Your erotic stories

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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God, he was big; one of the biggest. Shit, he could fuck. Panting, panting, I grabbed the metal legs of the cot on either side in a death grip, my cheek pressed into the rough woolen blanket, my eyes bugging out and my mouth slack and open in a silent scream, as he drove it harder, deeper inside me. Cruel. Rough. Just what I wanted. Just what I needed.

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You might have seen me once or twice if you happen to visit any of the lonelier cycle paths around Great Britain. I've cycled them all. Mile after mile of empty countryside – away from the cars, away from the people, and away from every other distraction of modern day life. Boring? You've got to be kidding! This is where it all happens – in the natural world, that is; and as a passionate wildlife photographer, this is all that matters to me.

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Jerome stood just inside the doorway at the shadowed end of the room. He should have just turned and gone down the stairs and out to the carriage to tell Thomas that Master John wasn't ready to go yet. That's all Thomas, Master John's carriage driver, had told him to do. But the shock of what he'd found when he'd entered the house on Decatur Street and been waved to the second door down the hall on the second floor held him plastered to his shadowy vigil spot long enough to engage his curiosity.

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I moaned softly as the dark-haired man ran his tongue over my nipple and then over it again, chills running down my spine at the feel of the hard, round metal stud rubbing on my nipple. I was thinking hard, although having a hard time organizing my thoughts—Steve was his name, I thought.

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The house was quiet for the first time in a long, long time. My wife had gone upstairs to get ready for bed and I took it upon myself to click the television off. I wanted to take advantage of the time and catch up on some reading. I was nose deep in War and Peace when I heard the shower shut off. For a second, I considered going up to our bedroom in an attempt to catch her naked. Then I considered the fact that I would be making an attempt to forego foreplay.

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"Fuuu... uhhh... ...Fuuucckkkk!" Alex moaned as I pumped his ass wheelbarrow style at top speed. "You like that?" I asked hoarsely, my member pushed deep into his tight hole. "Fuck yes!..." he responded. I laughed and climbed onto the mattress so that I could fuck him like a pony. The mattress was creaking almost as loud as Alex was moaning.

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Mark decided that it was better late than never. He got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. Kristin was already up and had the coffee on. The warm, delicious aroma scented the entire room. He sat down at the table and reached for the paper. He opened it but was not interested in reading it. His mission this week was to watch Kristin, look for signs.

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He had been tracking his female's scent for days when he located her. Immediately he recognized who she was and what she meant to him. It had taken him awhile to realize that the circling path she was wondering could only mean that she was lost. Amazing, he had never known any of their kind to be lost. She was obviously young. Panic had struck him for a moment that she would be too young. However further study of her scent established her age to be well into her breeding years.

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She had come to pray. That was all. Now she was on her knees, gagging on Father O'Reilly's cock. It was so thick. When he had brushed aside his robes, a hot, red slab of meat with bulging veins was revealed and pressed to her lips. "I've been listening to you say your prayers. Why don't you say the Our Father, Ashley?" he asked, still pressing the head of his cock against her smooth lips.

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