Your erotic stories

She noticed him now that he was a young man, and after a year of college and almost nineteen, a sleek and muscular one at that. She began following more than just his performance in swim meets at the club. Observed giggling girls and more composed young women, some married as she was and some with children, both older and younger, follow him with their eyes secreted behind glossy magazines and then slide into the pool to cool off after their thoughts turned as humid as the summer day.

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I'm Tom Davis, kid brother of Laura Hughes. I was a 30-year old high school social studies teacher and girls' basketball coach; after five years of coaching, thanks to two athletic sisters on the team, we won the district championship. Often, I saw the superintendent of the schools, Harry Bradley, and his wife, Rita, among the spectators at home games.

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"Wow, its starting to pour." Amy said looking out of the kitchen window. 'How appropriate' I thought to myself. It had been one of those dreary suffocating fall days that drowns your psyche. I was already a bit out of sorts. I had met Kate at the "Werks" earlier for our "Saturday" conversation, but she hadn't been her normal self. She was polite as we chatted but she seemed distracted and distant.

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Being thirty and already developing a beer gut, I began working out at the local gym. And since I worked nights, the equipment was readily available, which was cool. No crowds. After a month or so, I got to know some of the regulars, mostly retired guys, some into their eighties, God bless them! Mostly it was just to say hi, but a few became as regular as clockwork, so I sort of bonded with a guy named Abe.

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It's not pleasant growing old. They tell you when you retire from work that you can relax into your twilight years, and see out your days in peace and tranquillity. Well, I'm – let's say 70-something – now, and ever since I left the job I'd loved for over 40 years, lecturing in Classical Mythology at Girton College, Cambridge, my life has been in a constant state of flux.

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About two weeks after my sensuous and successful aptitude test with 'Manon', the company which provided discreet escorts for ladies. I was contacted by Ron Vincent, who told me to call at the office the following evening as he had my first client. I had already spent some time with Ron, getting a few pointers on what would be expected of me. He also had me fitted out with a couple of outfits, a smart dark blue suit and a more casual jacket and pants, with shirts to match.

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Eva looked out her bedroom window. She had heard the gate to her driveway being opened. It was Jim, the son of her best friends Alice and Mike, arriving to mow her lawn. Eva was a fifty five year old widow, living alone on the outskirts of a small college town. Her husband Eddy had passed away three years previous. Eva was only now beginning to pick up her life following the death of her soul mate. God knows what would have happened to her without the support of her friends and their son Jim.

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I told the young man we were to meet in a motel room. We both love meeting that way. There is something particularly sexy and forbidden to me about motels. I've always admitted a peculiar fetish for them. The fact that it’s neutral territory. No real life interruptions or distractions. The knowledge that untold numbers of other people have had sex in this same room.

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I was sitting backwards on one of the chairs in my tenant's kitchen, watching him cover an easel with bold strokes of varying shades of green. Sean had moved into the basement suite in late August, and we'd hit it off right away. He was a nice boy, 22 years old, a couple years older than my own son, who was also away at university.

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I hadn't thought about this in years. I've been married for 15 years and stories about ex-girlfriend's and their mothers are not the kind of thing you brag about at the dinner table. The thing that brought this memory back was meeting this particular mother in the mall parking lot. I was getting out of my car and I saw this old lady coming toward me. She seemed familiar. "Mrs taylor?" I said.

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