Your erotic stories

Could I really be doing this? I'm following some guy at a garage to the back room - seriously, the back room - where he is no doubt going to fuck my brains out. I'm watching his muscular ass ripple in his tight jeans, and I'm already unzipping my leather jacket. It was barely holding me in to begin with, and since I don't seem to be wearing anything underneath it, I'm already bouncing free by the time that my surprise lover opens the stock room door. We slip in, I slam the door closed with my foot, and he reaches for me.

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Selina quickly checked herself in the bathroom mirror one last time. She'd been looking forward to tonight's job and her preparations had been meticulous. She smoothed down her knee-length black dress that clung to her, showing off her shapely body to full effect. The low cut neck-line showed off her décolletage, with just a hint of the lacy black basque she was wearing below it. Sheer black stockings and stilettos completed her outfit.

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"What the fuck are you doing?" David flinched, looked around furtively, and jerked his hand from his face as I entered his living room. He tried to hide the evidence in between the couch cushions, but I knew exactly what he had been doing. While I was taking a shower, he decided to raid my suitcase looking for used panties to sniff. He was still dressed, but his jeans were pulled down past his hips. The semi-hard cock visible through his boxers did nothing to convince me of his innocence.

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Megs had desperately sought a woman to dominate her in special ways. She yearned to be controlled and, with that control, to be subjected not only to depraved sexual acts, but be exposed to embarrassment and humiliation. An elegant, stylishly attired businesswoman, her hair always perfectly in place, her nails immaculately done, dressed so very precisely, Megs gave off an aura of almost over concern with the crisp and clean and tidy image of herself she presented to others

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My name is Paul and I love my mother in law, we have always got on well together ever since I married her daughter 20 years earlier, we had even progressed to a little titillation and on more than one occasion she had caught me looking at her legs when she sat cross legged on the sofa and a couple of times when I tried to peer down her top to see what color bra she had or if she even wore one or as much of her breasts as possible, she would always give me one of those sexy knowing smiles.

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If you've ever been to Eighth Street in Manhattan you must have noticed the shoe stores. Hundreds of people, tourists, NYU students, serious shoppers, surge into and out of them every day looking for bargains. Every language you can imagine is heard there: Japanese, Hebrew, Arabic, Spanish, you get the idea.

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Valiantly, she struggled beneath him, her face reddening, her breath raspy, her eyes trying to roll back in her head, her chest heaving futilely, yet being chained to the bedposts, all she could do was writhe between his clamping legs and try to maintain her focus upon his gentle, enraptured smile as he dipped his head downward to kiss her painted lips while maintaining the constant pressure on the ribbon encircling her vulnerable neck.

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My name is Steve. I am a 27 year old salesman who travels around the north east US selling garden tools and supplies to department stores. This means I am frequently in hotels for a few nights a week. I tend to prefer the Courtyard Marriott style hotel - simpler, cheaper, and comfortable.

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Each day as I sit at my desk, shuffling all the papers to make it seem like I actually have an important role in keeping the company going, I steal glimpses at you, my private secretary. You are always dressed so sexily. Classy and sexy. From my vantage point , I can watch you at work, always so professional. What I really love is the way you show off your long legs. I watch as you cross your legs, sometimes your skirt pushed above your stocking tops. I can even hear the hiss of your nylons as you cross your legs.

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My wife was fairly discerning when it came to other men she wanted to have sex with. But I knew there was one guy she was crazy about. He was a dancer at an all male revue. She had once admitted to me that she would have had sex with him at her bachelorette party, just a couple of weeks before our wedding, if she had had a chance and her friends wouldn't have judged her. Every time she described her feelings about him and his body while we were in bed, we had earth moving sex.

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