Your erotic stories

I was new to Miami, and unsure of my own sexuality. I had some experience with other women, but was not yet sure if I was bisexual or completely gay. I barely knew anyone in town, and was very grateful that I had met Sophie, a wonderful woman the same age as me, 22 years old. She had very light blonde hair, very large firm round breasts, and a tall stunning body. She could have been a model, but instead she was a lawyer, of all things.

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It was a warm night as Emma was lying in her bed. Resting peacefully, her thoughts gently strayed into a gentle sex scene with another woman. Her breaths quickened as the heat slowly built, these thoughts came more and more often now. It was only ever in the mornings that she felt any amount of guilt about her thoughts the night before, however during the night, nothing stoped her. She had never, not once, had touched herself when thinking about women daring not to take that step, but this time was different.

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Author's Notes: Contains violence and what could be considered blood-play. ~*~*~ He could smell the blood everywhere. The scent was so strong that it seemed to cling to everything in the large building as he hurried up the stairs, taking two or three at a time before he burst into the room, nearly pulling the door from it's frame and hinges with the force of opening it.

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Warning! This story includes very heavy BDSM, rough sex, anal fucking and other nasty stuff. As usual there is also a romance but it is secondary to the stroke. Another caveat: I don't write with a dictionary or a thesaurus at my side. I use words which are familiar to me---words I use in daily conversation. I am not writing stories for children. If you are the persistent anonymous poster who wishes I would use smaller words so that you can understand them, just give me a zero and move on without comment.

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“I’m coming over,” I tell you, purring into the phone. “I’ve done a little shopping. Be ready for me when I get there.” “What did you buy?” you ask me eagerly, “And what do you mean by ‘ready’?” I laugh, not cruelly but coolly enough that I don’t reveal that I am nearly as excited as you. “Patience. Some new toys for us to play with. You’ll see when I get there.

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I've been a single dad for about 6 years now. My wife died when our son was 12. It's not been an easy road for me, but I wouldn't trade it. My son and I have a very good relationship. Since my wifes death, I haven't really done any dating to speak of. I've been out a few times, but they were more friendship dates than anything else. Needless to say, sex has been pretty much non existent. I chose this lifestyle for a reason;

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The first thing that you should know about me is that my name isn't really Betty. Even if you were one of the men that I'd... entertained on Thursday night, you probably couldn't pick me out of a police lineup. That's because I dress and act completely different during the day. I keep my hair pulled back and don't wear a lot of makeup and wear neat but plain clothing, like the successful businesswoman that I am.

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Prologue 5 years ago 18 year old Kenny sat beside the bed holding his mother's hand. He was both frightened but calm at the same time. When she had been diagnosed with lung Cancer a year ago, the doctors had given her weeks. Yet now, almost a year later, she was still hanging on. As he held her hand though, he knew the end was near. Her grip was a lot less than it used to be and her face was contorted with pain.

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"OK, what the hell is that?" Eileen asked laughing. "That is our Play Chair," the saleswoman said with a smile, coming up behind them. "It tends to get a reaction from everyone that comes in here." 'Here' was an upscale 'erotic boutique' in Boston. Eileen and Tom were in town for a get-away weekend and decided a visit would provide a nice bit of spice to their romantic weekend. Neither had been to the store before and didn't quite know what to expect.

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I grew up in Charleston SC. My mother and my father had divorced when I was 12. Mom met my stepfather, and moved my sister and I to Charleston after they were married. It's a nice place, but I digress... Ms. Wells was probably the toughest teacher at my high school. She was very demanding and accepted nothing less than 100% from her students. The problem I had was that school always came easy for me. Not much of a challenge, if you know what I mean. For most teachers, that was enough. Not for Ms. Wells though.

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