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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#1 – Margaret Margaret had been worried about Ricky ever since the accident. Carrie, Margaret's daughter, had been put in the hospital with a coma. Margaret wasn't as worried about Carrie. Something in her soul told her that her daughter would emerge from this long sleep.

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The following story is informed by real experience, but borrows liberally from long held fantasies and the promise of more. It is the first session of a D/s couple that will be followed by several more before their relationship reaches its peak. * It wasn't the most gradual start to a relationship, Jack mused as he shook hands with the dark-eyed receptionist who had given him directions with an easy smile and seemingly genuine good cheer.

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My wife and I have been married for almost twelve years. While I love her deeply, our sex life has become somewhat boring. She's a stay-at-home mom to our two children and our sex life has become a routine of "put the kids to bed, turn out the lights, and be quick about it". That was until recently, when our sex life changed for the better. In the last few weeks, my wife has begun working out on one of those big inflatable exercise balls.

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This all started because I decided, against all advice, to major in religious studies in college. I know, it sounds like a dumb choice, but it's what I was interested in and I decided to follow my grandmother's advice to pursue my passion rather than the practical choices everyone else thought I should make.

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As might be expected, dinner that evening at the DeVries household was somewhat awkward. Christopher picked hesitantly at his pasta, not trusting his stomach. He just couldn't settle down. His heart would palpitate for twenty minutes at a stretch, and just as he'd start to relax he'd think of the delights he might earn in the next few months, and the whole process began again. He was getting exhausted just sitting.

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Heather, my wife of several years, was waiting for me at the kitchen table when I got home from work. "I want you to sit down," she with a calm, but commanding tone to her voice. "What's up babe?" I asked trying to lighten what felt like her dark mood. "Just sit down." Heather is a petite bundle of energy, quick with a smile and a joke. Her eyes dance with light and spirit. As pretty and kind hearted as she is, there's also no messing with her.

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INTRODUCTION The summer I was sent to Mountain Farm, I was in my late teens (19). A had for a couple of years already been soiling the sheets with my nightly juices almost every night and my attention to schoolwork and helping out at home had become more and more distracted by my growing and constantly aching cock and balls. The actual trigger was when my mother surprised me twice one afternoon when I was happily stroking my member in the family bathroom but had forgotten to lock the door.

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Maria knocked loudly on her son's bedroom door. "Matthew? Wake up! You have to get up and get ready for Mass." Matthew's muffled voice came through the door. "I'm not going to Mass, Mom." Maria's eyes shot up. We'll just see about that, she thought. She wrapped her fingers around the knob, twisted, and swung open the door.

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I've always loved Paris art cinemas. These old, worn-out theatres, showing forgotten films in bad state, smelling of rotten fabric and dust, nowhere in the world is quite like them. There is something special about Parisian art-house cinemas; the very bohemian meets the very snotty, the richness of the film and the beauty on the screen conflicting with the nastiness of the space and people.

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