Your erotic stories

I had my "secrets" we all have them. I guess on the one hand we are terrified we will be discovered but on the other, there is that little part of us that wants to be discovered. At least that's the way it was for me. Meeting Ms. Anders changed all that. Somehow, from that first meeting, she could see all the way through me. She could see that dark secret that I always thought was safely hidden away.

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Sarah was employed as a personal secretary to one of the directors of a London finance company. She really enjoyed her job and her boss was good to her. So good in fact that they frequently slept together. She was indeed a very "personal" secretary! Sarah was waiting in the arrivals hall at Heathrow. Her boss had been called abroad on business and he had phoned to ask her to collect a couple of Arab business men. They were employed by a very wealthy oil Sheikh in one of the Gulf States and were very important customers.

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I am trembling, my legs shaking from the force of the desire i have for You, Master, and i stand in front of You, sliding into Your arms, wrapping one arm around Your neck, my fingers stroking the hair at the back of Your head and my other hand tracing across Your cheekbones and i kiss Your chin, around Your mouth and finally Your soft lips.

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"Harder, if you like." "I don't want to hurt you." "It's all right now. Please do it." She was astride him, her eyes drawn momentarily to a small bead of perspiration running from his forehead to the grey flecks at his temple, then looking down on the finger tips tightening their grip on her nipples. At the start this would have hurt but now, with her juices flowing, she liked the added stimulation, supplementing the hardness of him inside her.

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The thought of his lips on her clit sent a buzz through her belly and up her spine -- like sexual thoughts had intoxicated her mind when she was a teenager. But she was no longer a teenager. Professor Sherry looked in the mirror in the restroom before she walked back to her class. She didn't look 40. She definitely didn't feel 40. Her palms pushed down against her pert breasts covered in her deep purple blouse.

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He poured the warm oil across her shoulders and it slid down the curve towards the small of her back, drawn to the crease over her spine. Gooseflesh rose out of pure sensual bliss. That and the thoughts that sliding oil inspired: What if his hands, now warm and large and resting over her shoulder blades, thumbs turned inward, were to continue downward, the thumbs meeting in the center, the hands coming together as her waist narrowed before....

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Surrounded by beautiful people, anyone less than breathtaking tends to blend into the wall paper. They are gods who must not be crossed, and everyone else is stupid, boring and irritating. After a few months, when I got used to being ignored and unimportant in my life's passion as I'd been ignored and unimportant in everything else, beauty just became a part of the wallpaper. They were all alike, these beautiful models, each as stupid, boring and selfish as the last.

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A trim blond with an amazing chest strutted by the glass front of my office. I watched her full breasts as they bounced with each step she took. "Molly," I called out, trying to calm the naughty thoughts that surfaced each time I saw that lovely body. The buxom blond stuck her head into my office. My eyes immediately drifted again to her ample chest. Molly has one of those chests that men dream about. Her full D-cups pushed at the fabric of her shirt, which was unbuttoned far enough to reveal a healthy amount of cleavage.

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Anna's parents came from Europe. Her father was a tall blond from Poland and her mother a red-haired beauty from Ireland. Yet poor Anna was stuck with the wrong branch of the DNA. She was six feet and then some in her socks. Her face was plain with a broad forehead, long jaw and beaked nose. Most of her height was in her legs. She wore men's jeans with a 30 inch waist and 36 inch inseam. Her hair was neither blond nor red but a sad mixture resulting in a rough brown. Her height served her well in obtaining a volleyball scholarship to college where she majored in business.

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I am a freshman in college and my dorm roommate is also. I am named April and she is named May. There, I got that over with. We didn't plan to room together, didn't even know each other, it fact the roster from which we were selected by our dorm leader was made up of last names – mine was Stengle and hers was Swanson – so it was actually last names starting with ‘S' that threw us together.

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