Your erotic stories

She told him Sunday night to make no plans for Thursday. "We'll be going to the Society House for a special training on Thursday," she explained. "I know it will be tough, but I don't want you to cum at all before then." It had been a long three and a half days by the time Thursday finally arrived. Of course, even though he had not been allowed to cum, that hadn't stopped Amy from teasing him.

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Angie walked nervously down the steps and up to the front door, still unable to believe that this was actually happening. Her hands shook as she rang the doorbell and waited for an answer. While she waited, thoughts raced through her head, unable to comprehend that James and his wife had agreed to her request.

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I had just started working for a small little publishing firm. Being a part-time writer myself, it was enjoyable work reading other writers manuscripts, all hopeful of getting their works printed in book form. It was a relatively small office too, something else that I quite liked as it was a fairly laid back and comfortable atmosphere. My job was basically to read the manuscripts, critique them and then pass on my recommendations to Larry Somers my boss, or on to his wife Christine who partnered the business with him.

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"Oh. My. God, this is the girl I saw here last week," - said Mike quietly, pointing discreetly at a girl who just walked into the restaurant. I followed his gesture and saw her as well. My mouth went dry instantly, rivaled only by the instant stirring in my pants.

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Strev and Paul had been friends many years dating back to their school days. Strev was a nick name he'd inherited when he was a child by his school friends; it was shortened from Strevonovich, his given family name inherited from his European roots. Living close to each other, the two boys went through school together and remained friends after entering the workforce. At the age of nineteen, a restless Strev headed overseas and travelled through Europe for a few years before settling down at a Kibbutz in Israel for a while.

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By the time the clock struck midnight, most of the 'casual' guests were long gone, having delivered their housewarming gifts, had a few snacks and drinks, and were probably already in bed. Not everybody had left though. I adjusted my shirt and gazed around the living room. Nick was sprawled on the couch, a gin and tonic in his hand, watching the TV. Geri and Peter were sitting in the kitchen with a bottle of vodka, while my wife Samantha was discussing something with Connor and Caitlin. Anna was in the bathroom and Phillip was out back smoking a cigarette.

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I had been trying to write a Great American novel for years but had only succeed in writing an episodic tale of a town, an episodic tale of a singer, and a convoluted science fiction story. My agents found online publishers for each but not print publishers. My agents were a lesbian couple that would kindly be described as colorful. I described them as batty.

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It begins with a look I suppose, a nod of the head, a turn towards the stairs, towards an unseen room, and in a moment I know I'll be following them to bed, though I'll wait a few minutes while they gather their things, make arrangements, have the final powwow, but I'll follow soon enough, up those stairs and down the hall, I'll knock gently, politely, on the door, can I come in,

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Shari awakened later with a feeling of laziness. There she was on a boat with Tony and Mychelle still naked from the thrashing she took earlier. As she started to head towards the rear of the boat, she saw Mychelle on her knees before her. Shari saw her wrists bound in thick leather cuffs that were attached together by clips.

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I sat on the wide polished piano bench. Late afternoon sun cast striped shadows as it streamed through half opened blinds; golden motes of dust danced silently in the air. He sat, as he always did, next to me. Years ago, I had begged my mother to learn to play – we had a baby grand at home – and she finally relented.

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