Your erotic stories

Becky bends over, leans into Paul's ear. "It's stuffy in here," she says. "Let's go for a walk." Paul looks up and watches her retreat around the coffee table. He pardons himself to his two bookend sofa-mates – the gregarious Auntie Lou and the diametric Grandma Claire, a stick with permanently down-turned lips and hardened scowl. Paul is relieved to escape her still life painting.

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She lay there, trembling. The vibe, small and purple, single battery operated had seemed harmless enough when he’d pulled it out of the drawer. He was expecting company, though didn’t want her to feel like he wasn’t thinking about her and caring for her needs.

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Let me help you understand my views on this. Dom/sub relationships are not about the bondage or the spanking or calling one Sir - or the other any sort of pet names - but it more on the way that two people interact. There are some assumptions that can be made - but then while interacting - no assumptions should be made - that is where you need to find out your partner.

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It was by pure accident that Alyssa Cannon stumbled across the extensive, bondage file that her boss stored on his business laptop, but once the discover was made, she found it impossible to return to a state where she could look at Nick Nolen and simply see a reserved, somewhat arrogant, and often highly annoying accounting executive in one of the most prominent firms New York City had to offer; in the first days following her surprise findings, she felt herself flush whenever she was forced to be near him...

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"There," she thought, admiring herself in the mirror. A cross stood out proudly on her chest, executed in black, cloth tape, the arms of the adhesive crucifix covering much of her breasts, the rest extending down her sternum to her belly. She adjusted her Catholic-school skirt, and reached for the makeshift headpiece with which she completed her revealing nun's habit.

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Few things are as beautiful as the sight of you lying there on the bed, all naked, waiting for me . . . it is so exciting. I carress your body while you let your hand run up and down my hard penis, preparing it for your wet mound. . . . I give you a warm kiss, and let my erection touch your thigh . . . will you open your thighs for me, allow me in? I know you will, I think you want it as much as I do. Yes. . . .

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I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the 34th floor. Being country born and bred I had never liked high buildings and I held my breath as I was rushed upwards. I looked in the mirror and straightened my tie, made sure my hair was neat and soon the doors quietly opened and I stepped out into the plush decor of the executive suites.

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I could feel his hot breath on my neck, teasing me in-between the nips he was leaving. My hand ran through his wavy brown hair, pulling him in demanding more. One hand was tangled in my hair, stopping the harsh brick from hurting me; the other hand brushed over my thigh as he held my leg up over his hip.

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Coming out of the bathroom, hair still wet from my shower, I stop before the bed. It's all there. He's laid it all out for me, and the tension that I had been feeling all afternoon ratchets up another notch. "Oh, god, oh god," I mutter, not really aware of what I'm saying.

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You and I are planning to get together. It is all arranged so I have a babysitter, and you have things worked out on your end. I call you at work, that afternoon, but you are in a meeting or something, so I leave you a message. I simply state that I shall expect you at 6 p.m, not a minute earlier or later. There are no 'brownie points for early arrival.'

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