Your erotic stories

Chase wiped the sweat from his brow. Damn, but it was hot in this attic! He had promised to help his neighbor, Mrs. Gumshot, clean out her attic in exchange for her late husband's jazz albums. Mr. Gumshot had been a bandleader and had a massive collection of old jazz hits.

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It was about a year and a half ago, I was sitting in my work truck having a lunch break and leching at any remotely sexy looking female who happened to walk by, fantasizing about kinky sex. Such has been my custom ever since I can remember. At 53 I still had a raging libido and quite simply did not get enough sex to satisfy it. I could still quite easily orgasm two or three times a day.

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Hot piss marches up my chest, over my chin, and into my eager mouth. Piss fills my mouth only to flow over my chin and down my chest, still warm. He's thin and not very tall, which make's his big cock look massive. I swallow and while his bladder is still emptying, lean forward and take his cock in my mouth.

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1 There is something about heat that only we northern Celts can fully appreciate. I hadn't been abroad since my childhood, and the minute I stepped off the plane I was consumed by a bright heat rising from the Cretan rocks that forced me to slow down and take in the quiet beauty of the place.

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My wife and I went camping at busy campground several years ago. Although the campsite had showers, the flush toilets were out of service and outhouses had been brought in. My wife can not stand to use an outhouse. When she found out, she didn't even want to stay at the campsite, although she loves camping.

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I've known Sarah for nearly 20 years. We "met" online back when the Internet was in its infancy. A time when you had to pay 29 cents to send an e-mail. We were both married then, and had a mutual interest in a certain female singer, which helped our friendship blossom. This was back in the days of cassettes and other memorabilia being swapped and I'm sure that she enjoyed getting little packages from across the country like I did.

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I love getting out of the office at lunchtime. It gives me an opportunity to clear my head, and listen to either Jim Rome or Colin Cowerd on sports talk radio, as I drive to one of the local eateries. Since I'm trying to watch my waist, along with my budget, I usually hit the local Subway at least once a week. It's a fairly popular spot, so there's usually a line, but they do their best to keep it moving along.

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The morning sun shining through the window wakes me up. It's Saturday morning, which at this point in my marriage means it's my weekly chance of getting laid. I roll over to see if Rose is going to be interested, and her side of the bed is empty.

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We were five satiated, sleek bitches filing into the bathroom, drunk on orgasms and a little weak at the knees. And it was all my doing. See, there's nothing I like as much as arranging little dyke orgies for a gaggle of foxy babes like myself, good-lookers who know how to turn on a slut and make her pussy steam and her clit swell! Here we all were in the bathroom now, five ultra-feminine lipstick lesbians who had just spent the last couple of hours getting each other off with hot lips, wet tongues, eager fingers, and plenty of nasty toys.

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It was supposed to be her night. It was her birthday on Friday, and it was a long hard week at work for Rose. All she asked for was a nice dinner, some dancing, and then to be brought home and tended to. She even made arrangement for the kids to go to her sisters, so he could take the entire weekend to please her.

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