Your erotic stories

John Harrison had not enjoyed the best of days at work. His boss had been acting like a tyrant, he'd spilled coffee on his shirt, the sandwich shop got his order wrong and sent him Ham instead of Turkey. He wanted to get home, open a beer and relax. He walked in the three bedroom apartment he shared with his daughter, Penny, and there it was.

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Sleeping beauty was a dream cum true! But she was his daughter. She was Sleeping Beauty; she was a dream cum true. She was my daughter. I of course knew she was a gorgeous and sensuous woman, just like her mother had been when we were first married. But she was not her mom's uptight restrained girl; she was her daddy's libertine libido in feminine form.

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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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This story is entirely fictional. ***** She was beautiful. Eighteen years old and stunning with her petite little body and long brown hair, just like her mother. When she was six years old, her mom had taken off with a friend of hers (whom I was always right not to trust) and she never looked back. She never called or asked about our daughter. She was just gone. It broke my heart but I got to keep Lacy.

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It was her weekend at her father's, and was, as always, a nice vacation from her boring life at her mothers. Being at her dad's made her feel warm and happy, like she was a little girl again. She loved laying in the massive, ornate white canopy bed with its soft pink sheets and fluffy white comforters. This room was also her favorite backdrop for her adult amateur barely legal website.

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Not every story has a happy ending, at least for me it didn't seem that way. Zoey had won states and was heading off to the west coast and Stanford in the fall. She was excited but apprehensive about the move and being that far away from home and me. I assured her it would be fine and she would be fine. Soon after we had returned from the state championships my wife decided that she wanted to be single and try to find someone else.

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OUR OWN PASTORAL Scaramouche123 Forbidden love in three acts All characters are of majority at the time the sex takes place. ACT I -- The Stranger I was seven when my mother died of complications from a fall she suffered while we were hiking the Appalachian Trail. I was devastated and thought my world was ending. My father had been killed during the last days of Desert Storm, a few months before I was born, and as I was an only child of a single parent who herself was an orphan; I stood at the abyss at a far too early age.

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I fired up the laptop and sat in the chair. I waited quietly in the dark room while it loaded and connected to the net. There we go I thought. I clicked on the icon and the world opened up to me. I typed in the usual address and looked to see what they had to offer for porn today. I skipped over the big fake tits getting drilled by monster cocks stuff. That was old and boring. I wanted something new, something different.

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My preference is for stories are all about the sex rather than with vast amounts of background, so this is in that vein. The plot is based loosely on a story I read many, many years ago; I don't recall the author or title. I'd love to say this happened to me but that would be ludicrous: the scenario is a sexual fantasy and not meant to be completely realistic.

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Santa must love me because I've never had such a young, nubile present in all my life. It was the day before Christmas and the sky hung over my house as black as cast iron. A bitter mix of snow and sleet hissed through the leafless trees in my front yard. A foot and a half of snow covered the ground; not much for some parts of the country but here in Olympia, Washington it was quite a shock. Power was out in parts of town, though not at my house, and the schools and many businesses had been closed for several days.

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