Your erotic stories

Gary hooked his thumb vaguely in the direction of the room that he and Kimberly had converted to a nursery. "Kim's feeding the li'l one," he said. "She'll be out in a few minutes." He often referred to his new baby as "the li'l one." In fact her name was Emily, but at six months, I suppose "the li'l one" is as good a tag as any. Then with his other hand he hooked a thumb toward the hallway that lead to his music studio. "Sheila, I wanted to show you the folio of Bach etudes I just got."

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"These aren't on the menu buddy! Only the refills are free," snapped 19 year old Giselle Potter, as she caught yet another onlooker staring unashamedly at her gigantic teenage titties as they were molded into her skin-tight Mamma Mia's Pizza white tee shirt with the restaurant's name stretched widely across her colossal endowments.

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I'm waiting for my wife in the mall, and watching breasts go by. There goes a cheerleader-type babe, now a mature woman whose massive breasts practically say "Ga-BONG, ga-BONG" with each step she takes. I take off my glasses to clean them, but am captivated by the sight of a woman coming this way. Even with my fuzzy vision, my cock is getting chubby from checking out this woman.

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I knew I shouldn't be looking, but I couldn't help myself. Kim had closed the door to her office and pulled the blinds, stopping anyone from seeing into her office. We worked in an 'L' shaped office and Kim and I each occupied the first office on side of the L, essentially allowing me to see in through her outside window from my own.

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It started out like any other day. I think it was a Tuesday in fact. I was reading the classifieds in yet another ill-fated attempt to find employment, while my boyfriend, Ryan, fooled around on the Internet. Every now and then he'd drop a random bit of web trivia on me, which often triggered a debate about the validity of said trivia.

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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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"What the hell was that," Jake Armstrong said to himself, as he walked passed the closed office door on his way to the copy machine room. The long corridor was empty, as most of the staff was out to lunch, and Jake wondered who could possibly be using the vacant office at this hour. Well whoever it was, they sure as hell were making quite a racket in there. Jake put his ear to the door, listened for a few moments, and then slowly turned the handle and pushed into the supposedly empty office.

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