Your erotic stories

I'm in my late fifties. Pretty good-looking, I'm told and still in pretty good shape, thank you very much. I live in Bridgehampton, New York, right in the center of the 'Fabulous Hamptons' resort area. I live here year 'round and unlike the eclectic billionaires that comprise my neighborhood, I don't go to the fancy parties and fundraisers, horse shows or designer shops. Don't get me wrong, I love the style and artistic nature of the place, bumping into the super-famous on the street and dining on the best food.

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My fortieth birthday had just gone by the previous week, with quite a fanfare of celebration. The years just seemed to have flown by. I sat back at my desk in the basement and reminisced the last twenty years. Moreover, perhaps puzzling what changes I should have made, if any at all. Or would all that had gone on this last month be an indication of the next decade. My teenage life was uneventful, I had a few girlfriends but nothing much happened until I was nineteen, then Jane appeared on the scene.

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Ellie Barton looked up over the top of the latest copy of Birds and Blooms as the child passed by her patio for what had to be the third time this morning, and Ellie chuckled when she saw the kid's reaction to being caught looking in her direction.

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I was at university at the time, and like all students I was finding money very hard to come by, not having rich parents, and not getting along with my mother. She had wanted me to marry this nice lad, but he wasn't for me. I was doing media studies, public relations, and arts. I thought I had the looks to get on in those fields. I had done some modelling when I was a bit younger, so I thought I might be able to get into that.

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ONE AN ILL-DEFINED QUALITY, something in her expression unsettled him. Despite the differences in their ages the girl was disturbing, made him feel distinctly uneasy. A hint of a smirk lifted the corner of her mouth while her pale-green, penetrating eyes bored into his and gave the impression of being able to recognise every dirty, sordid thought that had ever crossed his mind. He didn't know her well; they'd never been close while she was growing up. She was his brother's daughter.

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What a lucky kid. I thought as my son bustled through the door of our entryway. He was laden with bags of luggage, grumbling about how he had married an overpacker. His wife followed him carrying two suitcases, her blonde hair falling in her face. The pair bustled up the stairs into the spare bedroom. I walked out to their Lexus and saw they had gotten most of the bags in. There were just two left. A brown suitcase in one hand and a black gym bag over one arm and I was in.

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DING DING DONG. "Oh damn," Lauren sits up in bed, pushing her hair out of her eyes, suddenly remembering the air conditioning man is supposed to arrive at 8:00 o'clock. She stayed up late, chatting online with some college classmates while watching an old movie and forgot to set her alarm. Grabbing her red silk robe from the foot of the bed, she pulls it over her dad's old undershirt and little boy boxer shorts.

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I've done something appalling, something that I have tried to stop doing but can't. No matter how severely I berate myself with a vow never to repeat my actions in moments of remorse, I can't resist such an overwhelming power. It's not lust; lust is such a puny word when I compare it to the wash of sheer, irresistible craving that I feel.

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Greg sat in his office smiling. He could not believe his luck. The 44 year old electrical contractor had been given the CCTV system by one of his customers. The installation of the cameras was easy. He and one of his electricians had mounted the five cameras up in the various areas of the office and had the entire system up and running in less than two hours. He had no idea the benefits that this thing would reap until now.

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It was a blistering hot summer day. I had just walked a couple of miles from the auto dealer repair shop where I had left my car for a tune up. Normally it's a pleasant walk but today it was just sweaty. I was nearly home when a voice behind me said, "Oh good, could you help me with this?" I heard her bike come to a stop. It was Kimberly, my neighbor, kitty corner from across the street. I was standing right in front of her house. Kimberly and her husband are a young couple that purchased their first home here several months ago. Kimberly is a grade school teacher.

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