Your erotic stories

"So, what are you going to do for a living?" Vivian asked the young man who was visiting along with her son from college. "I'm retired," Paul Redman replied with a grin. "Uh, you're kind of young for that aren't you?" Vivian asked in confusion. "Yes ma'am, I am." Vivian's son, Cal, said, "Paul was a millionaire by the time he graduated high school." "More like five million," Paul corrected. "Five million by the time you graduated high school! You must be some kind of a genius," Vivian said in shock. She had never met anyone worth that much money.

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Jade could hear her mother on the phone in the hall tearing a strip from Caitlyn's mother. She knew what it was about; it was the same thing that had got her sent to her room. Sent to her room at eighteen years old, treated like a child. And banned from ever seeing Caitlyn again, although even her mother must have realised that, at her age and with today's countless ways of communicating, the ban was pretty meaningless.

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It happened in the year 1998 when Andrew, a real naughty dude of 18, had his first odd intercourse. It was a strange that the guy of such an age had a boy amidst his friends that was only 14. His name was Oleg and of course he went to school. Oleg and Andrew had been the very close friends for some time and shared everything they could and there was plenty of that between them.

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"Nice day to wash a car isn't it?" Dean walked up the driveway seeing his friend's mother in cut-off jean shorts and a black bikini top washing the car. "Oh yeah! Nice and sunny out this morning!" She replied back with a smile while pulling the soapy sponge out of the bucket of water. "Hank home?" He tried his best keeping his eyes off her body if she just happened to look over his way while talking.

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'Knock knock', Ron's knuckles tapped against the glass. There was no movement. 'Knock Knock', he tried again, looking at the handle on the door. Stepping back, he peered up at the top windows. The only sound of life was the sound of a police siren a couple of streets over. Spattering rain annoyed his eyes. He tapped on the glass panel of the front door again, and ran his nails over the flaking paint on the wall of the porch, picking at chunks.

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Here's another story for you guys that's been bouncing around inside my head for a while. Hope you enjoy. All characters are over the age of eighteen. Hi, my names Richard Williams, Rich to my friends. I live in southern California with my mom Stacy. My dad died when I was too young to remember. The accident that killed my dad, while tragic, was made less so by the size of the settlement his company paid my mom.

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Moira was having a hell of a hard time trying to fight her way out of the trouble she was in. She had more or less brought in on herself by her own actions. She had seen the look in his eyes about a year ago, right around the time of his eighteenth birthday. She had actually looked twice to make sure she hadn't misunderstood that gleam.

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I call my friend's mom Mummy. Mummy wears only saree at home; Mummy never wears bra while at home; Mummy's figure is short, sexy, right size breasts and correct size ass. Her color is white and texture of the skin is amazing; she's actually around 50 years old but her body doesn't show the age. Her hair is pure black and she doesn't dye her hair at all. Since she was 37 till 48 she didn't get fucked much as her husband was working at overseas. But I'm sure she'll get fucked every once in two years when her husband comes back home for vacation.

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"Thanks so much for the ride Sonny. I can't believe I left my cell phone home." Leah Danvers said to the young man as she opened the back door and led him into the kitchen. "Don't mention it Mrs. Danvers. I was coming by anyway to see if Mike wanted to shoot some hoops." He replied, looking around the spacious kitchen. He moved to stand behind her, leaning his jean clad hips on the kitchen's island.

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Chapter One: My best friend's mother. "I swear Robbie, if you tell anybody about what I'm going to show you, I'll fucking kill you," Ted warned me, and judging my the veins bulging in his neck and the crimson color of his face, he probably meant it. The madman look was something that Ted had inherited from his father, a hothead who had abandoned ship many years ago, leaving Ted and his mother to fend for themselves while he went to make other people's lives miserable, I assumed.

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