Your erotic stories

SUNDAY It was my third time in England and the big British Airways jet came in over London and touched down at Heathrow thirty minutes early. As usual, it seemed to take almost as long to taxi and disembark as it had to cross the Atlantic, but finally I made my way with the other passengers along a carpeted corridor with a one way mirror at the end and came out into the baggage area. I had my laptop, as usual, and a bottle of Scotch I'd bought at O'Hare.

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Chapter One "Fuckin hell!" I screamed as I looked in my locker for my deodorant. I was sure that I had brought some in my bag but much to my chagrin, I had forgotten it. The wrong time to do so too considering I had a date with a hot girl, Irene, from London. I met her after one of our matches last week. As I was going under the tunnel, she yelled out my name asking for an autograph and a kiss.

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I had been in your service for only a few months when you decided you wanted a permanent marking of some kind to denote me as yours when I was in the company of others. You considered your decision completely knowing full well the decision you made would effect me forever. That is the beauty of a master/slave relationship. It is more than a possession.

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Sarah stood in the shade of the thatch-roofed picnic shelter, sipping on a diet coke as she spitefully contemplated how her weekend had been completely ruined. After two continuous weeks of stressful work, she had been relishing this much needed weekend to herself. That was until Friday night, when a dreaded phone call from her cheerily coercive mother had ended all her hope of relaxation.

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It was my dislike of hotels that was the problem. I was in the process of changing residences. I'd sold my current house, but the sale went through a lot faster than I'd expected. I'd assumed that it would take a while for my old place to sell and I expected to have actually moved into my new house before the sale was finalised.

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I am a heavy construction worker in Texas. I am temporarily unemployed due to an accident that happened on the job. I will spare you the gory details, but I suffered both legs smashed and broken below the knee. I have had several surgeries, and I expect to fully recover, but it will take a while. If there is any good news, all of my huge medical expenses were covered by insurance, and I am now on 100% disability.

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The blonde couple were pressed against the wall at the end of the carriage. He against the window, she against his back, blank rear wall of the carriage against the right shoulder of each. Surrounding them were dusky men. Some in Dhotis, some in shorts, all in sandals. Most of the men faced the girl, some to press against her, some to merely look. She had a pretty, shapely, figure, and her brief floppy shorts and sleeveless T left little of her charms to be imagined. They were on honeymoon. Dave and Nicci Saunders were their names.

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I sat nervously in my hotel room, a large glass of single malt Scotch whisky in my hand. I stared at the selection of tights I had earlier laid out on the bed, wondering which Tom would prefer. Tom was 19 and lived locally to me but we had never met in person, we had begun chatting in an internet chat room and found similar interests in a fetish for tights.

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I pull up to the curb, around the corner from my apartment. It has been a very long day and more than anything I am glad to be home and am looking forward to a nice long bath, some quiet music. I turn off the car, and look out my window before opening the door. For a moment my attention is drawn to the other side of the street. It is only for a moment and I shake my head, thinking I have caught myself starting to day dream. Checking for traffic I open my car door and get out.

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The name's Michael. I'm an Irish boy from nowhere in particular, and the bright-red ponytail I wear is more than enough proof of that. I dress well enough when I need to; my work wardrobe usually consists of black wingtips, tight-fitting black slacks that are a little loose around the knees to allow for bending, and a dark solid button-down. I'm a relatively fit guy; I bike to work every morning and jog in the evenings.

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