Your erotic stories

I have been home from work barely five minutes when there's a knock at my door. I open it and smile at the tall, skinny man standing outside my door. "Natalie." He leans forward and kisses both of my cheeks, his hand caressing the back of my neck. "Come in," I step back and give him room. "Where are we heading tonight Sammy?" I ask, returning his kisses.

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I step into the room, excited, barely able to catch my breath with the anticipation. I stand for a moment in the doorway, both to give to you the chance of taking in my appearance, and so compose myself. I want to present a cool, calm, controlled front, not to betray how excited I am. I am dressed in a leather jacket with leather trousers and tight, thick leather gloves.

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Like any other good day, today started out with my wonderful Dom tying me up. Nothing puts me in a better mood than feeling the touch of rope on my skin -- the only thing that centers me more is feeling his hand in my hair as I kneel in front of him.

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She paced the hotel room nervously, glancing every few minutes at the clock on the nightstand. Any minute now she thought, as the time slowly ticked by. Absently she twisted her fingers as she paced. She knew this was going to be different than anything she'd ever experienced, she didn't know how, she just inherently knew. What could she expect? She didn't know. She paused in front of the mirror, checking her hair and slight touch of makeup.

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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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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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He sat in front of her in fifth grade, heckled the teacher and got into trouble a lot, but that just made him more attractive in her ten year old eyes. He sometimes walked her home and showed her his action figures. She had very little interest in action figures, but she paid attention because of her interest in him.

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Meg's heart pounded in her chest as she pulled into a parking space in front of the condominium. She was having difficulty believing that she had agreed to this. What in the name of God had her hormones gotten her into this time? Where was her mind when she visited that Internet chat room? It had been hard enough to admit that old desires had begun to surface again but to actively go out and seek someone who could help her fulfill them was madness.

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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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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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