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Hello guys, My name is Ray. Today, I’m going to share my hot sex story. Hope you will will like it.

Hot Sex Stories

Yesterday was the anniversary of my second and current marriage. I’ve never, or rarely, been so happy in my life as this past year. It’s a total turnaround when compared with my first marriage. Nevertheless, I never could have believed my happiest anniversary could be so disturbing for me. But that’s something to be told later on.

My first marriage had never been really enjoyable, other than the first few days when I and my wife screwed each other like bunnies, nearly non-stop, and also when our kids were born. In hind sight, I’m not sure if I was stupid, or if my parents were stupid, to have acknowledged, or accepted, the responsibility to have this marriage started.

It started when I went over to pick up my girlfriend Josephine — or Jo, as everyone would call her. In fact, up until now, I’m still uncertain if I should have even called her my girlfriend. I’d only dated her once, and we had sex during that date. I didn’t get to go out with her until two months later, on the day of my high school graduation, and that was when the nightmare began. She told me she was pregnant and I was the father, because I was the only guy who had slept with her for the past several months.

You guessed it right. Even though I believed I was in love with her, I denied responsibility. How could a teen who could barely make it to graduation want to be a father? It was the only time her tears had no effect on me.

Things changed a few evenings later when I came home to find Jo’s parents talking with my folks. They were supposed to be friends as they had known each others for decades, but it was the first time I’d seen Jo’s parents at my parents’ house. They all considered me responsible to what had happened to Jo, and a man’s responsibility was to take care of the mother and the baby. It was also my only choice if I wanted to stay at my folks’ house.

I was unemployed and didn’t have a chance to go to college, due to both academic and financial reasons. My choices were either to become a homeless single guy or a husband and father living in his folks’ house. I chose the latter. You don’t have to tell me that I made a stupid decision. But, hey, I was stupid back then, although I probably still am.

My father was a handyman and had suggested to me that I follow him, but I disliked that trade. My father-in-law was so nice to me he found me an opportunity working at an entertainment park. I kind of liked that job. My favorite duty was operating the roller coaster, but most often they made me wear that fluffy mascot suit, which I really hated.

Most girls working at the entertainment park were about my age, and a few of them were quite casual when it came to intimacy. I won’t pretend to be a salt of the earth, and admit I had a few brief joyful experiences with them. Sometimes I felt sorry after the pleasure for having cheated behind my wife, even though the girls didn’t care. Sometimes I didn’t care either, because every married guy there I knew did the same thing.

All the pitiful feelings I’d been experiencing for several months vanished when our first daughter was born. I’d never seen a prettier face in my entire life. The instant I saw her, I loved her more than any living creature I’d ever seen. I was so glad I’d made the right decision. We named her Karen. The existence of Karen also rekindled my relationship with Jo, as well as creating a closer bond between me and my parents.

Two years later our son Larry was born. By this time we had already moved out of my parents’ house and lived in a small apartment. I was still working at the entertainment park, and I had a few chances of being promoted, but every time they gave the chances to some smarter, harder working, and nicer looking guys and girls. I was a little upset every time, but I had a warm and loving family I could return to after work, a luxury not many of my coworkers had.

Jo started working part-time a couple of years later. She didn’t graduate from her high school, but she was much smarter than I was. She started out as a part-time receptionist at a hair saloon, and gradually earned her hair dresser license. Our financial situation had also improved steadily, even though I still hadn’t gotten a promotion.

Another couple of years later, I thought I was eventually getting a promotion when I was called to my supervisor’s office at the entertainment park, but instead I was laid off as they were downsizing their operation following an economic slump.

If this was a hit in my arm, it was a full blown punch in my nose a month later, when Jo told me she wanted a divorce. She told me the reason was our inability to live in harmony. She also told me she wanted the kids, and offered to waive the alimony requirement in return. I was unemployed, and I couldn’t feed and take care of our kids while looking for a job, not to mention I didn’t have the financial resource for a lengthy legal battle. I eventually agreed.

Yeah, you guessed it right again. I became an alcoholic. I drifted from one brief placement to another, and lived in a rat’s nest. I only cleaned and tidied myself up every alternate weekend when I went and visited my kids.

I underestimated Jo. Right after our divorce, and possibly during the process, I’d been suspecting that she was involved with another man. I was wrong. She might be otherwise involved, but she lived by herself, making a decent living, and raising our kids well. She even encouraged me to quit drinking and work harder for my own sake, but why should I care?

A year later, Jo remarried. Her new husband was an album label producer. They met a few months ago when he was a customer of her hair saloon. I still got to go to their house to visit my kids, but I found it increasingly uneasy for me, mentally, while I hung around with my kids at their backyard or in the nearby parks in a nice suburban environment.

My last job before I quit drinking was serving as a bouncer at a night club. One night, I thought I was the last one beside the manager to leave when I found a young background singer Zoë weeping half-naked on the floor in the locker room, slowly putting on her clothes. I stared at her chest and thighs as I asked her what had happened, but she didn’t tell. She kept on weeping even after she’d dressed and was on her way out of the club.

