Your erotic stories

His majesty has thus far disposed of his previous queens for reasons which I have never fully understood, and probably never will. I, however as Queen Victoria II, have no intentions of becoming another one of his beheaded memories. Since his sexual appetite tends to sway with a frequency that is unfathomable, I always try to avoid displeasing him at any cost. I consider myself to be a bit of a voyeur when it comes to sexual matters, and probably because of that, I have been quite successful in avoiding the guillotine.

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I was nervous in the car as he drove to the club. Steven picked out my clothes – a very sheer yellow tank top with a short denim skirt. My hair, long, dark red, and curly, is framing my heavily made up face. He told me to put a 'sluttish' look to my face and smiled at the result. His fingers stroked my thighs the entire ride there and he talked about the fun we'd have.

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It was one of those casual mid week deals. Our new neighbors had gotten settled and invited us over for a glass of wine and conversation one Wednesday evening. We met them a month or so earlier at a house warming and ever since been exchanging what we call "The Neighborhood Benediction", those drive by waves and smiles we all exchange around here. Of course I had a few conversations with Andy – the male member of the household – as we took care of outdoor chores, and found him interesting and likeable.

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Carol had been teasing me all day – not a verbal kind of teasing, but teasing of a more exquisite, physical kind that had me fraught with desperation. Teasing that had me lusting for her. She had begun with her smutty talk, guaranteed to light the fuse of my desire. I loved it when Carol talked dirty; she always gave the impression that she was unapproachable, she possessed a somewhat aloof air, but I knew the real woman, I knew the true depths to which she could sink.

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Maybe it's a hold over from ten thousand years ago when animals gathered together as fall turned into winter. For what ever reason it has held that the fall is the start of the social season for the human species as well. It was a ritual for me to step out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around my head. Kenny would be there naked on the bed with his strong hard cock in hand. He would say "Wilda you are so fucking sexy.

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'Damn him,' I thought, angrily stomping out as the door slammed shut behind me. Even on holiday he could find something to moan about, maybe its time I started looking for a new Master! Let me explain, by nature I am a very submissive person, perhaps you might even call me a pacifist, under his tutelage I had become his slave, his slut and his whore.

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About two years ago, while working for the space agency, I was sent to a one week training/workshop in Huntsville, Alabama. I stayed at a hotel within walking distance of the Marshall Space Flight Center, where the workshop was to be held. There were about 75 people there, composed primarily of engineers, technicians, research scientists, a few administrators, and some military personnel.

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I've waited months to share this story with someone. I still can't believe it happened. You would think the details would have faded over time, but fortunately the events I want to share with you are vividly imprinted in my memory. I have never felt anything like this before in my life, a warm, fuzzy, tingly feeling deep inside of me and bubbles with happiness.

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When I was 13 my family moved to the LA area of California and we lived there until I was 17, a senior in high school. My dad, a software engineer got transferred up to the San Francisco area and so we moved once again. I was pretty bummed as I had made a bunch of really good friends. On the other hand, it was probably the best thing for me at the time because I was really getting out of control with partying and wild behavior.

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As I watched her retreating back, I knew that we would be taking her home that night. Next to me, Alex was also eyeing with unconcealed appreciation the way the curves of her cute little butt spilt out of her white shorts, which were so tight they seemed painted on. We were in St. Tropez on our annual attempt to get away from it all -- "all" being our hectic, money-grubbing lives in New York -- in the old sprawling villa that we owned by the water. Actually, I shouldn't complain. New York makes St. Tropez possible.

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