SteamyStories

Steamy Stories

Explicit short stories of intimacy and passion. The text of each story is included.

Episodes

  1. 4 DAYS AGO

    Mrs. Claus Cookie Therapy: Part 2

    Nancy Pledges her passionate best for Mike.Based on a post by m storyman x, in 2 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories. I sat on the sofa staring out the back window and across the yard, wondering what they were talking about. A few minutes turned into half an hour, which turned into almost an hour. My curiosity finally got the best of me and I snuck down the hall as quietly as I could. I stopped at the door and listened, hoping to hear their conversation. But conversation was not what I heard. What I heard was soft gentle moaning. Two different sounds of moaning. I shook my head in confusion and pushed the door open silently, moving it ever so slowly so that the hinge, which occasionally squeaks, wouldn’t. I peeked around the door to the bed and stood there, staring. No wonder I didn’t hear them talking. Linda was laying on the bed, as naked as she had been in the kitchen, with her feet on my pillow, her knees pushed wide. My wife on top, held herself on her hands and knees, equally naked, with her head between Linda’s legs, licking her cunt, while moaning in pleasure at Linda’s attentions to hers. I stepped into the room and neither seemed to notice me at all. I watched the two of them making out, licking each other, driving the other toward climax. Was this why Nancy wasn’t interested in sex with me any longer? Was she getting it from Linda instead? I hadn’t ever known her to be interested in other women, at least not in that way. But it was hard to deny what I was seeing. It didn’t take my body long to respond to what I was seeing, my cock soon standing hard and rigid. Pointing up over the horizon, like an artillery cannon barrel. No, if she was getting it from Linda, I was damn well going to make sure she understood what she was giving up. I stepped to the end of the bed, looking at my wife’s ass and cunt, held in the air by her knees, while Linda licked and played with her swollen clit. Linda saw me and smiled. She moved her hand from my wife’s ass and reached for my cock. She pulled me in toward her, pulling my engorged head toward both her mouth and my wife’s cunt. She aimed me right to my wife’s sopping wet lips and then used her other hand to reach around my ass and coaxed me into the ‘docking portal’. She’d stopped licking my wife and rubbed my engorged head up and down Nancy’s slit, wetting my mushroom with my wife’s juices. I reached for my wife’s hips, making her jump slightly as she felt my big firm hands on her. She stiffened, almost as if she were going to refuse me, and then her stiffness faded as Linda rubbed my head around her lips a little harder, working it between her lips and into the entrance of her depths. My wife wiggled her hips side to side, much like she used to when she was inviting me to fuck her hot hole. I pushed toward her, forcing my engorged head slowly into her, spreading her hot wet vagina as I slipped ever so slowly into her. “Oh, fuck yes.” Nancy moaned as I pushed my way deeper into her. “That’s it honey. Fuck me. Make me come around your fat cock!” She lowered her head to Linda’s cunt again and I heard her muffled moan as I started to stroke slowly in and out of her. Every stroke brought my balls across Linda’s face, slapping her eyebrows slightly. In and out I started to thrust, my cock stroking its full length in and out of her. Linda wrapped her left hand around my ass cheek and  hooked her other hand around Nancy’s thigh. Linda was now conducting the symphony movement of our love anthem. Linda’s middle finger pressed my anus tightly and eventually entered just inside my sphincter. I felt Nancy’s already excited cunt start to spasm when I’d barely started stroking, Linda having apparently gotten her already very close to climax. I knew I was still quite a ways from my own climax as I held her hips and kept thrusting, pushing in and out so that my cock teased her insides from the entrance all the way to the end of her tunnel. Nancy always said that my thick shaft felt so much bigger when I f****d her from behind. I wanted her to enjoy it. I wanted her to feel my cock making her climax. I wanted her to remember how good it felt that first time, that time laying on the picnic table, feeling a cock slide into her for the first time. I wanted her to enjoy it like she did then, coming so hard to my stroking cock that her body surprised both of us and pumped her juices out all over my stomach and crotch. I wanted her to climax that hard again. “Oh fuck!” she squeaked as she pulled her face from Linda’s cunt. “Oh fuck me, lover. God you feel so good. Come for me. Fill me up with your cum. Oh God! Yes! That’s it. Fuck me!” She hadn’t been all that vocal for years, and hearing her talk like a vulgar whore, begging me to fuck and fill her; pushed all the right buttons at the