Your erotic stories

Picture me if you can, wearing nothing but a vest and boxers, handcuffed by my wrists and ankles to all four corners of Salima's luxurious 5 star hotel room bed, and blindfolded with precisely 3 pairs of her unwashed stockings. Needless to say, I've certainly looked better. At this point, I was starting to have real reservations about the woman's sanity because just who brings 2 pairs of handcuffs along with them on a business trip?

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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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As I walk into the flat I notice that the lights are dimmed, I smile knowing that you are here, watching my movements from the shadows and have something mischievous planned. I place down my jacket and bag and I hear your heels on the wooden floor as you walk up behind me.

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Music pounding through the cavernous room. Bright lights on the cat walk, as the men dance down around the pole. Rhythmic gyrations and choreographed steps, as they strip off their clothes... bit by bit. It is better than the movie... No drama and far more action. On platforms against the wall more men sway to the beat. They are dressed in the briefest of spangled underwear, or leather g-strings.

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Jim came home from work, to find the apartment totally dark. He called out for Tina, but she did not respond. Jim had moved to turn on the light, but a voice stopped him. "Don't turn that on." Tina told him from the darkness. "Damn, You scared the hell out of me. Why didn't you answer when I called?" Jim asked, while sitting his coat on the couch.

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He woke up about 7:30 a.m. and, at first, thought it was a normal morning. He felt a little chilly and reached for the blanket when he realized he wasn't covered, but didn't find it and opened his eyes to find the bed was stripped of blankets. All he could see was a sheet of paper on the edge of the bed, so he put on his glasses and picked up a note from his wife.

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Whether it's her finger in my ass while she gives me one of her fantastically intense blowjobs, or her strap-on shoved inside of me as she makes me her bitch, I just love it when she gets to work on my ass. She doesn't do it often, but when she does, she goes all out. I just can't get enough of it; I love every aspect of the act.

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Week 1: They tell you to be careful in what you wish for. As usual, I awoke with an erection. Or, more correctly, my attempt at an erection woke me; the feeling of my cock trying to grow, to stretch and swell was hampered by its confinement in a steel cage which was firmly anchored to my swollen balls by a hinged stainless steel clamp ring, and secured with a small brass padlock, which was, of course, securely locked.

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Frankie, the girl who waxed Mistress Vixen so beautifully had no idea of Vixen's profession. She saw a striking, powerful woman who dressed simply and elegantly and assumed that she was some sort of corporate executive. Like a number of similar, if not quite so formidable looking women, who looked after their bodies, Vixen used a lot of the spa's services. Some of them also chose to have a Brazilian wax. There was no reason to think that this quiet, relaxed client was particularly out of the ordinary.

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She was nestled up next to him tightly when he woke up. She enjoyed his warm embrace while she slept, but it was pure torture for him. His cock was harder than ever and ready to cum. He fought off the urge to hump her as she slept. He knew better. With every breath he took in the scent of her. He struggled desperately as his pent up sexuality fought for control and, of course, release. He knew she was a light sleeper and she expected him to be there when she woke up on his days off. He wondered how many hours he would have to lay here aching and struggling with his urges. Getting hard, going soft and then getting hard again. Over and over.

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