Your erotic stories

We'd been together for a while. The bond was there – clear and strong. I was his at one time – there was no question. There was nothing I'd deny him – nothing. I told him of my fantasies and many times he used them on the phone or in person to take my lust to different levels. He sent me instructions in emails and text messages and knew with all the certainty that the sun would come up that I'd obey them.

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You're laying on your stomach at first. You can hear the footsteps of men enter the room; you're not sure how many there are. You can feel them approach silently, wordlessly. They walk around you. Their eyes are locked on your naked body, soaking in every curve, every crevice.

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I took a deep breath and looked at the door. On the other side of it were a man and a woman and I was going to have sex with them. Well, not them, just him. But the woman, my friend Fiona, would also be having sex with him. That made sense, because he was her boyfriend, or partner or significant other. I don't know why I am so nervous.

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She couldn't believe this was happening. Her heart was beating hard and fast. She could feel the pulse in her throat and hear the rapid thrum of it in her ears. She felt warm and flushed, even though she was completely naked. The surface she lay on was soft and molded comfortably under her. The fur tickled gently along the edges of her skin. She was acutely aware of the kiss of it against the lips of her freshly shaven labia.

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Every time I tried to bring up a Valentines Day date with Chris, somehow we ended up not discussing it. It wasn't that he changed the subject, not at all, but somehow I would look back ten minutes later and realize that we didn't talk about it. It was very sneaky of him, perhaps. Or maybe he just happened to be pretty scatterbrained lately.

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Eleanor Martin sat naked on the toilet seat, waiting for the results from the ovulation test strip. This was the ninth day in a row she had used the kit, and so far she hadn't tested positive. The thirty nine year old housewife was beginning to grow frustrated. She and her Husband Robert had been trying to have a baby for over fifteen years without any success.

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We had a plan. I was to be taken to a hotel, tied up, gagged, blindfolded and left alone until my man returned bringing with Him our guest, a man I had never met face to face. This was the first time we had invited someone else to play and I was a little nervous, no, almost terrified was a better way of describing how I felt but so very excited. We had discussed having a fun session with a stranger who would fuck me and use me while I was bound and gagged. That was about the extent of it though. The real turn on for me was for it to be rougher. Much rougher.

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I've always been a bit of an exhibitionist. The thought of someone getting turned on by watching me excites me to no end. I like the idea of someone stroking themselves after having caught a glimpse of me. That being said, until a few days ago, I had never really considered how dangerous it was. The desire blinded me to all the risks.

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Milla took three deep breaths as the elevator took her up to the penthouse. She knew she would have to step outside herself to do this job, way outside herself. She promised that she would be strong throughout, as this was her only choice and would be over in two weeks time.

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She arrived exactly on time; seven o'clock. I heard the doorbell ring and felt a small rush of adrenalin. With Amanda, I had learned to expect the unexpected. Thus the adrenalin. I opened the door to all 5'11" of her, and smiled. She was so good at this. Standing there with her massage table and linen bag, dressed in loose‐fitting pants, a collared work shirt and tennis shoes, she looked every bit the part of a normal masseuse.

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