Your erotic stories

He wondered if this would be the day as he lay there and let her strap him down to the table. She sat down next to him when she was done, pulling a small table next to her. Silently she traced her nails across his skin. Stopping occasionally to tweak his nipples. After a few minutes she stopped and broke the silence. "Shall we begin?" "Yes. Please Mistress, please." His eyes were fixed upon her. Rarely though would she ever look him in the eye.

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The boy awoke, the morning light streaming in through the window on to his face, warming his naked body. Already the day was warm, the hot dry desert air causing the small room to be uncomfortably stuffy before the sun had yet fully risen. Today though, there was an electric current upon the air. Today was his eighteenth birthday.

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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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My mother left my father when I was 15. She went off to "find herself" in California. Strangely, my father was upset but also understanding. I think that made it easier for me. I still loved her and she was in touch with us and said she loved us both. I believed her, but also knew that she had moved on as we must. She always was a free spirit and one that was hard to hold onto.

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It had been a long time since we had a girl's night out. I have known Kristy, Grace and Terri since high school. Unlike many kids that graduate and move away, we all got married and set up our lives in this small town south of Los Angeles. High school seems like a million years ago when in fact we were all in the same graduating class 20 years ago along with Kristy's husband Dan. Terri's husband Bob and my husband Jerry were two years ahead of the five of us in the same school.

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Part 1 - Wakeup call The blonde in the chair frantically blinking at me is the client. We'll call her Wife or Wifey. She's blinking because, like most clients on their first experience, she's panicking early. The blink is her safe "word".

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It was Friday evening and as per my weekly ritual, I put on a clean pair of jeans and a button down shirt and made my way over to Abel's, the neighborhood dive bar. As I entered I glanced around the room, waved to the usuals and took a seat at the bar next to a girl I've never seen before. I sat down and ordered a Labatt. As the bar tender grabbed a glass and began to fill it, I turned to the new girl and said "I'm Jack and I don't reckon we've met".

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She arrived exactly on time; seven o'clock. I heard the doorbell ring and felt a small rush of adrenalin. With Amanda, I had learned to expect the unexpected. Thus the adrenalin. I opened the door to all 5'11" of her, and smiled. She was so good at this. Standing there with her massage table and linen bag, dressed in loose‐fitting pants, a collared work shirt and tennis shoes, she looked every bit the part of a normal masseuse.

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His eyes were closed, a vain token of propriety: if he didn't see what was happening, was he really responsible? Around his finger her mouth closed, warm, wet, sucking. He felt her teeth graze over the hardness of his wedding band, then those hot, soft lips closed about his finger, retreating slowly towards his fingertip with a delicious, unfamiliar suction. What am I doing? There is a reason I've worn this band for fifteen years.

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She passed Fifth Street and checked her watch, right on schedule and thankfully the crossing light was on her side this morning so she eased across the intersection without having to stop. Music from her IPod spurred her on as she rounded the corner on Jackson Avenue, in the home stretch now. The warm early May morning sun at her back, she could see the entrance to the building at the end of the city block and urged herself to push a little harder.

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