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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
  • Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 1

    Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 1
    Jan 9 2026
    Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 1. Ditzy Donna and Ralphie's first Christmas. Based on a post by Kirk 48 2002, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. "I really did used to like the holidays," grumbled Ralphie Persons Junior; as he rubbed the same spot on his head that he'd whacked several times in a row on the same slanted ceiling beam. It was the first weekend in December, and he was crawling around the attic, looking for boxes of holiday decorations, that his mother wanted hauled downstairs and put up, the day after Thanksgiving. Having just started his first term at community college, Ralphie Jr. managed to dodge that bullet by complaining that he had a couple of papers due in English Composition and Early American History. The papers being due the Monday after Thanksgiving was true, but he'd left out the part that they were already finished. With a mighty grunt, he shoved a box of Easter lawn decorations aside and hit his head again. That time he saw stars. "If she wants them down so bad, why doesn't she do it?" he grumbled louder to himself. "Because she's more than twice your age, she doesn't like to hit her head, and she's got you to do it," said Ralph Sr., looking like a disembodied head sticking up, out of the floor of the attic. "Now, if you're done complaining, I'm sure you've got some boxes to come down; so pass them to me and I'll take them down the ladder for you." That suited Ralphie just fine, because trying to balance the boxes as he slid out the access hole, and then find his footing on the ladder; was no easy chore. He pushed what he already had found, toward the opening and looked for more. After hitting his head once more, he was convinced he'd found them all. "I think that's it, Pop." "You're missing the box with the tree ornaments," came his mom's voice through the access way. Ralphie took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Alright mom, I'll keep looking," Jr. said, sounding a bit miffed. Actually sounding a lot miffed. "We're gonna go and start setting up the outside lights and blow up characters," said his Pop through the hatchway. "That'll keep us out of your way a while and let you blow off some steam. I don't want you saying something to your mother the wrong way and have you regret it later." "Okay," sighed Ralphie, nodding his head as his Pop disappeared down the hatch. He took a long look around the attic and didn't see a box marked ornaments, so he decided to straighten and organize the entire loft by opening each box and marking them. He found that some of the boxes had his old clothes that he wore in grade school."Why doesn't she get rid of this stuff?" he thought to himself. Then he chuckled."If she's waiting for grandkids she's got a long wait." He didn't really have a girlfriend but his parents thought he did. For some reason they both kept pushing the idea of him and the girl he took to the prom, Louise Johnson, as being a couple."A couple of dorks," he thought. Actually, he did take Louise AKA 'Looney Louise,' out on a few dates during the summer. She was kind of funny and interesting, but her shenanigans and her perpendicular hair, far outweighed the positives, except for her tits. "Whew," Jr. said, shaking his head at the thought of them. He remembered when she showed them to him, and he started to daydream. Double Feature. They were in the back of the movie theater and she was jamming popcorn in her mouth. He saw that she had as much 'fruit of the Redenbacher' on her shirt as she still had in her trough of popcorn. "I think you better do something," he said, pointing in the general direction of her breasts. She put the bucket under her boobs and pushed the lucky kernels back in causing her breasts to bounce several times. "There, better?" Other than a few genuine imitation butter stains she was all clean. She settled back in her seat and shifted around a bit almost slumping, forcing her breasts up and out. Between the seat in front of her and her tits in her face, Ralphie didn't think she could see the screen. He didn't realize he was staring at her, until her eyes slowly turned toward him. "Imagination running wild?" she whispered, placing her trough of corn on the floor. "I bet you've got a hundred different visions of what they look like, going on in your head. What do you think they look like?" Ralphie sat there with his mouth agape. "Oh come on. Maybe they're perky, droopy, hard, or soft. Maybe they have veins all over them. Maybe my nipples are large like acorns, small like cherry pits, or even big and puffy," she whispered, encouraging him in her game. Ralphie still sat there with his mouth agaip. She sighed. "No idea, huh? Okay," she said, unbuttoning her blouse down to her navel and unclasping the front hook on her bra. She snapped them open and said, "Behold!" Attic of Family Artifacts. He was startled out of his obcessions by his father's strong voice."Junior, did you find them yet?" his Pops voice said from the hole. "No, I decided to ...
