Your erotic stories

My name is Kay. I'm a 31 year-old, happily un-married middle-class white woman with a marvelous life - except for being addicted to sex. Maybe it's only the risk factor that I'm addicted to. I honestly don't know, but I do know I'll sometimes take awful risks to anonymously and spontaneously fuck total strangers. There, now that I have that part out of the way maybe I can also be honest with the rest of what I want to explain.

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David Blake examined his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair was neat and combed and cut in the latest style and his face was cleanly shaven. David smiled at himself as he stepped backward and away from his reflection. He did a half turn to admire how his suit fit and couldn't suppress a grin. He was looking good as always and knew it.

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She was beautiful, she was sensuous, and her name was Angel. She checked her watch again, as she waited for the meeting that she knew she should never have agreed to. Not only was her date a mysterious man she knew only from brief contact on the internet, he was late. She tapped her foot, and looked around the little resteraunt again. Just because someone's stories turned her on, she was starting to think that was no reason to trust him to show up for a clandestine meeting.

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The two girls were excited about their plan. Their mother had been so bitchy since Allen had come to visit that they decided it was time she got some of her own medicine. They had lured her out to the barn under the pretext that they wanted her approval for a little surprise that they were planning for their thoroughly pussy-whipped cousin.

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When the strike was over, Andy knew nothing would be the same in the shop. For 5 years, he had worked closely with the three women and built up a successful outlet selling clothes to a wide range of customers. The shop's success was as much down to the women as it was down to him. Sure, he'd brought better organisation, better accounting and stock control, but it was the 3 women on the shop floor who made the tills sing. And Andy knew that.

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When I woke up, I panicked, almost choked on the collar around my throat. The leather dug into my windpipe as I jerked on the cold cement floor, hurting my shoulders and arms. My hands were cuffed behind my back, my naked body pressed to the floor sideways, as my legs, which were free, kicked wildly in a desperate attempt to get loose. I let out a feral scream, almost choking again on the thick leather around my neck.

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Penny sat as still and quiet as she could, no longer sobbing, no longer fighting the ropes tied so tightly around her wrists and ankles. She didn't press her tongue against the gag in her mouth anymore, either; it only made her start to choke, and she wanted to be utterly silent, some small part of her hoping that they would forget about her, that no one would come back and make good on the threats they'd left behind.

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Myra was as cheerful as usual when she arrived at the offices of Hartley's Discount Stores. There she did the part time office cleaning job that was making it possible for her pay her way through college. The offices were closed now and she would be on her own, but she was used to that, especially because it allowed her to do her job in her own way without anyone leaning over her shoulder, and that's the way she liked it.

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My alarm startled me awake, even though the only sound it made was the gentle vibration of my cell phone against my nightstand. It seemed every morning promptly at 9:15 I went through this ritual when it went off, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I reached over for the little button on the side, stopping the noise and rolled back over, snuggling deeper into the warm blankets. I heard the covers rustle slightly, and then I felt a single finger tracing patterns on the bare skin of my back.

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Before I get to the meat of this story, let me first tell you how this evening came to be! My wife of fourteen years, decided she wanted to get into something new and more exciting in our sex life, or should I say, lack there of? Oh, we still had sex more than most married couples of fourteen years, but it was more mechanical, and predictable as hell. I guess looking at the same bodies for all that time makes one tend to lose something in the excitement department!

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