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Steamy-Stories

Steamy-Stories

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Explicit short stories of intimacy and passion.2003-2022 Biographies & Memoirs Hygiene & Healthy Living Social Sciences
Episodes
  • Lurid Mythology: Psyche and Cupid - part 1

    Lurid Mythology: Psyche and Cupid - part 1
    Nov 6 2025
    Cupid discovers Psyche’s beauty.by luststruck96. Listen to the ► podcast at Steamy Stories. Psyche wore a black peasant dress that fell just above her knees and threw on a black cloak to hide her face to conceal her identity. As she expertly climbed the castle walls to leave, she made sure to keep quiet as to not awaken any of the guards. If they were to find her escaping, she would be chained to her room. The king had forbidden his three daughters from leaving the confines of the kingdom as an attempt to keep their beauty pure. The three sisters who had previously been able to roam the kingdom were now kept in the dark with the exception of making marriage alliances.Her eldest sister had been married off and her other sister’s marriage had already been fixed, but as the youngest Psyche’s hand was the next to be given away. Her beauty was known across the kingdoms and the talk of who would get to wed the rare beauty was growing despite the kingdom’s people not having seen her in recent years.Psyche was stubborn and curious for a princess which led her to leaving the castle in order to roam the markets at night. It was her only salvage from the lack of liberation in her life. As Psyche walked along the market with her head down, she witnessed the empty streets and the very few people who were left, closing their shops or attending their last customers. Her hand went to trace an apple that sat on the stand. It stood out from the other dull apples that were marked with spots that indicated their decay. The apple was a bright red with a shiny surface that seemed natural. As she admired the apple, a hand clasped her tiny one. “You touch the apple, you buy it,” she heard the man speak. She resisted from looking at the man in order to continue to conceal her face as his hand still held hers. “I apologize kind sir, but I haven’t got money with me at the moment, but I promise to bring you your money tomorrow.” As he let go of her hand, she could hear the man’s footsteps approach her as he walked around the stand to stand in front of her. Her held her hand in a firmer grasp this time, slightly pulling her forward. “What guarantee do I have for that?” Before she could speak, his other arm circled her tiny waist and pulled her against him. “Maybe if I take something of yours, your debt will be paid.” He moved his hand to untie the cloak that masked her identity. Despite her attempt to move his hand, he had succeeded in removing her cloak, leaving her in her black dress with her face exposed. “Princess,” he whispered in excitement. I moved my eyes up as I glared at him, challenging him further. “You’ve definitely blossomed over the years,” he said as his gaze dropped over her bosoms. He began to trace a hand down her bare arm as he held tightly onto her upper arm. He held her tightly against him as she whimpered in fear, cowering back as his hand moved to squeeze her rear. She pushed harder after that, but nothing seemed to dislodge him. As he leaned forward to kiss her, someone had pushed him off of her. She looked towards the older gentleman and bowed in gratitude. He simply nodded before chasing the man away. An older woman approached my side. “Are you Princess Psyche?” I nodded. “You’ve grown to be so beautiful. I don’t even think the Gods have such beauty in heaven.” I blushed at her words. News of the encounter had spread across the kingdom, which led to the king being pressured into showing the princesses to the kingdom once again. Despite the inhumanly beauty of all three of his daughters, Psyche’s beauty received the most praise. At one point, everyone had begun to pray to Psyche and suffocated her with offerings of all sorts, abandoning their previous ways of bowing to Goddess Venus. The majority of people looked at Psyche with admiration, the younger men looked at her with lust, and the younger women looked at with her with jealousy, including her sisters. When news of Psyche’s admiration reached the heavens, Venus had been furious. She had called her son Cupid in order to find a stop to the disrespect that had bestowed her. “Cupid, my loving son, you wish you mother happiness, don’t you?” Cupid nodded. “Have you heard of a princess named Psyche?” “I haven’t, mother. I have been busy with my training lately. Has another war begun on Earth?” Cupid’s training had been watched over by Zeus himself, and over the last few weeks, his muscled body had grown to be even more impressive. He still towered over most of the Gods at 6 foot 5, and his looks had made him the desire of every woman. His mother planned to use her son’s ignorance to her advantage. “She is a wretched woman on Earth who has swayed the people on Earth into worshipping her. In order to put a stop to her whims, you must make a true monster fall in love with her, so she is wed to the ugliest man the Earth has seen.” Her son nodded dutifully before making his way to ...
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  • Older Women: Part 3

