Dirty Stories: Sensual Desire
Erotic Tales
Published by E Z Lay at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2012 by E Z Lay
Smashwords Edition, Licensing Note
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
Dirty Stories: Sensual Desire
Erotic Tales
Comprises of the following five stories:
Threesome: with Her Hairdresser (and the Mailman!)
by Lillian Snow
Sex Tourist: The Thai Temptress
by Will Banger
Quickie: with the Horny Hitchhiker!
by Lillian Snow
Quickie: with the Busty Babysitter!
by Lillian Snow
Lesbian Lover: Rachelle
by Will Banger
Chapter One - Threesome: with Her Hairdresser (and the Mailman!)
by Lillian Snow
Angela had developed a thing for the new mailman.
It wasn't lust at first sight, she wasn't really wired that way. With most men she wanted to get naked with, it took time. Like how a slow peculation leads to a good cup of coffee, her desire functioned more or less the same way.
Sort of how her current boyfriend, Richard, got under her skin. But based on his behaviour as of late, she was teetering on the verge of dumping him. Especially after what he did last night at the bar. Could she actually cheat on him before making such a decision?
Yet, here she was, hovering near the the big bay window in her living room at the front of her house waiting for Mister Stumps.
The previous mailman was an old, knobby kneed lech, who gave her the creeps each time she had to sign for a package, or letter. He always made a point of leering at her breasts suggestively, and even dropped her a wink a few times. So she was glad for the newer, younger, and certainly non-creepy version the postal service had decided to bless her with.
She had started to think of him as Mister Stumps based on his magnificent set of thighs which were as thick as tree stumps, tendoned with very well defined muscles, and each was as wide as her own slender waist. As he took to wearing shorts with his uniform to fight of the summer heat, giving her an eyeful each time he came to make his rounds in her neighbourhood, she was quite thankful for his choice.
The summer was not the only thing that was getting hot around here.
She found herself constantly envisioning those thighs pressing against the inside of her legs, keeping them wide while he pounded against her. This was more on her mind than anything to do with intimacy with Richard. Sure, sex with him was great, but nothing spectacular. He suffered from what most men did, an early finish before the race even got started. So she had been denied a more deep sex life than her friends did, as a result.
Did it matter that much, though? Thinking on it more, she realized it most certainly did. Maybe she needed to upgrade. Get herself into real sexual adventures, which were hindered by Richard.
Shuddering with the thought, she decided a fresh round of coffee was needed while she maintained her vigil, and padded to the kitchen to pour one. She was wearing her morning slippers, and a robe, with nothing else underneath. Sans underwear, she felt her courage would be giving the added boost it needed to go through with what she might just do.
Him. Mister Stumps.
She worked as a waitress at a bar during the graveyard shift. There were plenty of men that hit on her each night, some handsome, most not. Nearly all were drunk, and even rude at times. Enough so, that she didn't want to consider hooking up with any of them. Besides, doing so might cause a problem if things didn't work it. Which was usually how those sort of encounters panned out.
Just look at the Richard situation. Their relationship had slowly been unwinding almost from the start, ever since she began to notice the stupid things he was doing; drugs for one. Hitting on the other waitresses was another. But she cared about him to a certain extent. The fact she hooked up with him proved that, didn't it?
And, yet, Richard never got her heart racing like Mister Stumps, the mail man did.
Impulsively, she slipped her hand under her robes, and between her legs. With an eager motion, she began to rub at herself, up and down, enjoying the repeated pressure against her clitoris. The feel of her shaved skin added to the sensation and she found she was getting wet. Quite wet.
That was another boost to the courage meter: she had shaved her legs, and everywhere else, this morning in the shower. She wanted to be ready, and hoped he would be pleasantly surprised.
Standing in the kitchen before the window, one hand braced against the counter, the other working wonders under her robe, her face squinted in pleasurable concentration.
Her masturbating grew faster, and more intense. The kitchen echoed with the wet sounds her movements made, and with her heavy breathing. She gasped occasionally and her grip on the counter became harder. God, she new her body well! If only she could get Mister Stumps to get as familiar with it, too.