I hadn’t been in that job for long, but I’d been told, and I also knew, that the fewer questions I asked, the better it would be for everyone. I checked the whole place again before I told the manager that the place was cleared and then left myself. I saw Zoë outside the club. She told me she had no place to stay for the night. Even though it was illogical, because she had to have a place to stay the night before, I agreed to let her stay at my place for the night.

Nah, don’t be such a pervert, folks. I didn’t fuck Zoë. In fact, I started drinking the moment I stepped into my room in a flophouse. I could barely see she came out of my bathroom wrapped in my only clean towel before I passed out in my chair.

When I woke up the next day, Zoë was already gone, but she’d also tidied up my place somehow. It was nice for her to have done that, whether she treated it as a payment in lieu or a gesture of care. I saw her at the club that night, but we didn’t talk, nor did she come to my place again. A week or so later though, Zoë stopped showing up at work.

When I returned home from visiting my kids a couple of weeks later, I saw Zoë sitting on the floor outside my door. She followed me into my place without a word. She again used my bath and bed and cleaned up my place in return. We remained having this strange landlord and tenant relationship for another week before we really started talking to each other.

Zoë had moved over from a small town a few months ago, seeking opportunities in various clubs. She’d been sharing a room with another background singer. She was sexually assaulted by her roommate’s boyfriend before she moved out. She was offered a bed by another singer at the club, only to find herself a target of abuse by him and assaults by his friends. The safest place on earth for her over the past several weeks had been my dirty and filthy room.

Zoë went on working on and off at different clubs while staying with me. I wasn’t sure if she did so because my bed was free, or whether it was because I was drunk every night and wouldn’t assault her.

A few weeks later, I was fired by my manager when he caught me stealing a bottle of liquor. Zoë was practicing her singing in my room when I came back. After finding out what had happened to me, she put aside her cassette recorder and talked to me. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “But I think one day I’ll make it. I know I can sing. I’ll work hard on it and I know I’ll have a future. What about you?”

I didn’t say a word, but found a bottle of cheap liquor from the chest of drawers. However, before I started gulping, Zoë ran over and snatched the bottle away from me. “Did you hear me?” she said, raising her tone a little and with a stern look on her face.

I stared at her. It was the first time I really looked at her face and paid attention. She was almightily beautiful. No wonder she’d been assaulted so often before. If I’d seen her when I was working at the entertainment park, I wouldn’t have hesitated to put a move on her. Of course it was different now. I didn’t care about anything except when I was with my kids during my biweekly visits, but that joy had also been diminishing as I could sense a gap growing between my kids and me.

“Give it back to me,” I said dryly to her, while reaching out my shaky hand.

“Do your kids know what you do every night, gulping down a bottle before you pass out in your goddamn chair? Ray, this is the safest place for me on earth, but it’s also disgusting to see a guy like you.

I’ve never…”

I didn’t hear the later part of her speech, because I’d started weeping. I didn’t know how much my kids knew about my life. I was sure they would turn their back on me if they knew about my drinking problem. I’d lost most things I owned after my divorce with Jo, but I’d lost definitely everything once I’d started drinking.

I didn’t even know whether I’d been weeping all the time, or had I been talking with Zoë. But by the time I’d regained consciousness, I was in my chair stroking Zoë’s hair while she was sitting on the floor with her head on my lap. We remained in that position the entire night.

I decided to quit drinking. I couldn’t afford going to institutions, so I had to do it with my willpower alone. Actually I wasn’t alone, because I had Zoë with me. I didn’t know how she made it, but she happened to be beside me whenever my demon took over and I was about to get a bottle again.

I found a job in gardening and landscaping. I believe the laboring outdoor job that had me exposed to the nature and plants, somehow, also contributed to my success in quitting drinking. Nevertheless, nothing could have succeeded without Zoë. I moved out of the flophouse and rented a small apartment. I let Zoë have the bed while I occupied the couch.

I was astonished when Jo and her husband invited me to a dinner before their first anniversary. During the meal, which was the first time I’d eaten with Jo after our divorce, my ex-wife told me it was to celebrate my success in becoming a man again.

When I returned to my apartment, I saw Zoë crying in her bed. She had just been assaulted by her manager. I held her in my arms until she dozed off a couple of hours later, still snuggling up against me.

The next time when I saw Jo’s husband, I put aside my pride — even though I didn’t have much of it left — and asked him for help. I hoped he could lend a hand to a young and vulnerable singer. I gave him my word I would do anything for him in return, even to murder a competing label producer.

I didn’t know how much Jo’s husband had helped Zoë. I never talked with her about her career. I was scared if she had another story about being assaulted. As a matter of fact, we didn’t talk much to each other most of the time. I knew I was the closest person to her, and she was the same to me. I also knew if she succeeded, we would be going our different ways.

The day finally came about a year later when Zoë was to leave. She got a chance in New York, a very good chance as she told me. She bought me a candlelight dinner. She kissed me passionately when we returned to our place — the first time we kissed. “Do you know that I’ve never loved anyone so much?” she whispered in my ear after the kiss. “Not even a tiny fraction.”

