Your erotic stories

It had been a long night out with the girls and most of us were sober enough to call a cab and then Betsy starts talking about fantasies. "Men always have some fantasy they insist we try, am I right?" I nodded, as did Samantha, Alana and Jenna as Betsy continued to regale us with her latest pontification.

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She's got long, straight blond hair that always smells like coconut, a pair of legs that make up two-thirds of her height, and a round, narrow little ass. She also has an insolent, self-satisfied swagger, a pert, better-than-thou smirk, and a fifty-dollar manicure. I've taught a few like her before, and I know the way it goes. She's seen how I look at her. She's slacked off this whole term. I can tell she thinks she can scam an A out of me by shaking her ass.

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When you're a Villain, there are certain things you sign up for. The risk of arrest, the risk of getting shot by police, the risk of getting hunted and severely beaten up by heroes. The risk of what happens when your secret identity is uncovered. The risk of other Villains hunting you for their own ends. Oh yes, don't believe that only Heroines get hunted, trapped and put through slave training by Villains. Villains get it worse.

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An icy wind stung Amy's cheeks as she ran down a tree lined avenue under an overcast November sky. Her breath puffed rhythmically in front of her as her feet pounded the pavement. Only another three miles to go, she thought, rather morosely, to herself. Today was one of those days she just wanted to sit on the couch, snuggled in a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate, not freezing her ass off training for a half marathon.

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Helen was sifting through the latest batched of replies to her online adult dating advert when she came across Graham's and laughed! His self-assurance bordered on arrogance - in fact it didn't border on arrogance - it was arrogance! He was a self proclaimed master of the bedroom, promising Helen a time she would never forget, with complete satisfaction guaranteed.

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"...When you greet me at your door I want you to be wearing your dildo-pants. Oh, and wear them under your tightest pair of jeans. I'm taking you out tonight, and yes; I do want you wearing them out in public. I'll see you in a bit," I said, and then hung up without giving her a chance to respond.

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I knew I was taking a huge risk. To change the game at this late date was to risk ruining a very adequate relationship. But, I knew I deserved more than adequate. I wanted so much more. I suppose a little background is in order. I am 43 years old, working in an office, I have a "boyfriend" that I see three to four times a week.

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I grabbed my coat and hustled out of the hotel room I had called my home for the last five months. I was running late and new that my trainer Dave hated tardiness. We were meeting to discuss the last week of my training before I finally got placed in my permanent position as a mid level manager. Dave wanted to meet at a bar and grill on the south side of town that had great food and a quiet comfortable ambiance. The problem was that this restaurant was on the other side of the city and there was no way I was going to make it before seven.

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