Okay, girl, she thought to herself, ease up and save some for later. But who would that later be with?
Suddenly, as if it heard her, her cell phone chimed.
Saved by the bell, she thought.
Still, she did not remove her hand. With a secret thrill she kept it there, only this time rubbing very lightly, exploring her wetness. She walked over to the cell phone on the kitchen table and answered it with her free hand.
“Babe, you're awake,” it was Richard. Angela felt her heart sink like a stone. He was not someone she wanted to deal with at the moment. In any capacity.
Not making any effort to hide her anger with him she said, “What do you want, Richie? I don't really want to talk with you right now.”
“Oh, babe,” he said, soothingly. “No need to be so pissed.”
She had reason to be pissed. Really, really pissed.
Last night, Richard was at the nightclub where she worked. This had become his routine every night since they more or less became a couple. He showed up early right at opening, when few other customers would, and sat at a table right next to the server section of the bar. This way, he was always there when she came up to make an order.
At first, it was kind of cute, even romantic in a way. But very quickly, when it became apparent he was going to do this each and every night she worked, it started to annoy her. Work only grew more crazy as the night wore on and people got more drunk, placing more orders. Having to shift her focus from what she was doing, to make the occasion comment, or chit chat with Richard became arduous. She felt guilty when she ignored him, and he seemed to feed off that.
When she asked him not come as often, he refused, saying it was for her own protection. She suspected he was also the jealous type, worried another man might hit on her.
Eventually, he relented, but only a little. Instead of sitting at the table next to the bar, he picked a booth on the far wall, that had a better vantage point of the whole establishment. Now he could watch her make her rounds where ever she went.
But this wasn't the real reason she was angry with him.
“You want to incriminate me further, Richie? With you and your stupid friends?” she said.
“Hey, now,” he reacted defensively. “It was nothing, and you know it. You just stood there like a good girl, and I appreciate that.”
While she was carrying over an order to a group of customers, he had caught her eye by waving at her furiously. The near panic in his expression caused her some alarm.
She delivered her drinks, took the money for them, and departed as quickly as professionalism would allow. When she got to Richard's booth she found he had two of his friends sitting across from him. She had met them before but had made a point of forgetting their names. Low lives, the both of them.
“Angie, baby, are there any cops here tonight?” Richard had asked.
Confused, she shook her head. “No, not that I know of. Why?”
Richard didn't answer, instead he looked over at one of his friends and said, “Coast is clear.”
And with that, his friend revealed a tiny brown envelope from which he started to carefully shake out a white powder into a line in front of him on the table.
Cocaine.
Shocked and disgusted, she turned to leave. But Richard grabbed her arm, in a way that was borderline aggressive. “No, babe, don't go yet.”
“I don't want any!” she blurted. It wasn't what she really wanted to say, but that's what came out.
He grinned at her, and she found all the handsomeness vanish from his face as he said, “No, just stand there, make sure no one can see.”
She was incredulous, not only just with the fact he had blatantly used her to see if cops were on the premises, but also the fact he had used her as a human shield to conceal their illegal activity.
Right at that moment she knew she would never have sex with him again. As great and passionate as it was(although, always short), this was just a serious turn off.
Furious, but finding herself unable to move, she watched as both of his friends snorted up a line. And then Richard did one, too.
The millisecond he was finished, she whirled and marched through the crowd. He had called after her, but his voice was lost in the din. Besides, she had real work to do.
And now he had called her, concerned. Not over having used her in such a terrible manner that she would feel hurt, but over the fact he didn't get away with it.
Well, she wasn't going to let him. Now she was actually glad he called.
“Richard, you know, last night was a water shed for me in terms of our relationship”, she said. “I think things between us are over.”
“Watershed?” he said. “What does that mean?”
“As in I now know things now I wish I had known at the outset of our hooking up,” she said impatiently, almost like an exasperated parent would when explaining something to a child.
“Ah, now, babe, don't be that way. It wasn't that big of a deal. I knew you were cool. You are cool, aren't you? I'm not wrong about that now, am I?”
She was almost rendered speechless by his attempt to make her feel guilty.
