Your erotic stories

Sandra sat at her desk and read the email over again. "My dear Sandra, I had such a good time with you last night that I wanted to send you a little thank you note. Your company was wonderful, and well, after, well, I have to say that I have never been with such a kinky, and generous woman before. You are truly amazing....... Leanne."

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I smiled when I saw the house. The corner streetlight reflected on the metal numbers screwed to the front door. This was the place. I slipped through the front gate and into the garden, walking quietly around the side of the house, carrying my bag. There was a back gate, locked, but reaching over I easily found the bolt and slid it open; stepping through I closed it behind me.

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Mr Valens reached towards the numbers on the alarm panel inside the front door of his modern, two storey home. The red light was not flashing. He paused and cast his eyes around without moving, noting the gleaming kitchen bench, the bleak smell of domestic cleaner. Then he remembered. Today was Wednesday - Sharni Peller's cleaning day.

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It has been a year today since my life changed drastically. I can remember that day with a vivid recollection that would scare most people. Even I was scared for the longest time, though it was a different kind of scared than most would recognize. I actually went through different levels of being scared. It was truly as if my world was flipped upside down that day.

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The sun sneaks through the blinds and one of the warm rays reaches down to caress my cheek. I yawn and stretch, rolling over onto my stomach quietly so as not to wake you. I smile remembering the party we had last night...good friends and lots of wine. My eyes flutter open and I greet the new day, propping myself up on my elbow to watch you for a bit. You lie peacefully next to me, sound asleep, unaware of my eyes skimming over your body.

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Long day at work, she thought to herself, taking a swig of diet coke and placing it back into the cupholder. Road signs, stop lights, and pedestrians blurred past her as she drove home. She was already planning out her evening, starting by taking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and immediately making herself a very tall scotch—on the rocks, of course.

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I knew I was taking a huge risk. To change the game at this late date was to risk ruining a very adequate relationship. But, I knew I deserved more than adequate. I wanted so much more. I suppose a little background is in order. I am 43 years old, working in an office, I have a "boyfriend" that I see three to four times a week.

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There is a long, still silence. Finally, you exhale slowly and speak. "Yes." "Yes, what?" You hear my voice beside you. "Yes. ... I surrender... to you." You are blindfolded and tied to your own bed, secured by each ankle and wrist to the four bedposts. You are spread-eagled on your back, naked except for the exquisitely soft blanket covering you from shoulder to ankle.

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The night was your friend. It was always important to remember that. The night was your friend because in it you were dominant. In it you had the control, the power and the mastery. The night was your friend because you made it the enemy of those who deserved to be your enemy. It was a mantra that The Wight repeated to herself regularly, and not least before starting a patrol.

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As the group walked down the path in the state park, Jared pulled me aside to look at a flower. As we were bent over, he whispered to me, "I want you to find a reason to get Frenchie alone for a few minutes. When you are out of sight of everyone, I want you to offer him a blowjob, right then and there. The group is going to be stopping by the stream to look for fossils, so you'll have time to catch up. When you get back to us, squeeze my hand twice if you accomplished your mission.

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