Your erotic stories

"It's a girl thing," I said with a smile to the shoe salesman as I looked down at the shoes he had slipped on my feet. Spike heels, narrow straps, absolute torture but worth the pain. "Oh believe me, I completely understand," he said with a sheepish grin. I looked down at the man kneeling patiently at my feet while I admired the shoes. He was waiting for me to decide if I liked them or not, looking up at me with those big brown puppydog eyes, ready to run fetch another pair if I just said the word.

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Linda and I met in college and in my algebra class. She was 21 years old, only 17 days younger than me. She was 5'5" and quite fit. I helped her a few times with her algebra homework. Since then we became good friends and we hung out every now and then. Last Friday she came over to my house for a mellow movie night. She is usually a punctual girl, but she came half hour late and looked tired.

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Geoff Larsen, (of course that isn't his real name), is the President of Marketing. His office is located four doors down the hall from my own and, being President, his office is a corner unit making it almost twice the size of my own with a fully equipped bath complete with a whirlpool, a corner shower and a laundry chute that heads straight to the basement of the facilities where the gym is located.

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She was feeling a little nervous as she arrived. Mistress Heather, as she was known in the D/s community, was still a rather young girl of 23. She had been a practicing Domme for a little over 3 years, however most of those experiences were in the confines of a few of her college relationships. It had only been for the last 9 months that the blond haired Domme had sought more professional experiences with true sub girls.

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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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As my wife Molly and I got into our fifties, things sort of settled down between us. Things of a sexual nature I mean. Neither of us were as slim and trim as we'd been when we'd met forty years before, and though I still considered her my best friend and sexually desirable, she, I believe, began to think she was no longer attractive. I tried to convince her otherwise (I mean, hey, I'm paunchy too!), and though she said she believed me, I knew that deep down inside, she felt somewhat ugly and unwanted.

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Sofia was feeling miserable like the weather. She had arrived in London 6 months earlier from her native Germany to find work. Leaving everything behind, friends, family, a now ex-boyfriend. She was brought up on a farm in the communist east, dreaming of a life over the wall.

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The restaurant is dimly lit, just enough light to be romantic and cozy. The waitress I flirted with last week gives me a broad smile as we sit at my regular table. Usually I dine alone, but not tonight. You look fantastic in that shimmering black dress. It shows just enough skin to be enticing, and hugs tight enough to shows all your sexy curves.

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It was a stormy night in Atlanta. My bones rattled with chills as I struggled through sheets of rain that slapped against my body. My thin windbreaker failed it's only job, as I felt the dampness soak into my clothes which sucked onto my skin. It was a terrible night, but this struggle of the elements was worth it. For tonight, I would meet my angel, and nothing would warm my drenched body more than her embrace.

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