I didn’t know. But I knew I loved her dearly. I knew I wouldn’t hesitate to die for her. It would be nice if we could have a chance to live a second life. But it was also silly to express love on the eve of separation. We’d be living very different lives very shortly. I gulped, but some words still slipped out of my mouth. “I love you, too, Zoë.”

I’d never felt so erotic before as when she blew air at my face while looking at me with her watery eyes, and her body rubbing tenderly against my uncontrollable bulge. It was a strange feeling, but what was even more strange was neither of us took the next step. I kind of enjoyed the status quo feeling, and it seemed she did as well.

When I woke up the next morning, we were in her bed, still fully dressed, with her snuggling up against my chest. I wished there had been a camera that could capture the scene and the feeling. Actually, just the scene not the feeling, because until today, I can still feel it.

Slowly, and gradually, Zoë had some moderate success in singing. She had become a part of a somewhat popular combination. We didn’t communicate with each other much, because there wasn’t such a need. I knew how she’d been doing, and she knew my situation through our minimal conversations.

I eventually got a promotion in my gardening job. Once I was recognized for my ability, the recognitions came one after another. I’m now a branch manager of a chain operation.

The first day I became a manager, I fired a divorced woman called Ann, who had been on the job for about a week, for sneaking away during her shift. I later found out she did so to take care of her sick son. She didn’t know of her labor rights and didn’t want to take the time off because money was tight for her. I offered to give the job back to her but she declined and found another job. Nevertheless, we started talking, and eventually started dating.

It took a very long time for both of us to make a huge decision of getting together. Both of us didn’t want a mistake again. She also wanted to make sure I’d love her son enough. There were fewer problems with or from my kids, because after all, they didn’t live with me, and they were a little older.

This past year with Ann was indeed the happiest part of my life. There were no sorrows, only joy. There were tensions at work, but I was always able to handle them. I had a much better relationship with my parents than at anytime in the past. My kids with Jo respected and loved both me and Ann. I got along with Ann’s son very well. I couldn’t have lived a better life this past year.

Yesterday was our first anniversary, but it wasn’t a weekend or a holiday. Being a manager of a chain operation, I couldn’t afford the luxury of taking a day off during this season. In fact, Ann also had to work. However, I’d reserved a table at a nice restaurant in the evening, and I’d sent flowers to Ann’s work place.

I was extremely shocked when I received a phone call before lunch time. The call was from Zoë. I hadn’t been following her closely for some time, but I still knew she was supposed to be in another city, a few hours’ drive away on a promotional campaign. I carefully asked her how she’d been doing. “I’m in town,” she said, a little hesitantly. “Do you want to have lunch together?”

The atmosphere was a little tense when I saw her in her hotel room. She didn’t want to see me in a public restaurant as she was, after all, somehow a celebrity. She led me to the table with the room service meal already set up and gave me her blessing for my anniversary. “I wish you and your wife all the best,” she said softly. “Even though you didn’t invite me to your wedding.”

In fact, it took me a long while to decide whether to invite Zoë to my wedding a year ago. Zoë had been the most important person in my life. No doubt about it. She deserved to be with me on my big day. However, it could also be cruel to have her present and witness the joyful woman that wasn’t Zoë herself. I knew it would be a heartbreaking moment for her. I couldn’t make up my mind in the end, and gave up.

I looked at her, and knew my eyes were a little wet. Zoë then smiled at me, also with misty eyes. Apparently she knew what I was thinking. We never had to talk much, or to talk at all, to understand each other. After all, we came together at the lowest point of our lives. We’d gone through a lot together.

“Cheers!” Zoë raised her glass of wine towards me, and then tears started flowing down her face. The next thing I knew, I was at her side, holding her firmly, as she sniffled softly in my arms.

After a while, she raised her face to me. “You’d better go now, Ray.”

I nodded my head, but instead of leaving her room, I found myself kissing her. We were both breathing rapidly after a passionate kiss when she again suggested that I should go.

I gave her a tender pat on her cheek and started to turn around. However, moments later, I found myself in the bed, kissing her and stripping her. From then on it was a point of no return. I had the most vibrant, passionate, and sensational sex of my life with the girl I’d loved the most for my entire life.

“I’m sorry, Ray,” Zoë said softly as we started getting dressed afterwards. “I feel sorry. I feel sorry to have come. But I couldn’t help it. I just wanted to see you. I’m sorry.” She threw her arms around my neck once again and kissed me ardently. “I’ll love you all my life, but I’ll never see you again. I promise.”

I had a romantic anniversary dinner with Ann in the evening, and we made passionate love after returning home. But I’ve been having a disturbing feeling since I’d left Zoë’s hotel room. I’ve been questioning my decision of letting Zoë go and staying with Ann. I know I love Ann, and I’m prepared to remain hers all my life, but nobody can possibly replace Zoë. Nobody. Not a chance. I won’t hesitate to die multiple times for Zoë but I’m not sure if I’d do the same for Ann. I don’t even feel guilty about having sex of my life with Zoë on my anniversary day. I don’t know what to do. I know Zoë will keep her promise of staying away from me, but will it be the end? I don’t know.

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