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Steamy-Stories

Steamy-Stories

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Explicit short stories of intimacy and passion.2003-2022 Biografías y Memorias Ciencias Sociales Higiene y Vida Saludable
Episodios
  • Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1

    Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1
    Dec 17 2025
    Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered...
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  • Miracle On Route 34: Part 3

    Miracle On Route 34: Part 3
    Dec 15 2025
    Miracle On Route 34: Part 3 Being naughty can be a very good thing, if he needs help getting jolly. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. "Just when I thought it couldn't get better;" Ginny sighed, lost in bliss. "You certainly know what a woman wants." "I aim to please." Santa said cheerfully, putting one arm around her waist and holding her close while he guided the sleigh. "Think we might've sated you for a while?" "Hmm, maybe for a bit, right?" she purred, stretching like a cat before sitting forward and looking down over the earth, lit by clusters of lights that punctuated the darkness of Christmas Eve. It wasn't long before she began to giggle. "Schilling for your thoughts." Santa said, giving her tit a squeeze. "Well, you probably don't remember, but we've met before," she mentioned lightly, turning her head to wink at him. "I sure remember it." "Oh? Do tell." "Well," she said casually, her thoughts drifting back. "I was sixteen and my girlfriends and I were at the mall. We saw you and decided to sit on your lap. So Cari and I were sitting on you at the same time, squirming our asses on you and kept whispering naughty things in your ears, things we wanted to do to you, you know?" Santa didn't respond for several moments. "See?" Ginny said, smirking. "Told you that you didn't remember." "What; was the date of that, Virginia?" he asked warily. "December fifteenth, eight years ago, about seven-thirty pm," she said. "I still have a photo. Why?" "Because I wasn't in your city on December fifteenth eight years ago," he said with reluctance. "I was in Lahina on Maui, judging a naked limbo contest at a luau." She was silent for some time. "You're; you're sure?" Santa nodded. "Oh, God;" Ginny whispered, her eyes distant. "That means that Cari and I were grinding on some creepy mall Santa; oh, shit, I could feel him getting hard and everything!" Ginny scrunched her face up in revulsion and was flapping her arms in horror. "Oh, God. Blah! Blah! Blah!" Santa's roaring laughter echoed through the darkness as his date for the evening struggled to not puke off the side of the sleigh and onto the unsuspecting town below. Silent Runnings. She always kind of assumed that the sleigh made little or no noise when it touched down on a roof. After all, what kept some survivalist gun nut from trying to blow Santa away with his collection of automatic rifles when he heard some noise he couldn't account for? The sleigh glided silently onto the roof, the blades letting out little more than a hiss and the patter of the reindeer's hooves barely audible. Santa leapt out lightly and assisted her in exiting the sleigh before grinning at her. "Now, I won't be long, just hang tight and stay near the sleigh, if you're within the Gellar Field, you'll keep warm, alright?" Ginny raised an eyebrow in his direction, nonplussed. "Um, 'excuse me? I'm here with Santa Fucking Claus on Christmas Motherfucking Eve. How many times can a girl say that? If you think for one second I'm not delivering presents with you, then you're even more stupid that Krampus. I'm coming." Santa seemed hesitant. "Virginia, I've been at this since Proto-Hittite times, one way or another. I'm kind of an expert and I don't want you to hurt;" "Oh, get real," she snorted, pushing past him toward the chimney. She was glad to note that the 'Gellar Field', whatever the hell that was, seemed to be keeping her warm at this distance. "If your fat ass can fit down a chimney with that huge bag, so can mine." She clambered over the lip of the chimney and eased herself down inside it. Santa watched silently as she wriggled out of sight. There was no noise for several seconds. Finally Ginny spoke, her voice coming up the flue. "Okay, kinda stuck here, with my nose pressed into my own asshole. Little help?" Santa chuckled lightly and reached for a can of grease. Piloting a Ginny. "You're getting better at this, I must say," Santa remarked as he rummaged through his bag of presents while Ginny guided the sleigh. "Last person who drove the sleigh for me, the reindeer resisted a lot. They like you." "Oh?" Ginny replied, twisting the reins slightly and veering the sleigh team southwest. "Who was she?" Santa cleared his throat. "Actually, it was Krampus. Well, he was Pete back then, and it was over six hundred years ago." It took Ginny a moment to recover from her shock and concentrate on guiding the sleigh. Fortunately, the reindeer seemed to know where they were going. "Six hundred;" "Yup," Santa confirmed. "The Belgian monks were still getting the recipe for Stella Artois right the last time one of my kids helped me out." "But what about all your wives you were telling me about?" she asked. "They must've been in the sleigh before." Santa shrugged. "Yeah, people have been in it, I've taken them places, but you and Pete are the only two who have ever helped me on Christmas Eve." She felt herself grow warm, and for once it wasn't ...
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  • Miracle On Route 34: Part 2

