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  Mommy's Hot Erotica - 150 Naughty Dirty Adult Sex Stories Collection

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Alina Sawyer

  Stories 1-150

  Insomnia

  I found that once I graduated from high school, I got to see my friends less and less. I was under the impression that I would be free and near completely unoccupied- how wrong I was! I was excited about the fun and games and the weekly outings to a club we finally agree upon partying at. But nobody has time. Somebody always can't make it. Uni. TAFE. Work. Something is always in our way! The unspoken rule of our group is 'it's everyone, or call it off.'

  But this Friday night brought a miracle. My best from high school, Felicity, managed to organise a night IN ADVANCE (something nobody else thought of doing), so that we can cough through the phone and get a day off from work- without getting abused by our respective bosses. The 90s night that the Icicle Bar has to offer is always a smash hit- now that we've all turned 20 (save for Kid Genius Sandra, who's 19), we've become old enough for the 90s to be excitingly nostalgic.

  We partied 'til 5am, we probably spent hundreds of dollars on drinks and danced to Aqua, Vengaboys and Britney Spears. Seeing that we're all on our provisional licenses, we were definitely not allowed to be driving. We managed to get home by taxi, and somehow, during our various stages of drunkenness, we also found places to sleep in Felicity's house. Sandra found a bed in a wooden table covered in cushions, Felicity slept in her room, Annie used the house's only sleeping bag, Mike was perfectly happy with the shagpile carpet and Phil and I ended up sharing a sofa bed.

  Truth be told, I don't want to share a bed with Phil. Don't get me wrong- I have nothing against him! My memory of him in high school was that of a shortish guy who was zealous about study. He was quiet, slightly reserved and very private. But how five years can change people! He was outgoing and completely comfortable with his innovative dance moves that can only be called innovative. He was now taller than me too. I used to tower over Phillip Howard.

  I generally don't like sharing beds, because I can't sleep through any kinds of distractions- quilt-stealing, snoring or a hypnagogic kick for that matter. "Sandra? Can you turn the lights off?" I barked, cranky as I just wanted to get to sleep.

  "I'll do it. Sandra's fast asleep," Mike got up from the floor and eventually found the switch. With a click, the lights went out, and I felt the blanket of sleep close my eyes and pull towards the world of dreams. The thump of Mike crashing back onto the (probably) uncomfortable floor snapped me awake again.

  Then my mind began to wonder. I'm not a very good sleeper anyway, as I'm always thinking about something, however trivial: wow, we drank a lot. My feet hurt. My ears are ringing. My head is throbbing. I have to get that assignment done by Monday. Hope we can go out together soon. Phil is adorable. He bought me my favourite drink- how nice. He was staring at my ass, and thought I didn't notice. His eyes didn't leave mine when we danced to the Backstreet Boys.

  What the hell am I thinking about? I'm not even that attracted to him. Why can't I stop thinking about him? Is it natural to reflect on how much somebody's changed? Is it normal to obsess over every detail; trying to prove whether or not he was attracted to me? Or was I being delusional, as I am secretly attracted to him? We didn't get the opportunity to talk much, as maintaining conversation at a club is hard...

  I don't think I can go to sleep like this... so I will have to pull out my favourite trick to fall asleep.

  Masturbation.

  It's really easy to fall asleep after you cum, you know. I remember reading somewhere that cumming releases some kind of relaxing hormone that aids in sleep. I've been using this technique for a while now. It's pretty cold, too. Since sexual arousal hastens blood flow, it warms you up. It gets my feet warm- which is important as you can't fall asleep if your feet aren't a comfortable temperature.

  I look both sides in the living room's darkness; as though I would be able to see if everyone's asleep. I'm too scared to utter their names, as they might awaken, and I would have to wait until they fall asleep again. Now I have to get into the zone... I'm pretty sure everyone's asleep. I've done this many time, at many friends' houses. I've mastered how to keep quiet and jerking in ecstasy to a minimal. Breathing through your nose is the key. When you feel like you have to moan, puff your chest and slowly breathe out of your mouth. If you breathe out too fast, you'll let out a vocal shudder.

