Your erotic stories

When you start writing a fiction story, it's fun to think about where to start. But when you're writing a true story, especially one with a lot of threads runnings through it, deciding where to start is really hard. There are so many strands involved in explaining the key event, and people won't understand you if you don't describe them well. They may even judge you.

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I listen to a woman's voice singing in a language I have forgotten, drinking tea I can not name. In a place I can not pronounce. Yet for all that I spent years here. The air is full of the strange smells that are now as foreign to me, as I am to this place. Yet they are so very familiar at the same time. Haunting smells filled with old half-forgotten memories.

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"Write me a story," my lover says, her eyes glinting with deep, sensual desires. I kiss her, savoring the warmth and wetness of her mouth, as I say, "What shall I write, my love?" She smiles at me wickedly, her hands fondling my growing erection. "Something – naughty," she replies, her voice low and soft, caressing me like velvet. "Something – forbidden..."

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I lay in my dad's arms, still woozy from what just happened -- physically and emotionally. My free right hand reached for his arm, and caressed the knots of muscle that roping from the shoulder to the elbow. It struck me then, that there was something about an older man in peak physical shape that I found desperately attractive. Of course, he owed this fact to his job as a conditioning coach -- but there it was all the same, this frame of capable limbs, narrow waist, and a big, brutish chest.

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No vehicles had gone by in either direction for over 45 minutes. The sun was starting to go behind the hills and I was thirsty. I got out my stove collected water from the creek near by and started a brew of Earl Grey with two sugars. The water was just starting to bubble when a car pulled up, a rather fine lady in her late forties got out and came round to stand in front of me and said "Well you look like you've given up trying for a lift. Tell you what, you make me a cup of tea, I might make you an offer you can't refuse"

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"Harder, if you like." "I don't want to hurt you." "It's all right now. Please do it." She was astride him, her eyes drawn momentarily to a small bead of perspiration running from his forehead to the grey flecks at his temple, then looking down on the finger tips tightening their grip on her nipples. At the start this would have hurt but now, with her juices flowing, she liked the added stimulation, supplementing the hardness of him inside her.

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My beautiful daughter Katie and her best friend Mindy had spent the night at my house. I am forty-four and have been divorced from Katie's mom for nine years. I have dated quite a few other women but have not found any that I wanted to settle down with. Katie is twenty years old and my pride and joy. She and Mindy have been best friends since sixth grade and were now in the same sorority together at college.

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Don't get me wrong. I love a good sexy scenario as much as the next horny young woman. But even I knew this was completely unacceptable. I was your typical rebellious girl. My parents had divorced when I was little, and I refused to bother with anyone of their partners. I didn't see the point in pretending to like people I had nothing in common with and who, as far as I knew, were only bothering with me to please my parents.

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I've written this story at the request of a fan. It is purely fiction. I want to give a prologue that quickly explains my attitude to the issues it raises. Certain things happen in this story that I would not want to happen in real life. In real life I believe in equality and consent. I have moral values. However, my mind is a safe playground for any fantasy I choose. If fantasies remain fantasies and do not become obsessions, they are safe. They are also exciting. Enough of that, you're here for my story.

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For all intents and purposes, this is a sequel of sorts of my first story. Those who read the first story know about the affair I had begun with John and how it helped liberate me from the shackles of my life. It takes place after my lunch with my daughter, Beth. She had gone to tell John about the man she had met and how she had already slept with this man. John reacted in bewildered amazement, according to my daughter, cursing at her before leaving the apartment. Beth called me immediately in tears, upset that she had made a mistake.

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