Your erotic stories

Paul had a little trouble finding Kaylee's apartment building and he was almost twenty minutes late by the time he finally reached her door. It was bad enough being flustered by having taken a wrong turn while following the directions he had been given but, as he pressed the doorbell, he discovered he was distinctly nervous indeed. Kaylee's website specified several massage specialties but, although the text was suitably noncommittal and vague, it was clear that they were all of the more erotic variety.

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We've all seem them; an object of nostalgia and whimsy. It is a jewelry box, a place to keep secret and personal things, sitting on the vanity table of a particular kind of woman. There is the lingering hint of some perfume, a subtle reminder of the elegance of it's owner. It is the color of ivory, picked out in silver or perhaps gold, the edges frilled or otherwise decorated to soften the lines.

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It's a bit of a librarian look, the way I wear my hair at work. All coiled up on my head, and stuck through with several of those Japanese-looking hair spikes. Not a strand is out of place, and the hair is wound and wrapped tightly into a bun roughly the size of one of those Kaiser rolls the bun it makes is easily the size of one of those Kaiser rolls.

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I have never met a man or woman as confident as the young woman who took my anal virginity. She was not dominating, or arrogant, just very confident in herself and her judgments of people. How she knew a guy like me would give her what she wanted, and what I learned to want, I still do not know. We met when I was doing a work survey of a local university to add some decorative pieces to the administration areas and the student union's offices.

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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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