Your erotic stories

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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She had spent all of the last week waiting for him, making sure she didn't miss her train - the 722 to Waterloo. She stood in exactly the same place on the train. She was totally besotted by a man that had never spoken to her and whose name she didn't know. She had barely eaten since he had taken her on the stairs.

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It had been a while since her Master had had time to play with her. His schedule at work, and the classes he was taking really cut into their time together. She had started to feel neglected, and as a result started to slip into bad habits. She was not showing him proper respect; Sir had all but been eliminated from her vocabulary.

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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 had just negotiated a new contract with the company I work for and part of the package was a new life insurance policy. Instead of paying more income tax on a pay rise I accepted the insurance policy.

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"Ah, the workmen are through for the day," Paige thought as she watched the men loading their pickups and preparing to leave. They were working to create a studio and large bedroom with attached bath out of what had been three small bedrooms upstairs in the big barn of a house she bought for a song because it was so far from town. They had been working for over a week, tearing down walls and running new wires and plumbing for the project.

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At last, I see them leaving the house; she is now alone and no doubt, logging into the computer and; expecting to see me there for our regular chats. Looking around I could see that I am totally free to enter, nobody showing any interest in a delivery guy, I mean, who cares? I go around to the back door and finding it unlocked, I quickly slip inside and make no noise that should alert her to an unexpected visitor.

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Greg sat in his office smiling. He could not believe his luck. The 44 year old electrical contractor had been given the CCTV system by one of his customers. The installation of the cameras was easy. He and one of his electricians had mounted the five cameras up in the various areas of the office and had the entire system up and running in less than two hours. He had no idea the benefits that this thing would reap until now.

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The Wrightsville yacht harbor dipped beneath the horizon off the stern of the big sloop. As its hull neatly parted the waves, the rigging beneath the taut sail hummed while the breeze of the yacht's passage gave relief from the muggy July heat of the North Carolina coast. Brenda watched the coast disappear for a few minutes and then turned to the woman sitting beside her.

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She kneeled in front of the wood stove, laying the paper, kindling and logs for the fire carefully. Rocking back on her heels, she lit it, watching the flames grow, hearing them crackle. Once she was sure it had caught, she closed the doors and stood up, walking over to the chaise that faced the fire. The room was lit only by the small tree and several candles, the scent of cinnamon on the air.

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