Your erotic stories

Vlad was doing his rounds at the St. Bathory Home for Wayward Girls. Parents sent their girls here when they threw up their hands and said; you deal with this slut. The Headmistress of St. Bathory's promised these parents that she would return only obedient, respectable girls that the parents could be proud of. There was much unsaid in that promise. Much unsaid indeed.

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Marsha Wellington was a pretty 35-year-old with long black hair. Her face was beautiful, 34b, 24, 38 body was still desirable to most men even after two children. While she felt that her hips were a little large, her ass was still sexy in what her husband referred to as a "J-Lo fashion". Marsha and her husband John had taken their two children on vacation for spring break.

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Since she was very young Robin was fascinated with the male body. Growing up she was lucky enough to catch her stepbrother masturbating while she hid in the closet and was initiated to the secret world of males. The image of him, the unabashed pleasure he took in his own body, the ripple of an orgasm and the loud primal moaning as his seed burst from the head of his penis, began an obsession in her for the rest of her life.

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A few months had passed since the night Julie had been raped and forced to have sex with her son, Lance. The two of them spent considerable time following her birthday barely talking. Both embarrassed by what had transpired. And both knowing that they had been sexually fulfilled by the experience.

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Erin watched her son with some concern, he had a limp and it wasn't the first time she had noticed some things about him, the odd bruise on an arm or a leg, what looked like a bruises around his handsome young face. She had approached him a few times about them, but he had been evasive in his answers and always tried to change the subject or left the conversation.

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Miranda had been single for just over two weeks. Two glorious weeks of parties, girl-"dates", movies with friends, and relaxing by the pool. It was too cool to swim just yet, but she sure didn't mind putting on a skimpy little suit and flaunting it in front of the new lifeguard as she and her friends tanned on the deck.

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I met Danielle through a friend at a party. She was a hot little half Italian and half Jewish girl with a great little body, pretty face and beautiful brown hair. She was also sexy as could be. I was busy with other people at the party so we did not hook up then, but a couple months later a mutual friend of ours, Rachel, asked if Danielle could crash at my place while she looked for a place to live in Toronto.

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"Is that too tight?" I asked. Sandra tried to move her wrists and was satisfied that she still had circulation, "No, no, that's fine." "Alright then, let's go, we've got a lot of miles to cover and I'd like to get on the road." I firmly griped her upper arm and escorted her to my Ford Bronco outside. She hesitated at the door of her tiny apartment and held the cuffs up, "the neighbors." I took a jean jacket she had hanging on a coat tree and draped it over her cuffed wrists.

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Daisy took her time dressing for the party. She wanted to look sexy and provocative. Her braless tits and hard nipples poked shamelessly through the tight red cotton top cut above her pierced belly button. A tiny black skirt barely covered her ass cheeks. The eye shadow was heavy and the lipstick bright red.

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I looked on in horror at what had just happened. All my attempts to keep my true identity secret had been snatched from me in that one cold moment when Charles Wild, Skipper of the Golden Eagle, grabbed my shirt and it came away in his hands. His eyes focused on the bindings that held my breasts in place to give the impression I was a boy. I saw the lust in his eyes and realised I could no longer hide under the name of Jack Jones.

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