Your erotic stories

"You're late." The steely tone in Amy's voice let Graham know he was in trouble, that was her "Don't-mess-with-me" voice. "I'm sorry, traffic was murder." Amy Welles didn't like people being late, it was one of her Pet Peeves. Graham knew full well it was a flimsy excuse and Amy would call him on it.

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I took deliberate care in choosing the right outfit for this night. I wanted something that was going to make you hard the moment you opened that door. It has been so long since I've seen you. Well, since I've seen you as My slave, and not as your everyday persona. I chose black for the color of this night. Black looks so good on Me, with My pale white skin, and bright red/blonde hair.

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I've often asked myself how it is that I came to be so addicted to the worship of women's legs. I've never adequately been able to explain it even to myself. I will say that ever since I was a young boy, the sight of a firm pair of legs, preferably in a skirt, is enough to get my juices flowing, my cock hard, and my mind racing.

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"You know what I want." "Yes," I answer. I drop to my knees. She smiles down at me and parts her legs. Her right leg extends towards me. I take her foot in my left hand and with my right I undo the strap of her shoe. I remove it and toss it aside. I close my eyes and rub her foot against my cheek, loving the smooth, sensual feel of her skin against my face. Gently, ever so gently I kiss her ankle.

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