Your erotic stories

This is just a short little story. It has been a long time since I posted on here so I thought I'd get back into it with something light. Not sure about doing any more in this series, maybe if this is received well enough. I know there is definitely story for more and I even rewrote the ending to be more open. If you like this well enough, let me know and I'll do more. However, I do have a few others projects I'm working on, some new stuff and some other chapters for what I already have written. Hope you enjoy! It's fairly short, quick, and to the point!

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"Harder, if you like." "I don't want to hurt you." "It's all right now. Please do it." She was astride him, her eyes drawn momentarily to a small bead of perspiration running from his forehead to the grey flecks at his temple, then looking down on the finger tips tightening their grip on her nipples. At the start this would have hurt but now, with her juices flowing, she liked the added stimulation, supplementing the hardness of him inside her.

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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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A stream of consciousness approach... A moment where all reason is usurped by desire...continues its formation and growth in the hyperreal of my mind... All I can think about right now is how much I need to release your breasts from their black and pink laced prison.

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I had just gotten out of the shower. I was toweling off and I was rubbing myself across my slit. I had been so horny these days. My husband had quit paying attention to me lately. I lifted a leg onto the top of the commode lid. I took two fingers and rubbed them across my clit. I guess I was getting into it and I didn't hear the bathroom door open. There stood my nineteen year old son, Justin.

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I've been in a depressed mood lately. My husband has totally ignored me sexually for months on end. I know it is somewhat my fault. I have gotten heavier over the past couple of years. My husband always said he liked a full figured woman, but no longer it seems. It's Sunday morning and my husband went golfing with his buddies. I was in bed naked and rubbing my pussy. I hate to admit this, but I am thinking of my son, Tommy.

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It was a month after the first time I joined my parents, Bill and Karen, in their sexual exploits. I quickly got better and lasted much longer in bed and gave my mom a good time. Dad loved to watch his son and mother lustily pounding each other on the bed as he wanked off on the side with a video camera shooting the whole scene.

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As long as I can remember, older women fascinated me. At first it was the idea of experience and knowledge that drew me to them, but as I got older I simply realized that it was more than that; it was the idea of forbidden. That's what made it for me. The story I'm about to tell happened few months ago, and not only changed my life but also the lives of many people around me. You have heard the same words over and over again in other tales, but unlike all those others, this one is actually a true one.

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The tedium finally broke at a quarter to seven, late that Friday night. We had been on the contract for almost two months, making sure that the details were all ironed out and then ironed out again once the two parties took turns changing their minds again and again. I should have been happy about the billable hours, and the generous amount of money those hours constituted, but these are the proceeds that contract lawyers commonly refer to as blood money.

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