Your erotic stories

I love cock. Can't deny it. Can't escape it. Not guys, as such, but COCK. I am married, love my wife and family, and will do nothing to endanger them or my marriage. But I love cock. Am I repeating myself? With local University connections, I am able to make use of the 5 different gyms and work-out centers on campus, in addition to the 3 pools they have. I admit, that at the pools I spend way more time looking at the co-eds, than anything or anyone else.

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Wow what a party. When I married my wife I had no idea who else I was actually "marrying". My wife's family it turned out really liked a good party. My wife had a mother that wanted everybody to have a good time and often ran the family functions with a theme. I have no idea why it was done like this, but my wife's family interpretation of a pirates theme was for most of the women to dress like wenches and it was pretty shocking! My three sisters-in-law were all there along with a bunch of cousins my age.

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She first saw him working outside. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but it appeared he was checking some wires that connected to the back of the house. From a distance, she could see he wore a uniform of standard-issue work pants and a clean, collared shirt. His back was turned to her, giving her a nice view, and when he leaned down she scolded herself for letting her eyes travel downward. Brushing aside her wanton thoughts as the distractions to which she had only recently grown accustomed, she decided to ask him what he was doing, since it was her house he was kneeling behind.

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"What a conniving bitch" was all I could think. When I had turned eighteen in June my foster mother could have kicked me to the curb but she hadn't. Relief first struck me then suspicion. My foster mother wasn't exactly Mother Theresa, there had to be a catch. It wasn't obvious at first what was really going on. The condition for my remaining was simple, I had to pay my way. Plus she would need a little for rent. No problem.

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"Give it up Monica," Carla complained! "He's practicing his bah humbug routine early...no way is he going to tell us what he wants to be for Halloween!" True; but then, that sure didn't excuse her dragging Monica off my lap. And she did it just as Monica started to whisper something in my ear too. That wasn't the worst of it either; oh no, the darling flirt had finally let my hands push up under her sweatshirt! So my hands were sliding over the taught, feathery soft skin of Monica's belly; when, timing her tease to perfection, Carla had pulled her off my lap.

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Jennifer McDougall slumped in the hard-back chair on the other side of my large wooden desk. The wind knocked out of her sails, I knew she was beaten. Tears ran down her face, and I handed her my handkerchief to wipe them away. It was a losing battle though, for each time she dried those blue eyes the tears continued to flow. "Mr. Roberts, I'm so sorry, I..." she quietly said.

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"Wahay!" A course Geordie voice shouted as I heard someone wolf-whistle me, "Careful you don't show us your stocking tops; sweetheart!" I had arrived home half an hour earlier after finishing a night shift at the hospital and as I was hanging some washing on the spinner in the garden my nurses' uniform had risen to mid thigh. I turned to scowl at the builders who were working on the new conservatory.

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I'd not long returned from my morning 8k run and still had an adrenaline buzz so, after checking my e-mails I decided to have a scroll through a couple of my favourite porn sites and have a nice leisurely wank, when there was a knock on my flat door. As I approached the door I rearranged my stiff cock to avoid any embarrassment. When I opened the door halfway to see who the caller was my jaw nearly hit the floor like a Tom & Jerry cartoon.

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One of my father's crudest friends had a saying that he reserved for men he thought were losers with the women. He would say, "That guy couldn't get laid in a whore house with a pocket full of hundred dollar bills." I never thought about that much; I figured I was doing alright with the ladies until I turned forty. Then it dawned on me, I had never had one that truly cared about me. Through my blue collar hard-working, long-hour days, I had a long string who abused my trust, used me and made me pay too much for the attention I got from them.

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In April 2004 my husband announced that his 25 year old secretary was 6 months pregnant and he was leaving me and our two daughters to be with her. Apparently I'd become boring and had put on weight – no longer the slim nymphomaniac that he had married 21 years previously. To say that I was devastated would be somewhat of an understatement. I thought that I'd been as good a mother and wife as I could be while also holding down a career as an accountant with a pretty large clothing company.

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