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  • Andrew’s Delightful Attributes

    Andrew’s Delightful Attributes
    Jan 8 2026
    Andrew’s Delightful Attributes. The women in Andrew’s life, are getting frisky. Based on a post by Meow 5 meow. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Mom catches Andrew Solo. Eliza woke up to her Saturday morning and rolled over to look at her clock, it said 9am, which was an hour before she usually rose. She knew Andrew would already be up because he was an early riser; like his father had been. So she pulled a robe around herself and headed downstairs quietly. When she entered the kitchen there was no one there, she checked around the house but didn't see him. Still sleepy she let the mystery and worry go and made herself some coffee and a bagel. She finished her breakfast quickly because felt a little uncomfortable with the dead silence in the house. She wondered where her son went. He tended to be pretty active in the mornings but didn't usually leave the house till he saw her. Some mornings Andrew would work out in the garage, but that was not where he was this early morning. She didn't see a note around anywhere, so she went back upstairs, to check her phone. Maybe he texted her before he left the house? Eliza didn't feel any urgency yet, just mild curiosity as she went back up the stairs. On this pass through, she purposely looked at Andrew's bedroom door for signs of life. It was half open, quiet and dark inside. Suddenly Eliza believed her son must still be in bed, and she stepped over and gently pushed his door further, opening the room up to her view. Suddenly she could see Andrew sitting at his desk, against the far wall, with headphones on. "Oh." Eliza uttered quietly, feeling silly for her worry. Of course he was in his room. Andrew hadn't noticed her behind him. He was just sitting there, staring at the screen and moving his shoulder. Eliza finally looked at the screen to find an up close view of a naked woman's body, and saw her shaved cunt being fucked by a pale pink cock. She gasped and her eyes locked onto the porn her son was watching. For a least a minute she just stood there watching her son beat off. Minutes went by and she didn't move. “Is my cock bigger than Dad’s?” Andrew asked the Milf in the video. The video zoomed out and she could see the actors going at it. Her mouth dropped open. The actress was tall and blonde, like she was. And curvy with the same hairstyle as Eliza. The actor fucking her was young and superficially like Andrew too. It was obvious Andrew had picked this video as a fantasy for him and her together. Eliza closed her mouth, blinking in the quiet that was only broken by the soft fleshy fapping sounds of her son's hand on his cock and his ragged breathing. At the same moment her own nipples tightened and her clit pulsed and began to inflame her sex. She was responding to the idea that her son was fantasizing about having sex with her. Her hand slid up the door jam and she tried to control her breathing and slow down her strong physical reaction. Her son was just stepping up his, though; arm jerking faster and tiny whimpers spilled out of his lips. She felt scared, not willing to take one step farther in his room. Shame rearing up to scream at her, for watching and responding; and feeling any sort of urge when it came to Andrew. She gripped the door knob and backed up a step, fully intending to flee this very moment. As her shoulders turned away from his room, she heard her son utter words that slammed into her like a freight train. "Yeah mom... you love my cock too.. Don't you?" Eliza swiftly retreated from that spot and went into her private bathroom and locked the door. Her heart was racing and panic leaking into her brain Eliza slumped down on her shaggy toilet seat cover and spread her legs. With fingers over her panties she explored her sex and shivered at her sensitivity, with a broken little sob she snaked her fingers under the waistband of her panties and glided over her drenched clit. It frightened her how quickly and feverishly she had responded to what she had seen. It was so utterly wrong. As she teased her clit, her brain tried to rationalize it. Masturbation is a natural thing, she told herself. And it's Andrew's private business. Plus, mother-son fantasies are just a phase that young men grow out of quickly. Her own sensual reaction is just a sensitivity caused by not having had sex in a while, and her libido is just easily triggered. All normal and no way shameful; unless acted upon. It would never be acted upon. Eliza took a hot shower, and imagined her son fucking her in missionary position, looking him right in the face, as his cock pumped firmly in and out of her. Of kissing him; he was so handsome! It set her right over the edge and she moaned loudly, helpless to the overwhelming sensation of a strong orgasm. Her bare feet pressed against the tile floor of the double shower, and her hips rocked as she prolonged her pleasure. After a few minutes to breath dried off again and intended to get dressed. When she walked ...
