Your erotic stories

"Hello. I'm Mr. Devereux to see Ms. Hill," I said to the receptionist. My voice was clear and authoritative, but not overly aggressive. I was standing in front of her desk, which had the usual assortment of secretarial accoutrements; a large phone, pens, paper, rolodex and computer, which she was busily typing away at.

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It was a very pleasant date, all in all. She was lovely and funny, and the curves beneath her dress made me very aware of the hopeful bulge in my jeans. She seemed shy, though, and I did not feel quite ready for 'the talk' just yet. Still, when she insisted I come in for a while, I humored her. That was my first mistake. My second was accepting the drink.

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She was awakened as she had been so very many times before... By the exquisite feeling of a talented tongue lapping relentlessly between her legs. She had almost come to expect the morning ritual that she loved so dearly. Her husband Peter always managed to wake in the morning just a few minutes before she and very early in their relationship had taken to waking her by crawling under the bed covers and finding her well-rested pussy ready and waiting for him.

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It was one of those situations I had heard about but never believed. Three friends were over at my house playing poker, and I was down about $300. It was a string of bad luck, really. My hands had been good all night, but someone else always had something a little better. Now, I am sitting here with a ace-high flush, the other three guys have gone in, but I do not have enough money to match them.

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Our physical difference was striking. I'm a brute—at least I look like one. Over six feet, with broad shoulders and thick legs, I dwarfed her barely five foot frame. Where I loom, all burliness and beard and full, round ass, she receded, her thin arms and legs topped by a spindly bottom and slightly sunken cheeks that were the most obvious sign of her fifty-nine years.

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I stared out of my corner office, and took in the view. The view was some guy in the corner office of the next building, staring right back at me. Inspirational. How had it come to this? When did my life go wrong? I was very successful at my work. I was also very unhappy. The money was great, the hours were not. The business was interesting, the people were abominable. The prestige was a source of pride.

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I've written this story at the request of a fan. It is purely fiction. I want to give a prologue that quickly explains my attitude to the issues it raises. Certain things happen in this story that I would not want to happen in real life. In real life I believe in equality and consent. I have moral values. However, my mind is a safe playground for any fantasy I choose. If fantasies remain fantasies and do not become obsessions, they are safe. They are also exciting. Enough of that, you're here for my story.

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