    Miracle On Route 34: Part 2
    Dec 14 2025
    Miracle On Route 34: Part 2 Virginia and Santa face extreme danger together. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Someone attacked Santa with a wicked-looking spiked hand-axe, something out of a sci-fi movie. He batted the weapon aside and clapped his open hands across the man's ears, busting his brain. Before he dropped, Santa grabbed the corpse and swung it around in a wide arc, smashing it into the foes surrounding him and knocking them back. "Shit!" Ginny squealed as one of the targets landed near her. "It's like the fucking Matrix in here!" As he threw the corpse away, he paused very briefly and glanced at her. "Since you happen to be right there, how about a little mood music?" "What?" "I'm just saying some music would be nice if we're going to be doing this," he called. "You're next to the entertainment system, how about putting something on?" "You’re shitting me, right?" she almost complained, wincing as she heard something delicate-sounding and expensive smash behind her amidst the wild brawl. She stared at the multimedia system, flapping her arms in frustration as she tried to focus through the noise. This couldn't be happening. She clutched the sleeves of her plush robe for a moment, trying to concentrate on its soft, fuzzy texture and center herself. She'd almost forgotten the large nerf gun in her hands but ignored it now, fixing her gaze on the mp3 playlist. She pressed a button. "Silent night; Holy night;" Bing crooned through the room. "Not really what I had in mind!" Santa mentioned loudly as he rammed his knee into a man's chin. "Try again!" Ginny bit her lip and pressed the button again, this time rewarded with Gary Glitter singing 'Another Rock And Roll Christmas'. "Still not quite there," he said as he snapmared another foe. "Better, but not quite!" "Well I don't know!" she shouted in exasperation. "What kind of music do you put on while Santa kills things in your living room?" Santa turned sideways and thrust his foot out, kicking an intruder in the chest and sending him sprawling backwards, rolling head over heels until he thumped into the entertainment system, jolting it and skipping the player. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Perfect!" he declared as he fought, swarmed once again by foes. "Seriously?" Ginny yelled. "Combichrist is Santa's fucking fighting groove?" "I'm trying to figure out why you have it on your playlist," Santa replied. "I don't remember you liking aggrotech!" "Why the hell do you of all people even know what it is?" she shot back, wincing as she watched another body sail into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch before dropping to the floor and leaving a huge, crumbling dent in the stone. 'This Shit Will Fuck You Up!' "I prefer the term 'Hellektro' myself," he added. "And I know all songs, silly. I remember when the Dayglo Abortions wrote that 'Hey Santa!' song back in the '80's, they didn't get presents for” "I didn't ask, why are you answering?" she hissed. "Kill! Kill!" All the while, the pounding rhythms of the music filled the room. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Well, at least we know why it's on your playlist, anyway!" he mentioned as he broke someone's back over his knee. "Very funny, red man!" Ginny hissed, scowling. She ducked wildly as another assailant flew overhead and landed in the Jacuzzi, his neck slamming against the hard edge with a snap noise and then tilting at a strange angle, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Fucking hell," she muttered. "These guys eat too much red meat!" Santa smashed two heads together before punting a third man in the chest, sending him staggering back until he fell against the entertainment unit, right next to Ginny, his eyes spiraling in his head. She scowled down at him for a moment before smashing the pitcher of nog on his cranium and sending him to the floor. Every single intruder stopped and turned to look at her suddenly, their eyes narrowing and turning very yellow. "Eep;" Ginny said quietly, going pale. They all howled and lunged toward her, even as Santa fought to reach her first. She shrieked in fright. "Darn it, Ginny!" he shouted in what almost sounded like irritation. "I told you not to do anything!" "You said not to use the stupid nerf gun!" she shot back as she dodged wildly and began to run around, evading her pursuers. "I meant don't do anything to get yourself noticed!" he growled as he bulldogged one man's head into the floor. He sprang to his feet and grabbed another man by the back of the head, ramming his face into the stone wall, creating a small crater from which the body slumped only slowly and wetly. "How the hell did they not notice the mostly naked girl in the room?" she yelled, sprinting around ...
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