Your erotic stories

You check the mirror for the last time. The blue slut top. The collar and fishnets. The heels look good. And the riding crop feels at home in your hand. You're ready for him now. As you leave the bedroom and make your way to where he is waiting, you find an anger you didn't know you had welling up inside.

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The music thudded and pulsed through the private party. Female escorts provided for the evening mingled with executives and local politicians who networked and chatted in the bar area, or who clustered round the raised stage, waving paper money and begging for the dancer's attention.

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As Lorraine walked up the steps of the mansion for Andrew's one o'clock lesson, she could hear him butchering Beethoven's "Für Elise" in a way so awful it had to be intentional. Sure enough, the musical carnage soon ended in a burst of raucous laughter followed by the sound of several people slamming their hands down on the keyboard—all in all a forced, nasty sound.

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He is lying in her arm, she touches his face, her gentle voice is sending shivers down his spine, just like all the times. She is playing with his nipples again, they are already hurting a bit. She is talking to him with her calm voice. He had to masturbate in front of her and had to stop just before cumming. Cumming was strictly forbidden. Just using his full strength he was able to do so. She knew more about his body than he did himself. When there were only two or three moves left until his explosion he heard her gentle order: "Stop!"

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"I told you NOT to run by the pool, young lady." I looked up from my position on the wet concrete. It wasn't the best position to be in, especially considering that Matt Shepherd, the city's hottest lifeguard, was standing over me, one leg on both sides...if I sat up, my mouth would be at his crotch.

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She had gotten drunk, very, very drunk. She had no clue how she'd gotten home. She sat up only to flinch as she opened her eyes. Ouch! She saw two pills and a glass of water by the bed, along with a note. She reached for the pills and water, hoping they would help kill the pain from one hell of a hangover. Damn it, what had happened last night? As she drank the water, shadowy memories of the night before crept into her mind.

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Julie duly accompanied her husband Richard to the airport as he left for another of his overseas business trips. The Rolls Royce cruised along the country lanes with Peter, the recently appointed chauffeur/stable master, driving in the front seat. Richard had his nose stuck in business papers and as Julie gazed out the windows her mind once again turned to the smell of the leather.

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When you finally push back your chair and stand, approaching me, my fingers wiggle slightly to try to gain back some feeling. My relief when you unshackle me from the doorway is completely short-lived. You hand me your empty coffee cup, then brush past me with nothing more than a slap on the ass and a smirk. My face is hot with anger and disbelief as I wait for the numbness in my hands and feet to wear off, then hobble to refill your fucking coffee.

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So she was seeing someone. I didn't expect her to wait for me, we had only been out a couple times before I left... and I didn't know when I would be back, it would have been unfair of me to make that request. Plus, I had a feeling that she would need the time to enjoy her new-found freedom, making her more ready for me when I returned.

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The smell of autumn was in the air, as the gentle breeze kissed my cheeks. Strolling through the farmer's market on an early Saturday morning, the sun was just starting to emerge. The rays of light dancing around me, I couldn't think of a better place I'd rather be.

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