Your erotic stories

Looking around the room, she made sure the candles were in place. So many colors, shapes and sizes, yet they fit with the décor, adding a hint of mysterious shadow in one spot while dispelling shadows in another. Colors, blending with orchids arranged amid baby's breath, complementing framed artwork hanging above them, enhancing deep rich hues of hanging drapery and reflecting off gleaming woodwork, each had its place and was ready for the match.

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Doctor Charlotte Preston sat in her dark grey wingback chair and quietly tapped her pen against her folio papers as her client rattled on about his latest setbacks, as he saw them. She had been trying to concentrate all day with little success, Jackson was coming in for his appointment right after lunch and she could barely contain herself.

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Sandals flopped against her feet as she charged down the sidewalk. A few heads turned, noticing her slightly disheveled clothing and the flush spread across her cheeks. A tight t-shirt was shifted to the side, thrown on in a hurry. Her white jean shorts were left unbuttoned, barely clinging to sweaty hips as she walked.

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Sometimes I get the urge to drive. I have a small SUV and I like it. I bought it for practical reasons but I have discovered that I like the way it drives. This story is about a favorite weekend drive I took this year. I woke up Saturday morning with the urge to drive. Gas had gone all the way down from $3.12 to $2.65 and I had filled up on Friday evening.

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Rebecca prepared for the day as usual. Out of bed extra early, a workout in the home gym, breakfast prepared to a tee as usual by the maid, a shower, and then up to change. John had just come out of the shower. He still possessed the hard lean body that had attracted her a dozen years before. As she donned conservative, but expensive lingerie followed by a dress suit, he reminded her that his plane would be leaving in 2 hours, so they had to hurry.

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Traci and Heather were discussing whether or not Karen Cambell would show up at their five year class reunion. They could hardly believe that the 'bitch' would show up after what had happened just over three years ago. But if she did Traci had some three and a half year old pictures that would insure a memorable reunion for her classmates.

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So, 'V' and I are chatting away when she says to me 'why is it that all D/s stories are written from the sub's point of view. Why is it never from the Domme's. Take Summerhouse Blues, I really love that version of the Rhonda character and yet all we hear about is how Tracy feels. What about Rhonda, what did she make of it all?' And that got me thinking. 'V' was right, there's a whole different side to Summerhouse Blues, another story and one that ought to be told.

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