Your erotic stories

Lori was my very first girlfriend. I loved her. It began in Grade Six. Lori's mum was Thai, so she had inherited an exotic skin tone and face. She wasn't ultra petite, like her mum, so guess she got that from her dad. Lori was by far the prettiest girl in school. I tried several times to ask her out, to a movie or whatever qualified as a date at that young age, but she wasn't interested. We were good friends, and she wanted to stay that way. Like I said, she was a girl, and she was my friend. In my mind we were together, but somehow, she never got that memo.

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God! What a sight. I was sitting on the edge of the Franklin's king size bed, my legs were spread wide and my semi hard cock was lying across Mrs. Franklin's face, as she sucked my balls. "I've gotten used to this cock, Chris. I'm going to miss it." She laughed when I croaked out a simple, "Yeah!" Her head bobbed lower and she ran her tongue through my ass crack, circled my anus, before catching my left ball in her mouth and sucked again.

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Jessie was running a little short on cash for the next year of college, his mom and dad helped him out a lot but they thought that he should earn his own spending money, doing odd jobs around town, mowing lawns raking leaves and so on. What he really had his heart set on though, was a car. "We are going to get you a nice new car when you graduate son." His father told him, when he asked to borrow some money.

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I tore off one of the phone number slips from the bulletin board post and figured I would at least give it a try. Just the kind of job I was looking for, high pay (for a college kid at least), and didn't sound like a lot of work. I had never been an artist's model, or even really knew what that entailed. I was an engineering student.

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My name is Waylon Fielding and I am married to a wonderful woman, my wife Celine Fielding. I would like to say that my life is perfect, or even good, but after two years of marriage I'm pretty freaking miserable and it's all Celine's fault. Actually, it really isn't her fault; it's her Mother's, the lovely Melissa Harmon.

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I'd not long returned from my morning 8k run and still had an adrenaline buzz so, after checking my e-mails I decided to have a scroll through a couple of my favourite porn sites and have a nice leisurely wank, when there was a knock on my flat door. As I approached the door I rearranged my stiff cock to avoid any embarrassment. When I opened the door halfway to see who the caller was my jaw nearly hit the floor like a Tom & Jerry cartoon.

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I have had a thing for older women since I was a small child, even when I was really young I remember getting extra dirty just so my babysitter would give me baths. Nothing was beyond my young imagination to get naked in front of them, or have them touch me. I never outgrew that stage, in fact I would think it had the opposite effect, I become even more

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Janet and I had been friends and neighbours for years, long before her husband and my wife died. Now we were both in our late seventies yet still very active. Apart from our competitive love of gardening, we served on several village committees together. We met two or three times a week at some function or other.

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Francine too a small sip of her Long Island Iced Tea and glanced around the hotel's small bar. An older couple sat at one of the tables, talking quietly and laughing together. Two men, both in their mid-forties sat at another table talking about football over a pitcher of beer. Another table was occupied by an older woman and a younger man, heads together, whispering into each other's ears. The bartender, a man in his late fifties or very early sixties was hanging glasses in the rack over the bar. Francine was the only other patron.

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One of my father's crudest friends had a saying that he reserved for men he thought were losers with the women. He would say, "That guy couldn't get laid in a whore house with a pocket full of hundred dollar bills." I never thought about that much; I figured I was doing alright with the ladies until I turned forty. Then it dawned on me, I had never had one that truly cared about me. Through my blue collar hard-working, long-hour days, I had a long string who abused my trust, used me and made me pay too much for the attention I got from them.

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