Your erotic stories

I've often asked myself how it is that I came to be so addicted to the worship of women's legs. I've never adequately been able to explain it even to myself. I will say that ever since I was a young boy, the sight of a firm pair of legs, preferably in a skirt, is enough to get my juices flowing, my cock hard, and my mind racing.

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I've been a single dad for about 6 years now. My wife died when our son was 12. It's not been an easy road for me, but I wouldn't trade it. My son and I have a very good relationship. Since my wifes death, I haven't really done any dating to speak of. I've been out a few times, but they were more friendship dates than anything else. Needless to say, sex has been pretty much non existent. I chose this lifestyle for a reason;

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"Nice meat, Pops...is that hard on for me?" I opened my eyes, my hard cock still cupped in my palm as I sat nude in my hot tub. My son's girlfriend, Dana was standing on the deck, smiling at me, naked. "You're blushing," Dana giggled, which made her firm young tits jiggle invitingly. My manhood surged towards greater fullness, bobbing in the water as if greeting our guest.

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Every day for the past month Ashlee had lain soaking up the sun in the next door garden, turning from chicken skin white to Mediterranean bronze. And every day Anthony had peeked from the other side of the fence. So much time and effort had he put in mowing that particular patch of lawn, the grass resembled the shaven snatch that latterly had been revealed when she thought he wasn't there. Or maybe she did know he was there. Yeah, she knew all right.

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It was a full week before Bethany heard again from Mrs Boxwell. All during the week at school she had felt anxiety, almost heartsickness, at what she had done last Saturday night. A million questions went through her mind. Mainly, it was: What's wrong with me? But then as she thought about her cute friend Lissy on her knees doing what she was doing, how shocking it was, she could not help but get excited. Late in her bed at night she masturbated. Oh, it was wrong, but she couldn't stop herself.

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She was gorgeous. Oceanic gaze peered from behind thin silver frames of which she wore only because she was afraid of contacts. She stood at the height of five foot five, long raven hair pulled back away from her pale smooth face in a pair of red chopsticks. Finally her voluptuous frame was wrapped in all kinds of fabrics of flow yet B-cup breasts were pulled tightly together just above a silk ivory sash. Her colors today were of deep reds and blues with bare minimum skin exposed...and I got to see it all.

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Mr. Anderson didn't know what to do with the girl now that he was done. She remained in the inverted position until he felt he had to shake her out of it. It looked as though she may have stayed there all day, her red gaping ass shining in the sun over the top of her dripping pink chink. She had to taught some manners, this girl, and he knew exactly the person to do it

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((I usually detest the idea of using toys in a movie or a story because it generally means that the writer has just run out of ideas and the toys are used to take up space, which is almost always the case in commercial porn. The toys also usually sever the story line because they put space between the participants and eliminate flesh-to-flesh contact. However, in this particular story with a "Mother-teaches-daughter" theme, I felt that the use of toys was appropriate to the plot.

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"Maggie - please don't," Oliver Taylor said as he took the last step backwards before he was up against the wall of the guest room of his daughter's house, and as he looked into the eyes of his daughter's only child all he could think of is what his late wife had often said.

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We'd only lived in the neighbourhood a few weeks, so when I first saw him mowing the lawn as I pulled into the driveway, I thought it might have been my own mistake. But no, I checked the house number, and I saw my wife's car in the other parking spot, so I knew I was in the right place. I shrugged and got out of the car. I reached back in for my briefcase, and then watched the young man mowing our lawn as I walked to the front door.

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