  I pulled up my dress and let my fingertips sensually pass over the satiny smoothness of my 'invisible' panties. I took a deep, but painfully silent breath in as I felt the two mounds that was my vulva. I've got masturbation down to a pat. I love teasing my self. I carefully and very gently stroked the tip of my nail in the centre; stroking over my clitoral hood. I gulped a little, and looked both sides again in paranoia.

  It felt like each stroke of my finger made my blood pump faster. My stomach caved in as my body struggled to break free from the shackles of my will; to jerk in response to its appreciation of the imminent pleasure to come. My body got warmer and warmer as my clit got harder and harder. With my free hand, I ran my fingertips over my clit. It was pretty firm, and dying to be rubbed more aggressively. Stroking my clit through my panties is not good enough anymore...

  I slid my quivering hands under the tight satin and roll my clit with my index finger. It's becoming tougher to not let out a moan of delight, but boy, do I love a challenge. I can feel my now-moist hole throbbing a bit; longing for something thick and warm to slide in and out of it. My pussy's gotten to the point of no return- the skin around the hole was now as moist as fresh raw meat, and my clit now a diamond. I had to come. As I reached closer to climax, my toes curled into the sofa; my toenails making a grazing noise. The fear of getting caught woke me up from my world of naughty dreams.

  I'm so fucking horny now that I'm softly rubbing over my clit as I carefully try and listen for any signs that somebody has awoken. Considering my toe-curling a lucky escape, I continued ahead on the long and intense road towards orgasm...

  The sound of a door opening stabbed my heart to a stop. I couldn't help but let out a gasp of fright. I tried to stifle my increasing heavy and audible breaths; making it difficult to tell what's going on. I heard some gentle footsteps as the sound of the door closing brought relief. Furiously touching myself again, I let my mind travel to the excitingly tantalising world of my fantasies. Getting ravaged by my History professor on his desk. Getting fucked by a cop to avoid a ticket. Having sex in a confession booth. It seemed that the hornier I became, the more 'taboo' my fantasies distorted themselves to become.

  "Hey," I heard a whisper.

  I froze on the spot; not being able to help but rub my warm wetness all over my clit.

  "Hey, Allison," I heard a male whisper. The only person it could be was Phil, if the voice sounded like it was coming from next to me.

  "Wh-what?" I replied, trying my best to conceal my breathing.

  "Are you OK? I heard you gasp, and you've been breathing heavily for a while, now," Phil informed me. Here I thought I was being clever about things too.

  "I'm fine. I was asleep, and the door suddenly opened, so it scared me," I explained; desperately hoping the explanation satisfied Phil. His whispers were so soothing... I couldn't do anything but hate myself when my body decided that I should rub myself again.

  "You're still scared?"

  Uh-oh. This wasn't a good sign. He sounded sceptical. "Y-yeah, so what? It's still dark out there. God knows what kinds of creeps are lurking."

  Phil then... chuckled?! "You really think I was born yesterday, Allison?"

 
Allison. I loved the way he whispered my name. When I'm horny, anybody sounds like a good idea. Especially when I'm too hot and bothered to object. Knowing where this is going, and even desiring for this to keep on going, I didn't bother to try and fight off his guess.

  "I don't know about you, but I can never mistake the sounds a girl makes when she's horny," Phil's hot breaths in my ear- as sad as it is- was enough to bring me on the edge of orgasm. Phil. Short Phil. Was now turning my crank to point it will break off and I will lose control of myself...

  His... forwardness took my voice away. But my breaths seem to be doing fine... I couldn't control my breathing anymore. I let out a long breath; a trembling moan trying to escape along with warm air.

  "That's it," Phil whispered into my ear, as he put slowly snaked a hand around my waist. "It's not good to bottle it up. But I was listening to how hard you were trying to keep to yourself." His hand slithered down the small of my back, over my butt, and finally, it rested on my inner thigh.

