Your erotic stories

The dictionary defines Valentine- a sweetheart chosen or complimented on Valentine's Day. I'm not sentimental or for that matter sensitive. At least, that is what I've often been told. You are so closed off! Unreachable! I disagree. I happen to have had a perfectly good reason for keeping my heart locked up. The problem, in my opinion, was with the people who never tried to slip by the barriers.

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"Just come over here!" My best friend, Cassie, could be so impatient at times, and today was no exception. Her voice rang out through my cell phone, "I have to eat some dinner and then we can hang out." "Okay, fine," I replied. When Cassie wanted to see me she always demanded instead of asked.

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Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Heather McCormick and I'm a thirty-something m.i.l.f. living in suburban Atlanta, Georgia. The story I'm about to tell you is the God's honest truth, and I wouldn't lie, because lying is a sin. Six months ago I was a slovenly 158 pounds of bored, impetuous, spoiled housewife. Now I am a svelte 115 pounds thanks to the Wulfwinter Weight Loss Clinic. Here's my story.

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"Hey man, you got a light?" the old guy next to me asked with a hoarse voice. He looked to be about 5'5" tall, overweight, had a head full of roughed up black and gray greasy hair, and a shaggy beard. I guessed his age to be around 50. His jeans and flannel shirt were a little dirty looking. "Sorry, I don't smoke," I told him.

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I had been here a lot since moving back to New Zealand about six months ago. I had been living in Greece, on a sort of working sabbatical from the local university. Since I lived two blocks from here it was the first place I went for a drink after I moved in. Once I walked in I had kept coming back. It was... different I guess.

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After the incident, I endeavored to analyze the events that led up to it, concluding that I'd made four mistakes. The first was reporting a leaky water heater to building maintenance, the second forgetting the day and time, they said they would come, and my third calling in to work and reporting sick just so I could take a day off. I lay in bed until nine, playing with myself and generally feeling horny. Having masturbated to an unsatisfying climax the night before I made my fourth and last mistake.

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The bustle of life on the college campus always peaked just after finals. Students who had spent their last couple of weeks locked away in their dorm rooms or the library and stuffing all the knowledge of a semester into their heads at once finally emerged to face the sunlight and celebrate another successful term.

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I was a pretty normal teenage jock. Women, sports, and partying were my priorities. Like nearly everyone I knew, I was generally repulsed by the thought of two men doing anything together sexually. I had certainly never been attracted to men in my life. In fact, the summer after high school was spent in pursuit of girls. I was lifeguarding and teaching swimming at a private club.

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I have fallen asleep in my bed, waiting for you to come over and play. Suddenly, a noise wakes me, and I realize that the light I left on in the bedroom is now out. My eyes can't make anything out in the gloom, when suddenly a shape moves toward the bed. I call your name, but there's no answer. Frightened now, I fumble for the bedside lamp, but I suddenly find a wrist manacle strapped to it, while I am pressed back onto the bed by the weight of the mysterious stranger.

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His fingers were in her pussy, tracing patterns on the sensitive and soaked flesh of her inner passages and lazy curly q's on her clitoris. His lips were on hers, roving tongue and all, giving her long kisses that sucked the breath from her. All in all, she was completely lost in the sensations of his lovemaking and would probably have done anything he wanted. Her mind was a mixture of numb to the rest of the world and alive with him. Her heart throbbed and the blood in her veins had turned into a molten river of arousal. Everything was perfect.

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