Steamy Stories Dawkinsblog

Jake’s sister-in-law moves in. In 2 parts, based on the work of Bobbi R. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. My wife is a wonderful woman. We married when I was thirty-six and she was thirty-five. We’d both been through first marriages that had gone sour and I knew almost from the moment I met her that this one was going to be for the rest my life. My first marriage had been a disaster: I wanted kids but she didn’t; I was a romantic, she was more hard-headed; yet she was the one who went into fits of jealousy every time I so much as talked to another woman. The sex wasn’t that great either. It couldn’t last and we divorced after only five years. Leah, on the other hand, was everything any man could want. But I won’t go into details. There’s nothing more boring than listening to a man listing his wife’s virtues. Let’s just say we laughed a lot. Oh, and the sex was amazing. Even after we’d been married a couple of years, we were still at it like rabbits, fucking at every opportunity. Even at the cinema, we’d be unable to keep our hands to ourselves. Halfway through the previews, I’d feel Leah’s hand drifting to my crotch and I’d slip my hand beneath her coat and try to get under her skirt without being seen. If our row was empty we’d sometimes manage to bring each other off. Even then, we’d rush home and dive into our bed to fuck for a couple of hours. She could keep me hard even after I’d come and she seemed to be permanently on heat. For those first couple of years we were pretty inventive too. Leah wanted to try out all the positions in the book; and a few that weren’t. Sometimes we’d end up giggling like a couple of schoolkids, but then lust would take over and soon we’d be fucking like crazy again. Eventually, though, that phase passed and we settled into just doing what we liked instead of trying to rewrite the Kama Sutra every day. Leah particularly liked me to take her from behind, which always guaranteed an orgasm for her. That position was pretty good for me too, especially when she wanted me to fuck her in the ass, which she did on occasion. I never pushed her, but she knew I liked it. We never settled into a routine, but we certainly slowed down a bit. We both wanted to have kids, but we agreed we’d enjoy two or three years on our own first. It didn’t quite work out that way, though, because after only a couple of years, her sister Rachel moved in. Rachel was 22 and had just finished college. She was a lot younger than Leah, almost a mistake by their parents, who hadn’t really planned on extending their family in their 40s. But when she arrived they were delighted, with the result she was spoilt rotten. It was amazing she turned out as level-headed as she did. Perhaps it was because she had such a good role model in her older sister, who she regarded almost as a third parent. Especially for the past 10 years, Leah was someone Rachel shared all her secrets with. Especially for the dating and romance advice. Rachel asked Leah all kinds of questions, and soon the two knew everything about each other. Rachel’s college years ended with a crushing breakup. She’d given herself completely to a 3rd guy, who ended up dumping her right after commencement, then flew off to take an internship in Dubai. Leah and I helped her move into our spare room and pretty soon we got used to having her around. She got a job at a local coffee shop and contributed what she could to the housekeeping. Leah and I had good jobs, so we didn’t push her. She had her own circle of friends; no permanent boyfriend though; and divided her time between them and us, even though we were both nearly forty by then. She didn’t seem to mind going out with us; she liked the same sort of films we did and enjoyed going out for meals, so long as we paid. What I’m trying to say is that we liked having her around. It was fun having a young person in the house. For one thing, it didn’t make us feel s

Saint Michael’s hosts a town celebration. By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Young Men of the Choir Choir practice at St. Michael’s church was always a lively affair.  Yet, for the past year or so, it lacked a full spectrum  of harmony, because of the ailing older men who provided base and baritone fullness to many of the arrangements. Recently, it had become a lot harder on Gordon’s ears due to a couple of new members. James and Jordan were two eager eighteen-years old, and the twin sons of Debbie the Sunday school teacher. They both hit puberty rather late, having had vocal changes occur at about their 16th birthday.  