Your erotic stories

Feeling that deep thrill, that slow burn that seems to consume, that long deep obsession with being worshiped. I have him on his knees now, he is complacent, docile....he is submissive. It was not always this way. We began with a completely old fashioned relationship, with no power exchange. We were blind to the Ecstasy of submission, innocent of the line between pleasure and pain.

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It had been a week since I met him in the club, since I had gone home with him not even knowing his full name and totally given myself to him. It had been two weeks of having my senses tormented, my body trained and my needs fulfilled.

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I awoke surprisingly refreshed after the excitement of the previous evening with Davinia and JJ. I could not believe my luck, not one, but TWO of them, and I little old me had fucked the pair of them. Holy shit, and what is more, they were not finished yet. So much for seminars being boring.

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My name is Alexander Demkakova, but my friends just call me Alex. I am from the Czech Republic formerly known as Czechoslovakia. We lived just outside Prague, where my Dad and Mom both worked. When my story begins I am in sunny Southern California far from the dreariness that enveloped the land of my youth. In California I live in Westwood where I attend the University of California in Los Angeles, most of you know it as UCLA.

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His hand came down again on her bare bottom in front of him. The slap was loud. She whimpered softly. The sting of his hand excited her and she felt the warmth of her secretions flood between her legs. Her flesh vibrated and teased her as she felt them resonate to her sex and sensitive breasts.

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It's been a few weeks since my stories were discovered by Sir on the Literotica website. As it turned out, Sir and I live in the same city, about 10 miles apart. When Sir mentioned there was an opening in his company, and it was in my field of expertise, in order to be closer to him, I jumped at the opportunity.

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Last night after we made love and you left me, I replayed our conversation in my head. We've known each other for a long time, so I admit that it surprised me to hear you say that sometimes you have a hard time telling me your desires. It seems like you're embarrassed, or ashamed. I don't ever want you to feel that way. You can trust me, you know.

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He had never told me his name. That realization hit me suddenly, forcefully, as I hesitated in the doorway of the large, immaculate, well-appointed suite. The very upscale hotel clearly lived up to its advertising -- which used words like "discerning tastes," "classically comfortable," and even "the ideal destination for enjoyment of discrete leisure activities."

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At the front door to the gym I looked to my left for no reason at all and espied a young woman dressed in a black pant suit walking toward me with plastic bags in her hands. It had been some time since I did something nice for someone and so I waited. She was the club's receptionist and waiting for her was a small price to pay for the view I received.

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Those that have never taken the time to get to know him, think of Griffin Connors as an eccentric old man. At fifty years old, he is still a very striking man. He is five foot ten, and weighs around one hundred eighty-five pounds. He has steel blue piercing eyes, that most fail to see are full of warmth. One only has to look beyond the full beard and moustache to see the kindness and humor that life has left etched there through the years.

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