Your erotic stories

The creaking sound of the coupé's door pulled me back to reality as if I was broken out from under the burst-opened water surface to suck the fresh air into my lungs. I instinctively glanced away from the countryside that rushed by the window to look at the arriving passenger.

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The train ride was smooth, the carriage seeming to glide along almost soundlessly. "This is a smooth ride," he said, "Like going up in a hot air balloon. Have you done that?" he asked. Matt grunted, glancing up from his laptop's screen, hand's poised, flickering fingers momentarily stilled before he looked back.

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Walking from the elevator I reread the address that I was given last week. I found myself on a row of professional looking offices, and while I could not imagine where I had thought that this practitioner might work, the deep pile carpet of the corridor had a soothing effect on my nerves and spirits. It was a long corridor and at last I came to an oak door with no identification other than a copper plate bearing the legend "Maxwell Diagnostic Center."

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It was during spring, I remember, the time I met Andrea, that magical and wonderful time I met my darling angel. The leaves on the trees turning into a myriad shades of green and there buds peeping shyly from every branch of every tree. I had been waiting at Nino's, the coffee shop, for my boyfriend but, as usual, he was late.

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I had known for a long time that he had a secret fetish involving bondage and domination. The books, the magazines, the web sites he surfed, all pointed to his fascination with it. It was obvious too, to see that he preferred to be the one restrained. The fact that he was so into it, really turned me on.

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First, I'd like to say that I wasn't a slut. I dressed in a conservative fashion and I'd only ever been with three guys at the time it happened. Only one of them was due to too much alcohol...but I was single at least. It could be said that I was definitely sexually within the norm at the time.... It happened in my second year at Western University. It was fall and I was twenty three and supposed to be enjoying the prime years of my life. Instead I was squandering every night studying or preparing my projects for med school.

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Patricia was sorer than she had ever been before, and she had been with more than a few men who had been amply endowed. She sat up in the bed and was met by a more intense pain coming from her rectum. She had surely been fucked for all she was worth. This was the one thing that she hadn't expected from her best friend's brother.

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Matt was going to be late for work. But there was no help for it now. As he usually did, he woke before the alarm even went off, 5:45 reaching for the clock, shutting it off before it was to sound at 6:00. He gave his still sleeping wife Julie an affectionate smile, though she'd never know it of course, crawling out of bed. Showered, shaved, dressed and ready for work, Matt headed down to the kitchen where coffee was already made and waiting for him.

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The tale I am about to relate was told to me by a dear friend of mine. I had known her for about twenty eight years when she came to me with her story. I shall call her Nancy, which of course, is not her real name. Over the years she has shared many of her thoughts and troubles with me, and she certainly had plenty to share. A husband, whom I shall call Kevin, is an alcoholic and transvestite. He cannot perform sexually unless he is dressed in female clothes, and try as she might, Nancy can’t cope with this.

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A courier brought the package that morning, my secretary had told me. I opened the express envelope to find a key card with the name of a high profile hotel near the airport. A room number and a time were written in permanent marker on the back scribbled next to her initials.

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