Free XXX Sex Stories Blog

Jennifer was a frosh at Jefferson College, and so far she liked it a lot. As she walked down toward the gym, she smiled to herself at the California weather. It was nothing like the weather in Alaska. Here it was, the middle of February, and she could walk around in shorts without worrying about freezing to death. Others complained that it was cold and told her she was a nut for wearing shorts. Obviously they didn’t come from Alaska like she did. To her, the crisp chill in the air was more refreshing than it was chilling, and she knew that after running around the track a few times, she would actually be hot.

Jennifer liked to run; it was a good way to keep in shape, and it was a good way to daydream while still being productive. She was a good student and very responsible, and this was her way to escape the constant academic pressures she put upon herself. She could jog around the track a few times, letting her body do the work while her mind wandered onto other things. Others wouldn’t believe her, but running relaxed her. (Her roommate thought she was crazy, but then again, Jenny’s roommate was a plump girl who looked like she had never exercised a day in her life.)

Jenny was wearing a tank top and a loose fitting pair of shorts. Underneath the shorts, she wore a pair of those tight-fitting bike pants, made of the stretchy black material. This was mostly to keep her warm, and to keep her decent. Plus, whenever she ran in panties, they got all drenched in her sweat and basically became too disgusting to wear. Similarly, under her tanktop, Jenny wore a tightfitting elastic top over her breasts. The reason for this was that she hated the feeling of running in the discomfort of a bra, and if she wore nothing, she bounced, and that became painful after awhile.

Jenny was happy with her body, unlike most women, and this happiness gave her a very visible confidence. This confidence almost did more to make her attractive than her actual physical appearance. Jenny had dark hair and tan skin, and a nice smile. When she had first arrived on campus, men had swarmed around her, mostly frat guys checking out the new women, but Jenny had made it through without acquiring any boyfriends. She was not one that had to have a boyfriend; on the whole, she preferred not to, as they took up a lot of time and never seemed to be much worth it. She didn’t need the time-drain. Yes, Jenny would only settle for a boyfriend that she actually loved, and the frat guys soon gave up on her, disgusted, and moved to other prey.

(click to read entire story…)

As I walked in the door, coming home from the office, I saw my wife Carolyn standing by the cabinet preparing dinner. Carolyn has a body built like a brick shithouse with all the fixtures in the right place. Today she looked especially good wearing a skimpy halter top with a pair of low cut shorts that fit snugly around her ass with the outline of her bikini panties showing through.

Crossing the room and walking up behind her I reached around and cupped one of her tits with my hand while caressing her ass with the other and gave her a little nibble on the earlobe. “What’s for dinner?” I asked while dropping my hand from her tit to rub her cunt suggestively.

“Company,” she replied.

I heard a voice from the den calling “Come on in, we have the fire going.” As I entered the room, Ron, a friend of the family, rose from a recliner with a drink in his hand and a bulge in the front of his pants. “You horny old bastard” I said, “What the hell are you doing over here?”

“His wife is out of town and he was lonely so I asked him over for dinner and drinks.” Carolyn said as she came into the room bringing me a drink.

Kicking off my shoes I sat on the couch, sipped my drink and watched Carolyn walk back into the kitchen, her ass moving like two pigs caught in a gunny sack. As I thought of what could have been, my dick started to swell and I realized what Ron probably was thinking when I came home.

At dinner Ron could not keep his eyes off Carolyn, every time she leaned over the table her tits bulged against the halter top with the nipples pressing against the cloth. I noticed that as she moved around the table she found several excuses to bump both Ron and myself with her ass, one time rubbing her cunt on Ron’s shoulder.

After dinner we all got fresh drinks and moved back into the den. Sitting on the floor in front of the fire Carolyn stretched her legs out and ran her hand slowly up and down the inside of her thigh.

(click to read entire story…)

I’ve spoken with other people about their “first time” and asked questions like when, where, how it happened, what was it like, etc. Talking about those types of things is guaranteed to keep my attention. But I’ve never gone into detail about my own experience. I’ve talked about it in a general sense, but have never described the whole experience the way it exists in my memory. I’d like to tell the story now. Although I could start at the point where everything actually happened, it is necessary to back up so that you can understand what happened and also see why. For this reason I need to relate the sequence of events that led up to my story:

I had known Amy for years, ever since I was about five or six years old. She lived across the street from myself and my mother, and used to baby-sit me. I would stay at her house from the time I got home from school until my mother came home from work. Amy was able to do this since she didn’t work. She was fifteen years older than I, and our relationship was almost like that of a little brother/big sister. We touched each other; hugs and kisses were exchanged frequently. As a single parent, my mother had very little spare time to spend with me. After she came home she had to get supper ready, and there was always housework or laundry to do. My bedtime was 9:00 until I turned thirteen, which meant that I might see my mother for two or three hours at most. Since Amy had no children of her own back then, she was able to spend a lot of time with me.

I can remember sitting on her lap while she helped me with my homework. We played games together. I learned how to throw and hit a baseball in her back yard. We wrestled all the time; the kind of stuff a kid does. When I was twelve her son was born. Two or three years later she and her husband split up. She received some child care support from him, but not much. Because of that, she went to work. At that time there weren’t any day care centers, and I don’t think she could have afforded them anyway. She worked part time on the evening shift in a hospital (from 4 to 10) but had to work every other weekend.

