Your erotic stories

As Ashley and Penny were being driven to Ashley's apartment from Lady Rose's in the stretch limousine she had provided for them after the special dinner she had given for the ten Department Heads of her two department stores in city centre Sydney, they talked about all that had happened that evening:

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You're downstairs reading when I call to you from the bedroom. "Honey, could you come up here for a second? I need your help with something." You put down your book, mildly annoyed at being interrupted, and walk up the stairs. "What's up, Doll?" you ask as you come around the corner into the room and stop dead in your tracks, mouth open slack jawed at the site in front of you.

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It started with a plate full of food. It was no different than the plate full I had eaten the night before, or the night before that. In fact it was no different than any dinner I had eaten for the last fifteen to twenty years of my life. What made the food in front of me repugnant was... laughter. I could hear it echoing in my ears even as I looked down at the food.

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Angela's boyfriend was asleep on the couch. I don't know why that should have pissed me off so much, but it did. It was a rainy Saturday in October, and Angela and her boyfriend were home from college. I wanted to play playstation, but Mike, the boyfriend was taking a nap on the couch in front of the tv. My couch. My tv. The more I thought about it, the more it irked me. Angela and Mom had gone out shopping, leaving me alone with Mike. Now I couldn't play my video games on my tv? The injustice of it!

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They had a long-running game that they always played. It was called "Trust Me?" The rules were simple, really. They took turns, Stan having total control over Jackie for a weekend, followed by his total submission to Jackie on the following weekend. There was to be nothing that one couldn't do, should he or she desire it. There were no safe words, no refusals allowed. It was to be a sort of affirmation of trust and love each and every week. If one didn't really like what was transpiring, it was to be discussed later, after the weekend was over.

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I watched as my wife applied the finishing touches to her lipstick and then turned to me. "Right, I'm ready now, can you give me a lift?" We headed downstairs and out to my car. It was then just a fifteen minute drive to the restaurant where Kim was meeting her boss. She worked as assistant credit controller at an engineering firm and her boss was moving to a new job in Scotland.

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It was the summer of my eighteenth year. As everybody knows, summer in New York City is hot and sticky and miserable, and this summer was especially hot. My name is Andrea and I live with my family in a small apartment in a neighborhood called Morningside Heights. It's not too far from the Columbia University campus, but it might as well be a thousand miles. The people on my street drive cabs, work in food services or low-end retail. Or they're just plain dirtbags.

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I got home late one night from my usual cardio session at the gym. Working out had got me sweaty and horny, so I raced home, glancing to be sure the DVD was still on the passenger seat, something I had grabbed from the gay section at the porn shop I worked at, before leaving for the day.

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"Hello? Anyone here?" Sam closed the door behind him, and gazed around the labyrinth of shelves for the owner. For the last twelve years, Magikal Goods was run by a man named Karlus. He was a loner, not talking much outside of making a deal. But lately, he'd been even more reserved. People would walk in wanting to haggle, and he's just aggressively point to the price on the item until they'd either pay it, or walk out.

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On that particular morning, I woke up with a massive hard-on. So it was quite convenient that my cock was deeply buried in Patty's throat at the time. Chicken or the egg? I had been "dating" Patty, if you can accurately categorize marathon sex sessions as "dating", for about six weeks now. During that time, my dick was usually buried in some orifice, crack, or crevice of Patty's torso and head a great majority of the time. Her eardrums might have been safe, but pretty much every other hole was fair game.

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