Heterosexual Stories

A story in the Hermaphrodite/Androgeny Universe
A sixty-year-old late blooming Australian actor on his way to a meeting with Angelina Jolie is hijacked from his limousine and brought aboard an alien spaceship. He awakens to find that Ms Jolie has been kidnapped, too, and that they have both been subjected to chromosome and DNA-altering mutagens. Is this real? Why have they been chosen? Does the fate of these aliens truly rest on their shoulders? Are these aliens humankind’s progenitors?

A boy named Garret rises above the bullshit in the world.

Paul Hartstein an aspiring, but unpublished author, opens our story by calling on his friends Jim and Celia Masters. Only Jim isn't home. Celia recalls only too well the times she shared Paul's bed back in college. But that's just the opening chapter.

A boy is asked to play the piano while his teacher practices her dance. Soon he's getting a lesson in another art. (Celeste's score: 10, 10, 10. "This is an exceptionally well-written story. The description and integration with the musical theme was so well done that I practically came just reading about the dance scenario ... The actual sex was even more vivid. I strongly recommend this story!")

A rewrite of a story by Joe Slackie from the early internet days. An older man rapes young girls and impregnates them - or is he seduced by them? Almost entirely a stroke story.

Steve is surprised/shocked! The two girls he’s dating are sisters! A threesome forms then a third sister joins. Friends arrive causing additional loving and sexual relationships. He hides nothing as his sphere expands. He involves guy friends to help out with his ‘harem’. A wedding and highly sexual five-day ‘reception’ cap off the story, along with the perfect living situation.

The wife thinks he's a Romeo, and so does his daughter's friend. Can a regular Joe remain that way?

Strangers in the night get something straight between them when a runaway abused Black wife with a prominent Angelina Jolee bubble butt has her tight pussy speared, stretched and filled to overflowing by a wealthy, very well hung, white wanderer.

Ellen had never loved any man but her husband. On a foggy afternoon she walked through a once fashionable, and now deserted, neighborhood to the eighteenth cemetery where he was interred in the family mausoleum. She came to talk about their son.