Last month Gordon overheard the two brothers shout cheers for their favorite Premier League team, while getting in their car, after Sunday morning service. The husky, revelry, inspired Gordon to take on the challenge of refining the twins into a huge asset for the church choir. That enthusiasm diminished after their first choir practice. “I’ve got my work cut out, getting that lot into shape ready to sing at the community coronation celebration, next month!” Gordon told Jenna at their weekly ‘organ practice.’ “They’re bloody awful. I know they’re Debbie’s boys and she’s chuffed they’re finally getting involved in church life, but I fear they’re tone deaf!” “Oh dear, that’s no good,” Jenna said as she finished playing Crown Him with Many Crowns and then readied herself to play a much more interesting organ. Jenna could feel Gordon rubbing his hardening cock against her arse. It was then that she had an idea. "I think I should give those two boys some extra inspiration,” she smiled. “Maybe they’re not completely tone deaf. With a bit more instruction, their voices might be passable.” “Hmm, maybe.” Gordon replied, his voice shaking with arousal. “They’re coming in tomorrow afternoon for extra instruction and vocal training. I’ve taught some pretty poor choirboys and choirgirls over the years. Some did vastly improve and go on to have terrific careers in music.” Jenna switched off the organ and slid round on the stool. “Do you want me, Gordy?” She asked, darting her tongue between his lips. “Tell me how much, if you do,” "Desperately!” He growled. “My God, you’re so fucking hot! Pardon my language, I forgot we’re in the church.” “You say the loveliest things.” Gordon was hornier than usual tonight. He’d recovered from a bad cold and was eager to make up for lost time. Adjusting the open-fronted black robe he always wore in church, he tried furiously to unbuckle his belt and unzip his trousers with one hand while feeling his way to unfasten Jenna’s blouse and bra with the other. “Oh, organ daddy is eager tonight!” She cooed. “Swell to Great!” she added, referring to one of the organ stops, which in recent months had become a double entendre. “I’ve already swelled,” Gordon sighed, as he feasted on her beautiful tits. “Oh Jenna, Daddy needs you so much.” “Let me give you a hand, then.” She pulled out his thick cock and began stroking it. His shaking hands were soon pulling her soaking wet panties to one side and he wasted no time in sinking his entire cock straight into her hot, wet cunt. When he was completely inside her, he started to slowly pump it in and out, making the strokes longer and faster, banging her back and arse against the organ’s manuals, until she was literally screaming with pleasure. Her cries echoed through the empty church. “Oh my darling Jenna! Yes!” Gordon groaned. “You’re such a good girl! I love fucking your nice, ripe, young cunt! You’re going to make me cum hard! I’m going to fill your young body with so much cum! Ah!” Gordon’s thick, hot load spurted fast, deep and hard into her. “Ahh, that was lovely,” she whispered in his ear. “You always pull out all the stops!” Jenna gasped as they recovered from their intense orgasms. Once again

Jenna elevates the ceremonies by supporting the men in need. By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. The ‘Jenna’ series started last November with ‘Jenna Goes to Church’ episodes; followed by ‘Jenna, the Vicar’s Wife’. Earlier this month we resumed with a couple 2-part stories from Jenna’s series. This is the final 2-part story. A Royal carry-on at the Cathedral. The King’s coronation was only a few weeks away. Lots of different events were planned, and the church of St. Michael’s was no exception. At St. Michael’s vicarage, Reverend Morris was preparing to attend a very important concert at Liverpool cathedral, which was going to be filmed by the team from the popular religious TV programmer, Songs of Praise. Reverend Morris sniggered as he read an online newspaper headline. “17th century diary reveals local vicar had an 11 inch penis.” “I bet he was popular!” He said to his wife. Jenna laughed. “11 inches? Wow, that is impressive. Of course, it’s not the size, it’s what you do with it that counts.” “Oh yes. I agree completely!” He put down his phone. “Right that’s enough of that. We must get ready to leave. Gosh, I’m really looking forward to this concert! It’s a real honor for us to have been invited to attend. His Majesty has been visiting several cathedrals this week. "I’m excited too. Will we actually get a chance to speak to the King?” “Perhaps, Jen. Not sure if he’ll come round and speak to all of us, maybe a lucky few on the front row, eh?” “Oh good. Must say, I’m relieved that pregnancy scare turned out to be a false alarm, Simon. I’d