Your erotic stories

Tracy, my new found and rather older lover was, I discovered rapidly, not simply a tease but one who enjoyed it. Each morning as Tracy said, "good morning" she slipped me a sealed envelope before walking down the platform to chat with her friend. I tore the first on open immediately. It read, Dearest Sweetest David. I am so looking forwards to you driving your hot rod in and out of my garage once more. You've missed a treat today, silly me I forgot to put any panties on.

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Kayla sat at the kitchen table fuming. She had intended to ask her husband about it last night, and then this morning, but she couldn't bring herself to go there. Part of it was that she was terrified of the answer. What would she do if her husband was fucking his secretary? She remembered her father telling her mother that he had fallen in love with his secretary, and she didn't want to be her mother. The words still pissed her off. She wasn't about to give her husband, Marty, the chance to tell her he had "fallen in love" with that cow of a secretary. He might be fucking her, but it wasn't love.

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Since my husband passed away a few years ago I haven't been in a significant relationship. It didn't find any joy in going through the process of finding a man, figuring out if I liked him, and if he liked me, and then determining what we both wanted from each other. My marriage with my husband had been fantastic. We got along well and raised two wonderful children. We had a great, although not wild, sex life. We were both very passionate, but not compulsive.

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Kevin & Lisa had met in college and fallen madly in love with each other when they were just 18. They had married on Lisa's 20th birthday, only 6 months after Kevin's 20th and now it was only a matter of days before Kevin's 40th. Both were successful professionals, Kevin was a photographer and Lisa a writer and they had decided very early on in their relationship that children would not be in their plan -- just a desire to experience as much as life could offer and they had managed just that.

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Perhaps one of the most sensual and erotic experiences I ever had occurred nearly twenty years ago now. But the memory of it remains with me to this day. Back then I worked with a woman named Lucille. I was in my early thirty's at that time, and Lucille was some twenty or so years older than I was. But the age difference hardly mattered between us, we got along famously, and I looked forward to seeing and working with her on a daily basis. At first there was nothing at all sexual even mentioned between us, she had a very 'rigid' upbringing, and things of that nature weren't easily discussed amongst coworkers anyway, especially between us.

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I've often asked myself how it is that I came to be so addicted to the worship of women's legs. I've never adequately been able to explain it even to myself. I will say that ever since I was a young boy, the sight of a firm pair of legs, preferably in a skirt, is enough to get my juices flowing, my cock hard, and my mind racing.

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I couldn't believe it after 20 years of marriage and a man supporting me, I was single again and holding down a job. I'm the executive personal assistant for the president of a nonprofit organization. At 43 years old I was still a good-looking woman but wasn't feeling it. My so-called loving husband and provider had left me for a twenty-year girl, who "made him feel like he hadn't in years".

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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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