| Post Your True Sex Story |
|
MENU
NEWEST EROTIC STORIES
EROTIC STORIES ARCHIVE
December 2024 (20)
November 2024 (34)
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     |
13/11/2019
When I met my wife Clare in law school, she was a virgin, the product of having been religious in her high school years and petrified of pregnancy in college, but also too shy to ask her steady dates if they had condoms and certainly too shy to buy them herself. She didn’t get on the pill because she thought she only do so if she were in a very serious relationship.
In the early years of our marriage, I sort of enjoyed the idea of her having been a virgin, but when our twenties slid into our thirties, I sometimes worried that one day she would resent her lack of experience and grow curious. When I’d ask her about this possibility, she would assure me, oh no, that I was the only one for her.
Then, one night, at a wedding of one of my colleagues, we ran across an acquaintance, Sam, a tall, handsome younger guy who broke in during a dance and asked if he could dance with Clare. As they twirled on the dance floor, I was somewhat taken aback with how much Clare seemed to be enjoying dancing with him, and at the very end, I got a little jealous when he took her in his arms and ended the dance with a dip with her smiling ear to ear.
The next day I groused, and she apologized, and I didn’t think about it again until we ran into Sam and a date of his, Sophie, at a local bar a year or two later. In those days bars closed at midnight on Saturday nights, so we invited them home to our place for a nightcap. Sam noticed the hot tub on our deck and asked if we were up for a soak.
Sure, I said, but I don’t think we had suits that would fit them. “We don’t need suits,” he said, and given how attractive blonde-haired Sophie was, I said sure. Clare and I had platonically hot-tubbed naked with friends a couple of times, so it was no big deal for us.
We did provide bathrobes, which were duly removed and draped over the rails. We slid into the steaming hot tub, watching our steps but stealing furtive glances. We eased in slowly, the water too hot, the ladies’ floating breasts sinking slowly below the surface. Sophie was younger than Clare, in her early thirties. Her breasts were perfectly round, probably C-cups, while Clare was an A-cup, so hers looked firm, younger than you would expect for a woman in her mid-forties.
At first, Sam sat next to Sophie but then mentioned that he’d just taken a masseuse course and would like to try out on someone besides his girlfriend.
Something told me that I was not the target of this invitation.
“How bout it,” Clare,“ he said. “You wanna be my guinea pig?”
Shy Clare hesitated, but I added, “I’ve never known you to turn down a backrub.” She smiled, and she and Sophie changed places. I hadn’t noticed when she got in, but Sophie was wearing some sort of amulet around her neck that dangled between her breasts hidden in the churning water as the jets pumped full blast. As I checked it out, a half-moon of an aureole rose above the froth. I asked her if I could see the amulet, and she pulled it up out of the foam, fully exposing both tits. “It’s the Chinese character for Tao,” she said, holding it close so I could see it in the semi-dark as bubbles foamed below those rose-tipped risen moons.
When I looked back over at Sam and Clare, I was surprised to see him sitting behind her, his legs outside of hers, and I realized that his dick had to be touching the base of her spine.
He started at the back of her neck, his thumbs pressing in at her vertebra as his fingers caressed the sides of her neck and slowly massaged her shoulders but then disappeared fluttering down her arms beneath the surface of the water.
Even at this early juncture, Clare couldn’t suppress a moan, just audible above the humming of the jets. Later, she told me that it was almost as if his hands were hypnotizing her, that more than once the “no” she intended to say came out “oooohh,” like when his hands, hidden beneath the water, slid around her waist to her stomach and slowly circled their way up to her breasts, his palms ever so lightly brushing her nipples but not lingering, moving back down to her stomach and around again to her back where his thumbs pressed firmly to the tension that had settled there after a trying work week.
Meanwhile, Sophie had nestled closer to me, our naked legs touching, her right breast brushing my arm.
I leaned over to speak into her ear. “I assume you’ve had one of these massages,” I said, and Sophie smiled, nodding.
