Your erotic stories

I'm a 36yr-old male, fit, healthy & very happily married to a lovely, warm, gorgeous sexy woman. You may have guessed what's coming next- I'm also cock curious! I'm on a business trip to Amsterdam, and the meetings are finished ahead of schedule, with conclusions acceptable to all parties.

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My name is Rebecca, and I am an eighteen-year-old senior in high school. I am quite fit, having been on baseball and track teams all four years of high school. I am about five feet, six inches tall. I weigh around one hundred and twenty pounds and I have long brown hair and hazel eyes. I am, and have always been a very easygoing person. I get along with just about everyone, and rarely ever argue with anyone.

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Sylvie (a.k.a. Sweets ) and I were not dating regularly, it was more of a "more than just friends" relationship. She would call me when she was between boyfriends, as I would call her when I was between girlfriends and we would end up taking care of each other's basic needs. It was one such time when I had called her on a lazy Sunday morning in January, to see if we could link up.

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“Master,” she whispered the word to herself. “Master,” she said it a bit louder. How had their relationship arrived at this point? How had it evolved from Dom and sub to Master and slave? They had been seeing one another for several months. In his role, he was training her to be a better submissive, a better slave while he savored her submission and desire to please.

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I really felt ashamed of myself. I knew I was slipping back into my old fantasy habits. A supposedly respectable married woman 39 years of age with this ridiculous fetish for dressing up in school uniform. It had been more than a fantasy during my early thirties with the two old priests and Sister Mary. I think my fantasy thoughts started in my mid twenties after I had married Derek.

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Gale shivered, even though she could feel the warm afternoon sun on her naked body. She pulled on the strap wrapped around one wrist and then she pulled with the other arm. Her arms were over her head and spread wide apart. Her legs were spread as wide as her arms and tied in a like manner.

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Her heart pounded in her ears as she listened to the sound of her black Chanel pumps clicking on the floor. They were a constant sound, one of comfort, to one who was about to do the unthinkable. At least to her. She felt dampness on her upper lip and stopped at the Ladies Room before making her appointment. Once inside she dabbed at her face with blotting tissue and looked herself up and down in the mirror.

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It is 4.08pm, Sunday afternoon and I have finished reading this week's email from my master, Mr Butt. I am, as ever, extremely aroused by what he has prepared for me tomorrow. My right hand is inside my tight white panties and I am opening my lips and rubbing my engorged clit as I muse on my next move. As you shall soon find out (in another story!), it promises to be quite a day!

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I step into the room, excited, barely able to catch my breath with the anticipation. I stand for a moment in the doorway, both to give to you the chance of taking in my appearance, and so compose myself. I want to present a cool, calm, controlled front, not to betray how excited I am. I am dressed in a leather jacket with leather trousers and tight, thick leather gloves.

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Being 18 is a tough age. I was living at home with my parents and although I had had a few girlfriends my knowledge of sex was limited to a few groping sessions at the movies with equally inexperienced girls. My hormones were going wild and I spent almost every waking hour trying to get a look up every girl's skirt and looking longingly at the underwear adverts in my mother's magazines.

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