Your erotic stories

I call my friend's mom Mummy. Mummy wears only saree at home; Mummy never wears bra while at home; Mummy's figure is short, sexy, right size breasts and correct size ass. Her color is white and texture of the skin is amazing; she's actually around 50 years old but her body doesn't show the age. Her hair is pure black and she doesn't dye her hair at all. Since she was 37 till 48 she didn't get fucked much as her husband was working at overseas. But I'm sure she'll get fucked every once in two years when her husband comes back home for vacation.

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Wear trousers, get fucked. A simple equation, but it worked for Emily. Jeans were a possible, as long as they were tight-fitting. Her baggy cords were a probably not, unless he hadn't seen her for a while. But the black trousers were a near-certainty. There was nothing amazingly 'fuck me' about them, they were just plain black, close-fitting polyester trousers, but Emily knew how much they turned Jamie on. If she wore them, and he saw her wearing them, he simply couldn't keep his hands off her.

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It was a Thursday, and my classes had been cancelled because of all the snow. He thought that he would get out of work, so we had planned to lay in bed and watch movies all day, but when he called his boss early that morning he had found out that he was still required to go in, and he had been griping about it all day. He grumbled through his morning routine, and he had even been sending me text messages to remind me what a bitch I was for getting to lay in bed all day without him.

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Recently, while preparing vanilla icing for a tray of cooling cinnamon buns, I heard Todd yell from the bathroom. "Gloria, I haven't got a towel!" It prompted my memory: I'd washed them earlier and had forgotten to replace them. However, there were plenty in the hallway. "Linen cupboard," I called back. He thudded down the passageway naked and wet. Hot, I thought.

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I've lived on a relatively quiet street for the past three years. Usually keeping to myself, focused on work and not much else, my routine has continued without much deviance for the duration. That was true, until a young hot Russian babe moved into the complex, just two doors down from me. It was a cool evening in September when I first caught glimpse of this fantastic blonde. I was out walking the dog, on my way to collect the day's mail when I first noticed the truck pull up.

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Steve had thought that he'd have a quiet Saturday afternoon to himself. The house was empty. His wife had gone shopping with friends, the boys were out with their mates and Kirsty had to go to the library to complete the paper she had to write. She'd hoped not to go, but found she was missing some information at the last minute and so had to make a quick dash.

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So here it was, Thanksgiving Day, and I found myself in a strange man's bathroom, with my pantyhose pulled down around my knees, my dress hiked up over my hips, and that strange man's cock sliding in and out of my pussy. Well, in truth, he wasn't a complete stranger ... he was my boyfriend's father and I had met him two hours prior. But I'm getting ahead of myself, let me start at the beginning.

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