| Post Your True Sex Story |
|
MENU
NEWEST EROTIC STORIES
EROTIC STORIES ARCHIVE
November 2024 (17)
October 2024 (33)
September 2024 (33)
August 2024 (45)
July 2024 (35)
June 2024 (37)
May 2024 (33)
April 2024 (20)
March 2024 (25)
February 2024 (37)
January 2024 (26)
December 2023 (43)
November 2023 (37)
October 2023 (28)
September 2023 (21)
August 2023 (29)
July 2023 (23)
June 2023 (16)
May 2023 (17)
April 2023 (31)
March 2023 (24)
February 2023 (24)
January 2023 (26)
December 2022 (26)
November 2022 (30)
October 2022 (24)
September 2022 (36)
August 2022 (36)
July 2022 (25)
June 2022 (27)
May 2022 (38)
April 2022 (28)
March 2022 (20)
February 2022 (31)
January 2022 (23)
December 2021 (25)
November 2021 (29)
October 2021 (24)
September 2021 (20)
August 2021 (25)
July 2021 (23)
June 2021 (34)
May 2021 (23)
April 2021 (43)
March 2021 (34)
February 2021 (36)
January 2021 (40)
December 2020 (33)
November 2020 (21)
October 2020 (28)
September 2020 (35)
August 2020 (35)
July 2020 (19)
June 2020 (25)
May 2020 (29)
April 2020 (30)
March 2020 (30)
February 2020 (31)
January 2020 (55)
December 2019 (41)
November 2019 (38)
October 2019 (36)
September 2019 (33)
August 2019 (42)
July 2019 (31)
June 2019 (25)
May 2019 (32)
April 2019 (34)
March 2019 (30)
February 2019 (37)
January 2019 (26)
December 2018 (21)
November 2018 (32)
October 2018 (27)
September 2018 (52)
August 2018 (38)
July 2018 (26)
June 2018 (27)
May 2018 (30)
April 2018 (24)
March 2018 (29)
February 2018 (19)
January 2018 (26)
December 2017 (15)
November 2017 (24)
October 2017 (22)
September 2017 (26)
August 2017 (28)
July 2017 (28)
June 2017 (29)
May 2017 (30)
April 2017 (22)
March 2017 (29)
February 2017 (26)
January 2017 (26)
December 2016 (53)
November 2016 (42)
October 2016 (27)
September 2016 (25)
August 2016 (38)
July 2016 (31)
June 2016 (27)
May 2016 (41)
April 2016 (40)
March 2016 (34)
February 2016 (34)
January 2016 (33)
December 2015 (29)
November 2015 (33)
October 2015 (29)
September 2015 (23)
August 2015 (18)
July 2015 (23)
June 2015 (11)
May 2015 (19)
April 2015 (11)
March 2015 (22)
February 2015 (21)
January 2015 (19)
December 2014 (18)
November 2014 (15)
October 2014 (27)
September 2014 (19)
August 2014 (16)
July 2014 (15)
June 2014 (17)
May 2014 (14)
April 2014 (20)
March 2014 (18)
February 2014 (16)
January 2014 (22)
December 2013 (25)
November 2013 (24)
October 2013 (20)
September 2013 (25)
August 2013 (23)
July 2013 (28)
June 2013 (27)
May 2013 (27)
April 2013 (24)
March 2013 (27)
February 2013 (18)
January 2013 (25)
December 2012 (18)
November 2012 (56)
October 2012 (21)
September 2012 (30)
August 2012 (25)
July 2012 (30)
June 2012 (41)
May 2012 (37)
April 2012 (24)
March 2012 (38)
February 2012 (40)
January 2012 (37)
December 2011 (27)
November 2011 (23)
October 2011 (35)
September 2011 (37)
August 2011 (40)
July 2011 (30)
June 2011 (32)
May 2011 (26)
April 2011 (16)
March 2011 (24)
February 2011 (16)
January 2011 (22)
December 2010 (23)
November 2010 (19)
October 2010 (29)
September 2010 (27)
August 2010 (23)
July 2010 (27)
June 2010 (18)
May 2010 (27)
April 2010 (18)
March 2010 (30)
February 2010 (26)
January 2010 (28)
December 2009 (23)
November 2009 (20)
October 2009 (31)
September 2009 (31)
August 2009 (31)
July 2009 (53)
June 2009 (65)
May 2009 (43)
April 2009 (27)
March 2009 (36)
February 2009 (15)
January 2009 (15)
December 2008 (22)
November 2008 (15)
October 2008 (40)
September 2008 (32)
August 2008 (22)
July 2008 (52)
June 2008 (27)
May 2008 (64)
April 2008 (24)
March 2008 (36)
February 2008 (34)
January 2008 (21)
December 2007 (13)
November 2007 (33)
October 2007 (20)
September 2007 (24)
August 2007 (17)
July 2007 (33)
June 2007 (49)
May 2007 (20)
April 2007 (11)
March 2007 (63)
February 2007 (17)
January 2007 (24)
December 2006 (19)
November 2006 (15)
LINKS
HOT LINKS     |
18/03/2016
Several years back I was using the home office of some friends across the street. They both worked, and the quiet of their home office enabled me to be much more productive than in my own home office where my wife and kids were constantly in and out that summer.
