired widowed gentleman living the life of leisure, and to anyone who happened to go down my road it might have looked like I spent the whole day out there just watching the world go by.

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Back in 1971, I was a rather naive 18 year old, but one summer afternoon I discovered a whole lot about human nature, as well as learning a valuable lesson. Never judge a book by the cover. It was mid-morning on a weekday afternoon. The sun was hot and with high school already a fading memory, I was doing what most of my crowd did that summer before heading to college, which was hanging out.

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