just got struck down with a stomach bug. I mean, I want to be a mum one day, but not yet. I’m not ready for such a big responsibility just yet, bringing a new life into the world.” “You’re only twenty-one, Jen. You’ve got plenty of time. Enjoy the best years of your life! And I just know you’ll be a wonderful mum one day. I want us to enjoy our child when the time comes. You’re so good with Christopher when he stays over.” She nodded and thought to herself. After all, I feel I still have a lot of God’s work to do, helping the men of the church. She wasn’t the only one who was relieved. Gordon the organist was overjoyed too. Though after a private meeting with the vicar’s wife in church last week, he confessed that he would’ve “pulled out all the stops” to support her, if it turned out he was the father. Thankfully, the status quo had been restored, and much to his delight, he and Jenna had resumed their weekly “organ practice” on Thursday nights. Gordon had been tempted to confess a whole load of other things to her, but had held back, when he got the impression she’d already figured out the strength of his feelings, and that put his mind at ease. Edward Hardwick was nervous. He was standing in for the regular organist at Liverpool, who’d been struck down with a bad case of flu. Edward knew he had big shoes to fill, as the man he was standing in for was a highly respected musician, with countless accolades and credits to his name. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just a regular Sunday service, but why did it have to be a concert where the King will be in attendance? All eyes will be on me. Songs of Praise will be filming. I’m not sure I can cope with this,” Edward was a brilliant young organist, but was prone to periods of self-doubt and nervousness. At twenty-eight, he was still a bit of a greenhorn, compared to the other organists he’d encountered, and had only just landed his first full-time organist job. The small parish church outside Liverpool where he was now the official organist, was a world away from this massive cathedral. Edward was sure a more experienced organist and choirmaster could’ve been found to perform here, but the clergy seemed convinced that he was ideal to take on the job. He took comfort from that. He must be doing something go

Cecily is a young woman who will get married. by Lady_Mary. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Chapter 1 I grew up in a very conservative family. My father was the boss in the family business, which was created by his father, which was my grandfather. My mother took care of the house and the children, whatever else she wanted to do the approval had to be given by my father. A wife was to be her husband’s adornment and calling card; I, my sisters and brothers were brought up with this motto. Cecily? Father is calling you. I was pulled out of the activity by the voice of one of the brothers, Arthur. I am on my way. I nod as I put my knitting aside. I run it over the fabric of my blue dress a few times to smooth it out and present myself impeccably in front of my father. My father was a traditionalist. Together with our mother they took care of our impeccable dress. Especially the girls. Our dresses, because that was all we could wear, usually reached our ankles or mid-calf. Anything shorter was inappropriate. Tights were also compulsory. My family believed that ladies from good homes should always have them. I nod in respect as I enter my father’s study. He sits in his swivel leather-covered chair, looking as perfect as ever in his suit trousers and white shirt, ironed by my mother. He said in a cordial tone, indicating a chair for me to sit down, then said; “Mother praises you immensely, you have become a great help to her. I am extremely pleased about that.” “ Thank you, Father. Praise always makes me happy.” I said with a smile. “Therefore,” Father puts the stack of papers aside. “I thought you were mature enough to think about your household”. “My household?” I repeated in surprise. I felt my face turn white. “This is what awaits every woman. I thought my mother and I had instilled this in you all.” The man walks around the desk and sits on its edge almost beside me so that he can brush his fingertips against my cheeks. “You are our great pride. You will be the same for your husband. Lucky him.” “So… who will it be?” I ask timidly. “You will find out in time. You will like it. Of that I am certain.” Father blinks one eyelid at me. “First the engagement and a few… procedures involved.” “Procedures?” I asked. “Your mother will prepare you. You have nothing to fear. Well… That is all. You may return to your duties, my child.” “Thank