Your erotic stories

You know the saying—and I'm sure I date myself by saying this—"I want to marry a girl like the one that married Dad?" Well, that holds true for me. I come from a big, traditional Italian family—Dad worked and was head of the house, Mom was at home in the kitchen (and pregnant for the most part). We didn't have much money, but we were never hungry, and because there were seven kids, we had a lot of fun. I always assumed that when I got married, I would have the same kind of family. I loved kids, and secretly, I looked forward to having an ever pregnant wife.

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Story Code: M/F, Family Sex, Incest, Impregnation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism In 2011 there was a drought, just a minor inconvenience to most domestic water users but on a farm, not being able to water your crops can be financially ruinous. The field at the head of the valley was called 'Spring Field' on the farm deeds so my father-in-law asked my husband to do a little digging through the parish records to see if there had been any mention of an actual spring in that field.

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I wanted to be raped. Not really raped. Just pretend, fun raped. So like everything you want these days, I looked online. Nothing. I placed an ad asking for what I wanted. Just like that. I can't remember what I wrote now, but I imagine it was some approximation of my fantasy. Or...not really my fantasy because only someone special could have made that happen.

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"You don't think it's a big deal that you fucked your own brother?" was all Sarah's mother could say. The moment the sentence left her mouth, she realized how absurd it was. Sarah rolled her eyes, "It wasn't like that! They were just hookups. We followed the rules. It is NOT a big deal!"

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Matt had long found his sister-in-law, Priscilla, very attractive. Married to her sister, Sondra, he had gotten many eyefuls of her voluptuous body. The two sisters were very alike in personality. They also looked much alike in their faces. Both of them had long brown hair and a good tan. But Priscilla was 3 years older than Sondra and Matt at 28. She also had bigger breasts than her sisters. Sondra had a decent pair at 32B, but Priscilla carried her 44DDs very well.

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My mother Anne was a rather average-looking woman. Her hair was brown, short and curly, and she had a pear-shaped body with wide hips. Her breasts were hanging low and they had huge dark areolas. Right now mom's wide cellulite-ridden ass was up. It had a couple of dark moles on it, and I could see the nest of wiry hairs which surrounded the opening of her vagina, which felt loose and warm as my penis slid into it.

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My sister and I were identical twins; I always say that we are unusual twins because our mother refused to dress us alike, ever! From a very early age our mother encouraged us to have different hair styles; my sister was encouraged towards music and dance while I was guided to gymnastics and anything remotely sporting.

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I am diabolical. Brilliant, but diabolical. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I don't have anyone else to tell now. I mean, why go through all the effort if you're the only one who gets to enjoy it. You see, my plan was perfect and if it wasn't for old Saint Nick, I would have gotten away with it. Well, I guess I should tell you the story first, its long and I don't have much time left now.

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Tina looked around the bar: the menu was pretty scrumptious! Her luck must have been holding and she had hit the jackpot tonight. There must have been at least a dozen guys who would work -- now she just had to narrow down her choices. She was on one of her periodic hunting sprees. She and her husband had agreed a while ago to have a very open marriage -- anything goes as long as it's consensual.

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I had met Ryan through a friend; another fuck buddy actually. I was recently divorced and after years of sexual repression, I was finally at thirty-five sowing the wild oats that most people do in their twenties. The last fifteen years had been about being the good Christian wife; a role which I found stifling and unfulfilling. But fifteen years married to a depressed religious zealot had left me feeling rather low myself.

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