Your erotic stories

My Aunt Jessie had been threatening for several weeks to call me over to her house for me to give her another massage after I'd massaged both her and Mom with baby oil in our back yard one afternoon and she finally did it. I got home from work and was showering in the mud room when, as usual, I heard Mom call out, "That you, Hut?"

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When I was seven I wrote a story about a space ship landing in our back yard. The aliens were friendly and, at some point, they ate purple ice cream. As mothers do, mine told me it was brilliant. A year later, I thought it was dumb. A year after that, I wished I could write like that again. The next year, I burned it. My mom spanked me for playing with matches. The next day I wrote a story about a mean old mother and her reign of terror. As mothers do, she said it was cruel. The next day, I burned it.

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I guess the best way to begin this story is to tell you about myself. I am 40 years old (absolutely true) and a widow with a nineteen year old son. I started exercising about ten years ago and have been able to maintain my figure. I'm 5' 7" and 135 pounds (well, 140) and have put on a little weight in the last couple of years, which is not all bad as it is distributed well and does include an increase in cup size (B to C). As my breasts were never that big to begin with, I don't have the kind of sag one should expect at 40. I can actually get by without a bra.

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I've woken up in the morning with a raging hard-on and remembering vaguely some fantasy dreams I had over night involving some lesbian orgies. I looked at the time and it was hardly 6 am! Wish I could go back to sleep but my erect cock wouldn't let me -- I needed to give it a bit of attention. Hmmm.... mom wouldn't be up before 8 or 9am and having just fucked her brains out the day before I thought it would be a bit cruel to wake her up just yet. Fair enough then, watching some porn in the living room and some masturbation seemed to be the only choice.

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WARNING: If you are not 18 or older, please leave this page immediately. Incest—a word that has extreme negative connotations. The image that most often comes about when the word is mentioned is that of a father forcing himself on his daughter. Any forcible sex act, especially done by a parent to a child, should result in the parent being punished in legal and non-legal ways.

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Curtis and I were best friends growing up. In high school, we competed with each other in sports and academics. I was the captain of the football team. He was the captain of the basketball team. I graduated just ahead of him for the highest GPA but his SAT score was 100 points better than mine. He got a scholarship to an Ivy League school while I accepted an appointment to a national service academy. He was the embodiment of every parent's dream son.

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When Christopher DeVries arrived home from school, there was a simple message stuck to the refrigerator: Be here when I get back from work, we have to talk. Mom. The door had been purged of expired notes and grocery lists to make the message stand out. She had even thought to use the little magnet shaped like an exclamation point to pin it up.

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The mom's set the rules and Dad gets involved. I woke in the night, to find Aunt Marie sliding into my bed. I felt her cuddle up to me, her hand wandering mischievously. "That was mean of you, Jeremy, to let me fall asleep in the horny clutches of my son. Your Momma had him so worked up, he had to take it out on me," she pouted.

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It was the middle of July. Ninety plus degrees with heat advisories but here I was pushing the mower over the world's largest lawn because Dad had been ragging me about getting it cut. I'm dressed in shorts and tennis shoes, soaked in sweat barely able to keep a grip on the slick handle imagining I'm about to collapse as I finally finish the last strip of grass.

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When Dad was alive he took real good care of Mom. For as long as I can remember Mom has been a sleep walker. Dad had a thin line tied between his leg and Mom's ankle and when ever she started sleep walking he would guide her back to bed. She did not always sleep walk but when ever she felt stressed she would. Like the time her brother Walter was injured in a car accident. Mom woke up three times that night and Dad had to get her back into bed.

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