you, father.” I bow my head before I leave my father’s office. My preparations for the nuptials began almost immediately… although I did not know to whom I would be married. I also still didn’t know anything about the procedures I was to go through and my father had mentioned them. “The doctor will be with you shortly, lie still, my lady.” The maid instructed me. In fact, there was nothing wrong with me, but it was necessary for the engagement to be announced. That is what mother and one of my brothers said. So I was fulfilling a commitment. I lay in my huge bed, dressed in something like a nightdress, but much shorter than a standard one, for here the linen material ended above my knee. I didn’t wait too long as the door to my room soon opened. I saw a man with blonde hair and at first sight he was two heads taller than me. He placed his brown leather bag on the table that was next to the bed. “Lady Cecily? I’m doctor Mason. I am here to confirm your readiness for the sacrament of marriage. I understand that this is your first examination of this kind, but I assure you that you have nothing to fear.” The young doctor sent me a weak smile. “ At first, I ask you to move down toward the base of the bed and spread your legs.” “What? “ I could not believe what I had just heard. Red was on my cheeks almost immediately. “Lady Cecily. It would be far better for yourself to do it voluntarily. Neither of us wants it to be unpleasant, do we?” he warned. I obediently move down and spread my thighs. I seek solac

Romantic Anniversary between husband and wife. by LazyDiogenes. listen to the podcast at Steamy Stories. 22 years. Angie had the day off to give her a nice 3 day weekend; and for me a normal Friday at the office. Even though we have 21 anniversaries behind us, the day still gives me a smile. The drive home from work is my time to shake off the day and reflect on anything from the day’s wins and lessons to weekend plans; or on milestone days like this, the last 22 years. I naturally reflected on our most memorable - our first, where we ate the ceremonial cake, the second honeymoon in Athens on our 5th; and the infamous - our brief time apart in our 13th year. That separation proved to be a blessing in disguise; being apart on our anniversary helped make us both realize we belonged together, resulting in an unbreakable lifelong bond. However… As much as I adore my wife now every bit as much as I did in our earliest years, complacency sets in. The fact I’m old enough to need medicine now doesn’t help. I know it’s just age and biology but still a blow to the ego. Angie really doesn’t care for flowers and we stopped giving gifts years ago. This anniversary is sure to be like so many over the past several years. We’ll sit on the couch and go through our usual drill: ‘We should probably at least have dinner somewhere’ ‘Yeah, probably should; where do you want to go?’ 'I don’t care; what are you hungry for?’ 'Doesn’t matter; I can go with anything.’ 'Okay; I guess we can just go to Texas Roadhouse.’ I still have a healthy sex drive but Angie has become less and less responsive, the result of a waning libido I guess. We’re in a deep rut but we still love each other and have a good life: biggest house we’ve ever lived in; first pool we’ve ever had; financially secure. It’s a good life. Norman Lear once said how much he loved his life. Even at 98 years old, 'I get to get up in the morning and I’m still married to the most beautiful woman in the world.’ Couldn’t have said it better myself. Roadhouse is fine; we’ll go and have a decent time, then come home and sit back down on the couch as if we’d never left. We’re far from perfect, dysfunctional even, but I’ve learned to be content. The door opened to an empty garage. I left work early for the occasion however modest it might be, and honestly didn’t think anything of her not being there; maybe she’s at Karen’s house. I set my stuff down and saw the handwritten note on the counter on nice writing stationery: Happy anniversary, my love! Come to the Gaylord room #610. See you soon! Love, Angie (You’ll want to take your medicine; says your dosage is 3-5. You should take 5 (with a smiley face). It took a minute to sink in; then my heart jumped and mind raced. What time did she write this? How long had she been there? I need to get out there right away! No, wait, maybe she just left; I don’t want to be right behind her at the check-in desk. What am I saying? I need to get out there right away! Do I shower first? No…yeah, make it quick. I was in and out in 5 minutes and raced to my dresser to grab a handful of clothes for an overnight bag and saw a second note: Already packed for you (with another