Your erotic stories

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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I step into the front room and am struck by the immediate sense of anticipation that surrounds me. The doorman notices that I am not a regular attendee and approaches me with a copy of the house rules. I read over them and wonder if I have gotten myself into more than I can handle. Recognizing my apprehension the doorman asks me if I have any questions. Do I? Well, sure a whole list of them, but who will have the time or the inclination to be my personal informant as to the inner workings of this world without judgment?

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She walked the length of the terminal and looked at her watch and then at the arrival/departure display as if it would change anything. As if this futile pacing would make his plane get here any faster, faster or slower, she did not exactly know. And now that she had done it, finally consented to meet him, pushing aside all her misgivings and doubts, she was consumed with a bewildering mix of impatience and uncertainty.

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He was too handsome for his own good. I'd long since recognized that it might very well lead to the end of us. My sore whipping arm was longing for an overweight sub with the face of a pug. Good thing for Precious, the rest of me was not. Eyeing the furtive glances of the young girl, I immediately knew she wasn't his type. She was submissive, for one thing. It leaked from every pore of her overly exposed skin.

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It was the summer after my senior year in high school, just three months of killing time until the start of college. I had just turned 18, and I had been single for the entire previous schoolyear. Small town, small school, and small dating pool made for an incredibly dull senior year. My girlfriend for the first three years of high school, the girl I lost my virginity to (the only girl I'd ever slept with) was a year older than me and had gone off to college.

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He sat in a dimly lit café absentmindedly picking at the dirt under his nails. It was 4:21, thirty-nine minutes before she was supposed to be there. They agreed to meet for an early dinner, nothing too formal. They would talk for a bit and see how things went. Sex was implied but not required. Sex was not a virgin topic for them.

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