Your erotic stories

Paul's out tonight and I am thinking back to our honeymoon, just a few weeks ago. Some of my readers have been asking me to write about the honeymoon sex, but most of it is really too intimate for me to write about. But I think I can write about the last night without giving away any secrets of the heart.

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"You just don't get me, Marcus." The words pierced right through his seemingly frail exterior. This kind of fight had been all too familiar for the last few weeks of their relationship. Kim wanted him to give her more satisfaction in the bedroom but Marcus was too much of a worrywart and relaxed man to give her the kind of action she so desired.

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In the early spring moonlight, the back of the river seemed to lift and heave like the body of a snake, flowing over rocks and stumps, braiding its way through copses of saplings on the flooded banks, pooling and forming eddies as it washed around the concrete pilings of the bridges. "What does that remind you of?" I asked her as we drove along. "What does that make you think of?"

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He was waiting for me when I came home from work that Friday. As I stepped through the door and saw the leather collar in his hands, my heart began to pound. Dropping my bag to the ground, I immediately went to my knees, casting my gaze down demurely. My hands trembled with excitement as I took the collar from him and fastened it snugly around my neck.

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Falling flat on my face was not the greatest way to start off the evening but there you have it. I was unpacking taped cardboard boxes in my newly rented apartment. Such a hassle. "How's it going?" Someone had stepped inside. I forgot I had left the front door open. He was a very big man, somewhere around 6'2 wearing all leather. Quite intimidating actually but he was smiling and seemed friendly.

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Wally and I were roommates in college when I realized who I truly was sexually. Before Wally, I had been with girls. Hell, I liked being with girls a lot and loved eating pussy particularly. Hardly the resume of a gay bottom, but maybe the way I lost myself in the act of giving pleasure to women should have been a tip-off to me somehow. There was something submissive about the way in which their pleasure became my pleasure.

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When I woke up, I panicked, almost choked on the collar around my throat. The leather dug into my windpipe as I jerked on the cold cement floor, hurting my shoulders and arms. My hands were cuffed behind my back, my naked body pressed to the floor sideways, as my legs, which were free, kicked wildly in a desperate attempt to get loose. I let out a feral scream, almost choking again on the thick leather around my neck.

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