Your erotic stories

For your love only "Don't go outside" Niva told very coolly to her aged son Ratan. She was standing in such a position covering the entrance that nobody can go outside without pushing her body specially smashing her heavy boobs covered by thin saris. Her cleavage shows very clear how big they are. Ratan has to go outside to have his regular quota of women flesh which will recharge him for next few days hard task already arranged near his Bungalow.

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We were finally ready to leave having packed off the kids to my parents place for the next four days. I am Raj 40yrs 5'10" very overworked and a very fit 170 pounds. I take time off from the office to hit the gym or pool at 8 pm everyday. My wife Priya is also a very fit 115 pounds, 5'4" with a 34b-25-34 figure.

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My name is Kavita and I am a 30 year old married professional woman living in Delhi, India. I work in an MNC and Raj, my husband, is a fairly successful businessman. We have been married for 3 years and you can say we are as happy as an average married couple. We have our ups and downs, good days and bad days, so to the words I am a typical Indian woman taking take of her husband and household. However, the truth is far from that.

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My reputation as a tongue slave was definitely on its way up. I was getting my good share of pussy and/or ass to serve on a weekly basis. Inspite of being any man's dream, it had its downsides for sure. There is only so much pleasing a man can do before he starts wanting some attention of his own. There were few of my female friends who would blow me or let me fuck them every now and then.

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Greetings and salutations dear readers. The story you are about to read is a narration of one of my most cherished memories. The incident happened when I and my wife took a vacation to Las Vegas. Now I know what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, but this experience was something worth sharing. Well before I get too ahead of myself, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sameer and I am the Non-resident Indian counterpart of what American's call the Average Joe.

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"I'm so tired of today," thought Amisha. "I just want to get home and go to sleep. Is that too much to ask?" She had just finished an arduous day of work at her office and was on the way back from the restroom to her desk to pack up her things when her phone buzzed. As she checked it, she assumed it was her boyfriend, once again telling her that he was going out with his guy friends that night.

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Naomi and I had decided to vacation a little different this time. We drove out to Flagstaff, Arizona, and got a room for the week at a little motel outside of town. For two days, we didn't leave the room except for regular excursions by me to get food. I suppose that, after telling you that, I probably don't need to tell you that Naomi spent those two days mainly naked.

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It was raining heavily when the auto stopped outside the apartment that Sameera was staying in. Despite the protection provided by the auto rickshaw she was completely drenched and her clothes were clinging to her body like second skin. She knew that the contours of her breasts would be visible and hence she had the money ready in her hand. She did not want to give the auto driver an opportunity to ogle and well, get ideas. As the auto sped off, she entered inside the apartment and the first thing she did was to kick off her sandals.

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Granted, it was the middle of the afternoon, but I was still irritated at being awakened from my much needed sleep by a loud racket from the neighbors' yard. I had dragged in pretty late the night before (technically, it had actually just been earlier that same day) and I wasn't quite ready to abandon my bed or my near-comatose state. I didn't remember my parents telling me that the new neighbors had little kids, but it sounded like a whole herd of them making a ruckus in their swimming pool.

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It all started when my very dear friend Murthy had a stroke. But, let me start at the very beginning. I am Sekhar, a sixty year old successful professional consultant. Murthy, twelve years my senior and a long retired professor has been my dear friend of over forty years. I and my wife Sumana (58) live in our own comfortable three bed room apartment in a posh area of our city, our only daughter, married, lives in U.S.A along with her husband and son. Murthy is a widower having lost his dear wife about seven years ago.

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