I never realized how much merchandise they got delivered to their home until then. 2 or 3 times a week, there was a UPS delivery. I would hear the knock, but being busy, would not go to the door and just let the delivery person leave the stuff on the porch.
That is, until I looked out the window one day and saw that the delivery person was a tall blonde woman with big tits and long legs. I got my bony ass to the door in a hurry!
In her late 20s or early 30s, she had a "hard-living" face that was nevertheless kind of pretty, and was wearing the UPS summer uniform of short-sleeve shirt and shorts. The shorts certainly showed her magnificent, long and muscular legs nicely, and it being about 104 outside, she had perspired through the brown shirt, through which her football-size boobs, in an apparently thin bra, printed quite visibly.
She was very friendly, and we got to chit-chatting about the oppressive Texas heat, so I invited her into the cool house and got her some ice water. She downed it fast, and I went back into the kitchen to get her another glass. The ice maker was jammed, so it took me a few minutes to get it in order. When I returned, she was facing away looking out over the back deck, had unbuttoned the shirt, pulled the tail out, and was flapping the front of the shirt back and forth to cool off.
Well, I thought that was a bit bold, but she was facing away from me, so I could not see anything. I cleared my throat so she'd know I was back, expecting her to button up. Instead, she casually turned around and took the water from my hand. I could now see her breasts clearly through the see-through material of her bra, and the A/C had peaked her nips up to hard points. Damn!
Then, just as she had asked for another glass of water, she said her clothes were uncomfortably soaked with sweat, and would I mind if she let them dry in the sun on the back deck.
In fact, I DID mind, as my wife and kids were home directly across the street and could pop over, my friends who owned the house could come home for lunch, and the neighbors on either side might see her out there.
But I nevertheless must have said something along the lines of "OK," for she walked out on the deck, sat on the bench, removed the shirt, and hung it on the back of the lounge. She then undid the fastener that held her hair in a ponytail, and shook out her long, natural blonde hair.
As that were not enough, she then stood up and wiggled the shorts off over her boots, draped them on another chair, and came back in.
Wow! What a fantastic body she had! Those big football tits, tiny waist, curvy, slim hips, mile-long legs, and, like her bra, the see-through material of her panties left no doubt that her pubes were shaved into a perfect heart shape.
She sat down on the edge of the leather den couch with her water in one hand like nobody's business and somehow got onto the subject of her husband, who was also a UPS driver and how unfortunate it was they were always working during the time of day they were horniest--lunchtime.
Well, thanks for sharing, and what a coincidence. It was lunchtime. My thick gold wedding ring was in plain view, but obviously that was not an issue, as she mentioned that her hubby enjoyed the "fringe benefits" of mostly only "lonely housewives" being home when he made deliveries and how "delighted" she was to find the rare male at home alone. I, of course, never told her that I was merely a guest at this house and actually lived across the street.
Well, I did not fool around on my wife, and having this aggressive near-naked horny woman thinking she was going to "cook" this "rare male" for lunch was making me increasingly nervous.
Her uniform dried fast, so I retrieved it and asked her to quickly put it back on as I looked at my watch and exclaimed, "Oh my, look what time it is!" and lied that my wife would be coming home for lunch any moment. She got with the program in a hurry and left with the parting words, "We'll pick up where we left off another day."
For the rest of the summer, I never answered the door again, though sometimes the knocking would continue for ten minutes.
I moved back to my own home office when school resumed in the fall. One day, she made a delivery across the street when my buddy, the homeowner who'd lent me his home office, happened to be off from work at home and answered the door.
He was a psychologist and extremely perceptive. Short, ten years older, and with a heavy beard, he looks nothing like me. He told me this good-looking blonde UPS driver's face nearly dropped on the porch when he opened the door as she questioned who he was, how long he'd lived there, who else lived there, etc., etc., etc.
He said he gathered she was expecting someone else. It was only then that I told him the story of her previous delivery that summer when I'd used their home office. He got a huge charge out of that and then fully understood her peculiar behavior when he answered the door.
