Your erotic stories

Madeleine sighed and hit Disconnect on the call window. Another rude asshole. She thought. The days were supposed to feel shorter when you have a lot of work to keep you busy, however bad calls like that made them drag on forever. "Hang in there." A pleasant voice floated over her cubicle.

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She rolled lazily to her back, her hair falling gently across her forehead. Her toes gently brushed against the smoothness of the sheets as she relished the warmth and comfort of her bed. She suddenly felt the blood rush to her face as the memories of the previous night returned. It had started like so many other of "his" little adventures.

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The slip of imported paper shook in his hand as he stood waiting for the elevator. Shaking hands were something he had gotten used to on the drive to Bal Harbor, his mind cluttered with thoughts that she wouldn’t be there, that he wouldn’t be on time; or even worse, that she would be and he would be prompt.

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It started innocently enough I just never thought it would go as far as it did. I became acquainted with Suzanne through a popular erotic story website. In my spare time I write erotic fiction and Suzanne provided feedback on a few stories I wrote. She said she like my stores and wanted to know when I was writing more.

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"I've got an important project for you Rebecca," Mrs. Stone said. Finally, a real project, Rebecca thought. She had accepted a job as Mrs. Stone's PA after becoming unemployed. The pay was good. The hours were horrible. And Mrs. Stone was very demanding. Most managers didn't expect to work personal assistants like they did in the old day. But, Mrs. Stone did. She wanted coffee.

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Frankie, the girl who waxed Mistress Vixen so beautifully had no idea of Vixen's profession. She saw a striking, powerful woman who dressed simply and elegantly and assumed that she was some sort of corporate executive. Like a number of similar, if not quite so formidable looking women, who looked after their bodies, Vixen used a lot of the spa's services. Some of them also chose to have a Brazilian wax. There was no reason to think that this quiet, relaxed client was particularly out of the ordinary.

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Yes, I'm a masseur but let me get one thing straight right from the start. I am fully qualified in both sports and relaxation massage. I do not ever give a sexy massage to any of my clients, well almost never. I do have a few ladies who have been coming to me on a regular basis who talked me into masturbating them to orgasm at the end of a massage.

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"Emma I want you to begin your education, your training. I want you to stay with Mistress Louise for a few days. You have things to learn." I looked at the floor. I knew he was right but scared that he didn't think I was good enough. I knew I had to - it was only training. Things I hadn't done, things I could practice, to be better for him. He wanted me to be his pleasure slave.

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"Oh My god...rebecca," He breathes, stunned as she enters the room, absolutely enthralling in nothing but a lacy black bra, a very short catholic schoolgirl's skirt, and a pair of knee-high dark-brown boots. Her skin is creamy and pale, a luscious backdrop for the sexy outfit she had worn for Him. Her hair is long and dark, hanging free, the ends of which brush the tops of her breasts, which peek teasingly from their lacy confines.

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Synopsis; 'Plain Janes' are not always as they seem – some have been tutored by relatives who lurk in the background, waiting to receive those caught in a contrived web. Jane Whistler's appearance was that of a well groomed, prim and clean living girl. At 30, she appeared to have been left on the shelf. She rarely socialised, other than to indulge her workmates on rare occasions – she was rarely asked to dance by the males as she was considered to be flat, a bit fat- not like the beanpole women that the 'blokes' seemed to lust after-and very plain.

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