Your erotic stories

The white cotton fabric of her panties made a scratching sound as it rubbed hard against her pubic hair. Wet heat was penetrating the only barrier to the pussy I had dreamed about since I was sixteen. The situation had deemed it necessary for hard, rough kissing. Our tongues were battling, roughing the other up, our mouths had become instruments for something other than verbal communication; instead it was a primal and taboo language we were speaking.

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Mike couldn't wait to get home. Working third shift at his new job was tiring, but he would be able to get on another shift soon. He looked at his watch, and he knew it would only be another few minutes before he got to Ron and Lisa's house. They were friends of his wife, Jeannie, and he was staying with them until they moved to the new city he was working in. Both Ron and Lisa were teachers, and very well respected in the community. They were not nearly as wild as Mike and Jeannie, but very nice, nonetheless.

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"M...m....Melons..." My stammered exclamation hung there in the laundry room as the young woman and I stared at each other. I could not for the life of me recall her real name. She was, after all, not my son's girlfriend. If anything, she was a hanger-on, an occasional presence drinking beer or occupying a lawn chair while the boys worked on trucks. All the guys just called her "Melons" because of the balloon like breasts she so proudly paraded in front of her.

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The summer was only half over and I missed Shauna. We had been keeping in touch both by phone and e-mail, but I decided a trip to Vegas was in order. I decided to give Shauna a call and ask her if it would be OK. "How about some company one of these days?" "Are you serious?" "I think its time for a little trip. Don't you?"

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Dave Rollands, is a 30 something year old, lean built, 5’11” happily married man. He is wearing what he usually wears when he goes out with the guys on Thursday nights: sneakers, jeans, and buttoned shirt. He has two secrets. One of them is wearing the frilly white French cut panties with the sexy, white stockings carefully hidden underneath his manly clothes.

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My lover has an Afrikaans accent. His breath whispers against my neck as he speaks gruffly in my ear, pinning me to the living room wall. I push my behind into his groin as he cups my tits, groaning he is "so glad he met me." It's a rainy summer's night, all sticky and we're slick with sweat. We're both in singlets, he's in jeans and I can feel his thick length as he nestles it between my shorts clad cheeks.

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Funny it happened when we tried "The Invisible Man." I've always wondered about that. Everybody's tried auto-blow, bending into a pretzel, trying to suck your own cock. Everybody's tried it, especially when younger. A flexible guy like my Chuck-o can lie back, roll his hips up, bring his feet back over his head, knees to his chest, and get his own dick down between his lips. Gives himself a blowjob.

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Paul's a mate of mine. He's a genuine nice guy and that surprises people when they find he's a mate of mine. Most people think I'm a bit of a bastard, but Paul doesn't mind that. He just says that's who I am. Like I said, a genuine nice guy. Like me, he's in the building trade. Difference is, he's concreter, where I'm a carpenter.

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Life certainly has its ups and downs as everyone can attest to. It just feels like my life has had more downs than ups over the past few years. For instance, my parents had been killed in an auto accident three years ago when I was twenty-three. A semi-truck had veered into their lane when the overworked driver fell asleep at the wheel hitting my parent's car head-on. The doctors assured me that they had died instantly, which was a blessing I guess.

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I had been doing some contract work for a large multinational company and had the pleasure of dealing with a young legal secretary who had only been with the company a few months. Angela was in her early twenties and quite petite with lovely natural blonde hair and a great little body. She dressed a little old for her age, but always looked immaculate in her business wear, sometimes wearing a suit with a skirt and fine tan pantyhose.

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