Your erotic stories

Chapter I Maggie Dantino and I had been friends since 1984. We were attending different colleges in Boston and met while working part-time at Saks 5th Avenue. It was the summer of 1986, when Maggie invited me to her parent's home in Pine Hill, NJ. Her younger brother was graduating from Prep School and her folks were throwing a huge party. Of course I jumped at the chance to get out of Boston for a weekend.

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Sarah, getting dressed for work in her lawyer blues, decided life was not over. Just because her husband decided, at 35, that the priesthood was his real calling in life, why should her life be over? She hadn't had intercourse in three months and, while she knew about fellatio and cunnilingus, those experiences were really distant memories.

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She had been walking for a good hour down the deserted road. A small midstate highway that got little or no traffic. She was feeling dusty and discouraged. She hadn't seen a ride in hours...except the one that had passed her by , the only sign of recognition a small grubby childface sticking its tongue out at her as it zoomed by.

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There they were. The Barbie Dolls. The bleached-blond, silicon-enhanced, daddy's-credit-card-endowed, anorectic airheads, aka the Popular Girls, aka the Cheerleaders. They took their seats at a table in the cafeteria, chittering loudly about the upcoming prom. Dresses, corsages, limos, dates…

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The man interviewing me was a good looking man. Not a gorgeous man, but a good looking man. His musculature showed he worked out, but still he carried about ten pounds more than his ideal weight. Brown hair, a couple of inches shy of six feet, good nose, thin lips. He did have beautiful blue eyes.

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The lights low, his glistening contours barely visible in the mirror. I step closer. So does he. My eyes slowly adjust to the near dark, and I see me, staring back. Blue green eyes drinking me in, a closed circuit of self lust. I step closer. Six feet of rock climber, six feet of swimmer, six feet of dirty hot mind wrapped in a perfect body. I tilt my head. A shaft of light slashes across a sculpted cheekbone.

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It had been a very bad winter. It had been freezing down in the village, and there was no fruit or fresh vegetables of any kind left. All they had was salted meats and tubers, a state of affairs that left Samantha, not accustomed to not getting her own way, very frustrated. The manor house, up on its lonesome hill, was a perpetual temptation to the people in the town below.

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Her lips wrapped around my cock, gliding across the swollen veins until her nose was buried in my pubic hair. I stroked her hair gently as she gave my cock an expert sucking. She slid her hands up my chest and teased my nipples, sending electric waves of pleasure careening down my body and causing my cock to swell even thicker. I reached down, grabbed her pig tails and pulled her mouth off my cock. She loved having her hair pulled.

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Anyways, so I was at work finishing up some end of the day shit after everyone else had gone home for the day. For whatever reason my mind started to drift to my happy places and gradually I became more aroused and less concerned with work. After a few minutes of daydreaming about a beautiful set of ass cheeks spread before me, I decided to sit back and pull out my cock.

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I hated working nights. My social life was in tatters and I was bored to oblivion. Attempting to give instructions to people who had zapped their computers was like trying to teach chimpanzees to play chess. "Go to start, it's at the bottom left of your screen and then scroll up until you see Control Panel and click it. Yes you have to switch your computer on first." Why are people playing with their computers at three in the morning anyway; don't they ever go to bed?

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