Your erotic stories

My friend, George, the sleeping car attendant, teases me with a double entendre private nickname. He calls me "All-Aboard Betty." Let me explain. I have necessarily drawn George into a conspiracy because I need him to achieve my purpose during periodic journeys aboard The Frontier, a transcontinental passenger train. When I'm aboard the Frontier becomes instead the Piece Train. (Apologies to Yusuf Islam. The devil made me do that.)

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Dawn felt the big boat move, and tensed, remembering again where she was. She sat up straight, and looked out the window, watching the jetty recede, and the people still milling about on it get smaller. The boat rocked faintly, and she swallowed. It was not as bad she had originally thought, but what on earth would she do if this thing capsized? She couldn't swim, and she knew no one on the boat. She opened her pocketbook and searched for the little notepad and pen.

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When I was younger my dad got me a summer job working on Saturdays for Mrs Jones. She was a woman who had a property out by the river and my job was to help her do landscaping, cut back trees, lay pavings etc. The property was a bit run down and it was hard work. Mrs Jones was a bit of a hippie. She lived alone and I guess she must have been divorced because she never wore a wedding ring, even though everyone called her Mrs Jones.

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Rob Jenkins was taking the garbage to the alley just as the sun came up. The truck came early, and he did not want to miss this collection; his family had a lot of trash. He wanted to put it out the night before, but his mother said no. She was fearful that dogs would knock the container over and spread their garbage around. There were rats in the alley, and she did not want to provide any food for them.

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God! What a sight. I was sitting on the edge of the Franklin's king size bed, my legs were spread wide and my semi hard cock was lying across Mrs. Franklin's face, as she sucked my balls. "I've gotten used to this cock, Chris. I'm going to miss it." She laughed when I croaked out a simple, "Yeah!" Her head bobbed lower and she ran her tongue through my ass crack, circled my anus, before catching my left ball in her mouth and sucked again.

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Mariah walked out of the office feeling extremely self-conscious. She'd never once in her life imagined that she'd have to accept public assistance, but circumstances had forced her to do exactly that. After losing her job and having no luck finding another one, her savings had run out, leaving her little choice. Her family was helping, but it was barely enough to pay the rent and utilities, and she couldn't bring herself to ask for more.

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Average, that's pretty much how I saw myself. Brown hair, brown eyes, busty for sure, but could stand to either lose 20 pounds or grow 4 inches. Nothing particularly remarkable about me but what I lack in the supermodel, standard cutesy looks department, I probably make up for in personality. Great. Just how every woman wants to be described: "she's not really pretty, but she's got a great personality!" Whatever.

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Alexis opened the door in little more than a sheer, silk robe, her full breasts peeking out of the loosely tied bodice. The rotund maintenance man seemed not to notice the tight cleavage peeking up at him, milky skin sneaking out from behind the pale silk. Alexis pouted to herself as she turned, leaving him in the open door. "Shut the door behind you. The man alarm console is by the back door, a secondary one in the master bedroom."

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"It's time, Annie," I told her. "We can't wait a second longer, because this baby won't." "But Dom," she answered. "The hospital is so far away, if the contractions slow down again, we'll be up there for nothing, and that snowstorm is coming. We could be stuck up there." "Yes!" I snapped. "This is a nasty storm, suppose we stay put, it hits, and then the baby comes. We'll be stuck here, 80 miles from help. It's time!"

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"Paul, would you like to go and house-sit for Aunty Jean on Friday evening?" his mother asked. Engaged in trying to write a tutorial paper on the computer for next morning – a paper he should have been prepared two days before – Paul asked suspiciously, "Why?" "Oh well, the girl she usually has can't make it, and Jean's booked a seat for the opera, and as she'll probably be home late she says you can stay overnight."

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