Your erotic stories

I was on my way over to Karen's little home studio, Bob Segar was wailing away on my stereo, I was feeling fine. Karen always made me feel fine, if you saw her you would know just what I mean. Maybe 30 at the most, she is a Licensed Massage Therapist. ALL massage therapists should look like her, long dark hair, a set of boobs to die for. Just a trace of a pouty Bardot type tummy and sway back, blending down to an ass that gave me a reason more than once to reach for my dick.

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Her passing had been very sudden. We had been sat together watching nothing in particular on the TV and she had slipped into a sleep that I realised, eventually, was death. The family had been caring, the funeral sensitive and then followed the lowliness -- that awful sense that something was missing in my life. Our children had all left home, but living close, they had kept in touch, not oppressively, but supportively.

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I've had my share of lovers, but there's always something special about the first. Here name was Eve, and this is my ode to her. This story takes some time to develop, so if stories like that aren't your cup of tea you might want to skip it. I'm not sure where to begin, so I guess good place to start would be to describe the principle people involved and a bit of their backgrounds. First, a little bit about myself at the time. I was eighteen, and still a virgin.

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Mrs. Khanna ran into Mrs. Sorabji as the latter was stepping out of an exclusive shoe store at Nariman Point in Mumbai. "Hi Yasmin," exclaimed Mrs. Khanna," haven't seen you in ages! How are you?" "Very well, thank you. And you?" "Oh, vadhiya ji vadhiya," said Preeti Khanna jovially, then her eyebrows knitted into a frown, "you are a clinical psychologist, right?"

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So many times as a child, then a young man, I walked the few short miles down to the small hill. There was a tall chain link fence at the bottom of the hill, I could have climbed that but I never did. On the hillside was soft grass, the type that never gets really tall, and it is always green, even in dry periods. I never did know what kind of grass that was, at that very young stage of my life I never even thought of it.

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I am a man that was still in his thirties, even though I had raised a child that was eighteen when she finally left home to move in with a girlfriend and start college. I had dated (and had a very steamy sex life with) her mother, Maria, while we were in college ourselves, and she had gotten pregnant in our second year together. She had been nineteen and I barely twenty when she gave birth to a baby daughter, Briana.

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Misty lie in bed, her hand between her long legs with two of her fingers deep in her steaming pussy. She moved them in and out as fast as she could go. Her other hand toyed with her firm breasts and nipples. She needed to cum so bad every inch of her body was on fire. She had only been with one man in her young life and he didn't know the first thing about pleasing a girl. "Please, cum!" she moaned as her hand began to tire. She'd been fingering herself for close to an hour with no sign on an orgasm.

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Vikki came into my life through a business venture of mine. I had to make some contractual agreements with several not for profit organizations so they'd agree to lend me certain information that they had in their possession. Vikki put the contracts together so I wouldn't get myself into legal trouble. I was expecting to get a 60-ish balding lawyer when I contracted her firm for legal services and instead they sent her out. When we first met she was dressed quite smartly, as one would expect, and conservatively enough to satisfy even the most up tight executive.

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His majesty has thus far disposed of his previous queens for reasons which I have never fully understood, and probably never will. I, however as Queen Victoria II, have no intentions of becoming another one of his beheaded memories. Since his sexual appetite tends to sway with a frequency that is unfathomable, I always try to avoid displeasing him at any cost. I consider myself to be a bit of a voyeur when it comes to sexual matters, and probably because of that, I have been quite successful in avoiding the guillotine.

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I had been coming in to the studio regularly over the last few months, so I had started to get to know the artists pretty well. There is this really sexy female tattooist who works here, Kat, but so far tonight I had not seen her. "Think we're nearly done for tonight Rick, I'll just finish off this section, another ten minutes or so..." "No worries Darren..."

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