Your erotic stories

I always get very tired along about mid-afternoon of the second day at these conventions. It has something to do with strolling the endless aisles of the exposition in between attending seminars and lectures. The Las Vegas Convention Center goes on for miles and, as is usually the case, I was hitting a wall that Wednesday as I cruised up Aisle 2100, bobbing in and out of booths and making small talk with the salespeople. You can only take so much computer gibberish after awhile.

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When I left the big city I had lots of good reasons. I hated having neighbors twenty feet from my bedroom. I hated that there was always machine noise; from cars, TV's, sirens, brakes, and leaf blowers. I liked that if I wanted something it was close. I hated that whatever it was I wanted I had to stand in line to get it. I was in my mid fifties and figured I'd spent at least a year in line! I got lucky. I came into some unexpected money. I decided that all the reading and work I'd done on me deserved a reward.

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I was spent, my cock was slowly deflating, still wrapping loosely in the sticky condom. My wife lay snoozing beside me sent to dreamland by a late night fucking. This was an anomaly in our household. Monthly sex in the morning or early evening was our typical fare after five years of marriage, two kids and never enough time.

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I met Gwen at the restaurant, where I went for breakfast every morning, before work, after my wife, Linda, left me for a younger man. Just as I had no idea she had a lover, I didn't know my wife was unhappy enough to leave me. I mean, now that I think about it, she was pretty miserable, but what wife isn't? With everything, including sex so routine and predictable, the romance fizzles, after being married for a while. Still, totally clueless, I thought everything was the routine same, until it wasn't and until she was no longer there to cook breakfast.

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When Trevor came in to the Environmental Awareness Center at ten a.m. for his Wednesday volunteer shift a new receptionist was on duty. She looked to be in her mid-twenties with long auburn hair, sparkling green eyes, a rosy blemish-free complexion and a buxom chest. "Hi, I'm Trevor Bridges," he said extending his hand, "are you a new volunteer here?"

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The time was 1995 and the place was a sleepy suburb of Albany, New York. He was a bored man in his mid-40s whose wife had taken off with another guy, leaving him with a house he didn't want and a lot of time on his hands - until he started paying attention to the sights around him.

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Carrie licked her lips nervously, straightened her top and knocked lightly on the door. She waited for a response, but she couldn't hear anything – had she knocked hard enough or was he just busy? If she knocked again and he had heard her the first time but ignored it then wouldn't he get really annoyed? She paused for a few seconds more, then took her courage in both hands and rapped sharply on the door.

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Jack Hammond was forty years of age, a successful businessman who'd made it big on the internet, and in doing so, had gone into business for himself, working out of his own home which saved him a lot on overhead. He was still considered attractive too, kept himself in reasonably good shape, working out during the day on his treadmill while on the phone doing business. With dark hair, just a touch of grey beginning at the temples, almost emerald green eyes, he'd had more than enough women take an interest in him.

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It has been getting a little cold just lately, I guess winter is finally on its way. The best thing about it turning cold is it gives me an excuse to go shopping for new clothes. The shops have been full of new winter tops and jackets for ages anyway, I'm surprised it's taken me this long to finally go and splurge! Not that I'm not a sensible shopper, I always like to have a good look around before I splash out.

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I hadn't seen Linda since she and my daughter, Shellie had graduated from high school over four years ago. They had been best friends but had gone to different colleges. They had kept track of each other through email and the phone. I kept track of Linda by accident through chance meetings with her mother. Linda's mother and I would talk and update each other as to our daughter's comings and goings over those four years. In my mind, I still pictured Linda as I last saw her at the High School graduation.

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