Your erotic stories

Chapter I It’s one of those beautiful days that only occur in California. It’s fall and San Francisco is particularly beautiful. I’ve only just arrived in this city from the Midwest. I came for, of all reasons, I met a married woman on the Internet. She’s young, early 30/s, blonde, attractive (36C-26-34) and really likes old black men. Funny how I wound up here, an old white guy, also married, traveling 2000 miles for this meeting. I must be crazy…but then again this one may well be worth it.

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I remember when I was twenty-seven and sleeping with a thirty-eight year old she seemed such an older woman. My friends were impressed and a bit curious. She really did seem, not old, but older than me, different. I was curious about her body and enjoyed fucking her. She, it seemed, enjoyed her ’toy boy’. Now, years later, I find the tables turned and a woman of twenty-seven hardening my forty-two year old cock. Again my friends are impressed and curious and I’m very interested in her hard little body.

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"You mean," Dakota asked, "you just parade in front of those guys, and then you pick one, and then you ... you FUCK him? And you've never met him before?" "I can't help it," Mary Jane replied, shrugging her shoulders and looking a little bit embarrassed at her friend's reaction.

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Weeks of anger, hurt and frustration had caused the maelstrom of emotions to abate enough that we could be in each other's presence without compounding the situation. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest as I looked at him, my eyes feasting once more on the visage of this man I love. His silver hair was shorter than it'd been the last time I saw him;

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My ex-girlfriend Tori and I dated for five years, and we had an interesting sex life during that time. She had a thing for kink, which I happily indulged in as well, but one particular encounter sticks out in my mind. We had a great time that day. We went to dinner and a movie, walked around the mall for an hour or so, and browsed the local bookstore. All the while we kept shooting each other flirtatious glances. I could tell, from experience, that she was in the mood for something, and I hoped she was picking up the same signals from me.

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I looked out at the brightness through my frosty window. From the guttering, icicles descended, glistening in the wintry sunshine. I opened the window slightly, inhaling the crisp air. “So beautiful” I whispered as I snapped off the longest icicle and dropped it, watching it spear into the snow below. “Mmm, perfect murder weapon!” I giggled.

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As I walked into the bathroom, I immediately took note of its strange cleanliness, considering its location off of a highway. I sat down in one of the stalls and closed the door. As I finished my business, I turned around to flush the toilet, and noticed a hole in the wall, about 3 inches in diameter.

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I don't go to "the club" very often. Going there usually leaves me with this vaguely guilty-dirty feeling. I can never seem to pin down the reason for the feeling. I mean gees, what does anyone care what I do with my own body, or anyone else's for that matter? Consenting adults and all that. I'm pretty open about sex, and very tolerant of other people's turn-ons, no matter how kinky or weird they may be.

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This is the sequel to "Night of Lust for a Small Woman". I suggest you to read it, for a better understanding, but it's not strictly necessary. The characters are: -CAROL, nickname "Child" : a lovely, middle-aged, small housewife, who is captured and repeatedly raped by a gang of tall, strong convicts.

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Mr. & Mrs. Edwards were the first couple I met after the agency sent me out on interviews and I had no problem accepting their generous job offer. Being from America I called myself a babysitter, but in my new Kensington neighborhood it was fashionable to have an 'au pair' so this became my new title. The deal was pretty good since I got the use of a cute car and a cottage to myself instead of my little flat.

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