101 EROTICA STORIES

by Green, Vallen

  “I’m coming!” I suddenly heard Fred cry out from the living room. “Fuck, I’m coming!”

  I stole a quick look just in time to see my husband ram himself hard into Ashley’s behind. Ashley threw her head back and gave an earthshaking cry. Fred reached out with one hand and clamped it over Ashley’s mouth, muffling her cries of ecstasy. He must’ve been worried the noise would wake Taylor up.

  Taylor. I sat right up, removing my hand from my cunt. My little boy. Amazingly, he hadn’t woken up from all the ruckus going downstairs. I tilted my head and listened for telltale sounds from upstairs indicating Taylor had woken up, but there was none. I took a deep breath. Oh, Taylor, your father is one cheating bastard.

  And I jerked myself off to the sight of him and your babysitter fucking each other.

  The thought startled me into action. I got off the chair and began to dress hurriedly, quietly. I musn’t let Fred and Ashley, or anybody else for that matter, catch me here in the kitchen, naked and wet and slimy from my own juice. When I was fully dressed again, I picked up a rag and wiped off my body fluids on the chair and floor.

  I looked around the kitchen, making sure everything was where they were supposed to be and in their proper place. I noticed the sounds in the living room have gone as well. I made my way softly to the door and took one final peek before—I don’t know, I did something that would change my life forever.

  I saw Fred and Ashley had done their deed too, probably also around the time I finished my own business. They were now sitting on the couch, talking quietly. I saw they didn’t have their arms around each other, which meant, for me at least, that save for the fucking sessions, they didn’t care string beans about each other. I felt my lips curve up into a twisted smile. So what now? Am I supposed to be thankful they don’t have feelings for each other, that they’re using only their bodies to satisfy whatever pleasure it was they were craving? The whole thing was twisted, that I can pretty much see.

  I felt my headache returning. Time to get out of here and be someplace else. Fred must never know about this, that I saw him getting it on with the babysitter and I jerked myself off while I watched them do it. No, he must never. Nobody must know about this secret. It’s the one thing I’ll take with me to the grave.

  Still, my love for Fred didn’t go down one notch. And I think the feeling is mutual.

  That being said, I went out the house, got into my car, and drove off somewhere.

  Gary’s Babysitter

  For Gary Williams, eighteen years old, slightly overweight, and nerd personified, getting over his childhood babysitter was something that will never, ever happen. Not in this lifetime, not in this universe. Not if he could help it.

  His previous babysitter’s name was Olga Smithson. She was half-Russian, half-American, drop-dead gorgeous, and five years his senior. She was also a total bitch, at least until Gary hit puberty and Mrs. Williams politely told Olga her babysitting services were no longer needed. Olga had nodded and agreed just as politely. She understood Mrs. Williams, of course she did. Gary was a baby no longer. They had parted ways with a smile and a wave.

  By then Gary was thoroughly smitten with his ex-babysitter. Olga was the stuff with which her wet night dreams were made of. In fact, Olga was the stuff of every male teenager’s dirty dreams. She was tall and slim, but not slim enough to make you think she was frail or weak. Olga’s dark hair and equally dark eyes probably helped bolster that tough image. Her hair and eyes were so dark, they were almost black. Olga had a heart-shaped face blessed with a small pointy nose and slightly full lips. Her chin was a bit pointy for Gary’s tastes, but that pointiness was a very minor—almost negligible, actually—flaw.

  Olga’s breasts were her best features. They weren’t spectacularly big, unlike those of Gary’s most favorite porn star. But because Olga was so slim, her chest looked particularly huge. They were firm and perky, and Gary loved how they jiggled at the tiniest bit, like when Olga raised her arms over her head and stretched lazily or when she bent over and adjusted something on the table. Gary could stare at Olga’s tits all day long, maybe even for as long as he lived, but he knew this was rude (“My mother didn’t raise any idiots,” Gary liked to boast), so he settled for stealing a couple of secret glances every now and then.

  Aside from her chest, Gary also loved Olga’s ass. Just like her tits, there was nothing spectacular about its size, but it was obviously too big for her slender frame, hence the humongous appearance. Olga enjoyed showing off her long, coltish legs, so she always wore stuff that were always seemingly too short for her. Gary couldn’t remember a time when Olga wore something that went below her knees (save for the times she wore jeans, of course). In his memory, Olga was always in short skirts, miniskirts, and short shorts. He certainly didn’t mind, especially when Olga reached down for something and he could see up her skirt or shorts sometimes. But there were moments when he wished Olga could be a little more discreet. Showing too much skin all at once spoiled the mystery, and Gary was a total sucker for mysteries and surprises.

  When he was eight or nine years old, he could count with one hand the number of nights he went to bed thinking how happy would it be having Olga as a lover. The girl was that irresistible to Gary. Back then, he had no concrete idea on the concept of masturbation, sexual fantasies, wet dreams, and other things only teenage boys are completely aware of. But he wasn’t completely ignorant of them either. He remembered feeling slashes of pure young lust here and there every time Olga came over to babysit him. And since she babysat him five times a week, from Mondays to Fridays, those slashes of lust appeared pretty frequently.