    Older Women: Part 3
    Nov 5 2025
    Older Women: Part 2 My hot teacher fantasy. A 3-part series. By Androgynous other. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. I got a temp job a few months later with a firm near to my old college and I still popped in to see Amy for lunch and the occasional meal, and I started to date more seriously. I'd had a few girlfriends, nothing that ever reached the 'serious relationship' status. Other Ladies. I moved back home and got into the same rut. Nothing long term but I made sure that I did what Amy told me and gave more than I got. I got some of my dates into bed, and I always tried to give them an orgasm, several if they'd let me, but nothing serious; or that lasted over a few months. Three years on and I'd just broken up with the last one without even noticing; she'd gone on holiday to the Mediterranean with some mates and never contacted me again after that. She came to my place the first morning back while I was at work, took the few things she'd left there and that was that. Unfriended and locked out on Facebook, never answered my texts, end of story. She'd been the girl that wanted to 'be in a relationship' and sex was only as small part of it. Right up to the point that we started to make love. From our first night in bed and the crazy morning after, she became a sex beast overnight. I was the first bloke to go down on her it seems, and she was dead against it at first. But we'd done a couple of bottles of wine over dinner, and she got daring. To get us past the whole 'dirty' concept, we stripped naked and jumped in the shower and we just played with each other; the excess of wine meant she let me run wet hands across her cunt, I found her clit and stroked it working her to high anxiety, then slipped wet fingers inside her and scrubbed her G-spot. She came, she cried, right there in the shower, pulling my face into her cunt and grinding herself against me, like some kind of porn star. I was her first on many things it seemed. Not the first shag but the first person to make her come. She then had me repeat the procedure - often. In bed we fucked and sucked, almost non-stop. I would wake up in the night to find her pumping my cock to erection, then climb across me and bounce us both to orgasm. She read the 'Fifty Shades' trilogy that she left at my house so her parents wouldn't find them, and soon I was pulling on the pony tail she started to wear and smacking her fine arse as I took her on her hands and knees. Seems that in the Med she just got worse, and pissed with her mates she met someone that apparently was much more in to her than I was. In fact my best mate's girlfriend told me that the new bloke had gotten into her on the first night of her holiday, in the car park of the hotel complex to be exact. I felt a bit slighted and somewhat lonely for a few weeks, but not like I was going to weep about it or anything. A month or so later I went off on a guys stag weekend for that best mate, and we spent the weekend in the country, driving quad bikes on the Saturday morning, trap shooting in the afternoon, a huge piss-up in the evening, followed by a rather hung-over paintball session Sunday morning, and a hysterical drag hunt with the hen party in the afternoon, trying hard to stay on horses that almost none of us were used to riding, that didn't want to behave and wanted to jump over low fences and for us to fall off them. Miss White. As we trotted across the countryside on rather uncomfortable saddles I saw a face I thought I recognized, and it wasn't until the barbecue of fantastic steaks, farm sausages and burgers served to us in whole baguettes that I looked across the marquee we were in and I finally remembered where I knew her from. It was Miss White, class tutor of my final year at secondary school. Okay, I'm a bloke right; I should have looked longer at her face, but my eyes went straight at the body of the hottest girl in the place in tight jeans and a linen shirt half buttoned over a tailored vest top that showed a narrow waist and perfect stomach, a fantastic bosom with a fine cleavage, and hips in perfect proportion was an arse to match. I appreciated that great rack I'd only ever seen swamped in suit jackets and baggy white shapeless blouses. Back in the day, Miss White was a bit of a hard arse and extremely tough on her classes. With the benefit of hindsight she was, in the scheme of things, an extremely young teacher, and the secondary school I was at ten years back was a tough place for a twenty three year old straight out of education herself. "Fit as fuck isn't she," said my mate the groom snapping me out of my reverie. "That's Jo, Melanie's cousin, but they're close like sisters, even though she's a bit older. She's a school teacher, she can teach me whenever she feels like it." "She did teach me," I said, sipping at my umpteenth bottle of beer from that weekend, "and I swear she never looked like that when she taught me history and sociology in my last year." "You lucky ...
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  • Older Women: Part 2

