Your erotic stories

This is What Happened: A gal I met from an online chat a couple months ago invited me to come to her house for a little party. I had told her after we met in person, that I wasn't interested in developing anything with her, but I would like to be buds with her if she was ok with that, and she said that would be cool. We had chatted online on many occasions about a variety of different things, and I had revealed some of my kinkier desires, and she has always encouraged me to just “go for it”.

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'Damn him,' I thought, angrily stomping out as the door slammed shut behind me. Even on holiday he could find something to moan about, maybe its time I started looking for a new Master! Let me explain, by nature I am a very submissive person, perhaps you might even call me a pacifist, under his tutelage I had become his slave, his slut and his whore.

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Theresa was off in her own little world, daydreaming while sunning herself in her backyard. She figured she was safe enough with the privacy fence surrounding her yard, that she could do what she wanted out there without any recourse. She stripped off her bikini and slowly applied tanning oil to her body while lying in her chaise lounge. As the sun heated her skin, the sensation of her hands rubbing her erect nipples began to excite her.

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The beginning of this story occurred at least a dozen years ago when I worked for a former employer and would travel to various cities on business. These business trips occurred quite often and would vary from overnight stays to a week in duration. One of these cities was St. Louis and the stays were usually three to five days long. Clients and vendors would usually wine and dine me most nights but eventually I needed some time to myself, so I started begging off at least one night during each visit.

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"Character," Kristin said. "The most important part of any piece of fiction. If you start writing with only a plot in mind, you will struggle with your characters. However, if you start with your characters, they will create your plot for you." The writing workshop was nearly full. Kristin Morris had had eleven books on the romantic bestseller list. Her current historical romance, "The Sands of Fortune," had been holding steady on the list for nearly eight weeks.

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Chapter 1 I'm one of the lucky ones. I went to work in a really good job right out of college and was in the right place at the right time to be offered an early retirement buyout package when I was fifty-six. Yeah, how about that? And, it was a good package, too good to turn down.

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When I was 13 my family moved to the LA area of California and we lived there until I was 17, a senior in high school. My dad, a software engineer got transferred up to the San Francisco area and so we moved once again. I was pretty bummed as I had made a bunch of really good friends. On the other hand, it was probably the best thing for me at the time because I was really getting out of control with partying and wild behavior.

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As I watched her retreating back, I knew that we would be taking her home that night. Next to me, Alex was also eyeing with unconcealed appreciation the way the curves of her cute little butt spilt out of her white shorts, which were so tight they seemed painted on. We were in St. Tropez on our annual attempt to get away from it all -- "all" being our hectic, money-grubbing lives in New York -- in the old sprawling villa that we owned by the water. Actually, I shouldn't complain. New York makes St. Tropez possible.

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I took the outlet pass from Darrel just before midcourt on the right side. Johnson slid over to try to make me give the ball up, but I crossed him over and cut back towards the center of the court. I spotted Malcolm running the wing on the other side of the court, then drew the defense away from him by turning my gaze back to the right side of the court at D.J who was getting ready to spot up at the three-point line.

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My dad was always working hard to give me what I wanted and needed. Since my mom died he'd been overly protective but super nice. Every summer since I got into high school, I would work at his tiny little taco shop around the corner from our house. It was very successful and every summer dad was opening up a new one. He still left me working at the old shop with the men I called uncles. I was always a skinny little kid and half the time people confused me for a boy.

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