Your erotic stories

Jamie sat in his kitchen, studying the woman across from him. He squinted through the smoke from his pipe and, for a moment, saw her as she had been when they met. He smiled at the memory. She had been 19, he 35. Neither had believed the other could be interested in themselves. Yet they were. Then she had been young, pretty and immature.

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Clear, warm waters and azure skies did nothing for her. There had been a holiday, once, where she had sat on one of those white sanded beaches whilst grinning Caribbean boys brought her drinks under a "made in china" palm parasol. The heat, even in the shade, was sapping.

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Standing in the doorway, she watched the sweat drip down the gardener's chest. The tall, muscular man, had stopped beside the mower and wiped his brow off with a well-tanned arm. She waited restlessly for him to notice that she was standing at the door in a cropped T-shirt and a pair of tiny white underwear. She had been trying to get the man's attention all day.

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Her head bends reverently forward to rest on his knee. His hand is eager to stroke the light brown locks that fall covering her reflective green eyes. Her eyes are his to see or to cover at his desire. For a moment he wishes to see her sparkling eyes and the gentle smile that so gently curves her soft lips, but not for long.

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Slowly opening my eyes I hear the rush of the water from the bathroom. The sprays of water hitting the sides of the shower as you move. Smiling wide, closing my eyes picturing my perfect sexy Master in all his naked glory washing away the left overs of our night together. I moan as I move, the delicious ache between my thighs from your attentions during the night reminding me of every mind-blowing moment with you.

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"...When you greet me at your door I want you to be wearing your dildo-pants. Oh, and wear them under your tightest pair of jeans. I'm taking you out tonight, and yes; I do want you wearing them out in public. I'll see you in a bit," I said, and then hung up without giving her a chance to respond.

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I must admit, I was impressed as soon as I set my eyes on him. His wrists were bound tightly together with a piece of rope that was fixed to the ceiling through a single brass loop. His feet were drawn back toward his buttocks with another piece of rope pulled through the brass loop, keeping them firmly in situ.

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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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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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