Your erotic stories

An English summer sun gleamed on the mast of the old Cutty Sark as it lay forlornly in the dry docks at Greenwich. As I stared at it I wondered at the fate of those that sailed in her and called her home. The sound of a ship moving up the Thames River drew my attention and I wandered off toward the railing along the high walls of the riverbank.

read more

Marcie's head flew up and down over my cock, licking the sides like they were coated in chocolate. Now, there was nothing unusual about Marcie giving me a blow job, nor was there anything unusual about her enjoying it. But there was something more there today. An urgency to her work that raised a flag that something was up.

read more