Your erotic stories

Chapter 1 Okay, okay, let's get the laughs over with right now. "Short" career? Just how short is it? Ha, ha. Okay, ready for the real story now? My name is Marty Green, I work for an advertising agency as an account representative so I'm basically a prostitute. I knew you'd say it if I didn't.

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On the morning of my 30th birthday, I ran through the hospital doors to the desk, found out Dad's room number, and rushed to him. He was sitting up in the bed, not looking too much the worse for wear, actually. I peppered him with worried questions, but he tut-tutted the whole thing. "Just bad stomach. Something I ate."

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Chapter 1 Over Christmas and New Years, our neighbors took a holiday in the warmer climes, I certainly can't blame them; here in Wisconsin, it's cold. Their son, Rick, who'd just gone off to college, was not expected to be around with any consistency so they asked me if I would water plants and bring in the mail and such which I was happy to do.

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Christ, I can't believe it was that long ago, already...seems like yesterday. OK, let me elaborate. It was a Friday afternoon, and I got a phone call from an acquaintance, asking if I wanted to check out a concert that night, in a city a couple of hours away from here. I was up for it; I was just finishing off the last of my dissertation, and could use a break. I told her I'd meet her at a coffee shop near the venue.

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I was brushing my hair in the small dressing room of a unisex bathroom when my new father-in-law's brother walked in and strode up to the facilities behind me. A commode and a bit further away a urinal were attached to the wall. He stood in front of the commode. An impossibly loud ...Z-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-P... echoed in my ears as he opened his fly. This couldn't be happening.

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My wife, Peg, and I were invited to my sister-in-law's for Thanksgiving last year and we always tried to accommodate her, first, because she's my wife's sister and, second, because she's a widow having lost her husband in the Iraq War. She and Peg have always been close, there's just a year and a half difference, Janet, being the younger one.

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I had a good job. I was the editor and part owner of a weekly newspaper in Waverly, Kansas. It was a town of about 1000 souls, settled after the Civil War by a group of pioneers from Ohio. In fact the main event of the year was a large gathering in a clearing on the edge of town and it was called Old Ohio Days. I had a good house, a modest three bedroom bungalow within walking distance of my job. I had two good children who had long-since grown up and moved away.

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Saturday afternoon on a brisk November day in Calgary. I was into my second month of a six month stay, having come up from Houston for a consulting job in the oil fields. So far, Calgary had been nonstop hard work, and this day was the first break I'd taken. Keith, a foreman with the company I was contracted to, had invited me to watch a hockey game with his girlfriend Danielle and his crew of tough, muscled roustabouts and roughnecks.

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I consider incest fantasy and incest reality to be separate as day and night. If you seek to commit incest reality I urge you to seek help. Please feel free to send me any comments or advice you may have about my stories, I adore hearing people's opinions on them. Do they arouse you as they arouse me? If so, what part? I would like to hear your thoughts.

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Her name was Casey Fernandez. She was 34, shoulder-length hair the colour and sheen of a horse-chestnut fresh from its case, deep dark eyes, high cheek bones, a mouth that promised much and (as I discovered) delivered more. We were not exactly living together all the time, which explains how it came about that we had been fucking several times a week for more than three months before she told me about the soirées at Lady T's.

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