Your erotic stories

It was a brisk Saturday afternoon in Newport, Rhode Island. The wind blew slightly as the strong sun beamed down on the many shoppers frequenting the stores in this quaint New England town. Being August, tourists were everywhere to be seen. While most were there just for the weekend, some had owned or rented summer homes. In a slightly more secluded area, away from much of the hustle and bustle of the streets, two women sat at a patio table outside a small Italian café.

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My name is Frank, and I'm a thirty three year old, six foot tall white dude with sandy blond hair that dangles around my shoulder. I consider myself an open-minded heterosexual with occasional bisexual urges. On a recent trip to Peru, I discovered more about my sexuality than I had ever imagined.

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My wife Joan is 62 years old. She is a doctor and a dancer; her lifelong devotion to the art has kept her slim and strong, with great vitality, despite thinning skin, age spots and thickening around the middle. I am passionately drawn to her, find her very attractive, love her with a depth I never knew was possible, and want to fuck her often. (All you young people out there, just because we're old it doesn't mean we're dead.

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Hannah finished packing her things. The divorce was nearly finalized. The split was mutual, with no hard feelings. The 36 year old corporate executive closed the last box and stood in the bedroom she had shared with her soon-to-be ex husband. It was a sad ending to her fairytale life. One by one she carried the boxes away to her car. It wasn't as painful as she expected. She just didn't find the right person.

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Kevin reached for the keycard when his mother handed it to him, and fought the urge to grin. Her guilt trip had been working. After a month of insisting that he had to go on one last family vacation, because he would be going off to college and they were never going to see him, he was ready to cave. If she'd waited until he got home that evening instead of calling his cell with the offer to give him his own room, he'd be bunking up with his younger brothers.

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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters are the work of the author's imagination and any similarity to actual persons or places is coincidental or used fictitiously. This is a copyrighted work which may not be reproduced in part or in whole without the author's permission. All characters are 18 years of age or more.

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Marisol listened to the soft rustle of the palm leaves in the morning breeze. She rolled over, turning her face from the wall to the window. The soft morning light and the slight breeze made the open window look like a post card to paradise. She loved coming here, to Costa Rica. Her husband Paul scored them a last minute trip just around Valentine's Day.

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The flight had arrived on time, but the luggage was taking ages to arrive. It was already midnight, and I was feeling tired after spending full day at work and then flying to Cyprus. I was just waiting to get to the guesthouse and get in a good night's sleep. Watching the other passengers I could tell this was what other people were thinking as well. Soft bed and hopefully a nice and peaceful hotel. No parties for me tonight!

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Bridgett was a single woman in her forties, tall and average looking; not one to stand out in a crowd, yet pretty in her own way. The chestnut hue of her hair with just a hint of auburn accentuated her mysterious lens-covered green eyes. Being a bit on the thick side she was never model material, but then again she never wanted to be and was happy with her appearance.

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Paris would have been my first choice, With perhaps Rome or Amsterdam second. But Hamburg? It was hardly tourist-land. But Wendy's name had been on the entry form and she had chosen Hamburg. "We've been to all the others." She said. It had been one of those "You have been chosen..... " things, which come through the letterbox most days. I had always thought that nobody actually won anything. Wendy had been in one of her 'enter everything' moods and had won second prize.

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