right time. While my mind was still imagining that it was that first time again, feeling her for the first time, I held her hips and drove harder into her, rocking the entire bed as I pumped in and out of her with abandon. My body raced toward climax as I thrust myself deep into my wife, a feeling of elation and desire all mixed together running through my body. I was so close, I wanted to come, I wanted to fill her cunt with my cum, I wanted her to keep climaxing as long as I could make her. I kept thrusting, trying to keep holding her climax at its peak as long as I could. I felt a hand on my ass, moving with me, coaxing me harder into my wife. I looked down past my thrusting cock at Linda’s face, grinning up at me, waiting, coaxing. In a moment of clear realization I knew what she wanted. “Oh Fuck!” I grunted loudly as my body spasmed. I could feel my cock pumping shot after shot of cum into my wife’s spasming cunt, filling her, feeling her climax still squeezing and milking me, like I hadn’t felt for oh so many years. I stood there, my knees leaning against the mattress, panting, listening to my wife moan and pant herself, my cum still leaking into her as my cock twitched occasionally. “Oh God, yes. So good.” She moaned softly, laying her head between Linda’s legs again, but not to lick her any longer. Linda released her hold on my ass and instead hooked her index finger around the base of my cock. She coaxed me back, backing me out of my wife slowly. My now softening tallywhacker slipped from Nancy’s reddened, swollen cunt lips, and dropped onto Linda’s face. Linda tiled her head back and opened her mouth. I slid inside Linda’s waiting mouth and she sucked my shrinking cock for only a few seconds before gently pushing me further back. I knew why, though I was surprised that she’d want to. I stood, my cock almost dripping the remaining cum in Linda’s face, holding my wife’s ass cheeks for balance. I watched Linda lick the cum oozing from my wife’s gaping cunt, my white cream leaking from her and dripping down off her twat lips into Linda’s mouth. “Tastes just like that cookie.” Linda moaned softly. “I swear that was cum flavored icing.” “I kinda thought it tasted like Nancy’s cunt.” I panted as I moved onto the bed and flopped onto my back, momentarily exhausted. I lay there, trying to catch my breath, listening to Linda lick my wife, sending occasional shudders through her body. Nancy finally had all she could take and shifted off Linda and over onto me, laying down on me. She lay flat on me, her tits smashed to my chest, her face inches from mine. Without a word she lowered her lips to mine and kissed me. Hesitantly at first, and then with growing urgency. She held my face and kissed and sucked my lips, almost as if she were afraid I was going to not be there. Linda rolled onto her side, facing away from us, then resumed her own masterbations, stroking her cunt with two fingers, while her other hand fondled her aroused nipples. Linda was a moaner. Finally, after what had to be at least five minutes, both Nancy and I panting breathlessly, she softened and then stopped her kisses. “I’m sorry love.” She whispered into my ear as she laid her cheek beside mine. “For what?” I whispered back. “For not realizing what I was doing to you. For almost losing you. I never meant for it to happen. I should have known. I should have heard you. You said it, I know you did. Even Linda heard you. But I was too busy with my own feelings that I didn’t listen to you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to have to find it someplace else. I don’t want you to walk out of my life. I don’t want anyone but you, but I have to, I need to, I, I.” “Shush.” I whispered, pressing her chest into me, holding her face next to mine. “I don’t want to lose you either. You’re the love of my life. Why would I leave you?” “Because I forgot. I forgot how it was. I laid here, crying, feeling sorry for myself that Linda could coax you into sex so easily. I thought that you didn’t care anymore or want me anymore. But she told me. She said she’s seen me reject your advances too many times, that you had to think that I didn’t want you anymore. Nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s just, It’s. I don’t know how to explain. But I was wrong. I should have listened. I should have seen the signs. Please don’t leave me.” She practically begged me before she started crying, her tears running down her face and my cheek as well, where we were pressed together. “I’m not leaving. Shish. I’m still here,” I whispered back, stroking her back and ass. “Promise?” “Oh lover. You know I can’t live without you.” “I used to think that. I used to think that I never had to worry. I used to think you were mine forever, and, well, I watched you pleasuring her, right there, right in front of me, right in our own kitchen. I, I was scared. I was afraid that I was going to lose you. I was mad. I was mad at you, I was mad at Linda.” “I was actually

