Your erotic stories

She was on her knees in front of him, looking upwards, naked, seemingly penitent. His head, thirteen inches from his groin, was resting on her pink lower lip, the weight of it making her pout slightly. She looked apprehensive, she was unused to blowjobs and she didn't really know what to do. He was expressionless, entirely able to suppress the swell of excitement and power that was growing in every fibre of his body.

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"Now you've got yourself into a bind." I snorted softly. It was a very unladylike sound, but at the moment, the only thing I could think about was what would happen next. Had he really read between the lines of all of our Emails? The online chats? The late night phone calls? Maybe I should have been more subtle. That's what all the magazines said, right? Guys needed to be told what to do.

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Hi, my name is Tim Donehy. I discovered my special gift when I was 10 and I measured my cock at eleven inches erect! I’m now eighteen years-old and my dong has expanded to over fifteen inches in length and nearly 10 inches in girth (that’s a little over three inches wides, ie : larger than a can of Coke). Not only is my dick massive, but, through an intense bodybuilding programme I started when I was ten-years old in order to build up my muscular mass, it is absolutely rock-hard when erect, unlike most hung men whose smaller cocks never really harden.

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He found himself pacing back and forth from the picture window to the door and back, several times, since he'd hung up from that phone call that informed him his gift for services rendered was on its way; and that it was coming by limo from the airport. He lived about an hour inland from the International Airport that was on the outskirts of the city he lived in.

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She woke from dreams where she was trapped in ice, immobile; eyes wide open but only perceiving the outside world as multicoloured shadows. She tried to stretch her arms, to reach out to the side of the bed for some familiar object, or even up to the pillow, just to be certain she was anchored again to reality, but she could not move.

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She had gotten drunk, very, very drunk. She had no clue how she'd gotten home. She sat up only to flinch as she opened her eyes. Ouch! She saw two pills and a glass of water by the bed, along with a note. She reached for the pills and water, hoping they would help kill the pain from one hell of a hangover. Damn it, what had happened last night? As she drank the water, shadowy memories of the night before crept into her mind.

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So she was seeing someone. I didn't expect her to wait for me, we had only been out a couple times before I left... and I didn't know when I would be back, it would have been unfair of me to make that request. Plus, I had a feeling that she would need the time to enjoy her new-found freedom, making her more ready for me when I returned.

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The smell of autumn was in the air, as the gentle breeze kissed my cheeks. Strolling through the farmer's market on an early Saturday morning, the sun was just starting to emerge. The rays of light dancing around me, I couldn't think of a better place I'd rather be.

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It started out as a fantasy. I'd stumbled across a website that provided an in-depth and intriguing view on the psychology of cuckolding. Originally a 'cuckold' was a man with an unfaithful wife. It was a scornful epithet back in the day. But more recently, it's evolved into a fetish - a fetish often practiced by intellectuals and those looking for more than just the physical parts of being in a relationship.

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Cat squirmed on the hard wooden chair and watched the seconds tick by on the clock. 4:55 on Friday afternoon. Five minutes until doomsday. She worried at an almost non-existent hangnail, nibbling it smooth. Was she a glutton for punishment? Had a death wish, perhaps? She smiled ruefully to herself. Why, oh why, was it so hard to get kicked out of school?

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