Your erotic stories

One of my father's crudest friends had a saying that he reserved for men he thought were losers with the women. He would say, "That guy couldn't get laid in a whore house with a pocket full of hundred dollar bills." I never thought about that much; I figured I was doing alright with the ladies until I turned forty. Then it dawned on me, I had never had one that truly cared about me. Through my blue collar hard-working, long-hour days, I had a long string who abused my trust, used me and made me pay too much for the attention I got from them.

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My name is Jen; I've been married now for three years to my husband Tim. I think we have a good relationship and sex life. He'd probably say it could be better but that's a typical guy, always wanting more. But that's not the point of the story. No, I'm writing today because of what happened last week why it's fresh in my mind.

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"Debby Knut with the big old butt." The sound of that chant rings in my ears to this day. In kindergarten I realized that my butt was bigger than most other girls my age. Rather than I noticed, it was actually pointed out to me routinely by other children. "Debby Knut with the big old butt" was sung as I jumped rope while other girls just herd rhymes such as "My Mother told me." I hated having a big butt. Some of the African American girls had butts that resembled mine, and I began hanging out with many of them, in hopes of not feeling different.

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I had always felt comfortable when around other guys. Secure in my sexuality, I knew I was only into women. Confident with my body and size, I had never been embarrassed in the locker room or when changing around guys. I kept myself in good shape: decent six-pack abs, toned arms ... and a 7" cock with just the right amount of girth. I kept my pubes shaved close to make it look even bigger.

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