Your erotic stories

My name is Dr. Matthew Dorhring. Samantha's father and I met almost 25 years ago while working as teaching assistants at the same institution where I am now a tenured professor. A few years ago, I took a sabbatical from the university during which I traveled and lived in different parts of the world and had missed seeing Samantha develop from child to adolescent. It wasn't until just before Samantha's high school graduation that I moved back to the states, and for the first time saw how beautifully she had grown and transitioned from a gangly adolescent into a nubile, sexy young woman, eager for life and new experiences.

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I stood on the tee box looking out across the 1st fairway, wondering where everyone else was on such a beautiful afternoon. High stratus clouds pulled long and wispy, a steady breeze, 72 degrees and low humidity. The many shades of green painted against the deep blue horizon looked crisp and brighter than usual. Hoping for an opening (I didn't have a tee time), I had anticipated a long wait even though it was a weekday. But the parking lot was dotted with just a handful of cars. What a pleasant surprise to have the starter say, 'The tee is yours! Hit 'em straight.' This will be a great afternoon!

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I always fantasized about fucking two girls at the same time. I never thought it would happen, but sometimes dreams come true when you least expect it. I met Lorraine through the internet. She had read some of my stories and we exchanged E-mails. We discovered that we were both in unhappy and sexually frustrating marriages. When I had a business trip near where she lived, I asked if we could meet. She said yes, but under one condition. No sex.

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Working in construction for so long I've been able to work my way up to foreman; which in my case, basically means that I point out what others are to do and I don't do much physical labor anymore. I've been doing this, with the same company, for almost twenty years now, starting when I was just seventeen. I've been able to keep myself in great shape, physically and sexually. It's no secret that there's a special category for construction workers in a lot of women's, and men's, fantasy worlds. I've been able to take advantage of a lot of a lot of those feelings over my career and I hoped to keep it up as long as I could. After all, I'm only thirty-six years old; I expect to be able to fuck like a madman for another few decades.

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I took the bet certain that I would win. The stakes of the bet – the winner gets sex the way they want it. I knew he wanted it, but I didn't know how he wanted it. I was so sure that I would win. If I won, I'd put on a two headed dildo and fuck him up the ass; all the while taunting him. At the centre of the dildo was a giant ball sack. The harness I wore held the dildo by the ball sack so that half the dildo was up my cunt and the other half stretched forward like a giant erect cock. The way I wanted it was me as the dominant and him my submissive.

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They had first met in an insurgent camp outside Yogyakarta in the Indonesian jungle, far from their own country of the Philippines. In the Philippines there was little chance that they would have met, especially while the Americans were still there in force, but even in more recent years when the government had been weak and taken up with internal squabbling.

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Kurt was nervous. She was meant to be there in fifteen minutes, it was quarter to six now and the movie started at six-thirty. She had told him she would be round to pick him up, it would just be easier that way. He had put on his favourite shirt; Navy blue and plain, he wore it everywhere he went and didn't feel the need to dress up tonight. He was also wearing his oldest pair of jeans, held up by a belt he had just gotten the week before, Kurt despised shopping and even more so when it was for pants.

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Some people say "no good deed goes unpunished." I never subscribed to that armchair philosophy even though I had and saw many good deeds backfire. I must admit, though, that the "unpunished" saying did make me a little apprehensive that my most elaborate good deed might boomerang; but it didn't stop me. I'm a 52 year old guy with keen business acumen but poor social skills with women. I did get married when in my twenties to a bohemian woman that my friends considered a poor match.

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It was a slow night at Iron Works Gym. Outside the rain pounded the parking lot and washed away the remnants of what had been another routine day. Another routine day in a long, line of routine days. There were only a few guys working out that night and we were all scattered into our own workout zones. The clanking of plates drowned out the music the gym played but no one seemed to care. Most of the guys in the gym that night were listening to their own tunes on their Ipods and in 'the zone.'

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As the car idles in front of the school, in line with all the other parents waiting to pick up their children, I take out my phone and call you. "Hi, baby," you say, the tension in your voice coming through the line clearly. "Do you need something?" "I was just about to pick up the kids and thought I'd see how your day is going and if you wanted something special for dinner. Is Michaels still breathing down your neck?"

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