Your erotic stories

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we're about to begin our final descent to the Norfolk International Airport and will be at the gate in just about 20 minutes. Current weather at Norfolk is sunny at 84 degrees. We have enjoyed having you on board today, thanks again for flying US Airways. Cabin attendants, prepare for arrival please."

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There is no comparison in the way this day began and the way it ended up. In fact, this day changed my entire life as well as the lives of most of the rest of my family. I'm sure most would say all was progressing quite innocently up until the time when I went into the bathroom where my mother was taking her Sunday morning bubble bath.

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Candace punched the button for the elevator with mixed feelings. She was already running fifteen minutes late, and if she didn't make up the time somewhere, she'd be late meeting Jeff. Usually she arranged her day to allow herself an extra twenty minutes to walk up and down the stairs from her 40th floor office, to avoid suffering through an anxiety-filled ride in the express elevator.

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Monica Traveler was the chief bitch of her company and she never let anyone forget it. She got off on the fear she generated by walking into the central work area. When that wasn't enough, she would single out someone for personal humiliation and suffering. Monica wouldn't stop at words, no; often some sort of real physical torment was necessary for Monica to get on with her day. Sexual relationships did nothing for her because no man or woman would stay with her through the torments that got her off.

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Although we were still clothed, the touching and petting was hot and heavy. It was after our second date, and Pamela invited me in and poured us each a glass of wine. We were in her living room, and first there was subtle touching. Then light kissing, which led to more intimate touching. Then the long passionate kisses. I liked the way Pamela kissed. The well-built redhead was panting, and my breathing was heavy.

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All characters in the story are over the age of eighteen. * When I walked into my parents' house, I saw my mom on the phone. Shit, this can't be good. She was staring right at me. "Okay Rhonda, he'll do it. Six okay? It is? Great." I slung my back pack down on the couch. "What?" I asked. I was cautious of everything this woman did.

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Frankie, the girl who waxed Mistress Vixen so beautifully had no idea of Vixen's profession. She saw a striking, powerful woman who dressed simply and elegantly and assumed that she was some sort of corporate executive. Like a number of similar, if not quite so formidable looking women, who looked after their bodies, Vixen used a lot of the spa's services. Some of them also chose to have a Brazilian wax. There was no reason to think that this quiet, relaxed client was particularly out of the ordinary.

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Chapter I She sat; butt tucked in the corner of the armrest and the back of the sofa, eyes wide and prepared for our discussion. Being it was almost bedtime she was attired as usual in a crotch length T-shirt little wispy panties and no bra. Amanda was just 20 days short of being eighteen but still somewhat mentally adolescent for a girl that age.

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Pete is a neighbour from a few doors away; he has always seemed a quiet sort of bloke who I'd spend the odd moment having idle chit chat with when our paths crossed in the street. I didn't know anything about him other than he lived on his own and enjoyed cycling, he could often be seen cycling off on his racing bike with his tight lycra shorts on and bare legs.

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Yes, I'm a masseur but let me get one thing straight right from the start. I am fully qualified in both sports and relaxation massage. I do not ever give a sexy massage to any of my clients, well almost never. I do have a few ladies who have been coming to me on a regular basis who talked me into masturbating them to orgasm at the end of a massage.

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