Your erotic stories

My reputation as a tongue slave was definitely on its way up. I was getting my good share of pussy and/or ass to serve on a weekly basis. Inspite of being any man's dream, it had its downsides for sure. There is only so much pleasing a man can do before he starts wanting some attention of his own. There were few of my female friends who would blow me or let me fuck them every now and then.

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My wife and I left the winters cold up north to spend ten days down in the Bahamas. As usual, our flight was a total disaster, between the wait in long lines and being held up at the gate, waiting for a connecting flight. By the time we arrived almost three hours late and a day wasted on the beach, we gathered our bags, hailed a cab and checked into our hotel.

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To set the scene: I have been loaned to a dominant woman for the night, while her sub is serving my master. She is the owner of the Corset shop, where I was measured for my corset, and her sub is the girl Elise who assisted me. After licking each other to countless orgasms, and being fucked with her strap-on in my cunt and ass, I have fallen into a deep sleep. I awake at about 4 PM.

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The heading at the top of the screen simply reads: "What is your ultimate fantasy?" I don't know how I found this website but I have been staring at the screen for the past ten minutes too afraid to start filling out the survey. On the home page it states that once you fill in all of the blanks the company will write a personalized story based on what you have described as your ultimate fantasy.

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I don't know why I married a panty slave. It's not like I didn't know about James' fetish before I said yes to his marriage proposal. He had been quite up front when we were dating about his desire to be controlled by a strong woman, and the instrument of her control was to be her underwear. He isn't into bondage or spanking or any of the more traditional bdsm fare, although I sometimes incorporate these things into our kinky love making.

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What attracted me to... Linda Groves at first was the hair on the arms. The blonde that worked with me at my part-time job at the grocery store during my first year of college was not extraordinary looking in any other way, but one look at her arms got my attention right away.

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Nikki, being an Arab, had been raised very repressed. Having been born without a cock made her less than complete, she made almost a fetish of pissing standing up and was fascinated by my pissing, she would often find some excuse to follow me into the bathroom when I was taking a piss. She would stand and watch me; eyes fixed on my cock and her lips parted a bit, her tongue just peeking from between them.

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It had been a year since Surgeons had removed Fern's left leg just a few inches below her hip. She was now very adept and comfortable with her one leggededness and she and her husband Don had grown to enjoy the difference from other couples that they shared.

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'I was sure he had a good view down the Mall to the palace. And I was sure he was saluting' How do I find them? Well, it's not a science. It's hit and miss, good luck and bad. Friends, business colleagues tell me about theirs. I ask them questions, nothing obvious, but little things slip out that give me clues.

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It was late and I was bored with the television, so I turned to the Internet for something to occupy my mind. I knew that I should be upstairs asleep by now because I had to get up for work in a few short hours, but I was still jazzed up from drinking cup after cup of Coca-Cola. It was after midnight already and I wasn't even the slightest bit tired.

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