Your erotic stories

Goodness knows why I have this fetish, but I do have it, so I have to live with it. What is it? Well it's the desire to eat shit. It must be from a dominant female mistress and maybe it's more to do with being totally submissive than it is to do with the actual eating. I think this desire has been with me for a very long time and now I would like to tell you, how I turned desire into reality. I thought it wasn't possible to realise my desire until whilst browsing through a contact magazine I saw a mistress advertising Hard Sports.

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Chapter One A piercing clap of thunder shook the darkened room. The storm outside couldn't have been scripted any better by a Hollywood writer. Annalise shuddered as a chill passed through her body. She could feel her nipples stiffen, and not just from the chill. She had been waiting for him to come back since he had tied her spread eagled on the bed over a half hour ago.

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You check the mirror for the last time. The blue slut top. The collar and fishnets. The heels look good. And the riding crop feels at home in your hand. You're ready for him now. As you leave the bedroom and make your way to where he is waiting, you find an anger you didn't know you had welling up inside.

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"Open to me. Open to Daddy."

And I spread my legs for him.

Before that, he had pushed me back gently onto the thick carpet on the moss covering the little sun-spackled glen. He had me kneel before him and take his beautiful, huge cock into my mouth, where I worked it up to over nine inches of hardness to the sounds of the birds twittering in the trees and the other jogger emitting little sighs and moans of pleasure.

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The day had been pretty boring at college. I couldn't wait till I got home. I knew today would be the day. Both parents would be gone, and I just received my package in the mail. As if it weren't great enough, tonight was the first night of spring break. My parents wouldn't be gone for only one night, but they were taking a vacation and leaving me home alone to house sit. Being the mature twenty-one year old I am, they trusted me.

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Dutch came first. It was a particularly busy and boisterous night in the Dick Hut, tucked in the back shadows of an alley off the Nuuanu Stream in the heart of Honolulu's red light district. The sign over the door actually said "Richard's," but that's not what everyone called it. Naval ships were in harbor, more than ninety of them, I was told, and all of Oahu was abuzz at the rumbling of war, with the Japs getting more belligerent with each passing day.

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When the doorbell rang Laura Carpenter had just finished drying her hair after a shower. Throwing on a thin robe, she peeked out from behind the living room curtains. As her eyes focused on the woman at the door, she involuntarily caught her breath. This was certainly one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Her outfit was very business﷓like, right down to the leather attaché case.

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Kelly and I met in our freshman composition class, two eighteen-year-olds sitting in the back of the room trying not to fall asleep together and cutting jokes about our professor as he talked about how his class was an important foundation for our collegiate success, would help us in life, etc., etc. All the same shit that high school teachers tried to tell me.

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"Kathy? Short for Kathleen? Katherine?" Thomas asked lightly as he poured them both a drink. A strong one for the pale redhead sitting in his easy chair nervously fidgeting. "What? Oh, I'm sorry. I guess...I guess just actually being here...well, I'm very...this just isn't me, something I would normally do," she replied with a drop of her head.

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Working away from home on the odd weekend suited Yaz really well; she thought a lot of Cal, Yaz didn't want anything to serious they had spoke about it and Cal was fine with the situation after all she got the odd weekend to do what or who she wanted too. "You have remembered I'm working away this weekend haven't you chick?" Yaz asked Cal before heading out of the door.

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