Your erotic stories

I hate it when my wife goes out of town. I am left to my own devices and do not do well under those circumstances. God knows I am too old to hang out at clubs and I am not a neighborhood bar kind of guy She tries to take the pressure off by getting some of her friends to invite me over for dinner, but if she is gone during the week I usually decline. I can find enough work and a good book to get me through the evenings.

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I knocked on Kris's door and heard her soft "Come in, Jan." I opened the door and went in. She lay on the couch holding her young daughter on her chest. The baby was nursing, her small head bobbing softly, her little cheeks hollowing as she sucked. My clit actually twitched at the sight. I could see only a small portion of Kris's soft, blue-veined breast, but the thought of her nipple being sucked really made my pussy tingle.

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I love cock. Can't deny it. Can't escape it. Not guys, as such, but COCK. I am married, love my wife and family, and will do nothing to endanger them or my marriage. But I love cock. Am I repeating myself? With local University connections, I am able to make use of the 5 different gyms and work-out centers on campus, in addition to the 3 pools they have. I admit, that at the pools I spend way more time looking at the co-eds, than anything or anyone else.

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It had been a good 18 months following the death of my wife when I finally decided to place our house on the market; for being a large 4 bedroom property with over 12 acres of ground it was far to large for me to manage on my own. During our marriage the wife and I split the chores, she looked after the inside and I looked after the exterior and gardens, it was a system which worked very well until my wife became ill, from then on it was a struggle to maintain the standards we had set ourselves.

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As I walk through the hall way of the spa, stretching my neck as I go and extending my arms to crack my knuckles, I wonder what kind of customers my boss has stuck me with today. As if put on her dump-on list as of late, I had nothing but the old, wrinkly, and unappreciative clientèle. I stop in front of a mirror to check my short spikes atop my head, when the reflection shows me a vision that made my entire body react. Behind me struts two women, robes and slippers in hand, mid to late twenties at best, walking close to one another and talking quietly to themselves.

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It was one of those situations I had heard about but never believed. Three friends were over at my house playing poker, and I was down about $300. It was a string of bad luck, really. My hands had been good all night, but someone else always had something a little better. Now, I am sitting here with a ace-high flush, the other three guys have gone in, but I do not have enough money to match them.

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She passed Fifth Street and checked her watch, right on schedule and thankfully the crossing light was on her side this morning so she eased across the intersection without having to stop. Music from her IPod spurred her on as she rounded the corner on Jackson Avenue, in the home stretch now. The warm early May morning sun at her back, she could see the entrance to the building at the end of the city block and urged herself to push a little harder.

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I guess I should start with a little history. I was born in the late 60's. My dad was a United States Marine. I had a fairly average childhood, went to college, and joined the corps as soon as I graduated. Shortly after I joined the corps dad and mom came to visit. They had some news. Mom was pregnant. Soon after she had my twin sisters Rose and Lily. Being so much older and being on active duty I didn't get to spend much time with my sisters as they grew. Time past and I was doing well in my career.

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CRACK.........CRACK..........CRACK....... The sound of the paddle hitting against flesh echoes in your bedroom. Again and again, you use the wooden paddle to smack the bare ass of the man lying across your bed. "Do you like that, slave? Do you want more?" "Yes, Mistress, oh yes" "Well, unfortunately, it's time for you to go to work. Maybe if you're good, I'll give you a little more tonight."

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"Thank god that's over," said Liz as we tidied away the presentation material. "Hey, you were great," I said. "Never missed a beat." And she hadn't. Liz Morton, from head office. Fortyish, maybe ten or twelve years older than me, but slim and attractive in her tailored suit. She smiled. "Nor did you, on the technical queries."

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