  2. 5 DAYS AGO

    Mrs. Claus Cookie Therapy: Part 1

    An aging couple gets a surprise gift from Mrs. Claus.Based on a post by m storyman x, in 2 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories. I could hear Nancy, my wife, clinking the dishes in the kitchen as she unloaded the dishwasher. It was Christmas eve morning, and she was up and about before six. That meant only one thing as far as I was concerned, no Christmas sex this year, again. Not with the kids showing up this afternoon. I’ve found myself thinking back to the early years a lot more lately. You’d think that in my sixties, sex wouldn’t be a big deal anymore, but instead it seemed like my tolerance for her lack of desire or output was lower instead of better. I closed my eyes again and thought back to our first Christmas together as man and wife. It was a small tree, and there weren’t many presents around it, but we gave each other the best present in the world that Christmas night. We made love under the tree, not once, but multiple times. Nine months later our first daughter was born. All through our dating time she was sexually playful and we would have sex many ways and in lots of places. She never seemed bashful when she undressed for me, exposing her incredibly beautiful body. Hell, I never would have even tried to ask her out on a date if I hadn’t accidently spilled my drink all over her at McDonalds. She was way out of my class. She looked more like playboy model material than someone interested in a somewhat geeky college freshman. To my surprise, she demanded that I take her out to make up for spilling the soda all over her. So I did. And again, and again. After half a dozen dates, I built up enough nerve to suggest we mess around while we were walking in the dark through the local park. She readily agreed and the two of us made love for the first time on a picnic table in the middle of a public park. It was the first of many times we made love, in private, in semi-public areas, in the river, in the lake, well, you get the idea. She was willing to do it anywhere I felt comfortable doing it with her. She never seemed to be able to get enough of our intimacy. And it was so much more than just sex. You could see it in her eyes. She loved what I was doing with her and she loved watching me climax along with her. It became almost a game with her, to hold it as long as possible before letting herself tumble over the edge, taking me with her. But it was for me, and only me. Once we started dating there was no one else, not even close male friends that would hug or anything. It wasn’t until I proposed that I learned I was the first man to have her that way. We got married less than a year after spilling that soda on her, and we made love the first time as man and wife in the hot tub on the balcony of the bridal suite. Not one time, but twice before we finally tumbled into bed, exhausted from the day’s activities. The next months were fantastic. She seemed to delight in teasing me, skimpy or no underwear with short skirts, sexy lingerie, sometimes wearing things without a bra so her big 32 D tits would wiggle enticingly. Our first Christmas found her under the tree in a red see through negligee, a gift tag tied to the crotch of her see through panties that read “definitely open before Christmas!” We made love under that tree and we loved each other. Over the next months, her belly grew, but her desire for me didn’t change. If anything, it increased. It was almost as if being pregnant enhanced her sexual desire. And I wasn’t going to argue. She always whispered how much she loved me and how much making love with me made her feel loved. It wasn’t a surprise when sex drew to a sudden halt after Tabitha was born. I could understand it. I waited patiently, and some of the sex returned, but not nearly what it had been before. We had to plan when we had sex so we didn’t wake Mikey, interrupting us. A year later we had Julie, and sex became even less frequent. After Mandy, well, sex just didn’t seem to happen anymore. It was frustrating, but I always looked ahead and said that once the girls were grown and out of the house things would get better. College came for our sons, and we were empty nesters, but the long skirts, heavy duty bras to hold her now thirty eight triple D’s in place, and the granny panties appeared to be the future. Sex was maybe once or twice a month, if I was lucky, always in the bedroom and always the same way. It was, to say the least, depressing to see what my life had become. I was married to the most beautiful woman in town, maybe the state, and I barely got to even see her naked any more unless we shared a shower. Now here we were, twenty years past the girls moving out on their own and I was more depressed about our sex life than I could remember. I lay dreaming back to that first Christmas, picturing her lying under the tree in that see through red mesh, her legs spread, her body illuminated only by the blinking lights of the tree, looking so damn sexy and inviting. I could still feel in my