Free XXX Sex Stories Blog

This is my first posting…I have more to share in the future if you like this, but must post anonymously, since I am a senior manager at a Fortune 100 company and knowledge about my extra-curricular activities would cause the end of my career.

It was hot and steamy as we arrived at the airport in Brisbane for the long journey home to Boston. This was the end of a month-long campervan vacation in Australia, and I, for one, was overjoyed to be heading back to some normalcy. For an entire month my wife Anne (I call her “the queen”) had avoided sex in the campervan, or anywhere else for that matter, since “the children are nearby.” — The irony of her way of thinking will be evident shortly.

Actually, she is not very interested in sex anytime, since she was taught by her mother that sex was “dirty.” The only time she ever saw her parents making love, they were fully clothed (hike up the skirt, dear – I’ll just quickly unzip.) Sometimes I wonder how we ever ended up with three children; one is grown and on her own, the two boys (Ralph, 17 and Trevor, 14) were with us on holiday. Because I travel regularly, I have opportunity for other sexual outlets during the year, but four plus weeks within close quarters with a demanding uptight woman does not give you much opportunity to develop alternatives.

I had some first class upgrade coupons, but at check-in time was told there was only one seat available. Anne immediately volunteered because of her “potential for a bad back,” and was seated in 3A. The boys and I were given 21K/L and 22L. This was aisle and window seating in the 2-5-2 configuration, and the last two rows in the second section. I took the single seat, and let Ralph and Trevor sit together for the first ten-hour segment of the flight.

An attractive woman dressed in a loose sweater and very tight blue jeans took the seat next to me. I could see that Ralph was uncomfortable and maybe even a little jealous, since he kept turning around to talk to me, but she was too old (29) to be interested in him. She introduced herself as Christine, “You can call me Chrissy.” She was about five foot eight, light brown (almost blond) long hair, a nice ass – firm and high, breasts with an impact even through her shapeless sweater, and obviously in good physical condition.

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When I walked into the bar, I didn’t notice her at first. I sat in a booth in a dark corner and ordered a drink from the waitress.

The waitress returned with my drink, and when I went to pay her for it, she said it had already been taken care of by the blonde at the end of the bar. I looked, and there was Sandy, sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. God, she was gorgeous! Wearing a white blouse, short black skirt, and black fishnet stockings, she sat with her legs crossed, and I could see far up her skirt. She was, without a doubt, the best looking woman in the place.

Sandy smiled at me, and, as she walked over to my table, I couldn’t help but notice her nipples, erect against the soft white silk of her low cut blouse, and the slow swaying of her breasts. She stood in front of me and asked if she could sit with me. “Sure”, I said, and she slid into the booth with me.

She told me that she was a receptionist in the hotel, and that she had just gotten off work a few minutes before. She said I looked like the kind of man she’d like to spend some time with, as she traced patterns on the inside of my thigh with her long nails. As she stroked my leg, her firm, warm breast pressed against my arm with urgency.

Sandy looked me in the eyes, and said she had a room upstairs and she’d like to take me there. She stood, took me by the hand, and led me out of the bar to the elevator. Arm in arm, the warmth of her body and the scent of her perfume were really getting to me! My cock was straining against the front of my pants, my balls tight and full.

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I started sailing on freighters when I was 18 years old. That was back in 1967, and I’ve been sailing ever since. It’s a good life for a guy who likes to be free, travel and have adventures.

Not the same kind of adventures the old timers had on those sailing vessels, though. Those days belong to ancient history. I’m talking about bedroom adventures. That was what I was looking for when I started out and I’m still looking for them, although I have had them all around the world.

I’ve been a pussy freak since I was 12. I guess you could describe me as a seaman by trade and a lover by inclination.

I’ve read these articles by different guys who said one certain ethnic type of woman was the best balling. I’ve tried them all and I can’t say that… they are ALL good! But don’t let anyone tell you that women are the same all over the world either. They are all different. Basically built the same of course, but still different in so many wonderful, interesting ways.

In Asia, Africa and Latin America, the only woman a sailor can get close to is a professional. Married women don’t dare play around and single girls live at home and are closely guarded.

But those whores are different than the walking cash register, automatic pussies we have here in the States. Those Asian, African and Latin American hookers enjoy what they do for a living and even the best of them ask so little in terms of US currency that it’s almost free.

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As a frequent jetsetter, I have for long fantasized about this exclusive club, which in reality probably has few authentic members who have genuinely screwed their way through the stratosphere. How can you manage to have-it-away on board a crowded airliner? Well recently I succeeded – and how! This amazing experience happened on the top deck of a BA 747 heading out of New York for Heathrow, with a beautiful girl I had never met before.

I had had a hectic day getting my work completed before flying out, got to the airport late, and consequently was glad to have got through the airport hassle and slump into my Club Class seat. The top deck of the 747 has a small cabin which some airlines use for first class passengers, but many including BA, use for Business Class; there are only 20 or 30 seats, which gives you the feeling of being in a small, but spacious airliner. The top deck is reached via a spiral staircase and you travel cut off from the masses on the main deck below. This flight, luckily, was fairly empty so I was fortunate that through the lottery of seat allocations, Karen, as she turned out to be named, took up the aisle seat corresponding to my window seat and nobody else got seated either between us or in the row on the other side of the aisle.

Karen was petite and blonde, about 25 I guessed, (rightly as it turned out), and clearly well formed in all the important places. She had remarkably light blue eyes and was obviously in some form of business, as she had a small patent leather brief case and when she took her coat off she was smartly dressed in a grey skirt and white blouse – which showed her firm, well-shaped figure to good effect. I found out later that she was Swedish, a junior salesperson for an internationally known cosmetics company, who at short notice had been given a lucky break to substitute for her boss on a business trip to the USA. Her smart but plain business-woman’s dress looked sexy on her. Her firm breasts thrust out firmly through her white silk blouse as she arched her back to remove her coat and hand it to the stewardess. Black lacy stockings showed her well shaped legs to advantage. But she also radiated something sensual which aroused the first slight stirrings in my crotch. I realized I was feeling quite horny and in the mood for conquest, but not in my wildest dreams did I guess what delights were to follow! (click to read entire story…)

It was three o’clock in the afternoon and it had started to rain. Wet leaves stuck to the glossy red trunk of the Jaguar, beaded with droplets, and a hazy sun caught the rear window. Bobby opened the door and sat down heavily, breathing in the leather. So that was it. The end of Arla. He looked across the passenger seat to the lawn through the streaked window, the lawn that led up to the house. The canopied street curved away before him, its houses and hedges and willows and mimosa trees dripping and green. He looked down. Suddenly he felt her legs around his head again and his face pressed so deep into her pussy that it was stopped by her pubic bone. Her fragrance was overwhelming, so close, so close…

…Arla was sitting beside him as they raced along the 101. The ocean to their right appeared and disappeared through the hills. The wind swirled into the Jag. He shifted gears. She seemed pleased with how he did that. They drove up through the hills and it got cooler. It started to rain, or was it mist? “Hey, we’re driving through a cloud,” he said.

The car felt snug and strong, and he looked over and what he saw, what he saw, was Arla slipped down below window level with her skirt hoisted up and her legs wide open and her panties pulled to the side. Smiling like the sun and moon, she seemed to fill all the space in the cabin. But Bobby was cool. He kept driving, as the wind tore at her skirt in the corner of his eye. (click to read entire story…)