Your erotic stories

The phone rang once. I groaned, stirring from dreams as deep as the blue eyes I had been dreaming about. The phone rang twice. I sat up and gave the phone two middle fingers. The phone rang again. "FUCK!" I shouted, lunging myself across the silk sheets to pick the damned thing up.

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I found one way to connect with other men looking for some fun was on chat lines on the phone. There were a few that were free although many charged for the service and you could get on and find others interested in the same thing you were interested in. The particular time I'm thinking about started off as many of them did with me getting an invitation to talk with another guy about what it was we were looking for. During the course of the first few minutes it became clear that he was looking for a man to come over and give him a blow job.

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I suppose a lot of people would consider me to be a slut now. But I don't think it's my fault, really. I mean, what else could have happened? I was one of those girls who started to flower into womanhood early. I was a skinny young girl who wore a B-cup brassiere when I was still in the sixth grade. I was completely embarrassed by my development. I dressed to avoid showing my rapidly blossoming femininity. Layered clothing became the norm along with a shoulders-hunched-forward posture.

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My father-in-law is tall and well-built, with really sexy bedroom eyes. But I hardly gave Daddy Jim—the pet name I gave him to distinguish him from my husband, who is also named Jim—a second thought, except for the times we went out to visit him, so we could use his pool. Sometimes, when my Jim had to work on the weekends, I drove out there by myself to swim and work on my tan. One Saturday morning about a month ago, pulling into his driveway, I noticed a strange car parked in front of the garage.

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I need to tell you about what happened here last week while you were away. You deserve to know and I just hope that you understand. You left me on Monday last week and by the time Wednesday rolled around, my mind started to wonder. I started thinking about you and your tongue and your cock. I put on some lingerie to make myself feel sexy and opened a bottle of pinot. I sat at the computer trying desperately to find myself a story to get off to.

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I love being a good little league Mom, but I also have a dark side that needs quenched from time to time. This day would quench that need in me, and then some, with an unexpected meeting after the game. "Play Ball!" After sitting through a little league game, I was upset with the young umpire that made some horrendous calls.

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Approximately 99.99% of the male Lit readers have no doubt fantasized over the opportunity to have the infamous Lucia's (a/k/a the aptly named Gimmie_your_load) luscious mouth wrapped around their cock. As if her self-description as a "cock-obsessed fellatrix" weren't incentive enough, Lucia is a splendidly vivid and eloquent author, who also happens to be quite beautiful and amply endowed in the, uh, chest region.

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"Depressed? Damn straight I'm depressed. Waking up to find your, 'man,' the same guy you'd being screwing all evening, getting butt fucked by some dude can do that to you. Hell, I'd have to be crazy not to depressed." Sue Cangilosi finished her tirade by draining her fifth "Harvey Wallbanger" and then gave Cindy Davis a sad smile. "So what makes you think I'm depressed?"

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