Your erotic stories

Daylight began to creep across the room. Reluctantly I woke up from my restless slumber. Memories of what had transpired last night came rushing back to me. Unbidden, tears started to flow, and I lay curled up in my bed, trembling with shame and pain. My battered body is a testament of how Papa had brutally raped me. I had lost count of the times he had taken me yesterday night.

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My name is Kavita and I am a 30 year old married professional woman living in Delhi, India. I work in an MNC and Raj, my husband, is a fairly successful businessman. We have been married for 3 years and you can say we are as happy as an average married couple. We have our ups and downs, good days and bad days, so to the words I am a typical Indian woman taking take of her husband and household. However, the truth is far from that.

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I lay bored in my bed, idly tapping my finger on my upper thigh. It was sticky hot outside; the type of hot that causes your clothes to cling to your skin, so I lay sprawled out under my fan, trying to keep cool. Even though I was wearing a velvet red string bikini, I was still flushed with tiny droplets of sweat crawling down between my breasts, and I was bored.

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She lay in the silent darkness and listened hard. Listened for any sound of movement, she could feel her ears straining into the silence reaching for even a whisper and found nothing but her own breathing and heartbeat. How long had she waited? He had said not to move, not to try and leave, not to cry out for at least 15 minutes after he left. Had it been that? It seemed it had been hours, days even.

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So there was a few years ago in my marriage, that I lived in this duplex. It was in the back streets of a small old neighborhood that was slowly transforming into a Chinatown. Nowadays the transformation is more complete than it was then. Like I said we lived in a duplex. I was 38 then my wife was 32. A little more about us, I am a tall drink of water so they say. 6 feet 4 inches tall lean and hard muscled. My hair has patches of premature silver spread evenly throughout against my mostly black hair.

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"Hey man, you got a light?" the old guy next to me asked with a hoarse voice. He looked to be about 5'5" tall, overweight, had a head full of roughed up black and gray greasy hair, and a shaggy beard. I guessed his age to be around 50. His jeans and flannel shirt were a little dirty looking. "Sorry, I don't smoke," I told him.

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PART 1 John Mason was twenty-seven when his father died fucking his young twenty year old secretary on a supposed business conference in Dundee, Scotland. In truth, the fifty- four year old was regularly fucking whenever he could. Since he owned fifty-five per cent of the company, he could afford to do what he liked. This time however, it cost him his life. John's mother had died when he was young.

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I must have blacked out for a bit, because when I came to, I had been placed on my hands and knees, with my wrists tied to the headboard, and my bare ass and pussy exposed to the world. Master was crouched down next to the headboard, watching for me to awaken, while he tweaked and pulled on my nipple, to speed along my consciousness. "Awake now Ana?" He asked rhetorically.

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Carrie Bender's mind raced as she nervously made her way to the 12th floor and the office of Richard McLish, CEO of McLish Exports. "He is going to tell me I don't have a chance at this promotion." She thought to herself. "But why would he call me to his office and tell me himself. Maybe I am getting the promotion. No way!"

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It wouldn't have happened, Dianne decided, if she hadn't been so damn conscientious about the job. She'd assured her boss that the amended tender he wanted would be on his desk when he arrived in the morning. And then she'd had to go home early for a family emergency. An emergency that wasn't, as if turned out. Her mother had been panicking over nothing. She should have got more details before rushing home, expecting to have to take someone to hospital.

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