Your erotic stories

We meet in a bar, me, my best sissyboy painslut & you. We are all dressed in everyday office attire; you boys look so professional in your suits. I have on a tight white blouse which strains a little at the buttons, the sheer lace of my bra clearly showing through; a straight black skirt, net stockings & heeled patent black pumps. There are other such groups in the bar & we don't look out of place as we choose a quiet corner table;

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Looking around the room, she made sure the candles were in place. So many colors, shapes and sizes, yet they fit with the décor, adding a hint of mysterious shadow in one spot while dispelling shadows in another. Colors, blending with orchids arranged amid baby's breath, complementing framed artwork hanging above them, enhancing deep rich hues of hanging drapery and reflecting off gleaming woodwork, each had its place and was ready for the match.

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Jeremy knew something wasn't right. Mistress had been acting strange lately. Her normal "bite-his-head-off" attitude was replaced with smiles and gentle caresses on his body. Why, just last night, She had tilted his chin up so he could look Her full in the face and actually kissed his lips. Oh how wonderfully soft they were! Full, ripe, a hint of a smile on them.

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You called and told me that we were going to go out for dinner tonight. You said you'd be home by 6 and I should be showered and ready to go. You would run in, take a shower, and then we were off. I took my time showering and getting ready. Shaving my legs, arm pits, and trimmed my pussy nice and close. I powdered my body before getting dressed and pulled my hair back into clips. I picked out a short black miniskirt and a black blouse that buttoned up the front.

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Rules were very important to her. Rules about eating. Rules about time management. Rules about messing around. She'd lived her whole life by her rules, and it kept her happy. It'd been awhile since she'd had anyone else play by her rules though; she was getting frisky. That's why she'd texted him, "Are you in town this weekend?" He knew her rules. He liked her rules, and right now he was the only man she knew who could satiate her desires.

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I've been watching her for days and I don't know why. What was it she had that made my colleague, Fran, employ her? She was average looking at best and her figure was nothing special, not that you could really see that much of it as she kept it covered up at all times. Her fashion sense at times seemed frumpy and old for a younger woman. Her name was Claire and I'd say about twenty years my junior.

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Leaving his two bodyguards outside, the tall, handsome askari with the tribal tattoo swirled on his cheek came blinking into the purple tent, out of the strong morning sunshine. The shadowed coolness was welcome after the equatorial Sun's heat against his dark brown perspiring skin.

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William Devlin made ready the umbrellas, the seating, and even metered the ambient light of the room in preparation for his new client. Ms. Kayden Summers she had requested a series of bust close ups of herself in a long black gown. She had found his little off path studio via referral from a young lady that had sat for a series of graduation photos several years back.

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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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There's a standard joke when the UK is hit with cold weather - that we're utterly unable to cope. Even a sprinkling of the white stuff brings the road and rail networks virtually crashing to a halt. Schools close, people can't get to work, supermarkets are swamped by panic buyers and tabloids declare 'SNOWMAGEDDON!'

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