Your erotic stories

I slip his boxers down and off and kneel down in between his legs dangling off the front of the couch. His semi hard cock was already a bit larger than mine. "I've never done this before." I murmured. "Its ok." he said. I lean closer to his shaft, tilt my head and slowly place a kiss on the sensitive area under his crown.

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I look at the dashboard clock as I pull up the driveway. It reads half past eight. She must be nervous as hell, at this point. I'm never late. It was the unexpectedly dense traffic that caused me to arrive half an hour after the appointed time but as I consider it, it's not so bad to keep her waiting in anticipation, once in a while. She's used to me being punctual and this must really freak her out.

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"Bonnie, that damned filter strainer thing is stopped up again and the pool jets and the hot tub jets are weak at best. I have a Nude Day pool party starting in half an hour, can you come check on it?" That was the message Bonnie had received as she checked her phone messages. Bill, who had left the message and Gale his wife were two of her first and most valued customers for her pool service.

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It all started innocently enough, I was home from college for Thanksgiving vacation and the Jones needed a babysitter. I came home every chance I got, being a freshman and all, I was pretty homesick. I had been babysitting for the Jones for the last three years and their baby was a sweetie but I hadn't seen them since I started school a couple of months ago.

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Lauren greeted me barefoot at the porch door dressed in a denim mini-skirt and a white cotton T-shirt. She obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Her shirt clung to her breasts revealing a perfect roundness and the stark definition of partially erect nipples. They were larger than normal, for she had a four-month-old child and she was still breastfeeding.

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Sharon couldn't believe what she was looking at. After saving over $7,000 her bank balance had dwindled down to only $950. Although her income was bolstered by the government's student allowance and the occasional part-time job, she had one more year to complete her teaching degree and hitting the workforce as a fully qualified English teacher.

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There's just something about taking off a beautiful woman's panties for the first time. I slid my fingers under Laura's sheer, tiny black thong and she lifted her hips to accommodate the effort. She propped herself up on her elbows, and with one hand, reached behind her and unclasped the matching black bra, exposing her perfectly proportioned breasts, speckled with spectacular freckles, her pale pink erect nipples poking upwards like gumdrops.

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Ashley Maynard was a beautiful 18-year old beauty with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Her slender lithe body and angelic face helped to make her one of the most desired girls in high school. She was both the Homecoming and Prom Queen during her senior year. After graduation her boyfriend, Ben Rogers, went off to college up state while Ashley remained at home attending the local community college.

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Fifty is such a daunting number. Half a century and it seems just yesterday when I was young and the world was new. I sit alone in a crowded bar nursing my third bourbon and coke as music blares around me drowning the sounds of younger people chatting and laughing. Today I am still the 'right' side of that psychological figure. I am forty-nine, but it is the eve of my 'Big 50'. It is only a number, I keep telling myself but in the back of my mind a small voice is chanting in a child-like taunt, "oldie, oldie, you are an oldie..." over and over.

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My name is Jacob. I am 21 and I work as a materials handling specialist for a Chicago construction company. It pays very well, and while not always the most exciting job in the world it does have it's moments, like the time we ordered 500 toilet seals and received 500 toilet seats. But I digress. This story is about my Senior Prom. I had just turned 18 at the time and was dating this beautiful young woman named Stella. Blonde, blue eyed, 46 DD with a nice big ass. She was the object of my teen angst.

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