Your erotic stories

It had been a couple months since my mom and I had that first encounter in the club. Ted came home and didn't suspect anything other than the usually, it seems, since he never suspected that I had been at the club. He and my mom went that next weekend and I stayed home to watch my little sisters. It was annoying, since Anna is 19, so I don't know why I have to get tethered to Macy, the little one.

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What a neat idea, Ted thought. He'd been down Lexington a couple of times a week all semester from his room to his classes at the university and he hadn't even noticed the Chance Café, down on the lower level under a hippy New Age gear store.

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We were in the Capitol. Jonathan was the Captain again, and it was the Captain who pushed me none-too-gently out of the carriage, and I stumbled and fell and scraped my shoulder on the pavement, and he pulled me up by my elbow and marched me into the courthouse. I had been to the Capitol several times, but I'd never seen any of the courthouses, although I knew that each district had one.

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Late in the evening, we three arrive at a club that WE've discovered that has a highly sexually permissive atmosphere. WE have dressed you in a snug vinyl high-necked jumpsuit that nicely emphasizes your sexy form, and it has a velcro tear flap at each of your breasts as well as one between your thighs. It has thicker bands at the waist, wrists, elbows, ankles, and just below the knee with sound metal rings fastened at each point.

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My friends always told me that my mom was a Milf. When I was younger, I used to feel embarrassed by this and I got into fights, even lost some friends. Over the years, I changed my mind, especially when my mom got divorced for the second time, and I was stuck taking care of my family like the man of the house. Playing the role of dad to two sisters, I began to see what my friends were seeing in my mother. I didn't tell her that, of course, and so I missed my chance for anything once she got remarried.

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"Are we nearly there yet? This doesn't look anywhere classy." Clarissa tried to keep the petulance out of her voice. She knew she should be flattered by the stretch-limo and the Dom Perignon, glass number three of which was fizzing its way down her throat, but why the hell were they driving about dingy back-streets?

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The music was deafeningly loud; strobes flashed incessantly giving the otherwise dark room a surreal ambiance. My hips gyrated; my feet, clad in black stilettos, moved to an ethereal metallic 'techno' beat. My hands roamed oh so suggestively over my body and lingered as my finger tips cupped and caressed my breasts through a black leather top -- no more than a bra, really; not stitched, but riveted.

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Before Penny married Mark she had been married before when she was a young, innocent twenty-year old beauty to a wealthy man twenty years her senior who loved and spoiled her with everything she ever wanted or needed both physically and sexually. They had two daughters, Penelope and Pamela, in the first three years of their marriage who were growing up into beautiful, young girls.

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My wife and I had been lying in bed talking after a round of great sex. When I say great sex, I mean great sex, which is what we usually have. On rare days, its no sex at all. A bad day is good sex, and on good days it's spectacular sex. This had been a normal day, which is to mean it was great. "Mmm, I love you, honey," I murmured as she rolled off me. "I love you, too," she answered. "I also lust you." I laughed at that.

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New York Sunday we slept until noon, just enjoying the closeness of our bodies and the time to talk about nothing. The afternoon was filled with a matinee movie and a trip to another book store but the day didn't really begin for us until we found an expensive French Bistro on 3rd Avenue at 7pm. We had arranged to meet Amelia at 9pm in the "Club Paris" nightclub just off Time Square so we had a couple of hours to relax and play at being mature grown-ups.

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