After she went back to work my job was to baby-sit David, her son. I was paid $3.00 a night, which was a bargain for her and a lot of money for me. I got home from school around 3:00, changed my clothes, and walked across the street. She would get home a little after 10, and I would then go back home. Often I would stay there and we would just chat. If she went out after work (or stayed out late on a weekend night) I would sleep in the guest bed at her house, sharing a room with David.

(click to read entire story…)

Hello. My name is Linda, and I’m 24 years old. I am about 5 foot 7 inches tall, and weigh somewhere around 125 pounds, depending on when you catch me. My measurements are 36C, 24, 35. I have dark black hair, and I guess you could say I’m pretty good looking, as I’ve never had any trouble attracting men. My eyes are green, and my best feature is probably my tits, although many guys also like my legs, which I keep trim and lean with a lot of bicycling and jogging. I have a master’s degree, income of over $75,000 a year, own my own home and closets full of expensive and luxurious clothes, all of which I bought myself, thank you. I work for a large company in a major metropolitan area, and am pretty outgoing and friendly.

Now, with that out of the way, I thought I’d let you know why I decided to put down some of my sexual experiences on paper. I’ve been sexually active since I was 15, from the first tentative petting and groping around with guys in high school, through various torrid affairs in college, and up to several fairly good and satisfying relationships since I graduated. I am not seeing any one particular man right now, but that’s more or less the way I want it.

You might say that I have a particular fetish. I love semen. Sperm. Jizz. Cum. Jizzum. Whatever you care to call it, I love it. I love the feeling of cum on my body, almost anywhere I can feel it. I love the warm, wet, sticky feeling it leaves me with. I love the smell, the starchy, kind of acrid odor it has (although that varies from guy to guy). I love the feeling of it. I just love the thought of semen, and the fact that it’s my attractiveness that makes a guy come. I love watching guys jerk off for me, and the more the merrier! Most of my early sexual experiences were jerking a guy off, or better yet, watching him do it himself, and the sight of that cock pulsing and then the little eye opening up and the semen spurting out just turns me on no end. And I think I’m different from most women in that regard. Most of my girlfriends seem to get all goofy at the thought of a guy’s cum. They think it’s messy or icky or something, and usually, in some manner, remove it from their bodies as soon as they can, either by rushing to the bathroom and holding their pussy lips open and dripping it all into the toilet, or wiping it off with a sheet or towel or something. NOT ME! I love the feeling of cum.

I can feel it when a guy comes in my pussy. I feel every shot, if it’s strong enough. But I must admit, I’d rather see it than feel it. So I don’t complain if the guy wants to pull out and come on my pubes or belly or wherever. When he does, I love to rub it around with my finger and feel it spreading over my skin. I shave my pussy lips and most of the hair around there, and just leave a little patch up top of my mound. I guess over the years I’ve rubbed gallons of semen into my skin, and I hope to be doing it for many years to come (no pun intended!).

(click to read entire story…)

It had been one week since Ariel had been introduced to the role Eric wanted her to play, below, in the dungeon below the royal bedroom. And she had waited eagerly. Eric had not inclined or willing to take her there a second time. She had insisted on wearing her collar for long periods of time, even walking on the beach near the castle wearing it. She had not seen Flounder, but she had seen Sebastian. She had thought he might be angry at her, perhaps hold her in lower esteem, but he seemed as friendly as ever. Grimbsy as well had been his usual friendly but reserved self, never letting on from his behavior that he had seen her bound and kneeling on the floor of Eric’s dungeon. Only the leather collar which she wore constantly told her that the scene in the dungeon had ever happened at all.

Eric was in the bedroom when she got back from her walk along the beach. She wondered why she had not seen Flounder, nor her father, nor in fact anyone who had not been in some way involved with the events in the dungeon. He was sitting on a velvet chair in the bedroom, smiling in the same way he had smiled at her down below.

“Morning,” he said, and she recognized the tone in his voice. Yes, it was time.

“It’s good that you already have your collar on,” he said. Ariel’s hand crept to the leather collar around her neck, playing briefly with the ring embedded in the front of it. He arose, embraced her, and took her hands. As he kissed her she felt him secure cold metal cuffs around her wrists, and when he broke the kiss and moved away from her, her wrists were firmly but comfortably locked together.

He snapped a leash onto the front ring of Ariel’s collar. Then he opened the hidden door within the royal bedchamber and led her down into the dungeon. The door at the bottom slammed shut and locked. Ariel jumped at the sound.

“Nervous, are you?”

Ariel bowed her head. She had tried to think about what he would want from her, and physical signs of submission seemed to be a good idea.

“Somewhat, Master,” she said, her clear alto voice the same one that had serenaded him on the beach two weeks ago. She wondered what he was going to do with her. She had enjoyed the floating experience of last week, but had no desire to allow Sebastian the crab to punish her in order to get to it. Her nipples were still sore from the ordeal the crab had inflicted on her as punishment for the chaotic three days before her marriage to Eric.

(click to read entire story…)