Your erotic stories

This is the sequel to "Night of Lust for a Small Woman". I suggest you to read it, for a better understanding, but it's not strictly necessary. The characters are: -CAROL, nickname "Child" : a lovely, middle-aged, small housewife, who is captured and repeatedly raped by a gang of tall, strong convicts.

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My marriage went from bad to worse, as my wife went south on me, taking our kids with her. She convinced our two lovely teenage daughters that I was a beast, had treated them all horribly, and thus deserved the worst treatment possible.

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I got the bug to write this story last night and finished it quickly this morning. I don't use an editor so normally I'll put stories away for a period of time and then pull them back up, read them objectively, and correct errors (there always are some). But lately I've tended to put away unfinished stories for a loooong time before finishing them, or put away finished stories and then later decide to write more. So this time I decided to give it a quick once-over and then publish. I apologize in advance for any problems with spelling, grammar, sentence construction, or continuity. Happy Summer 2015, y'all.

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"Sammy? Sammy!" his mother called from downstairs, the second time a bit more panicky and urgent even though she had hardly given him time to respond to the first. Sam had been lying down on his bed, relieved that the weekend had finally arrived and thinking about what to jerk off to tonight. When he heard the familiar yet annoying sound of his mother calling he sighed, got up, and opened his bedroom door.

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Callum finished his morning shower, turned off the jets and stepped out, reaching for a towel. He dried himself down and then turned to admire himself in the long wall mirror fixed to the bathroom wall. As always, he was pleased with what he saw. His naked body was lithe and supple as a twenty year old's should be and he was proud of his cock that was standing to attention as it always did in the mornings, Callum having forgotten the last time he had woken up without a raging hard-on.

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Connor Franks arrived at tiny Municipal Airport in Owens Mill a day ahead of Thanksgiving. His trip from Syracuse University in New York had led him on a series of connecting flights and long bus rides. Fortunately he had found a little charter airline that would fly him over the mess of a snowstorm that had crippled the great plains and cancelled his scheduled landing in Wichita.

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Jesus Christ! Had he just said that? Really? He couldn't believe it. Here he was, 64 years old, and he finally couldn't prevent blurting out a yearning which should have stayed private for ever. It was a cliché, sure, but at that moment time just froze. He was conscious of no other sound or movement; perhaps his heart even stopped beating. The room was a photograph.

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Let's just say that I didn't get much sleep that night. Hannah turned out to be insatiable in the bedroom. Usually they say that the girl can't remember at some point how many times they have sex. But in the bedroom of her lakeside cabin, I lost track after five times.

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My Aunt Jessie had been threatening for several weeks to call me over to her house for me to give her another massage after I'd massaged both her and Mom with baby oil in our back yard one afternoon and she finally did it. I got home from work and was showering in the mud room when, as usual, I heard Mom call out, "That you, Hut?"

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Officer Chris Milling woke with a start and sat straight up in bed. He quickly tried to process everything as he looked around the strange bedroom with wide eyes. Suddenly it all came back to him as he looked to his left and saw the hot, tan, young blonde sleeping next to him. It was a dream come true. He couldn't believe he was actually here with her. He had wanted this for so long for this. He had masturbated to these moments so many, many times. He had promised the universe he would make a difference in the world if it would only grant him this one wish.

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