Your erotic stories

The following story is fictitious, of an explicit and adult nature. This story is not meant to be viewed by anyone under the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18, offended by adult material or such material is barred by the standards of your community, please leave this page now.

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*This is the 5th chapter of a story I began a couple of years ago and it's been over two years since I published the last chapter. Please let me know what you think and as always comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated. Thanks and enjoy!* Chapter 5 - Taming Sara

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My name is Jacob. I am 21 and I work as a materials handling specialist for a Chicago construction company. It pays very well, and while not always the most exciting job in the world it does have it's moments, like the time we ordered 500 toilet seals and received 500 toilet seats. But I digress. This story is about my Senior Prom. I had just turned 18 at the time and was dating this beautiful young woman named Stella. Blonde, blue eyed, 46 DD with a nice big ass. She was the object of my teen angst.

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The following story depicts plenty of male and female bisexuality, plus several fetishes such as anal, spitting, cum swapping and smoking. If you are offended by the notion of sexual acts between two men, you should skip this story and read something more suitable to your taste. The previous chapter has been revised and expanded. More chapters will follow soon.

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Tiffany Dawson stepped into the therapist's office of a walk-in clinic on a rainy Monday afternoon after work. She'd made sure her son Michael knew dinner was wanting for him in the oven and that'd she'd be home by six o' clock. Tiffany was a tiny woman, just over five feet tall, but she had a curvy build. Men and women alike often complimented her on her generous breasts, slender midsection and thick thighs. Tiffany's long, dark hair was pulled up into a high ponytail. A few tendrils had escaped and they gently caressed her smooth shoulders.

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"Wow, its starting to pour." Amy said looking out of the kitchen window. 'How appropriate' I thought to myself. It had been one of those dreary suffocating fall days that drowns your psyche. I was already a bit out of sorts. I had met Kate at the "Werks" earlier for our "Saturday" conversation, but she hadn't been her normal self. She was polite as we chatted but she seemed distracted and distant.

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"Bugger it," Colin muttered as he knocked a pile of notes on to the floor. He had been working at the computer on a tutorial paper for most of the morning and had stood up to have a stretch. He knelt down and started to reassemble the notes when he spotted a book among the tangle of wires at the back of computer that at some time must have fallen down the back of the desk. He picked it up, looked at it, and realised that it was a book he had borrowed from his friend Damien at least a couple of months ago and had been forgotten.

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I struggled not to run home from school. It would arrive and day now and just the thought caused my heartbeat to quicken. Typically I got the mail before my mother, so I was not too concerned that she might discover it. If she did, I had a good excuse prepared, a reaction which I had practiced many times, for why an 18-year old boy would receive such a thing.

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((I usually detest the idea of using toys in a movie or a story because it generally means that the writer has just run out of ideas and the toys are used to take up space, which is almost always the case in commercial porn. The toys also usually sever the story line because they put space between the participants and eliminate flesh-to-flesh contact. However, in this particular story with a "Mother-teaches-daughter" theme, I felt that the use of toys was appropriate to the plot.

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All characters depicted are 18 years of age or above. The author does not encourage or condone the activities described within. * Landon didn't exactly know what he expected prom night to be, but sitting in his gangly, pimple-faced friend Mark's den watching a porn film about naughty cheerleaders definitely wasn't what he had hoped for or envisioned.

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