Your erotic stories

Let's start with the boring stuff. My name is Caronne, I'm just over six foot and slim, with almost no boobs but large nipples. I have long brown hair that reaches about halfway down my back and hazel eyes. The following is a true story...

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He poured the warm oil across her shoulders and it slid down the curve towards the small of her back, drawn to the crease over her spine. Gooseflesh rose out of pure sensual bliss. That and the thoughts that sliding oil inspired: What if his hands, now warm and large and resting over her shoulder blades, thumbs turned inward, were to continue downward, the thumbs meeting in the center, the hands coming together as her waist narrowed before....

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This is a tale of the best humiliation-pain-cum slut I have ever met.. Her name is Peggy Sanford, and she is by far the most willing little bitch it has been my pleasure to use. We met on the net, and soon enough I had her under my thumb. Peggy came to me dressed as instructed: in mini, heels, garter belt and stockings (barely covered by the skirt) and a tight, thin top. As I let her in the door, I instruct her to turn so I can inspect her body.

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"You've never had an orgasm?" "That's not what I said. I said I've never had a man give me an orgasm. I've kept Eveready in business. You gave me a few when we were teens, I pay a surcharge on my electric bill for vibrator use and I let my fingers do the walking, but no man has ever been able to get me where I want to go."

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It was obvious that both Steve and I were both comfortable with the ground rules for our encounters changing, during our last adventure with Tracy I had encouraged Steve to break our 'no penetration' rule by actually taking charge of his cock and easing it between Tracy's wet swollen lips with my own fingers.

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I am a product of thinking patterns and values that were probably always wrong and early training to cherish women. Love and respect was without question the basis of male and female relationships. Until just a year ago, I struggled to find dates my own age or denied my age in an attempt to attract healthier, younger, more active females. Stupidly, I competed with the young broad shouldered, narrow waisted, handsome, deep voiced twenty and thirty year olds. If that is what the women wanted, I could not compete.

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It was a cold winter night. I was standing in my closet with a towel wrapped around my chest, drying my wet body after a shower. I stood there wondering which pajamas to wear when suddenly I felt two hands grabbing my breasts. A warm body embraced me from behind. I didn't have to turn around to figure out who it was. Her warm breath on the skin of my neck was enough to know.

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I wake in the morning, wrapped in silken sheets. Instinct has me curling my arms close around me. The slide of the sheets causes me to shiver slightly. The newness of the material feels wrong against skin that has felt only rough fabrics. I run my fingers over the scars on my left arm, reassuring myself with a familiar gesture as the night before slowly unfolds in my mind.

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I consider myself to be a cheerful and easy going person by nature, but my god some days just defy anyone's ability to stay jovial. My default setting is happy unless something happens to piss me off, and some days it all just seems to come at once!

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