Your erotic stories

She passed Fifth Street and checked her watch, right on schedule and thankfully the crossing light was on her side this morning so she eased across the intersection without having to stop. Music from her IPod spurred her on as she rounded the corner on Jackson Avenue, in the home stretch now. The warm early May morning sun at her back, she could see the entrance to the building at the end of the city block and urged herself to push a little harder.

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They had been married for several years and their sex life had been wonderful, although less frequent since the children had arrived. Candace loved to fuck, there was no question about that, she enjoyed every kind of sex her husband and she had shared, but it had become insufficient because of the infrequency.

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Feeling that deep thrill, that slow burn that seems to consume, that long deep obsession with being worshiped. I have him on his knees now, he is complacent, docile....he is submissive. It was not always this way. We began with a completely old fashioned relationship, with no power exchange. We were blind to the Ecstasy of submission, innocent of the line between pleasure and pain.

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You greet me with a nod and a glance. I know I have to obey your instructions and walk into your room silently. I stand there as you walked around me, touching my clothes, a single finger tracing my form. Standing face to face, you grab the collar of my shirt and, expressionless, you rip it open and shred it from my body.

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A little before eight PM, the phone rang. I picked it up and said, "Hello." On the other end of the line, a breathy female voice asked, "Can I speak to Rad, please?" Rad is my internet name and a pen name I use when I write erotica. Very few people know that name and the few who do, know my real name. "Uh, this is Randy, can I help you?" There was a short silence and then a throaty laugh. "If you are the one that wrote the wonderful sexy stories I found, then you can do almost anything to me or with me that you like."

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i wonder, Sir... What if we had the opportunity to meet somewhat regularly and each session went beautifully for both of us? What if i waited for you in a lovely hotel room one summer evening? What if i put on the little blue plaid mini-skirt and white blouse, white stockings, and little lace bra and panties you'd left for me, and put my hair up in a nice ponytail, as you'd requested?

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Going through emails was normally quite tedious when you owned a website. Joseph's website, however, was a niche site that only attracted specific viewers, so the emails he received were very specific, and much more interesting.

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She sat with a glass of red wine listening to slow instrumental songs. She was remembering the past with her ex-girlfriend, Pria, the girl she had arranged to see today. They had quite a fiery relationship, and even though they seemed to hate each other now, they still had a passion between them. Danielle dropped her head into her hands as she sighed deeply, trying to think of how she would handle this conversation.

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I sensed her controlling presence as soon as I entered the room. It was like a force field around her, something that I could instinctively feel but from which nothing could be seen. First I tried to ignore it, thinking it came from my overactive imagination. Eventually, it started to overwhelm me. It intoxicated me like too many drinks at a party, making me do things I otherwise would never have dreamed of doing.

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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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