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Steamy-Stories

Steamy-Stories

De: 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
  • Elf on a Shelf: Part 1

    Elf on a Shelf: Part 1
    Dec 21 2025
    Elf on a Shelf: Part 1 Her stalker wasn't who she thought he was; Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Honey smiled at the long line of children waiting to see Santa, flipping her phone from Google Translate back to see the information of the next little girl in line, who was looking up at her somberly with large liquid brown eyes. In her small face was a familiar mixture of fear and hope. Wonder; it was wonder in her eyes, Honey thought. Unlike the tired and jaded adults, dutifully shifting their weight from foot to foot, holding overstuffed shopping bags and all the coats of their kids as they distracted themselves on their phones, the children got more and more excited as they drew near the man in the furry red suit with white trim. Honey loved working with the children; because like them, she sometimes could still see the magic. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norman shift uncomfortably in the painted plywood throne made for him to sit with the children and discuss their good behavior and of the wishes that they hoped would come true. Even at age 62, Norman still saw the magic with his merry bright blue eyes, but it faded when his prostate pained him. When the photographer got the shot the parent wanted, Honey walked to where most of the long line could see her as Norman flashed her a look of worshipful gratitude. The adults' faces immediately fell, knowing what was coming. "I'm afraid Santa needs to take a quick break because apparently the reindeer have begun arguing again!" Norman put his gloved hands up to his real beard, pulled a comically dismayed face, jumped up from his throne, and ran off toward the restrooms. Honey shook her head mournfully and continued, "The reindeer were all practicing their Christmas carols when Comet and Cupid couldn't decide how many times Santa checks his list in Santa Claus is Coming to Town! Does anyone here remember how it goes?" she asked, scanning the line for people game enough to help. Honey scampered back and forth along the line trying to choose among the eager volunteers, her white-trimmed, pink fur skirt flaring out around her thighs, her long legs clad in sparkly curly-toed ruby slippers and candy cane swirl stockings catching the eyes of several fathers. Suddenly, she gasped listening carefully to her headset, "Nina?" she called out. "Comet and Cupid say they will only stop arguing if 'Nina' gives the answer. Is there a 'Nina' here today? Nina?" Honey looked around at the crowd carefully until the little girl with the big brown eyes, who had been quietly waiting 57 minutes in line, gathered the courage to raise her hand. "Oh! Are you Nina?" she asked, running over and crouching down near the girl. "We just adopted her; she only speaks Portuguese," the weary woman holding her hand said quietly. Honey gasped and smiled widely, "Voc fala portugu s Nina? Maravilhosa!" she said, watching the little girl's eyes brighten excitedly. "Voc pode me dizer quantas vezes o Papai Noel verifica sua lista?" she asked, holding her microphone out to the little girl. "Duas vezes!" Nina said confidently into the mic. Honey listened carefully to her headset, concentrating, "'Duas vezes' it is! They've stopped arguing!" she announced. "But now, they want us all to sing the song in Portuguese! Nina, voc vai me ajudar a ensin -los a m sica?" she asked. Nina nodded and slowly she and Honey taught the familiar song to the crowd in a new language. As always, a hush came on the crowd when Honey began to sing. Heads raised up from forgotten phones. Vague smiles drifted onto the turning heads of passers-by in the mall as they paused in their frenetic search for gifts. It wasn't so much that Honey's voice was beautiful, though it certainly was. It was more that when Honey sang, it seemed to make the things that didn't really matter melt away. To those that believed in such things, Honey's voice was magic. When she sang, people held their breath and didn't even miss the air. Honey closed her eyes as she sang next to Nina. It was a newly acquired habit. Though she had been taught to let her eyes slowly drift over the audience, letting them make a connection with each person as she sang, she didn't do that anymore. She knew he was out there. She felt his presence frequently as she worked, but it was only when she sang that he came out into the open. She couldn't hold her voice steady when she saw him watching her, so she closed her eyes and let the magic continue for the crowd. When the song ended, Honey opened her eyes as the crowd cheered, finding his powerful form immediately as if she had been commanded to look at him. Zach. He had changed a lot in the year since he brought his sister's children through the long Santa line, drawing her almost too-large dark blue eyes to him then, as easily as he did now. After bringing his nieces and nephews through the line, he'd gone home and brought all his neighbors' kids to see ...
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  • Michigan Weather and Women: Part 4