Later, Clare told me that she when Sam had finished with her lower back, she leaned forward to get up but that he grabbed her by her thighs and pulled her back down, and she could feel his rock hard dick pressing against her ass as his hands massaged her inner thighs, moving down to her ass, squeezing, kneading her cheeks, and she was simply paralyzed with desire, his left hand ever so slowly migrating beneath her ass to her mound, grazing softly, his fingers pressing, progressing, locating her slit, easing into her, as his thumb found her clit. I noticed his right hand move from behind her and cup her left breast. I leaned forward but stopped myself from stopping them.
She couldn’t stifle her moans. I did want it to stop it but just sat there watching.
Through the vapor I saw on her face an expression I had only seen in bed, and then she rose slightly, as he repositioned himself, and she settled back down, his dick entering her, reverse cowboy style. A look of surprise flashed across her face. She started to rise, but then abruptly lowered herself, impaling herself on his dick, and the telltale movement began, at first slowly, ambiguously.
After a minute or two, he gently moved her head sideways, her torso following, and they kissed. Now there was no doubt about what they were doing.
They seriously started fucking, now, faster and faster. In their consciousness Sophie and I had disappeared.
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Harder,” Clare moaned. “Harder. Oh, fuck me, Sam. Fuck me.”
The top half of her slender body was completely out of the water, her small breasts, bouncing, her nipples pinpricks, his hands on her hips as he thrust deeper and deeper.
Both jealous and turned on, I placed my arm around Sophie, and we watched the show until its writhing climax, a duet of guttural groans and high-pitched shrieks as Sam shot his load inside of Clare while she too was cumming.
The waves subsided. Panting, her face orgasm-flushed, she stood up and moved to the Sam’s side, avoiding eye contact with all of us, staring into the foam.
I can’t pretend that it wasn’t awkward afterward. No one really mentioned what had transpired, and it wasn’t until we were back into our own bed until I confronted Clare. Weeping, remorseful, Clare claimed, and I believe her, it was as if he had put a spell on her, that her mind kept saying no while her body wanted more. Sam had unleashed in this shy woman an inner animal I had never encountered.
I told her I understood and that I’d been half hoping over the years that she’s get to fuck someone else, having been a virgin when we met and my wanting her to at least have a greater realm of experience. I’m not quite sure, though, that I’ve ever satisfied her way Sam did that night, and I was not sad to hear that Sam had been transferred to New York where we’d be unlikely to bump into him in a bar.
In the early years of our marriage, I sort of enjoyed the idea of her having been a virgin, but when our twenties slid into our thirties, I sometimes worried that one day she would resent her lack of experience and grow curious. When I’d ask her about this possibility, she would assure me, oh no, that I was the only one for her.
Then, one night, at a wedding of one of my colleagues, we ran across an acquaintance, Sam, a tall, handsome younger guy who broke in during a dance and asked if he could dance with Clare. As they twirled on the dance floor, I was somewhat taken aback with how much Clare seemed to be enjoying dancing with him, and at the very end, I got a little jealous when he took her in his arms and ended the dance with a dip with her smiling ear to ear.
The next day I groused, and she apologized, and I didn’t think about it again until we ran into Sam and a date of his, Sophie, at a local bar a year or two later. In those days bars closed at midnight on Saturday nights, so we invited them home to our place for a nightcap. Sam noticed the hot tub on our deck and asked if we were up for a soak.
Sure, I said, but I don’t think we had suits that would fit them. “We don’t need suits,” he said, and given how attractive blonde-haired Sophie was, I said sure. Clare and I had platonically hot-tubbed naked with friends a couple of times, so it was no big deal for us.
We did provide bathrobes, which were duly removed and draped over the rails. We slid into the steaming hot tub, watching our steps but stealing furtive glances. We eased in slowly, the water too hot, the ladies’ floating breasts sinking slowly below the surface. Sophie was younger than Clare, in her early thirties. Her breasts were perfectly round, probably C-cups, while Clare was an A-cup, so hers looked firm, younger than you would expect for a woman in her mid-forties.
At first, Sam sat next to Sophie but then mentioned that he’d just taken a masseuse course and would like to try out on someone besides his girlfriend.
Something told me that I was not the target of this invitation.
“How bout it,” Clare,“ he said. “You wanna be my guinea pig?”
