Your erotic stories

There are not many things that would get me up so early on a Saturday morning, but there I was watching the sun rise from East Beach. I must admit that I spent the last two Earth Day Celebrations sacked out for most of the day after a night of heavy consumption. But just the thought of catching a glimpse of Madeline Hannah Waller giving a speech on the local environmental efforts was certainly worth getting up early for.

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I'm 32 years old. My divorce was finalized about six months ago (no children). I consider myself to be good looking man, am in good shape, have a good high paying job, and somehow managed to keep my large house in the divorce. Prior to getting married, I had had sex with two women. My wife and I had a decent enough sex life before things fell apart, though certainly nothing interesting enough to write about.

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I'm officially an old man. I'm not angry about it but I'm not always pleased either. The era of boy and young man passed rapidly, although at the time, it seemed forever. Adulthood came rather abruptly with service in the armed forces in World War II. When released from that obligation, adulthood went on, seemingly endless. So many, many things took place, even fulfillment of some dreams.

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"C'mon honey, please, please, just do it!" "I...I can't, baby...I just can't!" "But you promised! You said you wanted to, please do it!" "That was before, I..I always want to before but after I...I just can't..." I looked down between my spread thighs, feeling foolish. I was begging my husband to eat my pussy after he'd just fucked me, something we'd both expressed interest in having happen in many a spoken fantasy, but which – again – he was chickening out of once he'd screwed me and left me full of cum.

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"Hi. I came to see you before I go." Fiona was the daughter of friends. We had watched her grow up and go out on her own, been to her twenty-first, seen her get her first job and become an attractive young woman. She stood on my front doorstep on a hot summer's day and she looked good enough to eat. My wife was away for a couple of weeks in Perth, and I was batching.

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The muscular buttocks did not even pause in their rhythmic tightening and loosening as the strongly built young man continued fucking the helpless young woman he had bent over the back of the couch. He was semi crouched over her long white back and had one hand under her pelvis, his forearm muscles bunching as he abused her clitoris while his other hand alternately milked each of her elongated teats.

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"Mom?" I looked across at my daughter. Sally was holding the local paper. Rarely carrying anything exciting, so why the look on Sally's face? "Yes, dear? What is it?" "You know I have Jenny and Michelle coming round on Sunday for a pool party, and Kenny, Bill and Hector are coming, too?"

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750... 751... 752. I stood in front of the door, puffing from the exertion of climbing the stairs. This was it. There wasn't much decoration. No comic clippings, or assignment drop envelopes, or notes. Just a business card in a slot. "Lisa M. Rohdes, Ph.D., Manfred Jamison IV Professor of Finance." For a few seconds I just looked around like an idiot, afraid to knock. I know what it seems like: the male student goes to see the hot teacher and gets all distracted.

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I was shopping for an antique cabinet on Saturday; I'd already been to three different Antique stores but found nothing. Fortunately, I had put a bit of thought into the process and had driven to the furthest store first and progressively made my way back home visiting the other stores. So far I'd found nothing that was vaguely suitable. As I wandered into the final antique shop, I saw a cabinet that was perfect for what I wanted. So much for all that planning I thought, if only I'd come here in the first place I could have saved half a day.

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Chapter 1 I was sitting in the rec room watching TV one afternoon when my eighteen old daughter Samantha came home from school. She came over and kissed me, and then she sat on my lap. Now when I say that she sat on my lap, what I mean is that she sat facing me, straddling me with her legs, and her arms on my shoulders. I knew immediately what that meant. Samantha wanted something, something special. And most likely, something expensive.

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