    Michigan Weather and Women: Part 4
    Dec 20 2025
    Michigan Weather and Women: Part 4 Finding real love, at last. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. Driving home the next day felt like waking up from some kind of dream until I pulled into our driveway and Munchkin came running out to greet me. As I was getting out to reassure him that he hadn't been abandoned, the reality of my life settled right back in. I went inside, and Lane and Mary grunted their hellos without looking up. Ah, home. I texted Erin that I made it back safely, and she replied almost immediately saying what a great night she had, and how much she missed me already. It was going to be a long three weeks until she rotated back to the hospital in Petoskey. Luckily, life was as busy as always, and time flew by. For the first time since I was a child, I could honestly say that I was happy. My happiness lasted until the day before Erin was scheduled to return. I got my first inkling that something might be wrong when I called to see if Wilma wanted me to pick up any groceries for her from town. She didn't answer, which was strange, and the call went to voicemail. Even if she was napping, she was a very light sleeper and would normally answer by the third ring. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I went straight to Wilma's to make sure she was alright. Everything seemed fine when I pulled into the yard, but there was no answer when I knocked on her door. I tried again, but there was nothing but an eerie silence. Fearing the worst, I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place and went inside. I called Wilma's name and, hearing no reply, went quickly through the house trying to find her. When I got to her bedroom, I could hear a low moaning sound from the attached washroom. I ran in and found Wilma collapsed by the bathtub. She had slipped and hit her head, injuring her hip and arm in the process. She didn't have her phone with her when she fell and had been unable to move, so who knows how long she had been lying there. I called 911 for an ambulance and then called Erin and suggested that she meet us at the hospital. It took forever for the paramedics to arrive, and longer still to get Wilma loaded into the ambulance. By the time I got to the hospital, she was already being triaged by their emergency team. I took a few minutes while I waited for an update on Wilma's condition to call the rest of the family and give them the news. Alison came directly to the hospital after class, and Sharon brought Mary and Lane as soon as they got home from school. Erin arrived a few hours later and broke down when she saw me. Finally, just after nine, the doctors gave Erin an update. Wilma was in rough shape; she was badly dehydrated and had a moderate concussion, a fractured wrist, and a bone bruise on her hip. It would take her weeks to recover in the hospital. The good news was that she would make a recovery, given enough time and support. Erin and Mary decided to stay with Wilma in the hospital while Sharon dropped Alison at her dorm and drove Lane back to the house. By midnight, Mary had nodded off in a chair in the corner of Wilma's room, while I waited outside with Erin. "You should go home, Davis. There's nothing else you can do tonight. Thank God, you found her; I am not sure what I would have done if you hadn't. I already lost Grampy; I am not ready to lose Gran as well. They are all I have." I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close. "You have me, now, too. And the girls. And you know Lane would do anything for you, you just need to ask. I was serious about what I said in Grand Rapids, Erin. I love you." Erin pulled me closer but didn't reply. The following week was a rollercoaster of emotions. Wilma was improving far quicker than the doctors had anticipated, but she would still be in rehab for at least another two weeks. It was impossible to hide Wilma's accident from the rest of the family, and they descended on the hospital like vultures; or, more accurately, their lawyers descended on the hospital while, for the most part, they stayed far away where it was warm. The one exception was Erin's stepfather, who flew in the next day. "For Christ's sake, Erin. Haven't you done enough harm as it is? Do you want your Gran to die alone on the floor of that dingy old shack of hers? It's time for her to move into a care facility that can look after her. Be reasonable!" When he failed to persuade Erin to act on his behalf, his attorneys requested an emergency court order, alleging that Wilma lacked the capacity to make her own medical decisions, that Erin was not acting in her best interests, and that one of Wilma's children should be appointed as her legal guardian. Wilma was furious when she learned of his actions, but there was little she could do to stop him until she was discharged from the hospital. Both sides knew that her doctor's recommendation would hold a lot of weight with the judge, and it was not good news for Wilma when it...
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  • Michigan Weather and Women: Part 3

