Your erotic stories

It was nearly pitch dark in the bar, and an air of excitement was palpable in the quiet murmurs of the crowd. Frantic whispers broke out as the emcee stepped to the microphone and the house lights came up. Now you could see the large screens hanging from the ceiling in strategic spots along the room. Now you could see the pommel horse onstage, the examination table with stirrups, the loops and bars and stocks that permitted a variety of bound positions.

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"Would you like something to drink? Coffee, a soda, a glass of wine, something stronger, maybe?" I offered. "I know I could use a shot of something." Paula smiled, putting her purse down on the end table and taking the clip out of her hair, letting it down, shaking it out a bit before she nodded. "Coffee would be good, maybe with a bit of Bailey's, if you have it?" I smiled and nodded, then turned to Evan.

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Chapter 1 The secluded hilltop villa overlooking the Roman port of Ostia was almost silent except for the sound of Casio's soft leather whip striking the pliant ass cheeks of a newly acquired slave girl. The cause of the unscheduled punishment was that she had inadvertently backwashed some of his cum onto his bush instead of holding it in her mouth until she was told to swallow.

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Mary was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am about to relate. Mary had been my wife for over twenty years, mother of our kids, confidant, no doubt the best thing that had ever happened to me. She was not, I hasten to add, perfect, nor was I, by any means, and we had the usual ups and fortunately few downs. However, one morning, Mary just didn't wake up.

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In was the mid nineteen nineties, fall semester of my junior year, and I foolishly took 19 credits. It was murder. I worked almost constantly on school, with only rare moments to myself. The pressure was amazing; I should have listened to my advisor and taken only 15 credits. Fortunately, I worked off my stress in the gym. I would pound the stair-stepper daily for 45 minutes to an hour at a stretch. After six weeks the stair stepper gave up, but I didn't.

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I knew I got the spa for a reason. I'd just spent a pretty rare afternoon at the pub and came home to see my wife Jean with 2 of her sexy mates reclined comfortably in our new spa. Luckily for them they were all sipping on a couple of glasses of champagne. As I came into view her Friend Stacey saw me first and in her usual outgoing manner told me to get my kit off and jump in with them.

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