Your erotic stories

As a writer here, I am quite different. I write for women! I write in the 1st and 2nd person present text. I write for those women that are sexually bored, sadly underappreciated in their roles as girlfriend, wife and mother, or frightfully inhibited, but hiding a secret insatiable fantasy side...I write for those women that yearn to be in the grasp of strong, successful, attractive dominant men...men that are mysterious, successful, powerful, erotic.

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I step from the elevator onto the second floor of the city hotel. The corridor is empty, beige and clean cut like something lifted straight out of a seventies ideal home magazine. I adjust the black silk scarf as I walk along towards your room, trying to make it look casual. My brand new stilettos dig into the dense pile carpet and form a curious counterpoint to my low slung combat pants and white vest. I like the way the heels make me walk.

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Hi! It's me Diana Johnson again. You know, the tiny woman married to that big hunk Bob. Well, some of the readers of my first story (the one which started in the Kitchen) have asked me to write a bit more about our adventures. When I think about it, there is quite a bit to report, and some things moved in a direction I would never have guessed. You may recall that Mum had given me some of the delicate little dresses she made and wore when she was a teenager in the 1960's and 70's.

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My wife, Vicki, and I have been married three years now and we have a great relationship. We both have good jobs, a good home, and we trust and understand each other completely. But you learn something new everyday... We moved into the neighborhood just over two years ago, as my company offered a large promotion, but it meant a transfer to go with it.

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I had signed myself up for an adult website on a whim. I was just really horny one night and stumbled across it. Before I knew it, I had the confirmation email and I was browsing through pictures of hot girls and couples going at it. The pictures that really got to me were the ones where the girls were sucking on a big cock or had just got a wad of cum all across their face.

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We texted back and forth the next day, and the day after that. I was like we were afraid to Skype again, for fear of, ... I don't know what. Afraid it would happen again? Not really, I wished it would. Afraid that she would be forever freaked out, once she had come back to reality? Very!

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My name is David Vervier, I'm 19 years old and this is my story... The last week of high school was a long one for me. It wasn't so much that I was going to miss my friends, despite the fact I had grown up with them all since we were little. My hometown was small, a population of only 2,500 in a good year, and even then you're counting the tourists who came in from all over the west coast to fish and hunt. Don't get me wrong, I like my friends a lot and have had some good times with them.

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It all started simply enough. We had met on a personals site. Each of us had placed an ad, and we eventually got into contact with each other. Though our background and situations were different, we each saw something in the other's profile that piqued the curiosity. We made contact and began chatting.

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I met Melinda while working at a bank during college. She was very, very hot. She had the classic Italian look, dark hair framing an olive oil complexion and big soft lips that were built for sucking cock. She was skinny with curves in all the right places and had nice round breasts to complete the package. Needless to say I was attracted to her right from the get go and was very pleasantly surprised when I discovered the attraction was mutual. We began to see each other frequently, and the sex was hot.

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I never had a problem attracting women, all women. Any shape, size, color, and nationality available. I'm attractive, I'll be honest about it. But that isn't what gets girls into my bed, although I'm sure it helps. My personality is what gets them. I know it's cliche but it's true. I'm confident sometimes to the point of arrogance. I know that about myself. I would by lying if I said I was the nicest person on earth. I'm a bitch, okay, I'm okay with it.

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