Your erotic stories

Sofia was feeling miserable like the weather. She had arrived in London 6 months earlier from her native Germany to find work. Leaving everything behind, friends, family, a now ex-boyfriend. She was brought up on a farm in the communist east, dreaming of a life over the wall.

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As she settled into the back-seat of the cab for her ride home after sharing some after work Christmas Eve drinks with some of her female co-workers, Danielle felt a touch of anxiety. This was a distinctly rare occurrence for this usually very self assured young woman. But this would be the first Christmas Eve that she would be spending with Reed since they had moved in together ten months earlier, and she didn't quite know how to react.

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I was soaked. I'd been on my way home, finishing a pleasant walk, when the rain had caught me by surprise. By the time I got back home, my hair was plastered to my head, my clothes were completely soaked, and I was freezing. Shivering, I dug out my keys and opened the door, stepping inside dripping.

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God, she looked good. Sara came walking out of the bedroom with her silk robe slung loosely around her shoulders. It was open lewdly in the front revealing her nudity. I couldn't help but stare... admire... The click of her heels on the hardwood floors made me look down. I saw she was wearing the 4-inch stiletto heels she liked to wear in bed.

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Amanda had gotten all dressed up for nothing. The blind date she had been going to meet was a no show. Dating sucked! The high heels were killing her, she had forgotten to eat lunch, and it looked like dinner was going to be McDonalds on the way home because she sure the hell did not feel like cooking now. She drove toward her apartment.

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I left you a note posted at the door stating: "Strip down naked and meet me in our back room." From the back room, I could hear you laugh as you read it, but I smiled and hoped you would comply. I heard you, first removing your shoes and letting them drop loudly on the floor. The ensuing silence made me think that you might be taunting me, but I let out a sigh as I heard you mumble something about your pants.

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Prologue The Right Hon Mrs Grace de Vere Cobblehaugh sighed deeply. Mrs Cobblehaugh (pronounced "cobbler") was not happy. Yet why should this be? The heiress to the vast de Vere estate had every right to be content with her lot. After all, she was a beautiful, intelligent woman with a handsome, dashing husband. It was a glorious summer day in 1895, and the lawn outside her holiday cottage stretched down to a pretty little river.

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As the van cruised the streets it parked near the bus station. There was the perfect target. A young male around 18 or so with his back pack and ragged clothes stood alone outside smoking all alone. He was not from here, that's for sure. The two women inside the van pulled up to him. "Killing time between busses I'll bet," the smiling short haired blonde in the passenger seat asked smiling.

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The dry warm spring day began to cool and I finally emerged from the reverie of fishing. All day I had fly fished on this desert river. The spring runoff from the surrounding mountains swelled the stream and kept me from feeling the heat of midday, but as the sun set the cold water began to chill me. I realized that I must pack my gear and try to find the road out of this wild place. Finding such an ideal spot, that was completely deserted, had been my goal and by using maps and conjecture I had successfully found the place I desired.

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I had been suspicious of your visits to my panty drawer for quite some time, but it wasn't until I bought that nanny-cam that I could confirm it. You can imagine my surprise when I began coming home from work and finding video after video of my nineteen year-old son dressed in my bras, my panties, my dresses and high heels. That was the kind of behavior you might expect from a little girl, not a nearly grown young man. What amazed me most was how often you did it, how shameless you were in what you took.

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