Your erotic stories

"Thank god that's over," said Liz as we tidied away the presentation material. "Hey, you were great," I said. "Never missed a beat." And she hadn't. Liz Morton, from head office. Fortyish, maybe ten or twelve years older than me, but slim and attractive in her tailored suit. She smiled. "Nor did you, on the technical queries."

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ONE Randi surveyed the large hotel suite as the bellboy took care of her luggage. The room offered two plush queen beds and a large front living area with two leather couches, a wet-bar with a marble top and a gas fireplace. She tipped the belloy handsomely even though she caught him openly leeering at her on numerous occasions. Although in her late forties with two children in school, Randi Boehmon could still turn heads. A petite woman with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes set above high cheekbones, she was oftentimes told that she resembled Kelly Ripa.

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Sandra shook her head and sighed as she listened to her daughter talking to her boyfriend in the next room. "You have got to be kidding me, right?" "C'mon Jen, it'll be fun. Ron and Angela and Wendy and Greg will be there." "A stupid protest? Please." "We could end up on T.V."

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I lay in the bathtub, watching steam rise from the warm water. I should have felt relaxed, but I did not. I waited apprehensively. Nothing could calm my nerves. Not the dozen candles that lit the bathroom. Not even the New Age CD that filled the room with the comforting sound of the ocean washing against the shore.

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Several pictures of her were tucked into the sides of the mirror over his dresser. Most were school pictures, and one was of the two of them together, their arms wrapped around each other, both of them smiling at the camera. My hand, holding the brush that I had picked up from amidst the clutter on his dresser, stopped in mid-air as I peered at those pictures.

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Summer was coming to a close, and Jason was about to start his final year of high school. All his life he had let his neurotic over-analytical nature control how he interacted with people. He had always put too much thought into everything, and as such had wasted his childhood. He believed he was unpopular, and therefore he was. With the social experience he had gained over the summer however: after having turned 18, going to parties, and fucking a busty young mall rat senseless, Jason was ready to improve his social standing. Life was finally a game he was ready to play.

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I'm going to do what they say people of my age (the thick end of sixty plus) are best at; I'm going reminisce about my youth. For me this was towards the end of the nineteen-fifties, when rock-and-roll ruled over drainpipe trousers and drape jackets and everyone jived to Elvis, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, etc. In England it was the time of the 'ton-up boy' who rode motorbikes with British names and who wore leather jackets liberally sprinkled with metal studs.

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I've always felt attracted to younger men. Some time ago, there was family living next to me in our small neighborhood. This was several years after my husband had died. I'd finally begun to feel somewhat whole again and yet the loneliness was getting me down. I had sexual cravings I hadn't felt in a long time and thought I'd go crazy if they weren't satisfied by someone, and soon.

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I had to chuckle when I heard the door open behind me seconds after I had sidled up to the trough-like urinal that ran along the wall of the men's room of the bar I had been killing time in. Maybe it comes with age, but for some reason I knew that I was going to have company, and I really didn't need to look to see who my bathroom companion was.

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It had been too long since John had last seen Molly in any real, special way. It had also been too long since he'd cum. The last meeting between the high school loner and the sexy mail carrier who was fast becoming as obsessed with him as he was with her had been over a week ago, on Halloween night. For weeks the two had teased and tested each other.

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