November 30, 2007
Like all Americans the date 9/11 conjures up memories that will be forever burned deep into our psyches. This is a story that explores a fictional plot by Al-Qaida terrorists to subvert America. It’s not very complimentary to the bad guys who happen to be Arab Islamic Fundamentalists. Too effing bad!
And for those who want sex - don’t worry — the story has it! Enjoy.
What follows is Chapter #1 of a two part story. Chapter #2 will be out within a week. All sex described involves only 18 yo and older consenting adults.
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1 — FRIDAY, JULY 6TH 2007, BALTIMORE, MARYLAND, U.S.A.
“Bin Laden’s babies? Are you crazy?”
“Something’s going on Ritchie,” my sister insisted and then as she saw the disbelief spread across my face added, “You’ve gotta believe me…you just have to help me.”
“Yeah but…but it just doesn’t make sense,” I stammered but even as the words escaped my mouth I realized that there was a certain perverted logic to her words. And then as I watched a tear slide down from my little
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November 29, 2007
When you see mom and me together, you know we’re related. You may not be sure if we’re mother and son or sister and brother but you would bet that we have the same blood running through us. The resemblance is striking enough so that you may even turn your head if you pass us on the street.
Mom’s 5′8″ and I’m 6′1″. We both have black hair and dark eyes. We run together almost every day and stay pretty slim but she does curve in places I don’t. She has a great body and your eyes will travel around it from one perfect feature to the next: at least mine do.
It isn’t that she’s showing off, but she has a way of ‘presenting’ herself. When she sits across from me, she always seems to turn her hip enough so that her breasts are at a perfect angle to view their fullness. They are superb. I can’t say that enough. They are superb perfect cones that make you want to touch them: at least I do.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw mom without a bra. She was getting dressed, her door was half opened and
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November 28, 2007
Before you EVEN close this, I have one thing to say. This is not about smoking pot. This is about something a tad more personal. No matter how much I try, I can only last seven minutes. So why the title? Do the math: seven minutes, each with sixty seconds. 420.
At first I thought I was normal. I mean… seven minutes of sex is nothing to sneeze at. It wasn’t like I shot off the instant I got hard. I got the idea to time myself from listening to my friends talk about how long they banged this chic or that broad. Seven minutes and I was proud of every second. At first.
For those of you in the medical profession, I know you’re wondering if that was only on the first blast of cum. No such luck; no matter how many times I jacked off, got blown, or fucked someone in whichever hole they liked, I lasted exactly seven minutes. No more; no less. I’ve tried everything to increase the time. This includes hypnosis. Nothing helps.
Now I will say this; seven minutes is a long time to wait for an orgasm. Especially whe
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November 27, 2007
I had been having some trouble with my computer at home and a friend from work offered to come home with me to see if he could straighten it out or at least tell me what was really wrong with it. Tony is a good guy like that, always willing to help out if he can. He is also a very big black man and, though I didn’t know it, I was about to find out just how big he really is.
Let me start at the beginning. I have a stepdaughter who used to be a real pain in the ass. Always giving my wife and I grief over something. That is until a few months ago. She had a problem, (I created it for her though she didn’t know that) and I helped her solve it. That story is told in “Pay-Back”. She is still paying for it.
Anyway, Tony came over and got the ‘puter up and running again and we were having a couple beers and looking at some porno when Heather showed up. Heather is 22 yrs. old and 5′7″. She is slender almost to the point of being skinny. I would call her skinny except that she has a great pair of tits, 36D’s.
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November 26, 2007
FOREWORD
Literotica.com issued a challenge to its volunteer writer’s to create stories for as many categories as possible. The following chapter is part of a single novel length story relating a journey of awakenings, discovery and growth involving a small group of people. For your entertainment, and mine, I’ll be submitting chapters into at least 17 different story categories. I don’t believe anything like this has been tried here before.
New chapter(s) will be submitted almost daily. By clicking on a blue Wm_Sexspear, you’ll be taken to my Profile; at the bottom of the page you’ll find a list of all the currently available chapters. THIS SHOULD MAKE IT EASY TO READ THEM ALL, IN SEQUENCE, WHICH IS HEARTILY SUGGESTED so the reader can follow the story line, character development, and catch the inside jokes.