I would occasionally see her zooming down the street in the distance, blonde hair flying in the breeze, but would hastily duck behind a bush or behind my car or something so avoid running into her again.
How come stuff like that never happens now that I'm divorced?
I often think of her when I hear UPS' new byline, "What can Brown do for you?"
I never realized how much merchandise they got delivered to their home until then. 2 or 3 times a week, there was a UPS delivery. I would hear the knock, but being busy, would not go to the door and just let the delivery person leave the stuff on the porch.
That is, until I looked out the window one day and saw that the delivery person was a tall blonde woman with big tits and long legs. I got my bony ass to the door in a hurry!
In her late 20s or early 30s, she had a "hard-living" face that was nevertheless kind of pretty, and was wearing the UPS summer uniform of short-sleeve shirt and shorts. The shorts certainly showed her magnificent, long and muscular legs nicely, and it being about 104 outside, she had perspired through the brown shirt, through which her football-size boobs, in an apparently thin bra, printed quite visibly.
She was very friendly, and we got to chit-chatting about the oppressive Texas heat, so I invited her into the cool house and got her some ice water. She downed it fast, and I went back into the kitchen to get her another glass. The ice maker was jammed, so it took me a few minutes to get it in order. When I returned, she was facing away looking out over the back deck, had unbuttoned the shirt, pulled the tail out, and was flapping the front of the shirt back and forth to cool off.
Well, I thought that was a bit bold, but she was facing away from me, so I could not see anything. I cleared my throat so she'd know I was back, expecting her to button up. Instead, she casually turned around and took the water from my hand. I could now see her breasts clearly through the see-through material of her bra, and the A/C had peaked her nips up to hard points. Damn!
Then, just as she had asked for another glass of water, she said her clothes were uncomfortably soaked with sweat, and would I mind if she let them dry in the sun on the back deck.
In fact, I DID mind, as my wife and kids were home directly across the street and could pop over, my friends who owned the house could come home for lunch, and the neighbors on either side might see her out there.
But I nevertheless must have said something along the lines of "OK," for she walked out on the deck, sat on the bench, removed the shirt, and hung it on the back of the lounge. She then undid the fastener that held her hair in a ponytail, and shook out her long, natural blonde hair.
As that were not enough, she then stood up and wiggled the shorts off over her boots, draped them on another chair, and came back in.
Wow! What a fantastic body she had! Those big football tits, tiny waist, curvy, slim hips, mile-long legs, and, like her bra, the see-through material of her panties left no doubt that her pubes were shaved into a perfect heart shape.
She sat down on the edge of the leather den couch with her water in one hand like nobody's business and somehow got onto the subject of her husband, who was also a UPS driver and how unfortunate it was they were always working during the time of day they were horniest--lunchtime.
Well, thanks for sharing, and what a coincidence. It was lunchtime. My thick gold wedding ring was in plain view, but obviously that was not an issue, as she mentioned that her hubby enjoyed the "fringe benefits" of mostly only "lonely housewives" being home when he made deliveries and how "delighted" she was to find the rare male at home alone. I, of course, never told her that I was merely a guest at this house and actually lived across the street.
Well, I did not fool around on my wife, and having this aggressive near-naked horny woman thinking she was going to "cook" this "rare male" for lunch was making me increasingly nervous.
Her uniform dried fast, so I retrieved it and asked her to quickly put it back on as I looked at my watch and exclaimed, "Oh my, look what time it is!" and lied that my wife would be coming home for lunch any moment. She got with the program in a hurry and left with the parting words, "We'll pick up where we left off another day."
For the rest of the summer, I never answered the door again, though sometimes the knocking would continue for ten minutes.
I moved back to my own home office when school resumed in the fall. One day, she made a delivery across the street when my buddy, the homeowner who'd lent me his home office, happened to be off from work at home and answered the door.
He was a psychologist and extremely perceptive. Short, ten years older, and with a heavy beard, he looks nothing like me. He told me this good-looking blonde UPS driver's face nearly dropped on the porch when he opened the door as she questioned who he was, how long he'd lived there, who else lived there, etc., etc., etc.
He said he gathered she was expecting someone else. It was only then that I told him the story of her previous delivery that summer when I'd used their home office. He got a huge charge out of that and then fully understood her peculiar behavior when he answered the door.
I would occasionally see her zooming down the street in the distance, blonde hair flying in the breeze, but would hastily duck behind a bush or behind my car or something so avoid running into her again.
How come stuff like that never happens now that I'm divorced?
I often think of her when I hear UPS' new byline, "What can Brown do for you?"
Poster:
Lickum
