Your erotic stories

I have to tell you about my adventure this morning. I awoke this morning and took my usual wake-up shower. Feeling all fresh and frisky, I dressed in a pair of shorts a little shorter than usual, skipped the bra and panties and opted for a lacy T that is lined but still easily visible through. I dressed both the little ones, fed them breakfast, did a quick check of the email found a lusty story that had me moist before I left the house. On the way out the door, I noticed a couple of guys at the end of my drive. They were there working on the road. Our road has been under repair for a couple of days now and I had noticed the guys in and out yesterday and today.

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Mistress Sarah's guiding hand brought Dana through the bustling corridors of the club underground. Tonight it was seething with activity as the employees prepared for tonight's big show. Dana watched, amazed, at the energy and the dedication of Mistress Sarah's slaves and subsidiary dommes. It was like a leather and latex anthill, whose slim little queen was even now pulling her along towards the main chamber where tonight's show would be.

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The noisy alarm clock buzzed and buzzed. Wanting to continue sleeping, he flailed his arms out reaching for the snooze. To no avail, he groggily opened his eyes and stepped out of bed shutting off the dastardly invention. The clock read 6:00pm. Jeremy had gotten a nice Saturday afternoon nap in before his date that night.

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I entered the office and walked to the receptionist. "Mr. Sam to see Ms. Goodhouse." The woman checked her book, nodded and told me to have a seat. The office was neat, efficient and quiet. I noticed that each time the door to Ms. Goodhouse's office opened she was either on the phone or giving orders to one of the secretaries that went in and out like worker ants in a colony. They were the ants and she was the queen. After waiting about 10 minutes, I was escorted into her office. I looked around, not a pencil out of place.

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I sat on the couch, the room lit by the flicker of some skin-emax show. There was a tumbler of scotch in my hand; one of far too many for the day, but then, this was our annual vacation with a group of friends at the beach and excessive consumption was practically required. This was the third night though, around 11pm, early by first night standards, but well past the breaking point for most after three days of hard partying in the sun and sand.

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Marinah finished reading the morning Straits Times about the deputy prime minister Anhar being charged on ten counts of corruptions and sodomy. She threw the Times over the table to the couch opposite. "Asshole", breathed Marinah. Some people just don't cover up their tails leaving telltale signs all over the place.

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I've been at this gig for about three years now in a Northeast city. It isn't what I expected to be doing, career-wise, at my age, but I can't gripe about the pay. This is for a private apartment complex (not a hotel, mind you), so it's rightly what Europeans define as being a Concierge (attending to high-end residents' needs). I'm in my mid-twenties, tall and reasonably fit, outfitted in a blazer, gray slacks and dress shoes, and I sport a genuine-enough smile that's kept fresh every day.

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CHAPTER ONE: I was happily married to Tracy. We had been childhood sweethearts and had married each other not long after we had both turned eighteen. Our life together was good. We both had good professional jobs which earned a good income, and we owned a lovely home. We both worked out regularly in the gym and looked after our selves by watching what we ate, so as we got older we had not put on any weight.

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As you instructed, My Lady, I am recounting, from my perspective, what occurred last Thursday evening. If it would give you pleasure to write it, I would be so grateful to read your perspective on that night. I arrived at your door at 6:56 PM. Knowing that you value promptness and punish earliness (seen as uncontrolled impulse) as much as you do tardiness (an obvious demonstration of a lack of respect), I waited four minutes before ringing your doorbell.

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When she contacted me via here, she explained that she'd read my story and it had turned her on. My shameful story. The one about my desire to act as human toilet paper. In the exchange of emails that followed, Sarah told me she thought she wasn't anything special, just an ordinary lady of a certain age, a divorcee who worked in the City and right this minute was single and fancy free.

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