Your erotic stories

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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I am Darlene, a Divorced woman 32 year old, living near a military base. I am entering my sexual prime. During the recent deployments from the base, I have made it my hobby to make servicemen on leave from deployment submissive to me. I do this by connecting with men online while they are still overseas and obviously in need of female attention.

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At some point I would ask Nicole how she found out about my fetish for women's panties. At the moment, I couldn't ask her anything, a pink pair of her sodden satin underwear was stuffed in my mouth and serving quite ably as a gag. My wrists were bound to the bedposts with silk scarves, my ankles pulled back toward my head and also tied to the bedposts.

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For the past sixteen months, my sex life has been scaled back to what I would call "ordinary." My husband and I moved to Hong Kong with our children for a temporary assignment with his company that ended just two weeks ago. We decided before we left home that it would be best to leave our fetishes behind because we would be closely "supervised" by our host country.

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She was kneeling astride my chest, completely naked. One hand was behind her, holding my cock. My wrists and ankles were tied to the four corners of the bed. I was helpless, turned on and feeling thoroughly humiliated... but still incredibly turned on. The hardness of my cock was a very concise testament to that fact. It's not like she was even pumping it, or alternately squeezing and relaxing her hand. She was just holding it. Using it as a barometer -- a guide to my state of sexual arousal.

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