Your erotic stories

She was feeling a little nervous as she arrived. Mistress Heather, as she was known in the D/s community, was still a rather young girl of 23. She had been a practicing Domme for a little over 3 years, however most of those experiences were in the confines of a few of her college relationships. It had only been for the last 9 months that the blond haired Domme had sought more professional experiences with true sub girls.

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Catie stood at the door, one hand on the knob and breathed deeply. She looked up at the men around her and wondered if she really could do this. It was a fantasy, had been one for years, and of all the men in the world, she trusted these three most, but...it may well be something they'd never recover from. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes, blocking the hand that would've touched her to reassure her.

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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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I wanted to grab a fucking bottle of vodka and chuck it. Or throw it. Or burn it. Extraordinary stress, huh? Yeah that is what I am feeling. Damn pissed off at Daniel. We had an argument last night about where we are headed and in the midst of it, he said we should part ways for a while.

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"I've got an important project for you Rebecca," Mrs. Stone said. Finally, a real project, Rebecca thought. She had accepted a job as Mrs. Stone's PA after becoming unemployed. The pay was good. The hours were horrible. And Mrs. Stone was very demanding. Most managers didn't expect to work personal assistants like they did in the old day. But, Mrs. Stone did. She wanted coffee.

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The credits on my video just started rolling when my wife came home from a party. The front door opened in a natural swing, but the volume of her movements let me know that she had been drinking. I imagined that she had a couple of glasses of wine, so I immediately wondered who drove her home. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when I heard an engine make way from the house.

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We meet in a bar, me, my best sissyboy painslut & you. We are all dressed in everyday office attire; you boys look so professional in your suits. I have on a tight white blouse which strains a little at the buttons, the sheer lace of my bra clearly showing through; a straight black skirt, net stockings & heeled patent black pumps. There are other such groups in the bar & we don't look out of place as we choose a quiet corner table;

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The near-naked domina smiled as she regarded her client's dancing cock. He was bound to the low bench, face up. She had teased him past the point of distraction, and took pleasure in his frustrated groans. She knew he craved relief. They both knew that he craved even more to be inside her, to thrust and pump until he could hold back no longer, and in a burst of passion, spurt his seed, over and over, into her warm receptacle.

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I'm at a gallery opening, a warm evening, an elegant crowd. I have only a slight acquaintance with the artist, but I promised her I'd be here. I don't see her anywhere, and I don't know any of the people milling around the large abstract paintings. But the wine is decent, and I had nothing better to do, so I'm not unhappy.

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I guess I married a woman who likes to play a bit. She has a good attitude and is always able to laugh at adversity somehow and make the best of things. She is sexually adventuresome and that suits me to a 'T'. In reading a few erotic stories here and there, we quickly realized that everyone has their likes and dislikes.

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