Your erotic stories

As Lorraine walked up the steps of the mansion for Andrew's one o'clock lesson, she could hear him butchering Beethoven's "Für Elise" in a way so awful it had to be intentional. Sure enough, the musical carnage soon ended in a burst of raucous laughter followed by the sound of several people slamming their hands down on the keyboard—all in all a forced, nasty sound.

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Another month passed since Steve got his promotion and we had any time away from the kids. That previous night alone was another memorable one in which I bought him a nice black pair of thigh highs and a black lacy garter belt that matched his black satin bikini panties. He was so aroused he came in his panties as I rubbed his crotch on the drive home from dinner.

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John glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 6 in the evening, and Gina, his beautiful bride, was expected home shortly. He placed a bookmark in his novel and rose to check on dinner. He could hear the pasta happily bubbling away on the stove. Moving towards the oven, he flicked on the oven light and bent down to look at the pork roast that was slowly cooking its way to perfection. John and his wife had one rule for their marriage: The one who does the cooking gets to control the events of the evening for the same amount of time as it takes that person to make the meal.

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"Open to me. Open to Daddy."

And I spread my legs for him.

Before that, he had pushed me back gently onto the thick carpet on the moss covering the little sun-spackled glen. He had me kneel before him and take his beautiful, huge cock into my mouth, where I worked it up to over nine inches of hardness to the sounds of the birds twittering in the trees and the other jogger emitting little sighs and moans of pleasure.

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Sunday morning came sooner than I hoped it would but nonetheless it was here. It was around 8 am and I had ordered breakfast in bed to be delivered at 9:30. I rolled over and saw Steve still sleeping soundly facing away from me. He was still in his new sheer black babydoll and tanga panties that I had given him last night as a gift for a wonderful orgasm.

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I enter the bedroom and you are exactly as I requested. This is good as I am extremely horny and would prefer to get straight to fucking you rather than taking the time to punish you before we get started. Your pleated black skirt is wonderfully short and your ass is cocked up into the air as I demand when I enter. I can even see the slight flash of white between your legs where the thong I requested is barely covering your lips.

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It all started when I accepted an invitation to go over to my friend Dave's house. Dave was a wealthy guy who lived in a large, almost like a mansion, type of house. I had grown up with Dave but I didn't consider him one of my closest friends or anything. He could be kind of spoiled and arrogant but because he was wealthy, he always had the best toys, parties, etc.

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Lisa was nervous. Her last test had come back with a multitude of red marks all over it and a big fat F in the corner. If she failed her algebra class, she would have to go on academic probation, and her GPA might even lower enough that she would lose her scholarship and have to drop out - she couldn't afford the college's exorbitant fees without help, and her parents didn't have any money to pay toward her tuition. She shuffled from foot to foot, dancing nervously on the spot outside her professor's office, waiting for him to invite her inside.

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Ever since that night when my wife gave me head while she sat on the toilet taking a leak, the mere sound of her peeing starts a stirring in my cock. When she gets up in the middle of the night for a late night whiz, her stirring often wakes me a little. As I lay there in the stillness, I can hear her pad across the room to the bathroom, and I know in a matter of seconds I will hear those intoxicating chimes as her bladder releases and a stream of her hot urine sprays into the toilet bowl.

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"What's this?" I say pulling my long silky black hair up and in a loose bun. "I hope you like shrimp scampi, Ms. Lily," Josh offers. He turns from the stove wearing only an apron and drops to his knees and crawls behind me. It's six-thirty p.m. and my houseslut pushes his tongue the length of the crack of my perfectly-tight bottom all the way to small of my back.

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