Your erotic stories

"Alison, have you seen my light blue shirt? You know, the silky one that I wear for more formal occasions..?" My mum barely dragged her eyes away from the news on the TV. "I ironed it yesterday. It's hanging in the wardrobe next to your best suit." "And my dark-blue tie..?" "Where you hung it yourself after you wore it last time, inside the wardrobe door..."

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"Kathy? Short for Kathleen? Katherine?" Thomas asked lightly as he poured them both a drink. A strong one for the pale redhead sitting in his easy chair nervously fidgeting. "What? Oh, I'm sorry. I guess...I guess just actually being here...well, I'm very...this just isn't me, something I would normally do," she replied with a drop of her head.

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My two best guy friends, Jake and Derek, came over that Saturday morning to cheer me up. I poured three cups of fresh coffee and set out a plate of danishes, a sinful treat in honor of my being dumped by Stephen, my boyfriend of three years. Neither Jake nor Derek had the decency to look like they felt bad for me. "What you need," Jake said, as he chewed on a cheese danish, "is to purge him from your system."

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The directions stated to arrive at the deserted warehouse at 8:30, and I made sure to get there early so I wouldn't be late. The warehouse one of a long row of vacant, or nearly vacant, buildings located near the waterfront. Parking my car next to two others in front of the building, I wait inside it until the allotted time. In that interval, several cars slowly passed by with the occupants looking my way before continuing on.

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She was beautiful, she was sensuous, and her name was Angel. She checked her watch again, as she waited for the meeting that she knew she should never have agreed to. Not only was her date a mysterious man she knew only from brief contact on the internet, he was late. She tapped her foot, and looked around the little resteraunt again. Just because someone's stories turned her on, she was starting to think that was no reason to trust him to show up for a clandestine meeting.

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Coming out of the bathroom, hair still wet from my shower, I stop before the bed. It's all there. He's laid it all out for me, and the tension that I had been feeling all afternoon ratchets up another notch. "Oh, god, oh god," I mutter, not really aware of what I'm saying.

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I believe I left you as I was slipping into a hot bath, all bubbly. There were some surprises that I couldn't have seen coming this Christmas. To say that I was about to be taught a few lessons in the art of lovemaking and the power of a man, well, read on. The bath was perfect, it felt so soothing. I opened my eyes and saw the vapor floating up from the tub into the cooler aire. The water had an orange, spicy scent to it and it was soft against my skin.

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He doesn't need to blindfold me. The room is dark as pitch, even with my eyes wide open, staring so hard that I can feel my pupils dilated fully, making my ears ring, all I see is dark in dark. The high backed wooden chair I'm tied to is the only solid thing my senses can grab hold of, the harshness of the rope that binds my hands tightly behind my back and my feet to the chair legs.

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As I watched Jen skip back from the DVD player and nestle in next to me on the sofa, I took a minute to think how lucky I was. It was a Saturday night last November at my flat in London. My girlfriend, Jen, a beautiful 30-year old, petite but with a 36C bust and long, black hair, had just put on a porn film entitled "Five in a Bed", for us to watch together. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday night, right?

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Mark's the sort of man you can't help but want to tie down and gag. He's clean shaven, nicely dressed and well mannered with slight build and quick eyes—ah, but that Mr. Brady routine is just a front. The man is actually a tightly wound ball of futile energy and repressed urges. I think he only shaves his head to keep from tearing his hair out in frustration. After a while, his manic approach to life in general makes you want to push him down, sit on his legs and scream, "BE STILL!"

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