Your erotic stories

I was living in my parents house one winter because I was in between locked ward confinements, and, though not enough of an outlaw to have an actual price on my head, I was enough of a one to make living outside the family milieu difficult at best. I was in my 20's and had a neuroses now widely known but unrecognized back then by the quacks. I also suffered from a small number of other disorders but nothing really physically disabling, in fact, for a neurotic young man of aesthetic temperament and criminal tendencies my physical health has always been robust.

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Summer vacation was winding down fast, taking with it the last vestiges of freedom that my sisters and I had been so thoroughly enjoying. All too soon, I would be starting my senior year in high school and it would be back to dull grind of boring routine. "Samuel T. Young, you need a haircut, young man!"

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Jake was 18 years old. For all intensive purposes he was normal. Except for one itty bitty thing. He wanted to sleep with his mom. This disturbed Jake to no end. It certainly wasn't normal and made him feel awkward around her. His mom was none the wiser. Being a very open and liberal mother didn't help his appetite at all, especially since she would often walk around their house in nothing but a shirt and her panties. Every time Jake would see this he'd have to control himself. Every now and then she'd give him an innocent hug, but to him it wasn't so innocent. He'd steal a chance to brush her butt, or her boobs. He'd pat her back to see if she was wearing a bra. She rarely did in the mornings.

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Two days after I graduated from High School, my dad surrendered to the cancer that had been kicking his ass for more than three years. To say my mom and I were devastated would be an understatement. It seemed like we died with him as we moved like zombies in a cloud of unreality. A world without him was no place we knew or wanted to know. And yet, there we were, the carpet pulled forever out from under us.

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It is the middle of the night and Jon Mason returns from the bathroom. Sara sleeps on her back and the bright moonlight filters through the curtains casting a soft glow across her body. Through the open window, he can hear the roar of the surf. The sheet, wadded and tossed towards the bottom of the bed, leaves just one of her feet covered.

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Cindy sat at her dining room table and sipped a glass of wine. In front of her were two letters and two small piles of photos. Aside from some soft music coming from the stereo the large house was empty and quiet, as it had been for much of the past six months.

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I woke late, which is not my usual, but I was feeling a bit rough. I swallowed 3 ibuprofen and sat in a hot, hot shower for a bit, allowing the scalding water to pound on my aching head. This always makes me feel better. Also, not having to work today helped my mood. I had arranged several days off in the row to spend time with Mom.

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As might be expected, dinner that evening at the DeVries household was somewhat awkward. Christopher picked hesitantly at his pasta, not trusting his stomach. He just couldn't settle down. His heart would palpitate for twenty minutes at a stretch, and just as he'd start to relax he'd think of the delights he might earn in the next few months, and the whole process began again. He was getting exhausted just sitting.

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Ryan was in the kitchen eating his breakfast watching her. She was wearing her nightgown which didn't leave much to the imagination, pretty much see through. It flowed all the way to her ankles and clung very nicely to her womanly figure accentuating her large, full breasts. Every move she made, made her big titties sway from her body, Ryan so badly wanted to get up from the table and squeeze them.

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Maria knocked loudly on her son's bedroom door. "Matthew? Wake up! You have to get up and get ready for Mass." Matthew's muffled voice came through the door. "I'm not going to Mass, Mom." Maria's eyes shot up. We'll just see about that, she thought. She wrapped her fingers around the knob, twisted, and swung open the door.

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