Erotic Stories

All You Can (from - The Canon)

Even if you cannot have the life you would,
endow the life you have with this at least:
do all you can to avoid debasing it
in the continuous contact with the world,
in the continuous restlessness and talk.
Do not debase it by walking it about —
by going often and exposing it
amid the daily trivialities
of your acquaintance and their gatherings,
till like some hanger-on it pesters you.

Translated by John Cavafy

(Poems by C. P. Cavafy. Translated, from the Greek, by J. C. Cavafy. Ikaros, 2003)

In the 21st Century Senior Erotia has finally taken its place as a healthy outlet for aging adults. As our “Mother Tongue” our bodies tell us not only what we desire and love, but how we feel about ourselves. Now that we are in our golden years, being “alive” means more than ever. For this reason erotica, among other sensations, takes on a new significance as we discover that we are entering a period of lessoning physical abundance - however, with greater spiritual awakening. Many seniors now find that they want “one last round”. I find myself among this group. Having just come out of a physical slump, caused by differing medications and physical diagnosis, I feel that I have re-entered the world of the living - even if it is only through writing.

Eroticism is pleasure for pleasure’s sake. As seniors we have felt safe and secure for many years. Most of us have worked hard to ensure a happy and pleasant retirement. What can be more fun than to change old habits and patterns into a new way of life that could never be classified as dull. How wonderful to discover a new physicality, one we thought we left behind in youth - even if it is only mental or classified as fantasy?

Passion, whether real or imagined, is unpredictable; it does not follow the laws and dictates of reason – it releases the work ethic and suspends time – it luxuriates in being lazy – in unlearning all we have been successful in learning for the past six decades. The writings featured here are mostly written by those of us living in the last era of our lives - knowing that there are many adventures we have yet to live, as well as those already behind. We have enjoyed erotica in our private lives and while our bodies and appetites may change over the years, our desire for love and pleasure, if anything, has increased.

These stories are written with the "present" in mind. So let go of your past, what you've already done and didn't do, and get ready to go on a sensual ride. Grab the honey of your choice and accelerate for action. If we do it right, our "todays" will help to open our eyes to the knowledge that we have lived well, loved hard and enjoyed all of the many aspects that our lives have had to offer.

I hope that these stories will arouse your senses - all six of them. So sit back, read, imagine and let your fantasies take flight - and while you're at it - turn to those nearest and dearest and give them a hug.
After all, life is about sharing.

Anais Nin
Anais - small

Bijou felt heavy and drowsy, but not unconscious. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she could not make the effort to open her eyes. But she felt her dress so lightly lifted that she could not be certain. It could have been a breeze. Lifted by a breeze. No human touch. The air was lifting her skirt it seemed, and exposing her silk-clad legs. Where the stockings ended, she felt a light touch. As if a feather had been brushed against her skin. The touch was so light that it was as if the skin had a thousand tiny eyes and the touch had lifted their eyelids, and light and heat fell upon them, waves, currents, vibrations of response. Each tiny cell instead of contracting at the touch, expanded and became twice as sensitive. She never moved. Her deepest fear was that the hand should stop, grow timid, withdraw. She wanted to move, so as to place a leg a little more sideways, separate from the other so that the fingers could reach the inner skin which was more sensitive than the skin of the thighs.

The skin of her eyelids was invaded with a reddish sunset light. It was as if the skin cells had carried red wine, first to her eyes, and then through her neck down to her breasts. The tips of the breasts acknowledged the current of warmth. It could not be a man's hand. It must be silk, a feather, the hair of a soft animal like a rabbit. How slowly it worked its way upward, as if knowing it must wait for all the little cells to awaken, and follow, cumulatively aroused, and like rivulets, foaming toward the center, the edge of small waves of pleasure adding one to the other , increasing as the hand reached a softer and softer skin.

Woman's pearl was the center of this electrical storm, a hushed storm, whirling, wrapped in cotton but incandescent, streaks of lightening, the flesh becoming a lightening conductor, iridescent with light, striking gongs of pleasure; one, two, three."

This story is written by Anais Nin - one of the most famous writers of Erotica in the 20th century. She was the lover of Henry Miller (Tropic of Cancer). The video Henry & June tells the story of the lovers. This quote is from an entry from her diary vol. 3, 1939-1944, page 58.
The Diary of Anais Nin

Volume 3: 1939-1944 (1969), Harvest Books Paperback 1983