Your erotic stories

My friend Jeannie and I have a thing. We shop together, try on clothing, and fool around in the dressing room. We have always liked it when people watch us kiss and touch under tables and such, but since we found one particular clothing store, we can't stop going there. It is a small shop that sells the sort of dresses we like, and the same saleswoman is always there. She watches us.

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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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I first noticed her on a grey November's day at the supermarket. As she loaded shopping into her car a huge bag of green apples fell from one of the carriers, hit the ground, split and fruit rolled everywhere; she must have been very fond of apples. Much of it tumbled, erratically in my direction, I scurried about gathering up the tumbling orbs and restored them to their somewhat flustered owner. I would never have looked at her twice, she could have been my mum but then she smiled and her face lit-up, rolling back the years in a trice.

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"You are kidding?" I shouted at the van driver as he walked to his vehicle; "Seriously...you are just leaving them there?" He continued ignoring me even though I had my hands on my hips and I was tapping my foot on the pavement, to show him that I was really angry.

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"Julie?" I heard a voice ask. As I turned around, I looked up into the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen. The woman attached to those eyes was a tall brunette with blonde highlights, a curvy body and ample cleavage that was highly visible in the low-cut shirt she had on. I took a minute to look her over before answering.

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I Mirrors should be banned, I thought, tilting my head slightly to one side. They're awake, you know, and exist to torment women who appear too fat, too short, too tall, too...anything. Each should be seized, in on-going raids by some would-be federal agency, a Department of Imagery or something, which if it doesn't already exist, ought to be mandated by Congress to protect females everywhere.

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Two young twenty-something's (one female, one male) are working late in a local gift shop when two armed men come in to rob the place. Knowing the shop owner (neither of the two young people) keeps a large amount of cash hidden in a floor safe, the armed men go for the safe but to keep the clerks from calling the cops or escaping, they are locked into a very small broom closet. But before they are locked in, they are stripped naked and tied together face to face.

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Tuesday morning I took special care in getting ready for work; knowing it was Jacks usual day to frequent the library. I'd spent the night (like most others that week) dreaming of Jack's sweet seduction and our "date" last week. Scanning the conservative work clothes in my closet I finally settled on the form-fitting black skirt and the soft red sweater. I was so nervous; it took me several tries just to get the seams straight on the backs of my stockings. The morning seemed to take forever to pass and after lunch I'd stood at my office window, lost in fantasies of Jack.

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It was all her fault. Really it was, I swear. I mean why else would I have ended up at the pornshop sucking cock and getting fucked through a gloryhole? It was her fault. Can't you see that?? Ok, maybe I better start from the beginning.

I was on a business trip to Wheeling a few years back. Yea, Wheeling. Nail City. And about as exciting as a sack of nails. I was looking for some fun so I went to the strip club on the island in the middle of town. Well, somebody had complained and they had cracked down, no total nudity and alcohol at the same time.

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*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age. ***** Derek Boudreaux checked his mailbox. Three banks down, one of the numerous tenants that lived in the apartment complex likewise checked their mailbox. Derek had tried once to engage the neighbor in conversation. The neighbor had claimed not to speak English. He then glared at Derek when Derek answered him in fluent Spanish.

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