Your erotic stories

Just another day really, nothing special to begin with. We had been in through the morrning, and we'd been out in the afternoon. We'd done some shopping for the flat, had a few giggles, a little bit off teasing and some playful jokes but now we were back. I had made a cup of tea for myself, a coffee for him, with a biscuit on the side. Every inch the happy domestic scene, but isn't it always the case that you only hear the 'something's going to happen' music in bad movies?

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I got home from playing basketball, and my mom and her friends were in the middle of ladies bridge night. Two tables with four women each all looked over at me when I came through the door, and I turned a little red. I must have been a picture of loveliness, my sweat stained t-shirt clinging to my chest and back, my damp hair hanging in my face, basketball in the crook of my arm. I waved to my mom and headed upstairs. "Charlie!" she called after me.

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"Ah, the workmen are through for the day," Paige thought as she watched the men loading their pickups and preparing to leave. They were working to create a studio and large bedroom with attached bath out of what had been three small bedrooms upstairs in the big barn of a house she bought for a song because it was so far from town. They had been working for over a week, tearing down walls and running new wires and plumbing for the project.

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Jackie arrived at her house and retired to her bedroom. She threw her keys on the night stand before taking a few deep breaths. She wondered how she should spend the rest of her evening and night. She knew her husband was already asleep in his bedroom, passed out drunk. She was so bored with her marriage of six years that there was nothing left but empty feelings for her husband. She wished he would just leave and divorce her. All he cared about was getting drunk, day after day. It seemed as if he had alcohol for blood.

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I stand back, admiring the view before me. You lay, sprawled on your stomach, in a spread-eagle position, completely open, completely vulnerable. Each wrist and ankle is tied securely to a bed post with a length of red silken rope. Although the knots are tied tightly, and you are unable to escape, with a quick tug, each rope will come free in an emergency.

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This is the homework of my slave Gabi. My name is Gabi. I'm from Austria (a German-speaking country near Germany). My Mistress ordered me to write down this story. As a matter of fact this is not really a story – as it is not fictional. This is the description of my first meeting with My Mistress. Mistress Cornelia is my Mistress. I'm one of her slaves and I love to submit to her.

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I was sitting in the park, listening to my iPod, when suddenly I was plunged into shadow. I looked up and two of the moms were standing over me, and they didn't look too happy. "You're Julie's friend, right?" one of them, a very large, sturdy woman with dark hair and eyes named Monica, said. "Uh, yeah, I guess," I said. "I'm friends with several of the moms here, I suppose--"

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They saw her running hard down the side of the road, passing her on their way back from their last delivery. On nice days like today, they liked to finish off their deliveries early, giving them more time to hunt for a victim. They looked at one another, and without saying a word knew exactly what to do.

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My wife Sally and I have been married now for twenty two years and I am still discovering new things about her. The true story that I am about to tell you is how my dear Sally first brought Lynda into our lives and what happened the first time that she visited our house. If you find lesbian sex and cream pies offensive then please do not waste your time by reading on. We live in a medium sized village somewhere in the south of England. I am manager of the local bank, and for the last ten years Sally has been the headmistress of the small village junior school.

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This story's a sequel to Copenhagen Couple and Meetings with Mark. It's not necessary to read those stories first, but some things will make better sense if you do. * At the age of 20 and after my first experiences with male sex I acknowledged to myself that I was bisexual. But I wasn't going to be open about the fact that I liked to be with men. Sadly, bisexual men are often despised by both gay and straight guys, and even by some women.

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