Your erotic stories

Ready for some more wild shit? Hey guys, I'm sure you have seen those make your own dildo kits. You know the kind, where you make a mold of your own dick, and use it to make a vibrator so your significant other can fuck themselves with it when you're not around. Well, I'm here to tell you be careful, if you get one of those, the decision might come back to bite you in the ass. Or worse. Here is my second chapter.

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It was a beautiful, sunny Friday afternoon after a cold and dreary rain-soaked week, so I decided to cut out of the office a little early to mow the lawn, which was several days overdue and looked like a miniature forest. The warm sunshine matched my disposition as I drove home on my familiar route, windows down and radio blasting. It had been a long, exhausting week and I was greatly looking forward to the weekend.

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Auborn Streele rode her swift, powerful horse through the hills of Karameikos, leading her small group of warriors to join the forces at Castellan Keep. Darkness was beginning to fall, and although she and her men were all seasoned warriors, they were in most dangerous territory, and she strongly wished to cover the few remaining miles before nightfall, to be soon sipping a cup of wine at the keep's tavern.

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Maybe it began when I was much younger, and easily influenced by adults. Perhaps it began at 18 after watching Sharon Stone during the film Basic Instinct, admiring the way she seductively smoked in the police interview room. But I guess it doesn't matter how or when it started, the fact was I had the smoking fetish.

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I stood behind her in line at Wegman's. She was fat, really fat. She probably weighed 250lbs but... there was something about her. Her face was utterly gorgeous. It was not just cute or even pretty, it was absolutely stunning and there was something else....she was sexy. Her dark brown hair cascaded past her shoulders and her gorgeous smoldering dark brown eyes exuded sensuality.

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Steamy bath water robbed their bodies of all urgencies. Paz Duarte nestled against Ian Abercrombie. He formed a bulky cushion between her and the tub. His lap the plinth which erased their height disparity. When she didn't slump Paz could turn and level her hazel eyes with his.

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She stood in the kitchen, looking at the aftermath of the "cookout". Most of the mess was disposable and she disposed of it. But all that cut-up fruit needed to be put away, so she resigned herself to the task and started placing it back in containers to be put in the refrigerator. She had spent a couple of hours cutting up peaches, bananas, grapes, plums, and strawberries, so her guests could have daiquiris or sangria, or whatever they wanted to make the party more festive.

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Wear trousers, get fucked. A simple equation, but it worked for Emily. Jeans were a possible, as long as they were tight-fitting. Her baggy cords were a probably not, unless he hadn't seen her for a while. But the black trousers were a near-certainty. There was nothing amazingly 'fuck me' about them, they were just plain black, close-fitting polyester trousers, but Emily knew how much they turned Jamie on. If she wore them, and he saw her wearing them, he simply couldn't keep his hands off her.

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There was no doubting her good looks, perhaps early forties, trim and taut. She moved with a natural grace that was obviously deliberate. He tried not to look but found himself stealing glances in her direction. Once or twice he thought she might have noticed but if she did, she gave no sign of having done so. It was 10.30pm, the hotel bar was empty and he plucked up the courage to go over and start a conversation. She accepted the offer of a drink and they exchanged the usual social pleasantries. Her name was Helen, she did not have to work and spent much of her time travelling.

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On this hot and steamy Midwest summer evening, Alex was scheduled to meet his lover, Lori on the outskirts of the town in which she lived. There's a motel just over the town line where she thought she could get away from her life for a few hours to make love with him.

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