Your erotic stories

Turning off I17 onto the road to Oak Creek, I spotted the renowned red rock buttes and cliffs to the west. The two lane asphalt road weaved up, down, and around low hills. Each time the road dipped into a low spot, the red hills disappeared, only to rise again, more majestic with each cycle of drop and climb of the road.

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It was Sunday afternoon at the library. Ellen, the library's director, paused to watch her young page struggle with rearranging the furniture in the new teen area. Getting things set up was hard work and it was a good thing they had come in when the library was closed. They needed the extra time and the activity would have disturbed the patrons during normal hours.

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The atmosphere was amazing. I had never seen so beautiful a Mistress with such submissive male slaves as we had tonight. The performance in the under-ground club was electric as the Mistress showed us how devoted her sluts were. I must admit that watching them was fascinating, almost like seeing a male image of myself as they craved the pain and humiliation she dished out. One soft stroke of her hand against their skin, one quiet word of praise. made it all worthwhile to them. But they took so much; I was completely in awe of them.

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I was eighteen, had just moved out of my parents' house after breaking up with my girlfriend of two years. I was not ready to go to college. So against my father's advice I moved to a city far away from my small home town and found a job as a mail boy at a large real estate company, which made it possible for me to rent a small flat and pay for my own car.

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Spots of dappled sunlight streamed through the trees and danced and twirled on the pavement as I waited for her outside the building. She was always late, frantically trying to keep up with her life. Not that I would ever want her life, I snorted to myself. Immediately regretting the thought, I focussed on the distant rush of traffic echoing softly through what had to be the last quiet street in Brisbane's central business district.

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Part 1 Something that never left Rita was her milk. It was because she loved to have her tits sucked so much. Rita has very long nipples about an inch long when she’s aroused. Rita very seldom where a bra because she liked the way the material makes her nipples hard and stick out. Rita’s tits were the size of a large grapefruit or a melon. Perky, one fellow called them. Rita, now 46, was a big girl, a size 18,but she always turned the heads of many men.

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It should arrive in three to five business days; my order of sex toys to surprise my wife with. Damn I can't wait. I'll probably be at work when she gets the package; I wish I could see the look on her face as she opens the box. This is what she will see: A three pack of butt plugs, small, medium, and large. All are clear red rubber and I can't wait to see them in my wife's ass.

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One of the most beautiful women I know is Danni Davis. Melissa is the only lady friend I have who might be better looking, and that would be a matter of just barely. Fortunately, neither of these gorgeous ladies has ever asked me to judge a beauty contest between them, because I really don't know who would win. Let's just say Danni is the most beautiful blonde and that Melissa is her Titian haired counterpart, and leave it at that.

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This might have been 1972 in San Francisco but out here in rural Averill Park it might as well have been 1930. There may have been gay guys my age around, but if there were they kept it to themselves like it did. A couple of weeks ago my Mom let me take the car into the big city, which in our case was Albany, New York.

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When the weather was warm, it was Martha's custom to lay naked in her back garden. She stretched out luxuriously on the large sun lounger, reading, dozing or just contemplating the world for an hour or two each fine afternoon. A high brush fence surrounded the garden, screening it off from the houses either side. Thus, she could lay nude and unobserved, or at least, almost unobserved.

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