Your erotic stories

There's a standard joke when the UK is hit with cold weather - that we're utterly unable to cope. Even a sprinkling of the white stuff brings the road and rail networks virtually crashing to a halt. Schools close, people can't get to work, supermarkets are swamped by panic buyers and tabloids declare 'SNOWMAGEDDON!'

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It felt odd, sitting in front of the screen, waiting to have a conversation with someone. But then it wasn't just a screen. A camera, too. I can see you. Big deal, I can see you too. I like the anonymity of the telephone, I can curl myself up, pull faces, read the news, hell, I can even play with myself, safe in the knowledge that no-one gets anything more than my voice. This felt a lot more dangerous.

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So, here's a story you perhaps don't hear every day. It's a true story, but it has a couple of layers, so allow me to explain some of the moving parts. I'll try not to ramble too much so we can get to the juicy stuff. My name is Max and this happened to me. Sometimes I still can't believe how it all played out. I work at a small business in the hospitality industry.

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Summer at last, a day at the beach, you bloody beauty, but hang on, I suppose some sort of intro is necessary I guess – my name is Devlin Watergate, I'm 46, widowed, I have a 22 year old daughter who is the spitting image of her mother, presently overseas working for the Australian High Commission. She comes home occasionally which rather cramps my style a little, but having her home makes up for that.

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This is the homework of my slave Gabi. My name is Gabi. I'm from Austria (a German-speaking country near Germany). My Mistress ordered me to write down this story. As a matter of fact this is not really a story – as it is not fictional. This is the description of my first meeting with My Mistress. Mistress Cornelia is my Mistress. I'm one of her slaves and I love to submit to her.

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Sandals flopped against her feet as she charged down the sidewalk. A few heads turned, noticing her slightly disheveled clothing and the flush spread across her cheeks. A tight t-shirt was shifted to the side, thrown on in a hurry. Her white jean shorts were left unbuttoned, barely clinging to sweaty hips as she walked.

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I needed a vacation and a tropical island was the best remedy for the mid-winter blues. Any island would do, as long as it had warm, sandy beaches. So I booked a trip to Jamaica and before I knew it, I was on a plane headed south away from the snow and the cold.

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As she stood viewing herself in her black outfit consisting of a mesh/solid skintight sleeveless shirt and tight soft leather flare pants. Spike heal boot on to add just that few inches of height. Rich strawberry-blond hair gelled back into a ponytail that reached the middle of her back. She'd done her make-up skillfully, black of course to match her outfit even her nails.

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Your heart is thumping, the adrenalin and anticipation beginning to be usurped by arousal. This whole scenario has an element of the surreal, and yet you stay fixed to this spot. He stirs behind you, moving close enough for his cologne to caress your senses, even if his hands are yet to.

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"Well here it is the weekend already. Since we don't have to work tomorrow, how about we spend some "quality time" trying to give one another the most INTENSE single orgasm we possibly can," I said. It didn't take long for me to convince my wife to partake in my little orgasm challenge. We decided that the other would treat the winner of our little contest to dinner the next night.

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