collection of stories you shouldn't read at work
My friends and I rented a massive mansion for Valentines weekend. We originally planned it to be just us girls (5 of us), but it WAS Valentines so I messaged the guy I liked to come hook up after the party. Me and him have really great sex and he’s a lot of fun to hang out with. We usually drink, smoke, then fuck for hours.
Of the 5 girls, four of us planned on inviting a guy over. I told my guy to come over anytime after 11pm, but everyone else invited their man over around 8.
My Sensual Power (part 2)
I wanted to make this kiss one to remember. I could feel her breath against my lips. I pulled her to me and inhaled her scent. Her lips were soft and sweet. I could taste the pizza and beer. I could taste her fire and passion.
I felt myself becoming lost in that kiss. I could feel her hair in my hands and felt her leg slide on top of my own. Her hand was inside my shirt stroking my chest.
I ran my hands across her chest and could feel the heat from her breasts even through her shirt and bra. Her hands were in my hair and I could feel my arousal becoming more apparent as her legs scissor around my waist.
I slid my hands up Isabella’s shirt taking her breasts in my hands. She reached down between them and with an adept slip of her fingers released the bra. I found her neck as my hands found their way to her tits.
When I become extremely aroused I think in more vulgar terms.
(Years ago, I wrote a story about a college student who discovers the erotic superpower I would want.
My intention was not to create a story for a quick wank but to build interesting characters and something different.
Re-reading it several years later I see many flaws and see the timeline gets a bit confusing. That aside, I would love feedback.
If you enjoy the story, what do you see things going next. The versions I created get a bit on the darkside, and I didn’t care for them.
Thanks. )
From an early age I had an unusual ability to focus and attention to detail. Not simply paying attention, but to truly focus on the details of a situation so passionately I lose myself.
When my grandmother was alive she would call it intensity gone-awry. My mother would call it a problem and take me to the doctor for a diagnosis and treatment. For me the greatest joy in life comes from the small details in any situation.
I try to enjoy every moment of life and relish getting so lost in the details of everything I encounter. This focus and attention to detail took a strange turn several months ago and has turned my world upside down as you will see.
Early last year I went over to a friend’s house to sleep for the night. Her parents were on a short holiday and I decided to go over so she wasn’t lonely. When night fell we put Love Actually on in her living room to keep us busy however early on in the film there’s a sex scene with Joanna Page in it. When Joanna took off her bra my friend said she had small Boobs which was typical for her to say as she was a 34E breast size. I defended Joanna as I felt her breast size was close to mine as I’m a 30DD.
Our argument was pretty heated before my friend took off her top to show me her Boobs to show what good boobs looked like (we were both braless as we were in our pyjamas). This was the first time I’d seen another girls boobs in person but I didn’t really care as I was straight at this point in time. Because my friend felt comfortable showing me her tits I decided to do the same and lifted my top over my head to show what I thought was a good boob size back at her. After I did though we both began laughing and joked the whole thing off and layed back down topless.
Yesterday I was joking around that since I was running solo on Valentine’s Day, I’d be more than happy to be the third wheel if any couples out there (male/male or male/female) wanted to have a threesome I’m happy to volunteer.
Last night, lying in bed (alone) I was thinking about where I am usually on Valentine’s Day and it hit me that usually I’m in North America visiting Kip in Colorado snowboarding. Then it hit me that I was once on my way back home here to Australia and I had a two night stay in Vegas and had a threesome.
I dug through the archives and found what I had written about that.
Did anyone here have a Valentine’s Day threesome?
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I was going to sit down, maybe on the flight home and write up what happened and share it with you guys, because it was soooo darn hot!!!
As the three of us were chilling out post threesome, the wife asked me what I do for a living and I told them. They looked it up straight away and the husband had to admit that he is a fan of mine but had no idea at all and wasn’t really a daily follower.
