Your erotic stories

I want you to see me do this. I am driving my uncle's van. I am on my way to pick up Daddy Ford and Ray-Ray. I am deliriously excited. It has been three weeks since I first met these guys in the parking lot of a liquor store. Three weeks since I invited this pair of ex-cons to fuck me in the ass and then come in my mouth. They treated me like a whore, shot jizz and piss in my mouth.

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It was about a year and a half ago, I was sitting in my work truck having a lunch break and leching at any remotely sexy looking female who happened to walk by, fantasizing about kinky sex. Such has been my custom ever since I can remember. At 53 I still had a raging libido and quite simply did not get enough sex to satisfy it. I could still quite easily orgasm two or three times a day.

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I woke up when some fluid hit my face, then I smelt it. It was piss. Where the hell was I? Then two parts of darkness parted and I saw a face looking at me. "Bonjour bonjour. En plein de vos la bouche je vous en prie." So I opened my mouth and the piss squirted in. I just had to gulp it down. It tasted salty, I had forgotten the taste.

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My wife doesn't know about my sessions. She can never know. We live a very normal life. Too normal. Our sex is bland. It's always the same thing. Thanks to the internet, I have realized that I am interested in a lot of strange things. Karen would never understand. So I have my sessions with Mistress Nikki to get what I need sexually.

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A number of years ago, I placed an ad in the local paper as a free-lance writer offering to write heirloom biographies for a reasonable fee. The idea came to mind after my mother passed away, and I realized how little I really knew of her life. I simply knew her as 'Mom,' and my kids only knew what I passed along to them. My intent was to help families capture the essence of their lives to share with the generations to follow.

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My wife and I went camping at busy campground several years ago. Although the campsite had showers, the flush toilets were out of service and outhouses had been brought in. My wife can not stand to use an outhouse. When she found out, she didn't even want to stay at the campsite, although she loves camping.

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I love getting out of the office at lunchtime. It gives me an opportunity to clear my head, and listen to either Jim Rome or Colin Cowerd on sports talk radio, as I drive to one of the local eateries. Since I'm trying to watch my waist, along with my budget, I usually hit the local Subway at least once a week. It's a fairly popular spot, so there's usually a line, but they do their best to keep it moving along.

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The morning sun shining through the window wakes me up. It's Saturday morning, which at this point in my marriage means it's my weekly chance of getting laid. I roll over to see if Rose is going to be interested, and her side of the bed is empty.

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I've never written anything like this before, but I was encouraged by some friends of mine. Because of my line of work, I'm always telling crazy stories. My best friend Mark suggested I start writing them down, so now I'm sharing them with you. I thought I'd start with one of my most bizarre stories and see how it goes.

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It began with a dress. She had always loved it. Loved how men looked at her when she wore it. But she always felt a little guilty. She had built her rep and her career on being being smart, forthright and right pretty much all the time. She fought the office battles on equal terms and never allowed her sexuality to come into it.

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