Your erotic stories

Mike read the terse text message from his wife Sunny. She was working late, yet again, and had texted not to ask how his day went, but to demand he take care of dinner plans. Again. A second text amended the list: feed the dog, take all the trash out and start washing her work clothes. Sunny had been a real bitch lately, and he was getting tired of dealing with it. He knew part of it was hormonal.

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A while back I wrote a story called "Sandra Turns Over," about my wife Sandra, or rather, about her big sexy ass. And how, after she put on some pounds after a few kids, she got into my playing with her ass, and finally, into my fucking her ass. It usually starts like this. We start making out, my hands going all over her curvy body, feeling her heavy breasts, her soft belly, her love handles, then down to that gorgeous big ass.

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Her plane landed right on time. She had taken a connecting flight from Charles Du Galle to land here in Nice, in the gorgeous sunshine of a summer Thursday in Province. Most of the passengers had disembarked by the time she appeared at the top of the jetway.

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As most of you know my relationship is coming to an end with Bob. I've been trying to find a place to live but nothing has struck my fancy. I want to live on the island where I work but fear that once the economy comes back that the real estate market will be out of my price range, or worse that I will purchase a house and not be able to afford the property taxes.

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At 18 years old, I still had another few decades before I would even begin to figure out what life was all about. All I knew is that I was cursed by an insatiable sex drive that, because I was still a virgin, I had to take care of with my hands. And I took care of it a lot. At least two or three times a day I would have to whip out my cock and jerk off. I was also cursed (some might call it blessed) with an enormous cock. My cock was so big around that I couldn't close my fingers on it and I could two fist that mother with lots to spare.

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When I was a kid my best mate was Dean Kelly. As so happens with these things, our mothers got to know each other when they would pick Dean and I up from school, and they too became friends. I would stay over at the Kelly's place and Dean would often stay over at our place. The Kelly's had a pool and so summers were always more fun at Dean's house! Dean and I were on the same touch football team as well and so our families started to go on outings with each other, such as picnics, hikes, football and cricket matches, and the occasional camping trip.

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I always get very tired along about mid-afternoon of the second day at these conventions. It has something to do with strolling the endless aisles of the exposition in between attending seminars and lectures. The Las Vegas Convention Center goes on for miles and, as is usually the case, I was hitting a wall that Wednesday as I cruised up Aisle 2100, bobbing in and out of booths and making small talk with the salespeople. You can only take so much computer gibberish after awhile.

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I suppose it started with my thirty-ninth Birthday. But firstly I had better give some background information. My husband and I separated some seven years ago, and as he now works overseas I have rarely even been in contact with him since. Owen, my son, and his twin sister, Chloe, have recently turned eighteen and will both be going to Teacher Training College in September, so they are still at school at present, as is Owen's girl-friend, although there seems nothing serious there as yet

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Frankie had been doing the same thing every summer since he was 14; mowing the lawns for the local housewives of his neighborhood for some extra cash. Most paid him well, and he had a series of regular clients. Most people wouldn't think looking at him that such a friendly and dependable kid would also be successfully running his own lawn mowing business. Now, 18, this would be his last summer of mowing lawns as he was leaving for college in August. Frankie was a handsome young man, with light brown hair and blue eyes, and thanks to his lawn mowing job, had developed a nice firm shape to his 5'11" body.

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When my friend Tracy asked me to be a groomsman in her wedding I said sure. What else could I say? Tracy and I had dated briefly our freshman year, but we both knew right away it wasn't going to work & instead we became close friends. She met Dave our senior year and now, three years later, they were getting hitched. Dave was a good guy and I liked him, but it still felt a bit weird. It was a three-hour drive to the town Tracy grew up in, and during the drive I found that I was looking forward to the whole thing.

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