Shy Clare hesitated, but I added, “I’ve never known you to turn down a backrub.” She smiled, and she and Sophie changed places. I hadn’t noticed when she got in, but Sophie was wearing some sort of amulet around her neck that dangled between her breasts hidden in the churning water as the jets pumped full blast. As I checked it out, a half-moon of an aureole rose above the froth. I asked her if I could see the amulet, and she pulled it up out of the foam, fully exposing both tits. “It’s the Chinese character for Tao,” she said, holding it close so I could see it in the semi-dark as bubbles foamed below those rose-tipped risen moons.
When I looked back over at Sam and Clare, I was surprised to see him sitting behind her, his legs outside of hers, and I realized that his dick had to be touching the base of her spine.
He started at the back of her neck, his thumbs pressing in at her vertebra as his fingers caressed the sides of her neck and slowly massaged her shoulders but then disappeared fluttering down her arms beneath the surface of the water.
Even at this early juncture, Clare couldn’t suppress a moan, just audible above the humming of the jets. Later, she told me that it was almost as if his hands were hypnotizing her, that more than once the “no” she intended to say came out “oooohh,” like when his hands, hidden beneath the water, slid around her waist to her stomach and slowly circled their way up to her breasts, his palms ever so lightly brushing her nipples but not lingering, moving back down to her stomach and around again to her back where his thumbs pressed firmly to the tension that had settled there after a trying work week.
Meanwhile, Sophie had nestled closer to me, our naked legs touching, her right breast brushing my arm.
I leaned over to speak into her ear. “I assume you’ve had one of these massages,” I said, and Sophie smiled, nodding.
Later, Clare told me that she when Sam had finished with her lower back, she leaned forward to get up but that he grabbed her by her thighs and pulled her back down, and she could feel his rock hard dick pressing against her ass as his hands massaged her inner thighs, moving down to her ass, squeezing, kneading her cheeks, and she was simply paralyzed with desire, his left hand ever so slowly migrating beneath her ass to her mound, grazing softly, his fingers pressing, progressing, locating her slit, easing into her, as his thumb found her clit. I noticed his right hand move from behind her and cup her left breast. I leaned forward but stopped myself from stopping them.
She couldn’t stifle her moans. I did want it to stop it but just sat there watching.
Through the vapor I saw on her face an expression I had only seen in bed, and then she rose slightly, as he repositioned himself, and she settled back down, his dick entering her, reverse cowboy style. A look of surprise flashed across her face. She started to rise, but then abruptly lowered herself, impaling herself on his dick, and the telltale movement began, at first slowly, ambiguously.
After a minute or two, he gently moved her head sideways, her torso following, and they kissed. Now there was no doubt about what they were doing.
They seriously started fucking, now, faster and faster. In their consciousness Sophie and I had disappeared.
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Harder,” Clare moaned. “Harder. Oh, fuck me, Sam. Fuck me.”
The top half of her slender body was completely out of the water, her small breasts, bouncing, her nipples pinpricks, his hands on her hips as he thrust deeper and deeper.
Both jealous and turned on, I placed my arm around Sophie, and we watched the show until its writhing climax, a duet of guttural groans and high-pitched shrieks as Sam shot his load inside of Clare while she too was cumming.
The waves subsided. Panting, her face orgasm-flushed, she stood up and moved to the Sam’s side, avoiding eye contact with all of us, staring into the foam.
I can’t pretend that it wasn’t awkward afterward. No one really mentioned what had transpired, and it wasn’t until we were back into our own bed until I confronted Clare. Weeping, remorseful, Clare claimed, and I believe her, it was as if he had put a spell on her, that her mind kept saying no while her body wanted more. Sam had unleashed in this shy woman an inner animal I had never encountered.
I told her I understood and that I’d been half hoping over the years that she’s get to fuck someone else, having been a virgin when we met and my wanting her to at least have a greater realm of experience. I’m not quite sure, though, that I’ve ever satisfied her way Sam did that night, and I was not sad to hear that Sam had been transferred to New York where we’d be unlikely to bump into him in a bar.
Poster:
Stan Robinson
