Your erotic stories

Ryan was in the kitchen eating his breakfast watching her. She was wearing her nightgown which didn't leave much to the imagination, pretty much see through. It flowed all the way to her ankles and clung very nicely to her womanly figure accentuating her large, full breasts. Every move she made, made her big titties sway from her body, Ryan so badly wanted to get up from the table and squeeze them.

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**Author's Note: This story contains some bondage elements. I've never been into that sort of thing, and I've never been to a club, or even read a book about it. All I have is daydreams and porn. So, if I got things mixed around in my fictional club, yes, it's my fault. No, I'm not into it enough to try it myself. Yes, I'm a coward. But, I liked the setting and scenario, so here it is. If you're not into kinky sex stories involving group sex in a semi-public forum, scram. If you're underage, or if any other factor would make it illegal for you to read this, please leave. Other than that, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for all the votes and comments. Please tell me what you think.

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Nuala collapsed on top of the sleeping bag. She couldn’t believe how out of shape she was. She’d been on her school’s track and field team all through high school and she’d never thought about having to exercise to stay in shape. Things had changed at college though. She hadn’t done any exercise at all this last year and she sure noticed it now. She’d just assumed that her more feminine curves were due to the fact that she was getting older, she was almost 19 now, but maybe it was her body telling her that she had to get back in shape.

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I struggled not to run home from school. It would arrive and day now and just the thought caused my heartbeat to quicken. Typically I got the mail before my mother, so I was not too concerned that she might discover it. If she did, I had a good excuse prepared, a reaction which I had practiced many times, for why an 18-year old boy would receive such a thing.

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((I usually detest the idea of using toys in a movie or a story because it generally means that the writer has just run out of ideas and the toys are used to take up space, which is almost always the case in commercial porn. The toys also usually sever the story line because they put space between the participants and eliminate flesh-to-flesh contact. However, in this particular story with a "Mother-teaches-daughter" theme, I felt that the use of toys was appropriate to the plot.

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For the past three years, completely unbeknown to my husband Tom and my three beautiful kids, I have been working in a massage parlor called the Pink Lady. While I'm not proud of being a 'rub & tug' girl, Tom has repeatedly refused to let me get a regular job even when money is tight.

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All characters in this story are over 21. It is completely fictional. I have picked up immediately from where Part 1 ended. Even though we were going to be hanging out, we had a family tradition where my mother would not accept jeans or sweats for Thanksgiving. It was understood that we would dress "up". I put on a Blue, button down shirt, tie, and khaki pants and dress shoes which I laughingly referred to as the man uniform.

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It had been eighteen months since my sister Jess and I had got back together, after the death of our parents and here we were living and working together. Life had been a roller coaster this last year and a half for sure. From estranged siblings, to lovers, to co-workers. It was a heady existence and I never, ever took any of it for granted. I loved Jess with all my heart and she, bless her, felt the same about me.

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All characters depicted are 18 years of age or above. The author does not encourage or condone the activities described within. * Landon didn't exactly know what he expected prom night to be, but sitting in his gangly, pimple-faced friend Mark's den watching a porn film about naughty cheerleaders definitely wasn't what he had hoped for or envisioned.

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"Well that fucking sucked," Zoey cried. Her visor went sailing across the room and bounced off the curtain. "Everybody has a bad day Zoey," I offered. "You're not out." "Whatever," she cried. Her shoes flew from her feet and bounced onto the floor. "You're in fifth place, that's far from out," I retorted. "It was a hard day and the wind didn't help." "Urrrrrr," she growled as she flopped down on the bed to sulk some more.

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