Your erotic stories

I showed up at the Fisher's house to baby sit in my typical summer outfit of white tennis shorts and a t shirt. Although I had turned eighteen months ago and was about to graduate from high school, I didn't mind babysitting for them. They had a big TV, well-behaved kids, well-stocked fridge and Joanie, their mom, was not only gorgeous, but as I had learned from the occasions when I saw her in a tennis dress and from looking at their vacation beach pictures, she had a great bod!

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Mum put the telephone down and turning to me said, "Do you realize you haven't seen Aunt Emma for nearly two years?" "Is it that long?" I asked, glancing up from the book I was reading. "Yes, and she wonders why, she thinks she might have done something to offend you; has she?" "No, I just haven't got around to visiting her and it's a damned long trek out there -- the far flung outposts of..."

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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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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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It was the last Friday in March. We were having a leaving party at work for Simon, who was moving to another office after having worked as my assistant for the last two years. I was sorry to see him go. We had got along very well and despite our age difference had flirted with each other a few times. We had never allowed the friendship to go beyond those brief flirts -- apart from a dance and kiss at the firm's Christmas parties.

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I prefer older women. Or to be politically correct, "mature" women. I'll take a "mature" woman in her 40s or 50s any day over someone who is younger. Why? My experience has been that mature women are more comfortable with their bodies. They are more open to receiving and giving sexual pleasure and are more open to sexually adventuresome activities like lots of oral, role playing, anal, and if you are lucky, you can find a mature women that is open to threesomes and more, if you know what I mean.

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Not for the first time Ralph cursed his rotten luck as he cleaned up the mess other people had left behind in their offices. A scant six months ago he had been one of these office types but that was before he had lost his job and, to add insult to injury, his wife had left him for his boss. Somehow his life had spiraled out of control after that.

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'Knock...knock...knock'. Melanie put her book down and answered the front door. "Hi...Mrs. Barton," the good looking teenager asked, "Is Warren in?" "Ehm no," she smiled when she recognised her son's best-friend Lee Clark or Clarkie as he was known to his friends, "he's at work but shouldn't be long; do you want to come in and wait?" "Yeh thanks." He mumbled and wiped his trainers on the door mat as he followed the slim woman into the living room.

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It had been 15 years since her Harold had passed away, and Marge had gotten used to being alone. Of course, she had lady friends, and some male acquaintances, but at 66 years old, she had removed sex from her life, except the occasional fantasy about Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise. Harold had been the only man, except for a brief fling with his Best Man right after he passed. She chalked that up to grieving, and they had found comfort in each other, although he felt so guilty afterwards that they stopped it after 2 dates.

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Dave was sweating. The sun was warm but not uncomfortably so - it felt considerably milder than the sun back in Orange - but dragging the bag along the street probably hadn't been the best idea. It was well-suited to the task but the route he had decided to take to the hostel he was booked into was rather longer in person than it had seemed on paper. As he trundled down 33rd Avenue, he espied some shady greenery which turned out to be a park.

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