Your erotic stories

I've always found chastity to be a really interesting idea. I'd wanted to experience chastity ever since I was teen. But now I was 30 and still hadn't experienced it. Well, I hadn't truly experienced it anyway. I'd bought a CB6000 a couple years ago and had put it on. I enjoyed having it on, but I still had no keyholder.

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Well, here we were, Lia and I, after our first sexual encounter. We were lying there peacefully on her living room floor. Lia had her head on my shoulder as we cuddled one another in the afterglow of the greatest sex I had ever had, the kind of fuck I had barely even dreamed about until now. Then Lia raised herself up, leaning over me, and kissed me softly on the lips.

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"It may be a perverted taste, but I love prostitution, and for itself, too, quite apart from its carnal aspects ... The idea of prostitution is a meeting place of so many elements - lust, bitterness, complete absence of human contact, muscular frenzy, the clink of gold - that to peer into it makes one reel. One learns so many things in a brothel, and feels such sadness, and dreams so longingly of love!" - Gustav Flaubert

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I was 23 when I met Pat, who was 42 at the time. We were work colleagues and got on really well. Pat had dark hair hanging lustrously loose and a super pair of legs. She wore skirts every day and my gaze often followed her legs and ass around the room at work, or in the bar.

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Karen March 2001 I first encountered Miss Chapman at school. She was the home economics teacher and a guidance teacher too. Teachers tended to view me as a generally intelligent pupil who inexplicably did stupid things to get in trouble occasionally. One such occasion when I was in my second last year resulted in me waiting to be called into Ms Chapman's office for trying to play truant that afternoon.

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It was a hot July day, the sun beating down as if this was the middle of the desert. I decided to use my season pass and go to the amusement park two towns over to cool off. Lakefront Park has its own beach, a water park and of course amusement park rides, games of skill and the holiday junk food you always find at such places. I tossed a towel, a blanket and a bottle of water into a canvas tote, climbed into my van and drove off.

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Karen glanced at the clock, frowned, and realized she had probably missed the director of accounting by fifteen minutes. It was 6:45 in the evening, she was hungry and stressed, and this folder of papers was promised to be on his desk before he left the building. She picked up her phone and dialed the extension of his assistant. Three rings ... four ... voicemail. No one there. She pushed the handset hard into the plastic cradle in frustration, slid her feet back into her high-heeled shoes beneath the broad oak desk and pushed up from her tall, black leather seat.

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I notice her as soon as she enters the room, but then who wouldn't? She's a hot little number, about 5'4", I'd say, early thirties, all pink and blonde. Her hair falls in soft waves just below her chin and she's wearing the classic black dress that always looks so good on a someone like her.

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As I looked up the steps to the front door of the Hawkwood family home, I was filled with dread and anxiety. I started up the first step and I could hear my mother pull away in her car behind me. I could hear the sound of rubber on the wet asphalt fade out as it made its way down the the circle of the drop off area to the black ribbon of the long driveway that led to the front gate, passing the lush grass and trees that lined it. I wasn't entirely sure why I was there.

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Well, I was old enough to know that life doesn't always work out exactly as you want it to. Justin and I had been married for ten years and, frankly, the passion had faded. We were both deep into our careers, I was a property manager for a local upscale real estate developer and hubby managed a district branch of a large insurance company. So, we were pretty happy career-wise and financially, it was the once-every-other-week fuck that I was getting that was disappointing.

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