Your erotic stories

With it being the first time that Zachary Metzger had brought a friend over from school, his father, Thomas, had figured that it would probably be best for them all if he were to lay low throughout the day, give them their space. Most parents- it seemed as though they would jump at every opportunity to humiliate their offsprings, but not Tom. No... he was different.

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I was a war baby. My father had volunteered for the army as soon as he was 17 and my mother had sent her boyfriend off to war with a smile on his face. I think it was one of his greatest regrets that he never got his chance at Herr Hitler as the war ended while he was in training. It was while he was in training camp that my mother wrote and told him she was pregnant with me.

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Shrugging it off as a mood swing, May went up to her room and threw on a sundress, one of the only things she could wear without a bra and get away with it. "Maya! Dinner's ready!" she heard her mother call. "Coming!" she replied, making her way downstairs.

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The text message from my dad read, simply, "Mom home early." I knew what it meant. Even with the butterflies in my stomach, I'd have to pull myself together and act normal and natural once I got home.

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Omar and Barry were my neighbors in DC before they moved to California 10 years back. They lived in my building complex and we hit it off immediately after meeting at a mutual friend's dinner party. Barry and I quickly connected over our love of team sports. At nearly 6ft, he was a big man but surprisingly agile on the field. He joined my soccer team.

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This is a story about life at Sheri's Place. All the characters portrayed herein are eighteen years old or older. This story is pure fiction. * "Come on bitch, suck on it!" demanded Jerry. Just then Phil a graduate of the high school came around the corner of the shed. What he saw was Xenia on her knees with 18 year old Jerry's cock in her mouth.

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Pt. 1 - The Rehearsal Dinner So far it was a very lovely dinner party. Krista sat at the table with the others, her legs crossed. She slowly brought the glass of champagne to her lips as her eyes danced about the room. She looked over at her mother, Karen, sitting there looking nearly lifeless, a former shell of her energetic self. Krista smiled, knowing all to well, and proudly she might add, that she was responsible for the woman's lack of energy and near lack of a will to live.

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It was a crisp, late November evening in Eastern Canada and we had just driven for an hour through back roads to our remote hunting site. My father-in-law, Edward, parked the truck in a tightly overgrown drive way of sorts, under cover of some trees. The rest of the way to the little cabin had to be by foot, and not just because the driveway was impassible, but because, "Deer don't like the smell of a warm, old pickup," at least that's what Edward would say. Ed was short and stocky and "rough and tough" - a label he'd give himself with a twinkle in his eye.

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It all started with a simple statement. A promise perhaps. They were laying in bed one night during the week after she had just come off of his lap from one of her good girl spankings and rewards she always craved. She looked up at him, a smile across her face and at that moment, he told her that he had something special planned for them this weekend.

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Since the semester began three weeks ago, I haven't seen my dad. My parents' house was a 90-minute car drive away -- close enough to consider a spur-of-the-moment trip every now and then, but too far to do it too often. Classwork was keeping me really busy, too.

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