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  • My Girlfriend's Neglected Mother: Part 2

    My Girlfriend's Neglected Mother: Part 2
    Jan 6 2026
    My Girlfriend's Neglected Mother: Part 2 I was asked to Fill In For Her Husband? Based on a post by MaryAnderson. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. A few days later I was at the Hollins' house when Jennie's phone pinged. She opened the message, read it, read it again, pumped her fist and said, "Yes! Whitman scheduled me for an interview, but crap, it's next Friday. Mom, that's your birthday." Whitman was Jennie's dream college, the one she had no chance of getting into. Still, the assistant director of admissions had been a fraternity brother of Mr. Hollins, not one Mr. Hollins had been close to, but perhaps, maybe. Mr. Hollins was to go with Jennie to the interview, see if he could influence the decision. Mrs. Hollins said, "Honey, when you're in you late thirties your birthday is not that big a deal. And, in any case, we weren't planning to do anything as a family until Saturday." Jennie said, "But still Mom, it's your birthday. Dad and I can't leave." Mrs. Hollins said, "Of course you can, I'll find something to do." Jennie looked at me with expectant eyes and I said, "Look, Mrs Hollins; with your daughter out of town I'll be foot loose and fancy free. Let me take you out. We'll do something different, something you wouldn't normally do." Jennie said, "That's a great idea Mom, and I know just the place. There's a club not too far from campus. It has a mixed crowd, not just students." Mrs. Hollins said, "I don't know, you sure you want to go out with an old lady Michael?" "What old lady, you bringing a friend? With Jennie out of town you'll be the finest woman around." Mrs. Hollins said, "What, I'm not as hot as my daughter?" Jennie said, "Mom, you and I will pick out something for you to wear, show my boyfriend exactly how hot you can be." We ran it, well at least the general concept, by Mr Hollins; he said it was an excellent idea. Date With Her Mom. "Happy birthday Mrs. Hollins." I handed her a half-dozen roses. While a cliche, it was always appreciated. Eyes spread wide, she kissed my cheek and said, "They're beautiful. Please come in." And while her eyes had spread wide, they were no match for mine. Mrs. Hollins' red dress snugly fit her slender form; her modest tits were held perfect in the built-in cups. The back was open; there were no straps, just a tie around the neck. And, as I followed her into the house, I focused on her ass; it formed an impeccable bump in the back of the dress. And the shoes: red stiletto heels that buckled around the ankles. The dress screamed fuck me, the shoes hollered the same thing, and later her moves on the dance floor would be exclamation points. If it was going to happen, it would happen tonight. I was going to make my, and Jennie's fantasy come true: I'd fuck her mother. In the living room she handed me a glass of wine, put the flowers in a vase, studied them, moved one flower half-an-inch, another a quarter-of-an-inch, leaned forward, took a long whiff, chin in hand studied them, moved two more flowers, and said, "They're lovely, and you're sweet and thoughtful." She kissed my cheek. Her perfume was light and airy. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and said, "I can see why my daughter's so enamored with you." "A beautiful woman deserves beautiful flowers, and you look spectacular. Jennie asked for pictures." I took several of her, then several of us together, my arm around her shoulder, her arm around my waist. Jennie texted, said we were a good looking couple, instructed me to show her Mom the time of her life. I held the door of my newly cleaned jalopy for her, then her chair at the hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant where we'd never run into any of her crowd. She asked my advice, ordered it, complimented my choice. We shared dessert, then went to the club. We danced fast, danced slow, and later, as I drove her home, she leaned her body into mine. I handed her a glass of wine as she moved a couple of the flowers, moved them back, moved one other, and said, "That's better, it's been bothering me all night. What do you think?" I said, "I think you've got it," held my glass up. "To you, on your birthday." Touching her glass to mine she said, "To a wonderful evening, I can't remember a better time. Why don't you put on some music, come sit with me. I need to get off my feet, it's been years since I danced in stilettos." "Well, every guy there would vote in favor of you doing it again." "Michael, are you flirting with me?" "Just getting started." Mrs. Hollins sat, then took off her ruby heart-shaped earrings/ She lay them on the table next to the couch. I put on some soft jazz, said, "Foot rub?" she said, "I'd like that," and I sat on the far end of the couch as she pirouetted until her back rested on the arm and her feet were in my lap. I unbuckled her shoes, laid them on the floor, worked her feet; we chatted, she drank her wine. When her phone pinged she signaled me to keep working, picked it off the coffee table, held it up. It was ...
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