Your erotic stories

I am diabolical. Brilliant, but diabolical. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I don't have anyone else to tell now. I mean, why go through all the effort if you're the only one who gets to enjoy it. You see, my plan was perfect and if it wasn't for old Saint Nick, I would have gotten away with it. Well, I guess I should tell you the story first, its long and I don't have much time left now.

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'It's a funny old world.' B thought to herself as she ground her crotch hard against Maria's. A few hours ago she almost stayed in for the evening. The couple she'd arranged to meet had called and cancelled but since B had spent so long getting glammed up she was reluctant to let all that effort go to waste. She'd still been debating with herself when the taxi she'd booked earlier settled it by turning up.

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Hannah finished packing her things. The divorce was nearly finalized. The split was mutual, with no hard feelings. The 36 year old corporate executive closed the last box and stood in the bedroom she had shared with her soon-to-be ex husband. It was a sad ending to her fairytale life. One by one she carried the boxes away to her car. It wasn't as painful as she expected. She just didn't find the right person.

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I was trying my best to just flow with it, not think too much. I always think too much. Feel, just feel. Breathe, that's the key thing. Be sure to keep breathing. In and out. Nice and easy and smooth. I could get through this. And don't look! I couldn't look. I will soon, I promised myself. But not yet. Breathe.

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The new owner of the Faro Ranch was unlike anyone that Emily Wilder had ever met in her twenty-two years of life. Her world did not extend far beyond the slat fences of the Faro. Her father had managed the ranch for Mr. Donavon for twenty-six years. When the old man had died, his son had auctioned off the cattle and sold the property.

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I stepped off the bus double checking the address on the slip of paper I held in my hand. The small theatre I'd been told to arrive at appeared to be just around the corner. I was early yet, and decided to take advantage of the time walking into a nearby Starbucks ordering a coffee. While I sat sipping that, I checked myself out in a small mirror I kept in my purse.

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Even though Halloween had passed, my girl friend wanted to drag me to a party in the city, at a private lesbian club she is a member at. Now don't get me wrong, I love a party - and partying with a bunch of girls is right up my alley - but going attached to Reenie. We aren't lovers as much as we are fuck buddies.

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The idea for this story was inspired by memories of another story I read a long time ago, the title and author of which I cannot remember. But at least some credit should go to that forgotten writer, and so to him/her, thank you.

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Nothing, and I mean nothing, in sex gets me off more than the scent and taste of my woman's ass. I don't mean when it's squeaky clean and perfumed. I mean when it smells and tastes like what an ass is and what it does. Nothing beats the erotic blast of kissing her soft, satiny fanny and parting the cheeks to expose her sexy anus.

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Megs had desperately sought a woman to dominate her in special ways. She yearned to be controlled and, with that control, to be subjected not only to depraved sexual acts, but be exposed to embarrassment and humiliation. An elegant, stylishly attired businesswoman, her hair always perfectly in place, her nails immaculately done, dressed so very precisely, Megs gave off an aura of almost over concern with the crisp and clean and tidy image of herself she presented to others

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