Your erotic stories

He is lying in her arm, she touches his face, her gentle voice is sending shivers down his spine, just like all the times. She is playing with his nipples again, they are already hurting a bit. She is talking to him with her calm voice. He had to masturbate in front of her and had to stop just before cumming. Cumming was strictly forbidden. Just using his full strength he was able to do so. She knew more about his body than he did himself. When there were only two or three moves left until his explosion he heard her gentle order: "Stop!"

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Daniel allowed his eyes to wander up the length of his Mistress's silky smooth legs, right up to the point where her thin white robe contrasted with her lightly tanned thighs. He continued to kiss her well-manicured toes and instep, while being acutely aware of the fact that his cock was becoming uncomfortably constrained by his tight-fitting chastity device.

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My name is Zake. I'm called that because my parents gave me an unpronounceable Ukrainian name, and that was the best fit that came out of kindergarten. It stuck, and it's been hard to get confused with anyone else in the phone book. I'm 34 years old and I'm an instructor for heavy equipment. I also dig vacant lots for homebuilders on the side with my own business.

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She knew he wanted her. She strode efficiently between the workstations; her eyes never wavered from the door to her office, she walked with purpose and confidence. She acknowledged him, but only in a curt professional manner, she wasn't here to be anyone's friend. His eyes followed her to her office, she knew he watched her and she enjoyed it.

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Jesus Christ! Had he just said that? Really? He couldn't believe it. Here he was, 64 years old, and he finally couldn't prevent blurting out a yearning which should have stayed private for ever. It was a cliché, sure, but at that moment time just froze. He was conscious of no other sound or movement; perhaps his heart even stopped beating. The room was a photograph.

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She wakes, quietly but thoroughly, her hand cupping one soft, breast, the nipple hard and elongated beneath her palm. Her fingers sweep out and under, trailing butterfly touches along the sensitive underside of her breast. Squeezing gently, her eyes seek the stiff red tip, measuring the length of her arousal. Her dreams are wisps of ether, hints of sexual longings and sweet couplings. She already feels aroused.

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One of the first things I noticed when I started interning at this company was Matt, our "fitness consultant," a professional bodybuilder that's been hired to keep the office in shape by running exercise classes in the company gym and making various recommendations.

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I was old enough to know better. Clever enough to know better. Responsible enough to know better. I should have been able to do the right thing, the only thing. This story recounts events beginning in the summer of 1994, not really that long ago, but an age before mp3 players and before mobile telephones really became popular.

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I didn't get into sex when most of my friends did. I'm not sure why, but at thirteen and fourteen when my friends were starting to take an active interest in sex and boys, I just wasn't that interested. I suspect my hormones were late bloomers or something. It wasn't until I was sixteen that I started to feel the urges, and I tried to deal with them at bedtime by touching myself with very little results for some reason.

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Though he was twenty six years old Charlie still lived with his divorced mother; in her basement in fact, because he couldn't afford a place of his own. Charlie wanted to move out and get an apartment or perhaps rent a townhouse, but with his meager salary his prospects were not good.

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