  I didn't object him inching closer to me. I didn't resist him placing a leg over my bare one. He was so warm... it felt so good on this cold winter's night. He softly caressed his masculine hand along my inner thigh. In this darkness, I couldn't know what to expect. Every touch was a pleasant surprise; so thrilling and exciting. I let out a gentle moan when one of his fingers passed over my wet hole. It was pretty embarrassing. My switch was already turned on. I didn't want him to think that I was that horny for him. No way...

  "Looks like I don't have much work to do. I think I've jumped in at the right time," Phil put his hand over my pubis, and patted it twice. With women, it's all about anticipation. I can't wait for him to finger me; to rub me; to caress my back once he's done. "Don't tell me what to do. I'd like to find out for myself, using my tongue."

  Wait... what? Oh God... the thought of a wet, hot tongue sliding over my clit is more overwhelming than my desire to cum! He dove under the doona and came to stop. I felt him place his hands on my hips. Hurry up, Phil! I don't want this moment of waiting for that tongue to lick my pussy clean to last forever! I ran my hand through his styled hair to usher him. "Be patient," a muffled voice instructed me. Soon after the command, I lay and waited. Then I felt it... oh yes. Yes! The tip of Phil's tongue circled around my clit.

  I clamped my legs around his back, as I could no longer hold on by self-restraint alone. I was so close to cumming, until I was interrupted- so he's right- he has his work cut for him. I left my hands on my face, as I felt my ass rock back and forth in delight. It feels like my bottom half is melting off from the rest of me... I felt his lips- wet from my pussy juice- cushion around my clit as he gently began to suck it. All I wanted to do is scream, but I know I couldn't. Even though I was losing myself in his hands, I know I couldn't. "Oh God... oh GOD!" I whispered aggressively; trying to not let my voice sneak out along my passionate cries.

  I then sensed a finger just about to enter my wet hole. Oh... it's so wet that maintaining friction will not be easy. His fingertip eagerly searched for my G-spot- which I was dying to tell him where, but he insisted on finding out for himself. As soon as he unintentionally brushed over it, my legs squeezed around him. As though he shouted out "Bingo!", Phil's finger pressed against my button and massaged furtively. I could feel my pussy tighten and loosen around his finger as my body grew more and more erratic from raw pleasure.

  "OH GOD!" I whispered loudly again, as I was only a second away coming. My body shook as that final lick and final stroke of my pussy tipped me over the edge. My shaking legs unhooked from Phil's back and I panted like I ran 2km without stopping. I heard him re-emerge from his doona cocoon. It was pitch back, but I knew he was grinning in self-pride.

  Without saying a word, he turned over and tried to sleep.

  My body was hot all over. My pussy was still throbbing from being pounded with his expert finger. My panties were damp from the juices of passion.

  This time, for real, sleep had finally arrived. I let out a sigh, as my final thought was wishing that I'd always have Phil to help me go to sleep...

  The End.

  Somebody's Mother

  The strip mall had fewer shops open than closed and the Sunday setting sun couldn't find any shoppers. Long gone businesses had removed their signs some time ago and a few stubborn ones remained to do everything they could to combat the lack of commerce.

  Fl-Hair Shop sat at the end of the lot. It was next to a space that used to be a pet store. The salon didn't have a proper sign at all. A banner made with the cheapest font and one color (on white) flapped a little in the frugal breeze.

  A jeep with a single passenger tore out of a u-turn and hit the drive to the parking lot with just enough speed to frighten a flock of dirty pigeons.

  Reese hit one of the speed bumps, but he really hadn't slowed the jeep down enough to make it not lurch.

  Most times, hopping his jeep would give him a light thrill, but this afternoon he was too upset to really notice the bounce below his roll bar. He'd driven clear across town in search of a place to get his haircut. He'd passed lots of other places, but he ignored them in favor of indulging his stress and worry about his upcoming job interview.

