Your erotic stories

This story was from a dark corner of my mind that DreamWeaverAz helped me write. I am not that good at reacting as a Dominant would. This is a story warning the wanna-bes out there. A true Master goes beyond the kink. "Three fingers, teasing softly, not entering but lingering, the middle finger pushing lightly wanting to enter, mmm how wet you are."

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Few things are as beautiful as the sight of you lying there on the bed, all naked, waiting for me . . . it is so exciting. I carress your body while you let your hand run up and down my hard penis, preparing it for your wet mound. . . . I give you a warm kiss, and let my erection touch your thigh . . . will you open your thighs for me, allow me in? I know you will, I think you want it as much as I do. Yes. . . .

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She reaches up & turns the radio a little bit louder. Dipping her hands back into the soapy water she goes back to washing the dishes. Her body sways as she dances & sings along with the music. He stops in the doorway, silently watching her as she moves. Looking her over he smiles, completely nude save the silver collar around her neck & the leather ankle cuffs. She has grown accustomed to being naked, even come to like it.

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The identity of the man who purchased the mansion on the hill that rose above any landmarks for a mile around was a mystery to every resident of Langley Street, the street that led motorists and pedestrians alike to the private estate and the foot of its sweeping front drive. As much as rumor could provide, the new owner was a young man in his early twenties, obviously a man who had recently come into good fortune, either by his own merit or by luck.

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The night was your friend. It was always important to remember that. The night was your friend because in it you were dominant. In it you had the control, the power and the mastery. The night was your friend because you made it the enemy of those who deserved to be your enemy. It was a mantra that The Wight repeated to herself regularly, and not least before starting a patrol.

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Stanley Montrieth III rushed into my office, "Oh my God, I did it. I actually did it. I shagged all these beauties in a pool on my own desert island!" His curly, ginger hair was more unruly than usual and his face was flushed with excitement and exhilaration. I knew, he'd been working on something exciting and it looked like he was ready to tell me at long last.

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Sam knew. "Who?" was all he asked. I didn't have to ask what he meant. "My new partner." Department regulations strictly prohibited fraternization between fellow officers. Fuck your partner, and you're not going to put your head out there in front. You have to think, not lust, or you end up dead. Toll collecting's a dangerous business these days, what with anarchy only a hair's breadth away.

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Vanessa stood patiently as the maid tugged the straps of her dress tight. She watched in the mirror as the clear vinyl clung to her body, tightly wrapping around her curves. As the last strap was finally adjusted perfectly she turned and examined her reflection.

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Her parents called me cold. Not to my face of course, I heard them in one of those moments I wasn't supposed to. In a not so unguarded moment her mother screamed at me that I was a monster for taking there daughter away from them, her husband managed to calm her and move her away from me before apologizing. His eyes gave him away, he agreed all to well with his wife's opinion of me. But to do this now and on the day of Angie's funeral was simply not acceptable.

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The message light was blinking on his answering machine as he walked through the door. Another twelve hour shift at the plant had left him mentally drained, but there was still plenty of spring in his step. Besides, he had the whole next week off to enjoy life and mentally recharge. He was looking forward to getting outside and pushing his body to limit instead of his mind.

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