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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1. Watching the young man hungrily licking and sucking her toes as she lay on the cool floor of the back room of the grocery store, Christy grinned to herself. It was turning out to be a great first week of her holiday.

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My wife had to work Thanksgiving Day for about six hours, which was rare for someone in retail. She went in casually dressed in a nice pair of khaki pants, a nice blouse and some comfortable flats. We planned ongoing g to my parent's house later after she got home. This is a casual affair and we bother planned on having a few drinks before we go. When she got home we had a few beers while watching some football, I looked over and saw that she had on her black trouser sock that I bought for her. They gave the illusion that she had some sheer tights on.

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The gathering at Alan's was supposed to be a pool party, but the clouds had been threatening all through the sultry August afternoon and few had taken a swim. By the time the barbecue was ready, it looked like it really would rain at any moment, so everyone crowded inside with their food. By the time I got mine there was hardly any place to sit, and I was grateful when Anne, who had already finished eating, waved me over to take her place on a low ottoman that had been pushed aside so it was near the end of the couch.

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Kurt was not the most handsome man on the planet. But he was a kindhearted soul who was always willing to help out his fellow human being, male or female, and always felt for the underdog. For the former reason, people liked him and enjoyed his company. For the latter reason, Kurt felt sympathy for the girls in the secretarial pool, and would always go out of his way to make things easier for them or praise their work. They really worked their buns off and received little thanks or appreciation for it.

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I yawned. I was bored and too hot. The lecture I was in was dull and I hoped it would end soon. I felt so sleepy and I was itching to get out. I sat there restlessly staring at the screen as the lecturer droned on listlessly. My feet sweaty in my converse, as I flexed them around inside my shoes.

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I recall the exact moment when I realised that my friend John's girlfriend, who's name is Emma, had fantastic, sexy little feet. We were out shopping; we being myself, Jim Hodges and a few others. Those being John, Emma and my girlfriend at the time, Joanna. Joanna and I finished that very night to be honest, but she's not really an integral part of the story anyway.

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When I first came to terms with the fact I was attracted to women, I did the typical thing. Internet porn was in its infancy, but I was a teenager with nothing but time to learn. I bought magazines as well, flipped through the bare, enhanced, airbrushed breasts and landing strip pussies, and never really got that thrill. I knew I liked women, but these... mutants barely registered on that scale. "Feather your hair, open your eyes as wide as possible, smile wide. Wider. Okay, now, pretend like you're playing baseball and you forgot your uniform pants. Perfect!"

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She came into his shoe store a few minutes before closing time. It had been a tough day and he was tired. He was about to snap at her, something cold and impersonal like, "Lady, the store closes in 5 minutes." But there was a way she walked that caught his attention and made him stand straight. She was a petite woman, barely 5 feet tall. She carried herself with a quiet confidence and radiant sexuality. And maybe it was because she was wearing a short leather skirt that hugged her hips, and a skimpy form fitting leather vest on top, nothing underneath.

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"What was your most interesting photo shoot, Natasha?" Alex asked. His digital SLR snapped in the silence of the hotel room. I held my pose, wondering how honest I should be. "Well, I did a shoot last year wearing nothing but body paint," I offered, the over-stuffed comforter pressed softly between my legs.

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