Your erotic stories

He obeyed so well. It was one of her favorite things about him. Her other favorite thing about him? The way he disobeyed. Tonight she'd push him to his limits and test his devotion. She had to. If he succeeded, she would collar him. She'd searched for weeks for his collar, the one that would fit him perfectly. One that fit them perfectly. It was black leather, dark, soft and supple.

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If time could be recognized, then we would have no need for clocks or calendars. These things are metres set against a background of haze and dream. The truth of time is that we live it. We breathe in moments and release seconds to the atmosphere where they bound and prance, teasing us before disappearing completely. They taunt us with their ephemerity.

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Night never falls quickly enough on New Orleans. Interesting by day, certainly, but darkness brings the true city to life. The barkers and harkers, bodegos and cafes. The places seeking merely to move money -- from your pocket to theirs. And oh the promises. This night will bring something else to the city of cadence and creole. She feels, rather than hears, the calls for attention ringing and melting together in her ears as she stands looking out her window.

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What a neat idea, Ted thought. He'd been down Lexington a couple of times a week all semester from his room to his classes at the university and he hadn't even noticed the Chance Café, down on the lower level under a hippy New Age gear store.

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Jennifer sat in the coffee house, waiting. Her hands kept touching the cup in front of her or her hair - reflexively adjusting it, stealing glances at herself in the floor to ceiling window by her table. Men walked by with furtive glances. This was new. She got her share of attention – early thirties, slim, pale blue eyes, and shoulder length auburn hair just like she wore in her early twenties.

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Peter was dozing on the London bound train. It was 8.30 on Friday evening. He had had a busy week's work, and as he had nothing planned for the weekend, he had decided at the last minute to head into London in search of some fun. Aged 25, tall, good-looking with shortish, dark hair, he had little problem in pulling girls when he had the mind for it, but had no interest at present in a long term relationship.

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At first glance, you probably wouldn't guess me for the type that I really am. I look no different than any other college student. Eighteen years old, medium long blonde hair, nice smile, honest eyes, decently built. I spent most of my time like all my other friends. I go to lectures, I do my homework, I party, I go out with friends. Nothing really special...

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She could feel her nipples getting harder as they brushed against the silky lining of her coat. A wicked smile crossed her lips. "Working late, is he? We'll see about that," she thought to herself. The chill from the night air heightened her anticipation and she walked a little faster.

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I was 18 when I first had sex with a man. This is the story.... I am a very hot looking guy. I say that knowing that some may consider me vain, or arrogant, but over the years I have had so many women and men tell me how fine I am, that I know it is true. I am 35, blond and blue eyed, 6'1," 180lbs, with a tan athletic body and a 7" beautiful cock. I have been dressing up as a sexy girl ever since I was 18 years old and had my first experience with a man. The following is how it all started...

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Heather walked into the quiet little coffee shop that day to meet her best friend Shannon, noticing immediately that she had claimed a booth in the back. "Heather! I'm so glad you could come and meet me on such short notice! Please come and sit down." "No offense, Shannon, but this had better be as important as you said it was. I had to reschedule some very important meetings to come here today and my boss is oh, so pissed."

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