Your erotic stories

"You may enter the room now, sir." A pause. "Sir...Daniel?" I was off in my own little world, oblivious of the kind voice speaking to me. "I'm sorry," I offered, snapping back into the current reality. My eyes focused on the receptionist, a warm, middle-aged woman, smiling understandably at me.

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We set up a night that I am going to be in town and your wife won't be. Our plan is to have fun with each other naked and see if we can cum up with a plan to get the wife involved. I tell my wife that I have to go there on business and your wife is planning a shopping trip with friends.

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This Ella's story. She is real, as are Dani and Gabrielle. Part of the story is true... the rest is Ella's fantasy. I've reflected exactly what she told me. For those who don't enjoy stories with interracial lesbian domination or reluctance and coercion as their themes, thank you for stopping by but please pass on.

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She did not clean herself after I had spunked over her over ripe, fleshy tits and her make up pasted face. She simply sat there, still in the position she had been in as I had fucked her, and with the cum that I had showered over her beginning to run down her chin to her neck and from her tits towards the gentle rolls of her stomach. In remaining like this, she was silently offering me an invitation to admire her and I was keen to accept it.

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It all started a few weeks ago while I sat in a bar after a long day of searching through the want ads. "How's it going?" said the clean headed muscle man who sat down next to me. "Not the best," I said, looking up from the paper. "I've been slogging around town all morning, looking for a job."

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Megs had desperately sought a woman to dominate her in special ways. She yearned to be controlled and, with that control, to be subjected not only to depraved sexual acts, but be exposed to embarrassment and humiliation. An elegant, stylishly attired businesswoman, her hair always perfectly in place, her nails immaculately done, dressed so very precisely, Megs gave off an aura of almost over concern with the crisp and clean and tidy image of herself she presented to others

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It was 'First Tuesday', the night each month that all the art galleries were open for their new exhibits. I dressed up a little nicer than my normal daily fare. Sure, I clean up well. There was just a hint of cleavage, maybe more than a hint, maybe a lot more. I liked to think my breasts were one of my better parts. I enjoyed them even though there wasn't anyone currently in my life to share them with. Judy had enjoyed them for sure, oh how I loved her lips around my nipples, or my clit, oh yes my clit.

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I hadn't expected the job I had started a few months ago to involve quite so much travelling, but it did and I enjoyed it. With my corporate lawyer husband shuttling almost every other week between London and New York and my two children at university, I had become bored at home. I had worked freelance for some time editing magazine articles and a few books, but that didn't get me out of the house much so a few months ago I had applied for and gained a job with a publishing house as a Style Coordinator;

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Author's Note: Another girl/girl love story. Any similarities to one that came before it is intentional/based on what I like. If inclined, the songs referenced throughout are what I listened to while writing it and may help set the mood. The artists, though, bear no responsibility for the sappiness/silliness they inspired.

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Jenna realized when Kat's boyfriend drove off she was alone with her friend, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable for a brief moment. At almost five foot four, Jenna was average height, blonde and buxom. Despite not being a California native, many people assumed she was a stereotypical surfer girl when they met her.

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