Your erotic stories

You couldn't forget Crystal. Beautiful, tall, with long black hair, dark green eyes and a full mouth that was usually laughing at something or someone, and always painted with a startling red lipstick. Her full tits clamoured for your attention, invariably only just contained by the fabric of some immaculate designer outfit, worn with high black boots with higher heels. But the most memorable thing among the many things about Crystal was what you saw when she walked away - her broad and glorious arse.

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My cell phone buzzed, making me jump. My first thought was that Megan was calling me, calling me to apologize, calling to ask me to forgive her. Forgive her for screwing me over and kicking me to the curb like a dog. I'd been dozing in the old, worn recliner in my darkened living room. The TV was on, and the baseball game I'd been watching was over now.

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Metallic grey skies had hung over London for days before finally bursting into hours of torrential rain. Tom felt his spirits dampen beyond retrieval. He had been walking in Regent's Park, the grim weather keeping it almost empty; now he needed some resolution to his mood. It was either Mozart on the South Bank or the whores out East.

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It had been over 6 months since John and Sue had first been introduced to the painful pleasures of caning by the fraudulent Dr Hay. Whilst they realised that his methods would not help their chances of conceiving their first child, they had found another dimension to their sex life. John very much enjoyed caning his wife, and Sue enjoyed the sex afterwards!

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I still remember the first time I laid eyes on Annette. She was standing on my doorstep, looking up at me, a hesitant smile forming on her full lips. She was holding a portfolio under her left arm. With her right hand she pushed a wave of auburn hair away from her eyes.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a stand-alone story but the characters are the same I used in my story 'Get A Room'. It's not a sequel but more another episode of the same show. Let me know what you think about it. - Rose * "What do you think you're doing, young lady?" The deep, booming voice sounded angry.

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The whip laid into Valerie's back with a vengeance. Blood flipped off the end of the whip to create a splatter pattern on he wall behind the creature wielding the instrument of torture. More blood streamed down the nearly dead woman's back from the open wounds on her back; more appearing each time the savage whip laid into her with a loud crack.

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We'd spoken for so long without meeting that it was incredibly odd to have such specific and naughty images of a relative stranger. It threw common etiquette out the window. In meeting Heather, the point that worried me the most was the manners. How intimate is appropriate? A folder of her in every imaginable pose and posture—full tits, luscious ass, dripping pussy, strong legs—rested on my hard drive.

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The music thudded and pulsed through the private party. Female escorts provided for the evening mingled with executives and local politicians who networked and chatted in the bar area, or who clustered round the raised stage, waving paper money and begging for the dancer's attention.

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I have been home from work barely five minutes when there's a knock at my door. I open it and smile at the tall, skinny man standing outside my door. "Natalie." He leans forward and kisses both of my cheeks, his hand caressing the back of my neck. "Come in," I step back and give him room. "Where are we heading tonight Sammy?" I ask, returning his kisses.

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