Your erotic stories

When my father died, I blamed my mother. Not for his death – the car accident that killed him was due to bad weather and a teenage driver – but for all of the unhappiness that settled on our home and stayed there after he was gone. My mother locked herself away in darkness, and tried to keep me there, too.

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After years of carrying around our clunky old cell phones, Sara and I finally knuckled under and bought some of the new trendy little gadgets with cameras, games, and all that fun stuff. Little did we know what such a mundane transaction would lead to. We'd had the new phones for about six weeks when I went on a business trip for a couple of nights. I travel often and one of the things we love to do when I'm on the road is engage in some spirited phone sex.

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Ch. 01 Kennedy stepped out of her car onto the gravel parking lot and into the hot and humid August air. Shielding her eyes from the sun she gazed towards the rugby pitch at her teammates getting ready for todays practice. It was the first practice of the season and she could not wait to step onto the field again with her girls. As she strolled across the freshly cut grass she smiled at the familiar faces of her team who she hadn't seen since May.

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It was late summer and the beginning of mine and Christina's senior year. We had both just turned eighteen and we were eager to have fun. She was five seven, Italian, had smallish breasts with dark red nipples. With nipples that were continuously erect and an ass that was more than generous, Christina had men following her around like a bunch of hound dogs chasing a raccoon...

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The first time I ever performed analingus, I was already past my teens and unbelievably horny and eager to do it. The few girls I had been with before were all fairly young and inexperienced, eager to go down on me right away, then jump on top before I could even move. Don't get me wrong, I like a good blowjob from time to time, but I much prefer going down on women, and I get off from giving them pleasure. Most girls, in my admittedly limited experience at that point, enjoyed receiving cunnilingus from me, but it never felt right to push things further and get a little more kinky.

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading my first attempt at writing erotic fiction, "Unlikely Love". This is the first part of the story, so check back for updates. Also, please feel free to leave comments or suggestions; I would really appreciate them. Thank you. Tonight was like any other Friday night; paying off the bouncer to accept my fake idea and grant me access to the popular gay bar/strip club. Not that it was unusual.

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The cleaning girl, Monica, had arrived early on Friday afternoon. "Good afternoon, Ms. Stephens." Monica said. "Please, call me Jennifer." Opening the door to her two thousand square foot home, the tall, statuesque woman smiled at her cleaning girl. The eldest daughter of a neighbor down the street, Monica had grown into an incredibly sexy young woman. Jennifer shut the door behind her and stared dreamily at the young woman, shaking her head slightly.

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We'd met several times in our local pub on a Friday night. There were various couples used to come down to listen to the live music, and we'd exchanged a few words and smiles now and again. So we kind of knew them. They were in their forties, a bit younger than me and my wife, but I what most attracted me to them was her gorgeous breasts, and the way she always seemed to show off in tight sweaters and cardigans. Sometimes thick and chunky, other times soft, like angora. But always so sexy!

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Linda Jones was in the grocery store picking up a few things when she saw her friend Lisa Miller and her son Tommy. Lisa was supposed to come over later in the afternoon with a few friends for bridge club. "Hi Linda," Lisa called out, waving at her in the produce aisle. "Tommy, you remember Mrs. Jones don't you? Be a good boy and say hello."

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I was desperate for the money that was my only excuse for answering the ad in the newspaper. I felt like a fool approaching the seedy looking hotel, where the recording of the movie would be taking place. This was a stupid idea; I berated myself, even as I knocked hesitantly at the door of the room, as directed by the production office when I called. I had to fax them my headshots and clinical records, proving that I was descent looking and healthy.

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