I can promise those readers who are familiar with my work that you’ll find a ton of erotic reading that should appeal a wide variety of tastes, even though I intentionally attempted to have at lea
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November 25, 2007
2 Moms, 2 Sons, 1 Hot Night Pt. I
Recently, I was reminiscing with my mother about “That Summer.”
“What do you remember most?” I asked her.
“Only everything!” she replied.
“Yeah,” I said. ” It’s hard to forget those things.”
“As I recall,” mom said with raised eyebrows, “those ‘things’ were ‘hard’ a lot!”
I get hard just thinking of that incredible summer; when I lost my virginity with my mom, my aunt, and my cousin.
When I was a teenager, my uncle rented a big cabin in the mountains north of Los Angeles, for a week’s vacation for both families. My father naturally stayed home, claiming he couldn’t take the week off from work, and besides, he was never the outdoors type. This bothered no one. My mom and dad’s marriage was hardly affectionate anymore, and my uncle never liked him anyway.
So that Monday morning my Uncle Floyd, Aunt Barbara, and Cousin Robert, pulled up our driveway to pick us up. We threw our bags into the back of the station wagon (Yes, this was quite a few years
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November 24, 2007
Paul stood at the large window of the student residence living room he shared with his sister and adjusted the binoculars he held to his eyes. He looked out onto the beautiful sunny day and the scattered groups of students on the lawns and benches sunbathing, chatting or just fooling around. These really were the beautiful people, especially the young women in their light coloured short tops and shorts or skirts. Paul liked to observe the young women on campus.
He ran his fingers through his slightly curling, short, light brown hair and focused on two girls in particular, sharing a rug under the slight shade of a poplar tree. His sister Julie came at once into focus and he couldn’t help a wry smile cross his lips as he saw her body language to the other girl. She was so transparent. Still it would prove to be amusing to watch for a while so he picked up his glass of wine and took a sip as his sister, a masterful flirt, worked her magic.
“You see Selma, guys don’t really like kissing so you’ve got to mak
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November 23, 2007
When I went off the college, my parents both went through a sort-of mid-life crisis. I was the youngest of three kids so when they found themselves with an empty house, it invigorated them and they both found new activities to go along with their busy jobs. My sisters and I often commented on how they were both more fit and seemed happy all the time.
I’m 23 now, out of school and living out of state. Last summer, my parents paid for us kids to join them for a week at a resort near Lake Michigan. My sisters showed up with their boyfriends, and I brought my girlfriend, Carole, with me. We were all staying in a large cottage and fell into a relaxed schedule pretty quickly.
On the third day, I woke up late and found my mom reading a book with a cup of coffee. She was dressed in a nice t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. My mother had gotten into exercising in the last few years so she was often in some sort of work out clothes. She is in her fifties and petite, but her skin shows her age. She has short hair wit
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November 22, 2007
The week before spring break - midterm week, Junior year version - was one of the most intense weeks of my life, but it was finally over. And as the pulsating jets of the hot tub worked their magic on my bikini-clad body I closed my eyes and slid deeper into the water, the hectic, pressure packed week now nothing but a distant memory. If only my boyfriend were here, it would have been perfect.
Although my mother was distraught over the fact that on my first night home for spring break nobody would be home, I couldn’t have been happier. “Really,” I’d told her. “You and Dad go enjoy your party. I’ll be fine.
“I’ll have Jamie stay home,” she’d countered, referring to my eighteen year-old brother. “He doesn’t need to go out every night.”
“No!” I retorted emphatically, before quieting down. “Really, a nice quiet night at home with the hot tub and a warm bed is just what the doctor ordered.”
That had been three hours ago. Now it was nearly half past eight in the evening and I finally had the ho
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November 21, 2007
He saw that she had started to succumb to the sleeping pills he had put in her night-time drink: there was a laxness around her mouth, and she was just a little careless about how she leaned over. John could see the rounded top moldings of his mom’s big, high tits as she bent to straighten out the VERY VISUAL seams of her new black silk stockings.
The very first pair of real silk stockings in three long years sent by dad over a month ago and had just arrived that morning. She hadn’t taken them off since. She would no longer need her son to draw seams down the back of her long legs with a black ink pen.
Disappointed? He was. He had always looked forward to the times he held her legs to keep the pen still.
Damn, he thought; a guy could lose himself between those fine, firm legs and not for the first time let his mind run free with the images that he’d so often crowded into the far corners of his head.
He blushed when his mom straightened up, but couldn’t pull his eyes away from her lifted skirt. She
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