Your erotic stories

Raul sneered at me as he closed the padlock over my cuffs with a sickening click. "You stay right here, baby," he leered, "And as soon as I'm back I'll take care of you too." As if I had a choice; he had kidnapped me and was leaving me bound and naked. Each ankle tied to the opposite knee, forcing my thighs open, and my wrists were cuffed over my head. A ball gag filled my mouth and all I could do was moan incoherently and squirm helplessly.

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Kim couldn’t believe she was doing this. Her heart was racing fast. She was tempted to go back downstairs and lock the back door, and curtail the fantasy for now. Despite her trepidation, she had done everything as planned – leaving the back door closed, but unlocked. She had left the back porch light off, and the backyard gate slightly ajar. It had all been arranged as they agreed upon. Every detail. But now...she was having second thoughts as fear griped her.

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I was just finishing up the dinner dishes when I heard Susan's car pull into my driveway. I smiled to myself and hurried over to the front door. She had taken to coming over as soon as her husband left for work each night. I'd found myself acting like a puppy, eager for her owner to get home. Everyday I waited for the clock to swing around to 7 and for my new lover to arrive.

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I've always been a bit of an exhibitionist. The thought of someone getting turned on by watching me excites me to no end. I like the idea of someone stroking themselves after having caught a glimpse of me. That being said, until a few days ago, I had never really considered how dangerous it was. The desire blinded me to all the risks.

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My wife Glenda and I have been married for fifteen years and have a wonderful sex life. We extended our sexual activities with very close friends to make sex even more exciting. My bother was married to very sexy blond and I always admired her beauty. We visited each other often and one night about two years ago when we had quite a bit to drink, we were playing around with each other’s wives and finally made the swap. We continue to meet on a regular basis.

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In my experience it is more men than women who are into peeing. But in my case it was quite the opposite -- I never fantasized about it and if you had asked me I would have been disgusted. Here is how that changed. Firstly let me tell you something about myself. My name is Peter and I'm 35. This happened when I was 30. I'm 5'11, with dark hair and a muscular body.

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1.The Class Owen slumped wearily in his English Literature seminar. The speaker was droning on about The Nose by Gogol and while Owen would have found such an absurdist tale difficult to grapple with at the best of times, his late night of drinking made such mindless prattle even harder to bear. Blocking out the lecturer Owen smiled ruefully to himself.

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You enter the room, and there she is, standing by the desk, her back to you. She is wearing a simple white top and a silky black skirt that barely reaches mid thigh. You approach silently, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. You reach out, pressing her down with one hand at the small of her back. Without a sound, she complies, bending forward, placing her hands on the desk. The position forces her short skirt even higher.

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I looked at myself in the mirror. Not bad. For a fifty year old mother of three, I looked pretty good. I was still slim and trim with fairly large breasts, I knew I didn't look my age. I had on a little powder blue suit with a short skirt, several inches above the knee. I wore stay up top hose and blue heels. I turned and looked at the back. Pretty damned nice I thought. Eye catching but not overtly so. I liked the mirrors in the elevators of this building. Good idea.

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I hadn't been getting along with my wife now for some time, in fact thinking about it, it had probably been a few years. Yet after twelve years of marriage we were comfortable with each other and any change would rock the boat and cause too much hassle, especially for the children. We just seemed to put up with each other and get on with our lives. We lived separate lives really yet still had some love for each other.

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