Your erotic stories

There is never time for even kisses once the door is closed and the helmets are unstrapped and off. I know exactly what must happen, there can be no prevarication, no need to dance around it; not with the invisible force flowing between us, around us, inside of us, all through us. Gloves are pulled off and he unbuckles the straps and parts the studs on our leather jackets.

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The setting sun lazily flashed and flickered off the final water jump. Caroline dug her boot heels in to goad her horse, Odyne, to complete the final jump. Before the ripples caused by the mud falling from the horses hoofs had reached the bank, she had crossed the line to what can only be described as polite, almost sympathetic applause.

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Over Easter my boyfriend and I were both off work so we decided to drive to Chicago over the long four-day weekend. Unbeknownst to him I made contact with a bi-sexual man and woman via the internet, several months earlier. The trip to Chicago was my idea since they live there. I was not sure how he would react but he has always been pretty kinky so I thought he would be pretty receptive, even knowing that I kept it from him until now.

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The rap of her boot heels echoing off the concrete walls was the only sound as she walked down the long line of cars, looking for where she'd parked. She'd been sure this was the row—13-D—but where was her car? She shifted her bags to her left hand where the black leather glove would keep the handles from biting into her and looked back over her shoulder through her blonde hair. Perhaps she'd walked past it? But there was no red Peugeot.

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It's late. Deep within the AM. The storms are rattling the house, shaking all the windows... with a crash the room goes white, lit brightly beyond any recognition, for just a split second. Then total darkness. Again. I'm scared. I'm alone. I hear the sheets of rain colliding against my window...

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My wife doesn't know about my sessions. She can never know. We live a very normal life. Too normal. Our sex is bland. It's always the same thing. Thanks to the internet, I have realized that I am interested in a lot of strange things. Karen would never understand. So I have my sessions with Mistress Nikki to get what I need sexually.

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Gordon Fields sipped his Scotch and leaned back in his comfortable chair. Despite his occupation, he wasn't a "tough guy" or a "man of the streets". He had grown up in a nice home and he enjoyed the finer things in life. Now that he was off for a while, he had time to enjoy those things. He could indulge in good food and a fine Cuban cigar. He could have a drink or two and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman without the concern of how it would affect his performance.

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This story is set fifteen years ago before I was married. It was a cold, crisp evening and my thigh high boots clip-clopped along the pavement as I walked. I pulled the thick, long coat tighter around me to try and keep out the worst of the weather. I was on my way to see my latest boyfriend at his mother's house.

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It was Friday and I had the day off as holiday, I had already planned to go to my favourite fetish club that night with my friends and I thought buying some new fetish gear was a must because I wanted to treat my self. My name is James and I work in a large insurance firm, my best friend and club buddy is a girl called Carla who I had known for a while now. There are four of us and I am the only guy in the group. We are all into the fetish scene and my particular fetish is high heeled boots!

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The boots were her most frivolous purchase ever. For $400 they had only decorated the inside of her closet, reminding her of her woefully single state every time she opened the doors. They stood proudly in the corner, glossy and haughty, telling her she'd never be that girl, not the girl with enough balls to slip those boots onto her feet, zip them snugly around her calves and knees and thighs, and strut out the door on those 4" heels.

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