Your erotic stories

His Side She was surprised when I walked into the room; she actually jumped a few inches and turned around blushing. I had caught her standing in front of a full length mirror without any clothes. I could see the flush on her face, and the wetness on her fingers told me all that I needed to know. She'd been masturbating!

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"Truth or dare?" asks Cristina. "Truth," Sammy answers. There'd be plenty of time for wild antics later. The slumber party was just getting started. "Okay..." Cristina looks around the room at her friends mischievously grinning, feigning serious consideration with a finger to her chin. She pauses extra long to build suspense and takes a swig of her wine cooler before posing her brilliant question: "Spit or swallow?"

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I was always amazed at how someone from my past unfailingly seemed to turn up on opening nights of exhibitions. It didn't seem to matter which city I was in, some old school friend, long lost family member or an acquaintance from the photography fraternity seemed to find the ads for my openings in the small print and turn up to say hi.

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She leaned against the cold brick wall, trying to defend herself from the three hoodlums. 'Leave me alone!' she yelled, covering her breasts with her left arm, while slapping away the many hands that were trying to go under her short shirt. 'All we want is some of that sexy ass, baby,' one of the punks said, trying his best to get a feel between her legs.

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As I explained in my first story (My first submissive), I'm fortunate to have a high paying job at a large well known firm. While my employer is equal opportunity and all of that, even the most open minded employer wouldn't react well if they learned they had an amateur dominatrix on their senior staff.

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The morning mist covered the grass and flowers; it was a beautiful May morning in Georgia. Birds were chirping and a slight breeze rustled the leaves in the trees that lined the long driveway that led to a spacious mansion. It was difficult for Nora to believe that she was only sixty miles out side of Atlanta;

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He saw her across the room and he felt his cock stand to immediate attention. She was wearing a minimal black dress with a cleavage so deep it threatened to spill her tits out the moment she leant forward. Her tongue licked her blood red lips as she smiled at him and he let his eyes take in the sight before him. She had shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes that were framed by long, dark eye lashes. Her dress clung to her every curve, showing off a flat stomach and deliciously feminine hips.

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Heavy rain hammered loudly on the roof of our porch. Strong winds whipped through the mesh screening, blowing the heat of the summer day quickly away. The wind pushed raindrops through the screen, vaporizing the droplets into a fine, refreshing mist. The random lighting strikes that brilliantly lit the night-time sky were quickly followed by deafening claps of thunder. The room was pitch black, interrupted only by the persistent flashes of bright white light. Being out in the elements, experiencing the power of mother nature was intensely stimulating.

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The sky started clouding over as I found the cafe called 'Chances Are' down on Santa Monica Boulevard and pulled in. In 1974, I was nineteen, and had found a man in a swinger's ad magazine, and was here to meet him.

Inside, it was different than any other restaurant I frequented. The clientele was all men, not a woman in sight. I felt a shiver of guilt and fear as I waded into these unknown waters, looking around for a man in a black suede jacket with a large red book. That would be Gary. 

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I want Daddy to sit in his chair, with the paper, reading. I want him to look up, and see me on my hands and knees, my tail butt-plug deep in my ass, brushing my thighs. A cute pair of ears on my head, and the collar and tag around my neck... and nothing else on. I settle at your feet, and rest my nose against your thigh.

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