mind the sensations of sliding my hard-on into her and hear her moans of pleasure as she begged me to fuck her over and over again. I could feel my hard-on inside my sleep shorts growing, my hand moving to it as I remembered the image of her tits bouncing inside the sheer material before she rolled me over to sit on top of me. I stroked my hard shaft, pretending it was her hot wet cunt again, her big tits now bouncing wildly on her chest, the sheer material pushed apart by her flying tits. My mind could still remember how she felt around me as she pounded down on me with abandon until she made me come deep inside her. I grunted and felt my cock surge cum onto my stomach, remembering that day and wishing for those days again. I knew in my heart it was a useless wish. Nothing was going to change, but I still couldn’t help but wish it none the less. I tossed back the covers, pushed the sleep shorts the rest of the way off and headed to the shower to rinse off the evidence of my desire. After ChristmasIt had been a good Christmas. I loved having the kids and their families over, this year with the first of our grandchildren as well. It was midmorning, the day after Christmas, and I was moving around the tree, picking up the odds and ends wrapping paper that had gotten left behind and putting my Christmas presents away in the shop, or wherever else was a suitable home. The tree had been inundated with presents, as usual, stacked so high that only the top two thirds of the tree were visible. Both of us enjoyed giving presents to the kids and their spouses. My wife spent hours picking just the right things for all of them. Christmas was probably the best season of the year, at least I felt so. Though each year it became harder and harder not to think back to that first Christmas. No, I wasn’t going to change wives. I loved Nancy more than anything else in my life, though the kids would be a darn tough second. No, I was resigned to my life of near celibacy, at least compared to how my life with her had started. To make matters worse, my wife and the neighborhood ladies were all fitness-minded. They keep up a daily routine of evening walks and morning yoga. This means I wake up to a beautiful display of curvy bodies in the living room or back patio, adorned in the hottest yoga pants, leotards, or swimsuits. Good luck hiding your morning wood with multiple ladies watching. I tucked things away and I was about to call it done, when I noticed a small package sticking out from under the tree skirt. “uh oh.” I mumbled, “someone didn’t get a present.” I pulled the oddly wrapped package from under the skirt and looked at it. About six inches square and maybe an inch thick. I didn’t recognize the paper. It was a deep burgundy with some kind of fuzzy pattern on it and a bow that looked to be made of silk lace. It had a small tag which I turned over. “To Mike, from Mrs. Clause.” I chuckled. My wife and I often traded packages from Santa. I was surprised that she didn’t catch one of mine was missing. I gently slipped the bow and ribbon off the corners and gently unwrapped the paper. It was almost like foil paper with that interesting soft texture. It had to be expensive paper. I opened the box and inside was a single heart shaped cookie, white frosted with red sugar dusted over it. Under I could see a small parchment paper. I slipped it out. The parchment looked and felt ancient, but clearly couldn’t be or it would fall apart. The writing was in a looping feminine script. “Merry Christmas. Share this with the love of your life, to grant your Christmas wish, but be alone.” Mrs. Clause. I looked it over, front and back, but there were no other clues. Maybe this was my wife’s way of trying to start something? We hadn’t had any sex over Christmas yet, so maybe this was her way of giving me a present she knew I would enjoy. I grinned at the thought. I could play that game. I headed to the bedroom and took off my underwear so I was wearing only my thin nylon workout shorts. That should make things easier. I took the cookie from the box and opened the plastic wrapper. Setting the unwrapped cookie back in the box, I went to find her. Now was as good a time as any. I found her in the kitchen, putting dinner into the crockpot. I stepped behind her and gently kissed her neck. Breaking the cookie, I reached around her, pressing my already growing hard-on against her ass crack. I whispered. “I have something for you.” I held the piece of cookie out in front of her mouth for her to take the bite. “What’s that?” she asked, her hands unable to do anything as she held the chicken breasts. I slipped the portion of cookie into her mouth before she could object any further. “Oh my god! That is so good!” she moaned, almost orgasmic as she chewed the cookie slowly. “Knock knock!” I heard from the garage door as Linda, our neighbor called as she

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Explicit short stories of intimacy and passion. The text of each story is included.

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