My ex wife and I had a unique ending to our relationship. For the last 3+ years we were both over the relationship but neither of us could actually end it. She still lived with me but would occasionally “move out” into her brother’s apartment but would never take any of her things. She mostly slept in the guest bedroom but would sometimes sleep in my bed in what was our room. And we’d fuck about three times a week but it never meant anything. We used each other.
During this time I would have regular meet ups with my FWB’s. Out of “respect” I would never bring anyone home though. One FWB in particular (let’s call her D) was living with her aunt and I couldn’t go over to her place. So we’d fuck in cars and bars and friends houses and what not.
One weekend my ex wife tells me that she was going on a fishing trip that her and her family went on every year. Cool! I’ve got an entire weekend and the house to myself.
Sara and I have been to a few play parties, but we stayed mostly on the sidelines or just enjoyed each other whilst others looked on. Tonight however, there was playful mischief in our eyes.
As we headed into an unremarkable Manhattan Midtown building, I lightly placed my hand on her lower back, feeling her body under her raincoat and tracing it to her bum crack. I watched Sara dress just a bit earlier, pulling up the stockings slipping on her heels, and then finishing off with just her signature red coat on top. As I was now caressing her naked bum through the coat, that naked image of her was playing in my mind.
We stepped into a large room, filled with seating all around, a dance floor in the middle and a bar in the corner. People were mingling, chatting and drinking. It was the social part of the event, everyone fully clothed and getting to know each other. We only briefly lingered here. We were too eager to play.
She came to him dressed casually, but something in the way she was moving told James that she had prepared herself for this night too.
They skipped the small talk and started undressing and passionately kissing. He lifted her up and pressed her to the wall. James roughly bit her neck, then played with her ear while she moaned with pleasure rolling her eyes.
*‘Mmm, James… I wanna feel you. Let me taste you.’*
She got on her knees and took him in her mouth. James always wondered where sweet Valentine learned to suck and how she became so skilled in this art. The blowjobs that she gave were mindblowing, the feeling was that she was craving his dick.
The way she was looking up at him and the fact that she didn’t close her eyes and looked straight back at him was something that was driving him crazy.
Hardly, he fought the urge to penetrate her right then, in the hallway.
But he fought the need and didn’t fuck her right away because he prepared something special for her.
He pulled her blonde ponytail and stopped her.
He told Valentine to follow him to the bedroom.
(This is a story my Master wrote for me. I felt I would share it here for all the people who don’t have somebody to have fun with on Valentine’s Day. All you need to know is that Karen is my friend and my master is from France, far far away from me)
**Part 1**
It is late autumn. The trees are colorful, some of them loosing their leaves already. The sun is setting. It is a bit cool in the evening. You are wearing a sweater, jeans, just being casual. Karen invited you for a drink, telling you she had a surprise for you. You have been trying to know what it is for a week now, but to no avail. Of course, it is going to be something kinky. You know it. She knows you know it. But she did not answer any of your questions. She just told you to take the weekend off and that you would not be sleeping at home tonight. And that putting on sexy underwear would be a good idea.
*Not an erotic story per se, but one with a lot of sex and drugs.*
In 1999, at a film festival in Berlin, Denny met one of the bevy of beautiful but marginally talented “models and aspiring actresses” who hang around such events. He said you could tell the real actresses from the trash—his word—by how perfectly they dressed and made themselves up: the real actresses were content to be imperfect, while the models and aspiring types couldn’t afford to be. The fateful day was a case in point. Seated on one side of him was a blonde American dressed in a pink Star Trek t shirt and blue jeans, popping her gum and giggling with an ancient man whom Denny did not recognize was Billy Wilder; three years later this girl was a movie star named Scarlett Johansson.
On the other side, wearing a silver evening dress in anticipation of the cocktail party about to start, was a statuesque knockout with a perfect oval face and mahogany brown hair swept into a Jackie Kennedy bouffant; she made furtive eye contact with Denny and positioned her left arm so that he had a glimpse of her not inconsiderable cleavage. This was Marinka.