Your erotic stories

Warning! This story includes very heavy BDSM, rough sex, anal fucking and other nasty stuff. As usual there is also a romance but it is secondary to the stroke. Another caveat: I don't write with a dictionary or a thesaurus at my side. I use words which are familiar to me---words I use in daily conversation. I am not writing stories for children. If you are the persistent anonymous poster who wishes I would use smaller words so that you can understand them, just give me a zero and move on without comment.

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The first thing that you should know about me is that my name isn't really Betty. Even if you were one of the men that I'd... entertained on Thursday night, you probably couldn't pick me out of a police lineup. That's because I dress and act completely different during the day. I keep my hair pulled back and don't wear a lot of makeup and wear neat but plain clothing, like the successful businesswoman that I am.

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Friday night. I am secured in a standing position, naked and spread eagled. My ankles are secured to a spreader bar, my hands to restraints attached to new hooks she has attached to the ceiling. My wife's mouth surrounds but does not touch my pulsating cock. I tighten my groin muscles to make contact. She pulls away. "Bad boy!" She reaches down for her riding crop and slaps mildly at my balls, stretched and separated by a leather cock ring.

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BEEP! The cell phone in Dave's pocket sounded, indicating an incoming message. He pulled the phone out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open. The identifier on the message was his wife, Sally. It took a few seconds to load, so he knew it must be a picture message. When the picture came up on his phone, he nearly spit the mouthful of coffee across his desk in surprise.

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"Hey, man, is it okay if I fuck yer wife?" I opened my eyes slowly and saw a fit young man with a turgid cock sticking out in front of him and an awkward smile on his face. From somewhere it registered that his name was Derrik. Hearing scuffling on the floor I focused still more and recognized my dirty blond wife being eaten out by a chubby black haired wench with a tattoo on her back.

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I stepped from the shower and looked at myself in the full length mirror. Like most women, I think that my butt is too big, and my breasts too small. My hair is a pleasing shade of brown, thanks to the skills of my hairdresser. The triangle of hair between my legs has telltale streaks of gray. "Fast chance anyone will be seeing THAT anytime soon," I thought to myself. "I guess I could be a hell of a lot worse at 58."

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"Are you sure we can't work something out, Ariana? This is more than a little demeaning, after all." "Demeaning?! I would think it would be more demeaning that a knight can't find enough money to pay his debts to society, as it were. I think you ought to just consider yourself lucky I think you have enough skills to get by without paying for the rent."

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Sarah woke up to the phone ringing at 8:00am on Saturday morning. "Hello," she mumbled into the mouthpiece. "Good morning Sarah," a deep masculine voice greeted her. She immediately woke up, sitting up in bed. "Good morning Sir," she replied. She was a weekend sex slave and usually was at her Master's house by now but he had requested that she stay at home in bed until she heard from him. He had a special day planned for her and she was to await his instructions.

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An unexpected package in the post is always a pleasure, and this was no exception. Although if Jessica had foreseen the events that would unfold, she may have been less excited when she noticed, upon her return from work, the box left outside her door. She scooped it up with the other post and then placed it on the table while she changed and poured a glass of wine.

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My husband was out of town. Again. Sometimes I felt like a single Mom, raising my two kids without a husband present. He made great money, but sometimes I felt like he travelled so much that I didn't have a partner. In addition, when he was home he seemed distracted, too busy catching up on his own life to pay much attention to me. Rather than his absence making our sex life or our hearts grow fonder, it seemed to be doing the opposite.

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