smiley face). I had one leg in my jeans before I thought wait, I can’t just show up in jeans and a t-shirt, can I. I quickly put on my best suit and ripped the tag off a necktie I hadn’t even worn yet. If Angie put this much thought into this night I needed to come strong. I was out of house in less than 15 minutes. I had a fleeting thought to text her and ask if she needed anything before realizing how stupid that would sound; it’s not like I’m going to the Piggly Wiggly. God we were in a rut. My heart was pounding and my mouth dry from the flurry of activity. I’m sure I didn’t catch every red light on the way there but it sure felt like it. I finally arrived at the Gaylord and walked in like a gentleman as best as I coul

Annie finally rejects her abstinent life and finds how much joy a cock can bring her. By spr1987 for Literotica. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. “Oh my God… it feels so hot in my hand… and how can it be this hard and this soft feeling at the same time?”  These are the thoughts racing through my mind, as I feel a real live cock in my hands for the first time. I know what you are thinking, “You are 19 years old Annie, and you are pretty hot looking… so how can this be the first time you have had a cock in your hands?” First, thank you for saying I’m hot. As a petite red head with a larger than normal pair of tits, I think I’m pretty hot also, but it is always nice to hear it. Second, I was raised in a very religious home, and sex was absolutely forbidden. In fact, my mother even made a habit of checking my panties and bedsheets to make sure that I wasn’t masturbating. Yes, I realize now how twisted that sounds. But it was how I was raised, to think that self-pleasure and sex were mortal sins. Hell, even now I feel guilty every time I touch myself. Not to mention that right now, I am feeling pretty wrong emotionally, about this cock in my hands. Although I am feeling the guilt from years of conditioning, I can’t help feeling a rush of excitement all through my body, as I squeeze and rub this thick cock. I am assuming it is thick. I have no basis for this judgement because, as I said several times already, this is my first cock. All I know is that I can’t get my small hand around it and when I stack both of my hands, there is still all of the big swollen head left sticking out. My God that head looks big. I catch myself thinking that it looks like the helmet of one of those stormtrooper guys from Star Wars. I have to swallow the laugh that is threatening to burst out of me. I trace my fingers around that big helmet, and I am surprised at how smooth the skin is. I trace my finger along the groove in the front and the whole cock Jumps in my hands. I look up at the guy’s face, wondering if I did something wrong or hurt him or something. I see that he has his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his mouth is open in an audible moan. I make a mental note that this is a good thing. At this same time, I feel and see liquid leak out of the cock’s slit. I touch it and I like how slick it feels on my fingers. I rub it between my thumb and finger and relish the slick feeling. Then I run my slick fingers around the smooth cock head. I love how slippery it feels on the smooth skin of the head. I trace my slick fingers all around the edges of the cock’s helmet.  “It is like I am trying to memorize every detail of my fascinating new plaything.” I run my other hand down to the bottom of his shaft and discover his balls. I cup them and feel them move around in their soft wrinkled sack. I roll them around in my fingers, enjoying how they move so fluidly. I sort of ring my fingers around behind them and pull them down, enjoying how the sack stretches tight and I can feel the balls hard in my hand. I squeeze, just to see what this will feel like. The guy almost screams out, “Oh my God, Yes,” when I do that. I make another mental note, that this is a good thing. Then I wonder, what will happen if I squeeze his balls at the same time as I rub my finger along his tender groove? “Fuck yes.” he screams out, as I try this experiment. Well, that confirms my thesis, I smile to myself and continue to gently pulse his big full balls in one hand, while teasing his sensitive head with my other. I think to myself, I am so glad that he likes this because I really love how this feels for me when I am doing it. I start to wonder,  "How the Hell, have I never heard about how amazing cocks and balls feel?“  I have talked with quite a few other girls about their sexual experiences, and I can’t remember a single one telling me how amazing cocks felt in their hands. "I fucking Love this,”  I think to myself as