Your erotic stories

I had just returned from college and was so broke it hurt. I hadn't a penny left from my allowance, but that was so tiny. I was always the poorest girl in my class - my parents did as much as they could, but simply didn't have enough to keep themselves, let alone subsidise me.

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[This story contains themes of lesbianism and incest, including graphic descriptions of sexual activity. If such material is in any way off-putting or offensive to you, please do not read any further. All characters depicted herein are over eighteen years of age. Unlike my previous erotic offerings, this tale is grounded in a real life incident involving my wife. The names have been changed to protect the innocent—and those who become a bit less innocent as events run their course. I really hope you enjoy it.]

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When my father died, I blamed my mother. Not for his death – the car accident that killed him was due to bad weather and a teenage driver – but for all of the unhappiness that settled on our home and stayed there after he was gone. My mother locked herself away in darkness, and tried to keep me there, too.

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It was a beautiful warm sunny day -- well, hot actually -- though the stiff on-shore breeze blowing up from the south made the heat tolerable. Otherwise, it was a perfect day for sailing. I sat at the wheel of my sailboat, named Felicity, which my wife, Karen, always insisted on calling a "yacht" because it was just over thirty feet in length. Karen wasn't on board with me. At the last minute on Friday, her boss had asked Karen to fly to Boston for a crucial project and he needed Karen to meet with the proposal team early Sunday -- today -- so she'd flown out last evening.

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ONE AN ILL-DEFINED QUALITY, something in her expression unsettled him. Despite the differences in their ages the girl was disturbing, made him feel distinctly uneasy. A hint of a smirk lifted the corner of her mouth while her pale-green, penetrating eyes bored into his and gave the impression of being able to recognise every dirty, sordid thought that had ever crossed his mind. He didn't know her well; they'd never been close while she was growing up. She was his brother's daughter.

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NOTE: All characters in this story are 18 years or older. The term 'teenage' can still refer to somebody 18 or 19 years old! This story is pure fantasy. Enjoy!! Switch-On - Understanding Uncle --commercial begins-- Do you struggle with bad habits like smoking, drinking, or gambling? Does your spouse tell you he wants to clean, but constantly forgets? Do your kids constantly back-talk or struggle with their grades?

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--commercial begins-- Do you struggle with bad habits like smoking, drinking, or gambling? Does your spouse tell you he wants to clean, but constantly forgets? Do your kids constantly back-talk or struggle with their grades? Tired of throwing away hard earned money on tuition, just to have your son or daughter fail their classes? Then we have a solution for you! Switch-On!

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Becky's heart skipped a beat, then sped up as she turned the corner and spotted the emergency vehicle leaving the front drive. Her summer dress rode high up on her trim thighs as she sprinted toward the house. Being a Varsity soccer player in high school, she was in excellent shape. She could turn on the speed when needed and now playing at the community college helped her stay in shape.

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This story was inspired by something I saw while on holiday at this very hotel. I'd not really thought about older women being attractive to me, but couldn't get this couple out of my mind, unable to figure out their relationship. I swapped glances with the older one – if only she knew what I was fantasising about!

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Everyone in this story is over eighteen. It may seem a little slow to get going, as I've attempted to explore the girl's feelings as she takes her first steps into Lesbian love, and is then taken into willing slavery. 'Can I help you, Sonny?' had said a gruff voice from behind the market stall. That did it. Just past my eighteenth birthday, and the combination of track-suit, short hair and no make-up had me marked as a boy.

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