Best of Epic Sex Stories by Epic Sex Stories
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The Best of Epic Sex Stories by Epic Sex Stories Like most single moms, I would do anything to support my kids. As a Vegas stripper, I have. I put myself on my book covers to remind me what inspired that epic sex story. You wouldn't believe half of the shit that I've seen or done. To find out, read my books and search for my 400 sexy photos on Flickr.com (change search filter to “restricted”). Tell me what you think at Goodreads.com. This 110,000 word book has my five most popular stories. We start with the wildly popular Coveting My Neighbor’s Wife (just read the first few pages and you’ll see why); in the Hypno-Orgasm Seduction, a man desperately in love uses orgasms induced by hypnosis to cure the woman he loves of frigidity; The satire The Perfect Husband takes a humorous look at an unusual man in an unusual marriage; a hot daughter uses sexual scandal to expose her hypocritical father in The Preacher’s Slut; and, in very rare hard-science erotica, you learn what sex in orbit would be like in The First Space Orgy. Check out my other fifteen stories by looking up Epic Sex Stories at your favorite online bookseller. Copyright © 2013 by author Epic Sex Stories Published by author Epic Sex Stories at Smashwords This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental. All rights are reserved. Except for book reviews, no more than four paragraphs can be reproduced without written permission from the author. STORY 1: COVETING MY NEIGHBOR’S WIFE CHAPTER 1 The first time I saw my new neighbor's wife, I thought, "that's as good as it gets." You know the feeling -- after seeing a Victoria's Secret commercial, browsing Maxim.com, or gracing the cover of a magazine. You just think, for that make and model, it just doesn't get any better. That's how I felt upon seeing Maria. If anyone was a 10, for me, it was her. I'm not saying she was perfect, because I don't believe anyone is perfect, but her combination was the perfect combination for me. I've been stunned before -- Catherine Zeta-Jones in Zorro, Salma Hayek in Desperado -- but never in person. I've never seen a woman so awesome that she left me rock hard at first sight. After twenty years of examining female beauty, this was a first. As she drove up in the U-Haul van, I immediately wanted to know who she was fucking. Because every beautiful woman in the world is fucking someone. Else. Whenever I see a supermodel, knowing that some lucky bastard is doing her is both humbling and excruciating. I will never get over the crush I had on the head cheerleader in high school, or forget how the entire defensive line banged her at a party I was not invited to. Like angels, hotties have always orbited just out of my reach -- I could always look, but never touch. All my life I wanted a Saturn V just so I could intercept one of those beauties. I just never dreamed that a priceless meteorite would land next door. Now what am I gonna do? If I was diabetic, I wouldn't work at See's Candy. If I had high blood pressure, I wouldn't work in high-stress sales. I know I'm a horn dog, so I stay away from temptation. That's how a guy like me stays faithful. I know my weaknesses and have adopted strategies to protect myself. I stay out of the candy store. But it never crossed my mind that the candy store would move next to me. Literally, right next door. I am fucked. Totally fucked. It would be like my fat wife inheriting a donut shop. It's just bad news. She pulled up in the driveway next to mine, long black hair blowing in the wind, her tits threatening to honk the horn if she exhaled too much. Oh, please let her be a total bitch. Please let me hate her fucking guts. "Hi, neighbor!" she yelled through the window, greeting me like an old friend. She radiated awesomeness. Her smile lit up her face like a flashlight. I’ve known many bitches. This was the first time I met an anti-bitch. "I like your flowers." Only then did I remember I was watering my wife's flower garden. She often works late, while I do programming from home, so I'm the house-dad. I cook, I clean, I garden. It's why I work out so much -- so I don't feel like a total fag. Yes, yes, I know gays work out a lot -- I'm referring to fags, not gays. "Nice to meet you," I said, drawn to her like a moth to a bonfire. "I'm Abe. Welcome to the neighborhood." She climbed down and her booty made me swoon. Honestly, it put those jean ads to shame. Her black hair flowed down to her butt and shined like a mountain lake at sunset. I thought I heard that guy from Twilight Zone start talking, but the pain from my cock, straining against my kakis, zoned him out. She turned around and realized all my fears. She looked like she fell out of Playboy. The beautiful face came with a killer body that any ninja would die for. I almost fell over like a corpse. A gentle breeze almost made me shoot my load. She only wore blue jeans and a tight t-shirt, but they explained everything that I needed to know. "I'm Maria," she said, holding out her hand, the complete opposite of the bitch I hoped for. Her jet black hair, olive skin, and dark eyes pulled me in like a black hole. My knee-jerk reaction was to water her shirt with my garden hose to see it cling to her artificially enlarged breasts. Instead I had the good sense to just shake her fucking hand, knowing I would never forget our first -- and probably last -- physical contact. "I hear good things about the neighborhood." "Not from me," I quipped, smiling. "Nah, it's a great place to live. Everyone within easy walking distance must have money to afford this area, so it's pretty quiet. Even the criminals wear suits." Her carefree laugh melted me. I’ve never made anyone that beautiful laugh before -- even babies look at me puzzled. The greatest aphrodisiac ever invented was someone laughing at your lame jokes. "I love your accent. Where are you from?" "Medellin, Colombia, and I'm mad I still have an accent after so many years here." "Accents are sexy," I said, too quickly. She gave me that look -- you know the one that women give -- and I backtracked like Michael Jackson doing the moon walk. "Not yours, unfortunately, but mine is so sexy," I said doing my best Schwarzenegger impression. Her easy chuckle somehow tickled my toes. I immediately thanked my lucky stars that I didn't ask if she was from Mexico. Central Americans, in particular, hate being called Mexicans. I don't know why I thought she was Mexican. She was beautiful, and not even beautiful Mexicans look Mexican. Just take Selma Hayek. "And how long is that?" "Since Sheldon married me almost ten years ago." Stupid me, I whistled. "Sorry, but you don't look like you've endured ten years of marriage. Unless they were dog years. You smile too much, for one thing." Indeed, I put her at 23 at most. Time to change the subject. "No kids?" I asked, hoping she had a dozen rotten brats. "Nope. I had an injury long ago that made it dangerous for me to have kids, so the doctor tied my tubes. How about you?" "A fourteen-year-old boy, Alex, and a sixteen-year- old girl, Justine." "Ah, you'll be a grandpa in no time." She just met me and already she was fucking with me. Fun, funny, hot, friendly, cheerful -- she even seemed super nice. God was tempting me like Job. No wonder God named “work” after the bastard. "I told my kids I'll disinherit them if they make me a grandfather before I'm 40. I'm still trying to convince them to not make me a grandfather before they're 40. What do you do for a living?" "Make my husband happy." There. She said it. I like that she made no bones about her role in his life. Now, maybe I could put my temptations to bed. So to speak. "He's a heart surgeon at UCLA Medical. He also teaches at the university there. Me? I make hand-crafted dolls that I sell on EBay, but it's more like a hobby that funds my shopping sprees. I don't need expensive clothes or jewelry, but I'm a sucker for shoes. This whole van is just for my shoes." I looked in astonishment at the U-Haul. Then her smile gave her away, and I realized I probably looked like Forrest Gump examining shrimp. I must have matured over the years because, instead of getting defensive, I laughed and held up my palm. She completed the High-Five with a satisfying slap as I lost myself in her dark eyes. I never knew eyes could have such depth or warmth. I didn’t appreciate until much later just how long she met my gaze.