Your erotic stories

Ryan's story. ------- Jay was a guy I knew from the neighborhood bar I went to in Manhattan. Not a close friend, just someone I saw in there from time to time. A few years older than my close circle. We played pool together and watched a ballgame or two. On TV and even up at the stadium a couple of times.

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Maria knocked on her son's bedroom door. "Matthew! It's Sunday. Time to get ready for Mass." Without waiting for an answer, she swung the door open. Matthew was lying on his bed, naked, sporting an enormous erection. "I'm ready for you to help me get ready, Mom!" He leered at her with his evil, lascivious grin. Maria sat on the edge of the bed, and traced one finger up and down the underside of her son's cock. "How would you like it today, baby?"

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One of the first things I noticed when I started interning at this company was Matt, our "fitness consultant," a professional bodybuilder that's been hired to keep the office in shape by running exercise classes in the company gym and making various recommendations.

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Jan and I had been to this club on a few occasions but were still new to the swinging scene and clubs of this nature, so we were nervous but excited. The night had been billed as a casino night with lots of references to Ian Fleming's Bond and all the trappings associated with 007. So we dressed accordingly; I myself in full tuxedo and Jan in her high heels, full length double side split super-low cut evening dress and only sheer black hold-ups underneath.

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Most of Matt's friends went to Lauderdale, or Daytona, or somewhere typical for Spring Break, looking to abandon themselves in the slick, sunscreen- and alcohol-laced musk of ten thousand horny college kids in a space too small to contain them. Matt had another plan, though--he'd head down to the smaller towns, along the Atlantic Coast. Just as much sex in the air, but better parking. I suppose, he thought, I shouldn't complain. The mile markers whipped by as Rachel goosed the accelerator on the old Chevy wagon.

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You Are Not My Father. That was what my daughter Amy said to me. She was right of course, we had not met until she was twelve but much to the amazement of the three of us we got along well from the start. I did all the Dad things and perhaps a few more. I took her out on a to dinner dates on her birthdays, just the two of us. I taught her to drive. I was always dressed and polite when her friends came over.

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I've woken up in the morning with a raging hard-on and remembering vaguely some fantasy dreams I had over night involving some lesbian orgies. I looked at the time and it was hardly 6 am! Wish I could go back to sleep but my erect cock wouldn't let me -- I needed to give it a bit of attention. Hmmm.... mom wouldn't be up before 8 or 9am and having just fucked her brains out the day before I thought it would be a bit cruel to wake her up just yet. Fair enough then, watching some porn in the living room and some masturbation seemed to be the only choice.

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The school year started with Gina and Mike eagerly looking forward to their final year of school. Mike ended up having a particularly heavy load of classes the first semester. He was short a few credits and wanted to make sure the final semester of his senior year would be fairly light. From practically the first week of classes his schedule keep Mike very busy studying, working at the lab, or meeting kids from his classes to work on group projects. He and Dana managed to keep up their personal workouts in preparation for the coming swim season, but it wasn't hard to see that the heavy class schedule was wearing him out.

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I focused on the backs of her legs and turned the little wheel of the binoculars with my thumb to sharpen the image. She was bending over one of her pots and pinching something on a plant to remove it. Her dress was riding higher and I glimpsed an extra three inches of white thigh. As she attempted to stand erect she put both hands behind her back and straightened with an effort.

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It was 4:30 p.m. and already dark one dreary, rainy late January day in Portland. As usual, I stopped by my local Fred Meyer store to buy some items for dinner. One trip to Montreal years ago and, ever since, I've liked buying just enough fresh items for dinner each night. I even shop with an old web sack that I got when I bought too many oranges. It is a ritual now. I see some familiar faces and get to talk to few people briefly before heading to my quiet house and the evening news.

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