  He hated hair places that worked too hard at being clever with their names. D'hair to Be Different, Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow, and Hair-Free were fine examples of salon titles that sounded more like long form jokes than places for serious business. He was annoyed to see that the salon he'd arrived to was something quaint called Fl'Hair Shop.

  It was complete with a twenty-something woman with dyed hair puffing on a cigarette out in front. The employee's only company was an empty chair and a metal bucket that Reese deduced was for a cigarette butt collection. People who took cigarette breaks in front of their job places annoyed him to no end.

  Reese's jeep parked right in front of her while she tapped her new cigarette on the near-empty pack in her hand. The engine trembled to silence and Reese got out of his jeep and slammed the door shut.

  "You open?" He called to her and she set her cigarette between her lips.

  "That's handicapped," she said and lit up with the end of a match.

  Reese looked down at his parking spot and then stepped onto the sidewalk that contained the break chairs. He gave the thin woman a once over there in the orange sunlight. Her red dye job was in desperate need of a touch up. Light freckles were splotched on her flushed face. It looked to him like she had sunburn all up and down her long neck.

  "You smoke in your apron? Is that sanitary?"

  "I'm wearing sandals too," the woman shrugged and held her feet up for him to see. The red paint on her toenails was chipped and without its glossy sheen. Her smile was already tired of the visitor. "Gonna write me up?"

  "How much is this?" He asked and drew a circle in the air that included her and the salon.

  "I'm closing in twenty minutes," the stylist said and pursed her lips to inhale more smoke. She seemed more concerned with smoking than making money and the demeanor offended him.

  "I just need a trim," he said and approached the salon's glass door. "You'll wash your hands at least first, right?"

  He didn't wait for an answer. He just flung the door open and stepped into the salon's unremarkable space. He sighed at the sight of the space. The off-white walls held posters of hairstyles and they'd been hung up without care. They proudly displayed outdated styles with a crooked perspective. The tile floor was the cheapest anybody could find and sported a color less inspired than the walls. It was a lot like the girl smoking out front --neglected on purpose by its owner.

  Nobody was in the shop.

  She stepped in behind him with her cigarette still burning in her hand.

  "Really?" Reese said over his shoulder at her. "You smoke in here?"

  "Your not the boss of me," she said and her thin bottom lip dropped some.

  He eyed her distant blue eyes and shook his head. "Well, could you not? It stinks."

  "Get a magazine then," she said to h
im and returned to the parking lot.

  The door closed behind her and Reese looked at her back while she smoked facing his jeep. She wore baggy shorts that reminded him of the punk rock girls from high school. She wore a camoflodge tank top and he could see the girl's skin was sunburned all up and down the backs of her legs.

  He thought about leaving. The girl was rude. The place was dank. She was probably one of those girls who had some college, partied too much, and hurried to catch up when she realized her life was going nowhere and grabbed the last skill she could before her credit was totally destroyed.

  Reese really needed his haircut. With Sunday burning itself out fast, his job interview was creeping closer and closer.

  He looked at the coffee table and its uneven legs. It was littered in magazines that had out-dated subscriptions. He could also see the lame books with the hairstyles pictured in them. The table was framed without care by chairs that were worse for wear.

  He looked out the shop window at the hairstylist.

  She was looking at him now and smoking behind the glass.

  He was appalled that the girl was going to finish her cigarette even though he was there for business (with money in his pocket). While she held her arm and continued what appeared to be an unearned break, he wondered if he could get a haircut somewhere else in the morning.

  His job interview was at ten-thirty. He wasn't sure what time hair shops opened. The painted letters that indicated the Fl-Hair Shop's hours had their numbers scraped off, so there was no way to deduce if such places opened at ten am or sooner. He blinked his tired eyes shut and embraced the lack of information.

  He would have to do it here. And she would have to it.

  She dropped her still-burning cigarette butt into the sand bucket and blew her last breath of smoke to the sky while she reached for the door. When she stepped inside, he held his ground. He knew the customer was always right and it was a shame that she didn't know it too.