Your erotic stories

I love dirty talk. It is a super aphrodisiac for me. When a man whispers nasty things in my ear I get all hot and bothered. He can take me from a standing start to full speed in nothing flat, leaving a streak of metaphorical rubber smoking on the metaphorical pavement.

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I walked the length of the hallway to our bedroom to change for a party we were going to. As I passed the bathroom John was standing at the toilet bowl getting ready to relieve himself. I stood there a second and watched feeling a tingle between my legs as I watched. Then slowly opened the door and walked up behind him.

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The Adult Entertainment Expo was a sexaholics dream. There were enough free giveaways to satisfy a guy's appetite for a t least a few months. Most companies gave away promotional DVD's or photos, and there were always plenty of hot actresses around. Gabe felt like a kid that was turned loose in a candy store.

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The yoga class had already started by the time I made it inside so it looked as if I'd have to wait until afterwards to get to the toilet. I was dying to pee but that wasn't surprising. The further my pregnancy progressed, the longer it seemed to take to get anywhere and the more often I seemed to need the toilet. I felt like a beached whale at times, nearly nine months in, just a few weeks to go and I couldn't wait for it to be over. The worst thing was not having anyone to share my troubles with.

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Ever since that night when my wife gave me head while she sat on the toilet taking a leak, the mere sound of her peeing starts a stirring in my cock. When she gets up in the middle of the night for a late night whiz, her stirring often wakes me a little. As I lay there in the stillness, I can hear her pad across the room to the bathroom, and I know in a matter of seconds I will hear those intoxicating chimes as her bladder releases and a stream of her hot urine sprays into the toilet bowl.

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There were three of us sitting in the bar that night. I was thinking of getting up and going home, even though it was still pretty early, but before I could speak to make my excuses, Romeo, who had been brooding all evening, abruptly spoke up.

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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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