“You know what? We're done. Don't call me again, and don't you dare show up at my work either. WE ARE THROUGH!” And with that she hung up the phone. She almost wished she had one of those old rotary version so she could slam it down.
What an asshole, she thought. How dare he use her like that!
She took a few moments to gather herself, taking sips of her coffee.
Well, now, she thought. Guess this makes me technically single.
Again, she slipped her free hand down to the wetness between her thighs, getting her forefinger slick with it. Then she brought it up to her nose and sniffed it. God, she smelled good.
Dabbing it with her tongue she became enticed enough to put the whole finger in her mouth. Slowly, while sucking on it, she pulled it out. Sweet Lord, she tasted good, too!
She grinned mischievously. I wonder just how much trouble a newly single girl could get into in one morning? She thought.
Again, as if by providence, there was another ring. But it wasn't the phone.
It was the doorbell.
She gasped with delight. Mister Stumps was making a delivery! And just in time, too.
Skipping to the door, she remembered to synch up her robes covering up her exposed flesh. Don't want to overwhelm the poor dear so soon, she thought.
Without looking through the peep hole, she swung the door open. She let out a little yelp in surprise at who it was.
A beautiful blonde woman, stood there, holding a large carrying bag stuffed full of hair products.
“Angie!” the blonde yelped back. “Caught you at a bad time?”
“Sally!” Angela said,”Oh, no, I just completely forgot about our appointment.” Sally was her long time friend, and hairdresser. They had arranged to hook up that morning for a quick makeover, but lustful thoughts of Mister Stumps had totally obliterated her memory.
She guessed that now the mail man would just have to wait for another day.
When she didn't move Sally crooked a questioning eyebrow at her. “Are you gonna let me in, or should we show off my hairstyling skills to the neighbours?” She smiled.
Hiding her disappointment Angela stepped back to let her past. As she did she caught a deep whiff of Sally's perfume. The wonderful scent nearly knocked her off her feet. She was suddenly struck by how good that would smell up close and personal.
“The usual place?”, Sally asked, and sashayed into the kitchen. She was wearing a tight little dress that more than complimented her hourglass figure. Curvy-Lurvy was how she referred to herself. Angela would use the word voluptuous. That few extra pounds went to all the right places. “And I know how to use them!” She often declared.
Watching her ample butt wiggle away from her, Angela found herself totally agreeing with that sentiment. She wondered what that butt might look like without that dress. What it looked like in action, wiggling and pressed up against her nose as she hungrily licked...
She shook her head. Wow! She had it real bad now, didn't she? Still, she thought as she closed the door and joined Sally in the kitchen, what would it be like? Sally was bi-sexual after all. And Sally had flirted with her on more than one occasion, particularly when they both had a few too many drinks. Such thinks were almost expected.
Sally put her carrying bag on the table, and began unpacking her myriad of supplies. She chatted, oblivious to Angela's roaming eyes, and peaked interest.
“Sorry I'm late. Had a chat with Marcus that went on way too long,” she flashed a smile over her shoulder at her. “Just like our relationship was.” Marcus was her ex-boyfriend. He ended up being just as disappointing as Richard had been.
So, here they were, two newly single, sexy women looking for a nice healthy distraction from their ex-boyfriends. Angela's libido was now steering her brain, and she liked it where it was taking her.
Impulsively, she undid her robe, took a deep breath, and dropped it to the floor. She stood naked, while Sally's wonderful backside was turned to her.
Sally was still unaware. “He's such a dick, ya know? You'd figure after all the mercy sex a threw his way I could at least get him to do as I asked of him. But, nope. Men are men. Unless I was a walking television with the sports channel playing across my naval he would never have even looked at me outside of the bedroom...” She turned, around, ready to conduct a styling.
She froze in place when she saw Angela, standing there, looking at her with big yearning eyes.
“Oh, dear,” she said. She had been holding a bottle of shampoo, and dropped it to the floor where it popped open, squirting its contents all over the tiled floor.
Her eyes went up and down Angela's body, taking in every little detail, sometimes twice. Angela found this inspection thrilling.
“Uh,” Sally said, “What hair did you want me to style?” Always witty, she didn't even miss a beat, even when confronted with something like this.