Your erotic stories

By the time our second meeting ended, I had decided two things. First, my Master was very, very good at what he did to me. And second, there was no way I could wait until Christmas for our next visit. Almost a month had passed since our second "date." I had been teased, pleased, fucked, and damn well tortured during our short time together.

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"Put it on." A flash of black flying through the air, and then, there in my hands, a blind fold. Play time. Mmmm yes, I so love play time. Lickety split, I covered my eyes, making sure I couldn't peek, turning my head, this way and that, trying to peer beneath the fold of fabric and failing. I wouldn't want to be caught cheating.

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Last night after my shower, I walked into the bedroom expecting to see my girlfriend curled up under the covers, which always gives me a feeling of contentment to end the day. However, instead of finding her half-asleep and ready to cuddle, I found her laying on the bed with the covers thrown back, wearing her black push up bra and some tiny little black lace panties....with an opening cut into the front of them to accommodate the thick, eight-inch-long, strap-on penis that she must have found in my nightstand drawer.

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Oh. My. Goodness. Was she seeing what she thought she was seeing? Creeping closer in the darkness, she realized she was, and while disturbing to watch, she felt her pussy twitch. Watching for a bit longer, until she felt sure she had to be back or be caught, she slowly and quietly made her way back to the street. She had recently moved to the neighborhood, a really nice neighborhood, almost at the end of the cul-de-sac.

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"...When you greet me at your door I want you to be wearing your dildo-pants. Oh, and wear them under your tightest pair of jeans. I'm taking you out tonight, and yes; I do want you wearing them out in public. I'll see you in a bit," I said, and then hung up without giving her a chance to respond.

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I must admit, I was impressed as soon as I set my eyes on him. His wrists were bound tightly together with a piece of rope that was fixed to the ceiling through a single brass loop. His feet were drawn back toward his buttocks with another piece of rope pulled through the brass loop, keeping them firmly in situ.

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Chad, breathing easily and looking mighty fine for a man of thirty-seven, ended his run at his usual bench beside a tool house in the remote Myrtle Beach park tucked into a golf course almost within sight of the ocean enough for most not to realize it was a separate public park. As usual, he ran in just athletic shorts and running shoes.

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They'd been our neighbors for over 9 years. We'd both moved into the community when it was first built, and watched as it filled out and grew, as did our children, moving up from elementary school through middle school and into high school. We were as close as most neighbors could be, easily at home with each other, free to come and go in each other's yards and garages, and even into the house. Our only child and their youngest, Cory, were only a year apart.

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I watched my fingers creep slowly down the slope of my belly, edge into the wispy brown forest covering my mound and disappear into my wet and waiting hole. Then I snuggled deep into my warm bed, turning slightly into my pillow and reached out to Jane Carter.

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This is a true story from the Bournemouth gay sauna-bar at its old location, when it had a dedicated playroom. Locals will know what I mean. The sauna-bar was huge. Half of it consisted of showers, saunas, hot-tubs and the like. Separated by a bar in the middle, the other half was a dark labyrinth of rooms. Some were private, some had mirrored windows and some contained toys.

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