Your erotic stories

"Got a light?" Melissa looked up as she was putting her lighter and cigarettes back into her small purse. Standing next to her at the bar was another young woman, maybe a couple years older than her own 22 years. The young woman was striking, with shoulder length, slightly curly red hair. Her face was nearly flawless, her lips full and pursed in a slight smile.

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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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Ever since congress passed the twenty-eighth amendment legalizing prostitution and other sexual services, there has been a rising and more predominant sub-culture of professional and recreational sexual slavery. Whether men and women would sign away their bodies for love or money, the contract was legally binding and would hold up in any court. A number of BDSM dens arose where like-minded people could gather;

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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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As Lorraine walked up the steps of the mansion for Andrew's one o'clock lesson, she could hear him butchering Beethoven's "Für Elise" in a way so awful it had to be intentional. Sure enough, the musical carnage soon ended in a burst of raucous laughter followed by the sound of several people slamming their hands down on the keyboard—all in all a forced, nasty sound.

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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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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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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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