Your erotic stories

Jack heaved the heavy basket of groceries on to the handlebars of his bike and set off on his delivery run. This was the last of his deliveries this afternoon. Mrs. Kelly's large family ensured that her delivery would always be the largest and the heaviest. He liked going to her place and left it to last so he could linger and talk. Mrs. Kelly was a big jolly woman. "I am sixteen stone," she told him one afternoon when he helped her up the stairs.

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Mrs Potter has wild sexual fantasies in Church and then confesses her sins Mrs Potter had a problem with alcohol. Ever since she was about 20 whenever she touched alcohol she would get overwhelming sexual urges that made her very very promiscuous and would do absolutely anything that would result in her having an orgasm.

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I would like to tell you a story about how I hooked up with the finest lady in the world. Her name was Lisa Powers. Lisa was the most gorgeous woman you could imagine. She would have made any model jealous. Her long slender body had enough curves to drive most men crazy with lust. You can only imagine what she did to my eighteen-year-old body. Mrs. Powers, as I should call her, is one of my best friend's mom. She was in her mid forties, and for a housewife she kept herself in great shape. Mr. Powers worked with my dad at the local chemical company.

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For most of my life now I've had a problem, and the problem has been with my "package". It's too big, 12" inches long and almost 5" inches around, I've measured. Of course it hasn't always been that big, the problem started when I was around 13, when puberty really began to take effect for me. Soon after I started growing at a furious rate, and when I grew, all of me grew. When puberty started for me, I guess my "package" was around 4 1/2, maybe 5 inches. Two years later it was the 12" inch monster I carry with me now.

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For all intents and purposes, this is a sequel of sorts of my first story. Those who read the first story know about the affair I had begun with John and how it helped liberate me from the shackles of my life. It takes place after my lunch with my daughter, Beth. She had gone to tell John about the man she had met and how she had already slept with this man. John reacted in bewildered amazement, according to my daughter, cursing at her before leaving the apartment. Beth called me immediately in tears, upset that she had made a mistake.

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It happened about twenty years ago, and it was, quite simply, the most intense sexual experience of my life. (Please allow me the courtesy of having changed names, not identifying the locale and dialogue as I remember it) I lived with my divorced mother a mile or two from where the suburbs gave way to the country, and right next to a small Baptist church. Right next to the Pastor's house actually. The church was on the other side of his house.

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I dropped down under the shade of the tree next to Bill and Joe. "Has she been out yet?" "Ya don't see any laundry hangin' up do ya'?" Joe observed. "Good, I had to finish fixing the fence out back, I thought she might be done by now." Working on a cattle ranch in Montana in my youth did not offer many possibilities for sexual entertainment. We couldn't log in on the Internet and surf for porn sites, we had no soft core porn on the movie channels, and the nearest titty bar was some thousand miles from here.

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I remember one summer when I went out to the ranch of my friend Amanda's uncle. This was her father's youngest brother, making him around 40 at the time. We had just finished our third year of college and we were borderline ADD from the joy of completing our finals. We drove up on a hot, hot day in late April, and by the time we arrived at the ranch both of us were covered in sweat and dust.

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Irene lives over my back fence. She has been alone for most of 10 years that I've lived in this house. Her husband had been the local OSHA inspector who had perished during a routine safety inspection downtown. He was testing the safety cabling around the perimeter of the 18th floor of a high rise under construction, when he tripped and fell into a wheel barrow full of water, knocked himself out and drowned. The story was glorified a bit about having fallen to his death, but I knew better.

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When I was fifteen, my parents enrolled me in an SAT prep course hoping in their usual Asian fashion that it would help me achieve the score necessary to give them bragging rights over their other Asian friends' kids. Personally, I thought this was going to be the biggest waste of time, but as with many things in my pre-college life, I did as my parents ordered, realizing it was useless to fight.

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