Your erotic stories

It was pouring rain as I pounded on the door to my best friend's house. The lights weren't on and her car wasn't in the driveway, but I was so enraged that I didn't care. I was about ready to give up on the door and just crash through the front window when the light in the front hall came on and the door flew open. "What in the hell..." Ashley's dad looked furious until he saw me. His jaw dropped as he looked at me, and he was silent for a moment. "Nicole, what's going on?"

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Chapter 1 I was sitting in the rec room watching TV one afternoon when my eighteen old daughter Samantha came home from school. She came over and kissed me, and then she sat on my lap. Now when I say that she sat on my lap, what I mean is that she sat facing me, straddling me with her legs, and her arms on my shoulders. I knew immediately what that meant. Samantha wanted something, something special. And most likely, something expensive.

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Bob adored his daughter and there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. So, when Liza begged if Alice, her best friend, could live with them, Bob agreed. It wasn't odd. Alice's parents were going through an ugly divorce so it wasn't unusual for him to agree to help. Alice was her sensitive friend going through a difficult time. It made sense.

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Jade could hear her mother on the phone in the hall tearing a strip from Caitlyn's mother. She knew what it was about; it was the same thing that had got her sent to her room. Sent to her room at eighteen years old, treated like a child. And banned from ever seeing Caitlyn again, although even her mother must have realised that, at her age and with today's countless ways of communicating, the ban was pretty meaningless.

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"Well, I have like 45 minutes to kill," sang the high-pitched, sweet teen voice of my daughter's curvy Latina friend Marisa, "would you like a sloppy blowjob?" My ears weren't expecting that question, and I swear I must have blushed. Perverted middle-aged fathers don't get that question often, or at least, this one doesn't. Or hasn't before at least. Maybe she saw me staring at her ample boobs in her tight babydoll, or she detected my eyes on her stellar round butt in that thin little skirt a few minutes earlier.

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Television just wasn't cutting it. I couldn't get her off of my mind. I'd fallen right into the same routine I had every night. Beer and TV usually made me groggy quick, especially on a full stomach. One pull of a lever, and my aching feet were up and my hands were behind my head in the recliner. The same recliner where she had climbed into my lap without her panties and rode me like a stallion.

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