Your erotic stories

"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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I had just finished my last appointment for the day. My wrists were killing me. I loved being my own boss as a massage therapist, but 7 sessions in almost as many hours wreaked havoc on my muscles. I'd just opened my small office a few days earlier and already people were clamoring. They were mostly former clients I'd worked on during my training. Before locking up and heading home, I decided to tidy up the changing room instead of waiting for tomorrow.

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I walked up the sidewalk in the rain towards the lighted porch. The weather matched my mood. I had come home from my office on campus and found a note. "Sorry, I don't think this is going to work our. I've gone back to Tennessee. Karen." I guessed that she had gone back to stay with her aunt. She had left me and I was stunned and angry and depressed and sad-and somehow lighter and freer. But I needed to talk to somebody and that's why I was walking up to Greg and Rosemary's door.

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It was a feeling more than something I saw. But I paused and took a slow look around. No one was looking at me and the only other customer was a lady about my age pushing a cart through the Produce department. There was that young man with the tool belt sitting on the floor working on one of the display cases. On the back of his jacket it was printed "Jakes Air-condition and Heat." However he seemed to be engrossed in his work.

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