  Olga may be an utter bitch in real life, but she was an excellent babysitter. She was very patient with Gary, and she never raised her voice or lifted even a finger at him. Gary eventually figured Olga was one of those rare species who had a special way with kids. Aside from awakening his sexual desires, Gary was grateful to Olga for being a terrific babysitter. He had heard horror stories about monster babysitters from his friends at school, but he had never experienced an episode of utter babysitting horror. Olga was that good in babysitting the younger Gary, but she wasn’t good enough to stop him from trying out his experiment on her. But that came later on.

  Gary looked forward to the babysitting moments with Olga, not only because she knew and taught him great games and read him great stuff, but also because it meant another moment to steal and store various glances at her incredibly hot body. Gary remembered the times when Olga would come over wearing nothing but a thin tank top underneath her loose hood sweatshirt. He would feel something stir inside him—in the space between his legs, to be exact—whenever he saw Olga remove her loose sweatshirt and reveal the tiny piece of clothing clinging to every curve of her body. Olga would then adjust the straps of her tank top, clap her hands, and tell Gary, “Okay, let’s kick things off, squirt!”

  Ah, Olga Smithson. Gary sighed. What made things even harder was the fact they lived on the same block. The Williams lived on the northern end of the block, and the Smithsons lived on the southern end. They didn’t bump into each other regularly, nothing as commonplace as that, but they do run into each other every once in a while. This was why Gary saw how Olga had transformed from being a drop-dead gorgeous chick into an almost goddess-like one, at least in his dark-brown eyes. Olga Smithson was born to be a fox and will be one until the day she dies.

  But Gary swore not to let that happen without him getting to bed Olga. He had made the vow one sunny afternoon, when he was in his room, writing, and happened to look up at the same instant Olga passed by. Surprisingly she was wearing jeans and a simple gray cotton shirt that afternoon. The simplicity struck Gary like a hammer, and his breathing hitched. He was so used to seeing Olga in provocative clothing that seeing her in decent, everyday clothing took his breath away. She was so beautiful! Right then and there, Gary made a pact with himself: he would not allow himself or Olga to pass on to the netherworld unless he could bang her hard.


  Gary knew his self-made promise sounded sick, but he was so consumed by lust and desire already. He didn’t know how Olga, self-possessed and radiating with beauty at twenty four, would go to bed with him, nerdy to the core and radiating with self-consciousness and teenage acne at eighteen. Gary wasn’t dumb. He knew achieving the feat was practically impossible, but he didn’t let that deter him. He would find a way. Once Gary set his mind to something, more often than not, he usually accomplished it, and with flying colors to boot.

  Gary indeed found a way. Of course he always did.

  The bright idea came to him out of the blue when he was on his way home from school. He was already nineteen then. Walking home under the toasty warmth of the afternoon sun, he was thinking of how to go about his science and history projects when suddenly, an idea on what to do about the whole deal with Olga came to him like a hard blow.

  “Oh my god,” Gary managed to whisper before he ran at full speed for his house and headed straight to his bedroom. He didn’t even bother to remove his shoes. Once he reached his room, he slid his backpack off his shoulders and went straight to his desk, where he wrote out his brilliant plan for Olga and himself in full detail.

  Gary worked at his plan with such gusto, determination, and speed that it only took five months for the whole thing to be finished. He had actually built some special contraption that was made to perform some specific function. When he had done, Gary wiped the sweat off his brow and looked back to admire his masterpiece. It was even better in the flesh than he dared imagine. And he built it with nothing but his own two hands.

  He ran his hands down the machine’s lines, curves, and folds. He imagined it was Olga he was touching, and he got hard. With one hand he touched every inch of the machine, and with the other, he touched every inch of his young manhood. Soon he was jerking off, and even sooner he had sprayed the machine with his seed. Zipping up his jeans, Gary looked at the white puddle on the floor of the machine and laughed. It was like a special benediction of some sort, his semen. He gave the machine one final pat before he shut the basement door and went back up the stairs.

  “All for you, Olga,” he whispered, enunciating each word and breathing with every step he took.

  Now that the contraption was finished, in place, and ready to be used, Gary figured the hard part would be getting Olga to come over. They weren’t friends, not actually. Gary knew Olga thought of him as a child and maybe even a client, but certainly not as a friend or even someone she would like to get within breathing distance with. Hell, they didn’t even acknowledge each other when they passed each other on the street, although Gary sometimes found himself mentally undressing Olga when she was in his favorite jeans-and-shirt ensemble. He figured his face must have shown something when he was in those imaginative moments because Olga would always turn to look at him and give him a frown whenever that happened. Gary would only give her a smile in return, to which Olga would roll her eyes in response and set off the rest of her way.

  Gary thought long and hard for the solution to the remaining problem. He would have to find a way to make Olga come over and visit him in the house. Any reason wouldn’t do; it had to be a good, convincing reason. Olga wasn’t as smart as Gary, but she was considerably smarter than the other girls Gary knew and hung out with. Olga would know a rat the second she smelled it. If she figures Gary had something funny up his sleeve, Gary might as well kiss his chances of using his precious contraption good-bye. You can pull the same trick twice on most people, but not Olga Smithson.