    Older Women: Part 2
    Nov 4 2025
    Older Women: Part 1 A young man, in praise of the older woman, well two actually. A 3-part series. By Androgynous other. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. My Virginity Therapist. I can't say that my schooling was exceptional, over and above some reasonable exam results I did Okay and wasn't in too much shit with either teachers or other pupils. I had a couple of girlfriends, none of which went past the making out in the park after school. I went to college, on the basis of those results I got a good job in Engineering which would sponsor me through University and after a few years was looking for the right girl, or at least the wrong girl in the right place. Don't get me wrong, I was no stud but I'd had a fantastic introduction to sex. Like all the best porn films I'd been led astray by an older woman. During my second year at University I couldn't get a place in the halls of residence and hadn't been able to get cheap rooms on campus and had to go out and rent a room. I was put on to a family member that lived on the outskirts of town, some way off from my University but my landlady worked in town and would drop me off as often as possible. My landlady Amy was in late forties, extremely attractive, positive and vivacious and was nursing her husband Tom who was in the last stages of Parkinson's. Her husband was ten or more years older than her, and had been a high level non-medical manager in the health service who'd gradually succumbed to his illness. I'd met them a couple of times at family parties and weddings and the like but didn't know them that well. Husband Tom was a 'work-hard play hard' type of guy that 'lived life in top gear' or at least gave that impression and liked to show off about his latest golf club, new running shoes and male menopause car, and my Dad confessed that he'd never liked him that much and he'd always seemed a bit 'up himself considering he was just a pushy clerk' but we were all saddened to learn of his illness. Working with medics and knowing that his prognosis for Parkinson's was not good, when he reached a certain point in his condition he'd requested that he could stop eating and drinking, . While his doctors had said that he probably had a couple of years of 'quite reasonable' health he wanted none of it and could not, would not be 'a healthy brain trapped in a twitching, twisted, helpless, dribbling, doubly incontinent body slowly shutting down'. And so with a wildly twitching head and hand he searched the internet on his laptop computer and impressed with what he found, he concentrated as hard as he could to read what was on the screen. It was simple, he decided he would decline food and drink. He asked Amy for his favorite meal that he could still manage and she went to their regular Indian restaurant and remembering him and his sad decline they cooked him a special chicken biryani along with all of his favorite sides. She propped him up in his bed and gave him his tablets, and he took them with his beer. They laughed and joked and he reminded her of their life together. She shed a few tears and he said that with her support, this was to be his final meal and his final drink, and that by his best guess his life should end in a week to ten days. Having watched her wonderful, bright, active husband become this bed-bound twitching wreck had broken her heart and she wasn't sure that she could watch him undertake this final journey and said so. Huge tears slipped down his face and that was enough. When the nurse came to help with his bed time routine he announced his decision. The nurse said that she would have to tell the doctor, but they helped him upstairs and into his own bed where he'd asked that he could spend his final days. His doctor called around the next morning and he knew his patient well; after some pointless discussion he agreed and contacted his staff to that effect. That was that; when the dehydration began to cause him pain, the district nurses put him on to morphine and after 15 long days he finally slipped away. I arrived ten days after his death and a week before his funeral. Amy was a first or second cousin of my Mum - extended family - and much as my Mum had said that I should give everyone time to get over the death and not move in until after, perhaps sleep on a mate's floor or a local B&B. Amy said that I was most welcome and would help to take everyone's minds off of the next few days so I moved in. Amy was curvy and sexy but amazingly sad. I made myself as useful as I could, loading the washing machine, packing the dishwasher, vacuuming etc. I made tea and coffee and tried to help seeing as both of her children were due back from University for their father's funeral, both Tom and Amy had insisted that they should continue studying. They came home the night before and I offered to move out of the spare room to give everyone time to grieve, but none of them would have it. On the day of the funeral I got up at six and threw myself ...
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