    Michigan Weather and Women: Part 3
    Dec 19 2025
    Michigan Weather and Women: Part 3 How did we ever get here? Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. "When I was fourteen, Mr. Johnson introduced me to a friend of his, Henry White, who was a master plumber. Henry was a high-functioning alcoholic whose temper had driven away all his old apprentices and journeymen. Luckily, I was always big for my age, and Mr. Johnson assured Henry that I was seventeen, turning eighteen in the next few months, so he took me on with the promise to make me an apprentice as soon as I was old enough. By the time that Henry learned my actual age, he had come to rely on me so much that he kept me on." "But what about school? Don't you need a high school diploma to become an apprentice?" "One good thing about growing up in a small town is that most people know the score. I made it to school when I could, and Henry and I worked a lot on the weekends, while Alison watched the rest of my siblings. Most of my teachers let me through with C's and D's, even though I must have missed half of my classes. Everyone knew that I was working with Henry and that I would need my high school diploma to become an apprentice, so they just kind of let me slip through. "I had well over 6,000 hours of experience plumbing before I even turned 18 and could formally become an apprentice. By that point, Henry was a significantly less functional alcoholic, and I was doing everything for his business; all the plumbing and all of the invoicing. He just signed off on the work. If anyone had ever looked into it, he could have gotten into real trouble, but we did smaller jobs for folks who didn't have a lot of money, so no one ever noticed or cared. "Just about the last thing that Henry did before he passed was to swear out my application to become a master plumber. Then one day I showed up for work, and he had died in his sleep. He didn't own much of anything, other than his tools, and he didn't have any family that I knew of, so I just kept on working." After a few minutes spent lying together in silence, I thought that Erin might have drifted off, but she had one more question for me before she did. "When did your mom leave?" I had never told anyone that part of my story; even my brother and sisters thought that Mom had just left one day, leaving me in charge. The reality was so much worse. "By the time Lane started school, Mom had already left us. Not physically, but in all the other ways that matter. She didn't work, and she regularly brought her 'boyfriends' back to our house to trade sex for drugs. Any support she got from social services went straight into her arm or up her nose. I was working long hours by then, to pay the rent and put food on the table, so sometimes that meant that Mary or my brother would be at home with Mom when I wasn't there. I knew it was playing with fire, but there was nothing I could do about it other than pray. "Normally, when I got home, I would blow my horn as I pulled into our drive and Lane would come running out to hug me and tell me about his day. So, I knew something was wrong when I came home late one evening, turned off my truck, and he still hadn't come out. I went inside, and Mom was sitting stoned in the living room watching TV. I asked where Lane was, and she just waved toward the back of the house. Alison and Sharon were out, so Mary and Lane were home with her by themselves. I found him in the room that we shared, cowering in the corner, with little Mary guarding the door. She was only eight at the time. "After a few minutes, I got Lane to tell me what was wrong, and he showed me his arm. Earlier, he had been in the kitchen and had bumped into Mom while she was cooking something on the stove. In a burst of rage, or maybe just evil, she grabbed his arm and held it against the burner. You can still see the scar on his arm today. "That was the end of it. I asked Mary to stay with Lane in our room, I packed Mom's things into the one suitcase we owned, and I drove her to the bus station. I bought her a ticket to Grand Rapids, gave her all the cash in my wallet, and waited with her until she boarded. I told her I would call the police if she ever came back. "Before she left, she spat on me and told me she wished I had never been born." I marveled at how flat my voice sounded, but to my surprise, my cheeks felt wet. I thought I had lost the ability to cry long ago. "Can you imagine that, abandoning your own mother? I'll probably burn in hell, but it was the only way I could think of to keep my brother and sisters safe. I haven't seen her since, although she used to call a couple of times a year asking for money. I didn't feel too bad about hanging up on her when she did, though, since she was still collecting family benefits for us all. Lane barely remembers her, which is likely a blessing, so I made up the story about Mom going away for the weekend and never coming back. "Since then, I have done what was needed for ...
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