Your erotic stories

8 o'clock on the dot I arrived at Diane's studio. I was greeted at the door by the hairstylist who whizzed me straight into his room where he immediately put me at ease with his lively chatter. He took me right though a typical shoot, what would happen and when. What I should and should not say or do. I was sure he was gay;

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Her plane landed right on time. She had taken a connecting flight from Charles Du Galle to land here in Nice, in the gorgeous sunshine of a summer Thursday in Province. Most of the passengers had disembarked by the time she appeared at the top of the jetway.

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Although there are female dominatrix, and male subjugationists, by and large the practice is the opposite: Males are Dom; fems are sub. This treatise is written to reflect this norm; however, genders may be exchanged at will. Domination is the ultimate seduction: The Dom is seducing the Sub into giving up his or her self-will.

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The last of the wine trickled into Judy's glass, the final drops spattering the coffee table as she passed the empty bottle to Christine, who placed it carefully on the floor. Judy leaned forward to rub the spatter with her finger, before sitting back on the sofa when she realized that the resulting smear looked even worse.

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CHAPTER ONE: I was happily married to Tracy. We had been childhood sweethearts and had married each other not long after we had both turned eighteen. Our life together was good. We both had good professional jobs which earned a good income, and we owned a lovely home. We both worked out regularly in the gym and looked after our selves by watching what we ate, so as we got older we had not put on any weight.

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Nicky woke up horny. Then that wasn’t unusual for the thirty-nine year old woman. She loved sex. The former college athletic and part time fitness trainer always was ready for a good fuck. She had been known to engage in sex just about anywhere. Ever since discovering sex in high school, Nicky could never get her fill.

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It had been a hard week at work and I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend. I called my mate, Darren, and asked him if he fancied a drink on Saturday night so he suggested we have a drink in and I stay over at his place as his parents were away.

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Julie watched with detached curiosity as the little drama played out in the park. It was about four o'clock on a balmy, breezy spring afternoon and the ducks and geese were gliding to and fro on the pond, looking for handouts from the park's occasional visitor. Julie wasn't interested in them just now, as her attention was on the young couple on the other side of the pond who seemed to be having a doozy of an argument.

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I couldn't help notice my neighbor when we were setting up our stalls. For one thing, hers was right next to mine. For another, her compact, curvy frame moved with efficient grace as she set her paintings out for display. The big thing, though, was her cropped hair - an elegant cap the color of burnished steel. That, plus a face full of laugh lines (and a few others) really set her apart from the generally younger crowd of artists setting up for the fair. Having someone my own age right there made me feel a bit less ancient.

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The chains rattled as he moved. He stood, head bowed, muscles tight and quivering with the effort not to resist. He listened to the murmurs around him. His lowered eyes glittered. His lips curled back from his teeth in a silent snarl as his large, powerful hands clenched in fists.

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