  He woke up one day and realized it was almost a month since he had finished constructing his special machine, and he still had not found a convincing method to lure Olga into his home. For the first time in his nineteen-year existence, Gary began to feel the unfamiliar gnawing of self-doubt crawl in his insides. What if I never come up with something? he thought frantically.

  Just like with the machine, the idea came to Gary out of the blue as well. He was in the bathroom this time, scrubbing himself clean and humming his favorite Jack Johnson song, when he suddenly figured out the way to make Olga come over. Of course! It was so simple, so easy that Gary couldn’t believe how he could’ve missed it in the first place. Energized, he scrubbed himself harder and hummed louder. When he got to his penis, he made a fist around it and imagined it was Olga’s moist cunt he was sliding in and out of. Gary got hard immediately and, fixing his mind on Olga’s body, jacked off three to four times.

  When he was done, he rinsed himself off, toweled himself dry, and went to his desk to work. There was no need to build something this time, but Gary wanted to make sure he didn’t forget even a single detail of his grand plan.

  The moment of execution finally came a week after he figured out a way to make Olga drop by his house without generating suspicion. Gary’s parents were out for the weekend, and they had agreed, for the first time, to leave Gary home alone. He had begged, pleaded, and wheedled his way just to have them leave him in the house without an older companion. It took quite a while, but his folks eventually agreed, although not without extricating a promise from him that he wouldn’t hold any crazy high school party while he was away.

  “Of course,” Gary had promised with all the sincerity he could muster. The “party” he was going to have would only involve Olga, and having one person over doesn’t exactly count as a party, does it?

  After his parents bade him good-bye and the front door slammed shut, Gary waited for a full fifteen minutes before he picked up the phone and called Olga. He wasn’t losing his nerve, nothing like that. He just wanted to make sure his parents didn’t come knocking back because they forgot to bring his father’s medicine for his blood pressure or his mother’s favorite coin purse. His parents were funny people, and Gary didn’t want to risk them walking into his plans even in the slightest.

  When his parents didn’t come barging back in fifteen minutes later, Gary picked up the phone and dialed Olga’s number. It was a Saturday afternoon, but he knew Olga was home. She was always home on Saturday afternoons because she mostly went out on Saturday nights. It was a rule Olga followed to the letter, and of course, Gary knew this. It was this rule he was counting on as he heard the other line ring and waited for someone to pick up at the other end.

  The universe seemed to align its forces in Gary’s favor, because it was Olga of all people who picked up the phone. “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

  “Hey, Olga,” Gary said casually. “It’s Gary.”

  “What do you want?” Olga barked. “I’m busy, I can’t—”

  “I have a massage chair at home,” Gary cut in. “My mom bought it a week ago. I’ve been meaning to show it to you, but you seem very busy.”

  “I am.” Olga’s voice was still curt, but it now had a faint trace of curiosity in it. Gary shut his eyes, leaned back on his chair, and pumped his fist in the air. He knew in his heart his plan would work. Olga was the world’s biggest sucker for anything and everything related to massages. Massage equipment happened to be one of her biggest weaknesses, something Gary remembered during their babysitting days.

  “If that’s the case, then I’ll—”

  It was Olga who cut in this time. “No, I’ll be there. Just make sure it won’t take long, squirt. I have some event to go to.”

  “No, it won’t take long at all,” Gary assured her. “I’ll be expecting you.”

  He put the phone down and pumped his fist in the air again. Success! He opened his bedroom door and sped down the basement. There was no time to waste. Olga was going to be there soon. He got his arms around the contraption he built and brought it up the stairs and into the living room, where he set it down gently beside his mother’s favorite chair. He dusted his hands and waited for Olga to arrive.

  He didn’t have to wait long. The bell rang three minutes later. When Gary opened it, he came upon a flushed, slightly panting Olga. She was wearing a loose orange sweatshirt over dark cotton shorts and thong sandals on her feet. It didn’t take m
uch for Gary to notice she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her sweatshirt. If he squinted just right, he could make out a hint of nipple on Olga’s left breast.

  But why squint when he could see the entire tit clearly in a few minutes?

  “I’m here,” Olga announced. “Where’s your massage chair?” She stepped inside, and Gary shut the door behind her.

  “Over there,” Gary answered, and pointed to his specially built contraption.

  Olga took a few steps closer to the machine and frowned. It was nothing like the usual massage chairs she saw and liked. Sure, the thing looked like a chair—like a La-Z Boy, in fact—but there were rods and wires and some things that suspiciously looked like handcuffs and ankle cuffs on it. Her frown deepened, and she turned to face Gary. “Hey, squirt. Is this supposed to be some kind of—”

  Olga didn’t get to finish what she meant to say. The second she turned around, Gary sprang to action and pushed her into the chair. Olga gasped and toppled right into the chair, to Gary’s delight. Because her back was to the chair, Olga toppled right on the chair in a perfect sitting position. Gary crowed. He couldn’t help it. Things were finally turning right for him.