Your erotic stories

I was in Chicago for a couple of days of business meetings which usually also means a couple of days of extreme boredom in the meetings and being too tired to do much afterwards. Thankfully my company put me up in a nice hotel just across from the convention hall we were meeting in so after I'd finished for the day I figured I'd stop at the hotel bar for a beer or two before going back to my room. I was just leaving the hall when I heard a woman's voice call my name. I didn't recognize the voice and figured she must be calling to someone else when I felt a hand on my arm and the same voice said, "If you're not Dave I'm going to feel very silly".

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Friday night. I am secured in a standing position, naked and spread eagled. My ankles are secured to a spreader bar, my hands to restraints attached to new hooks she has attached to the ceiling. My wife's mouth surrounds but does not touch my pulsating cock. I tighten my groin muscles to make contact. She pulls away. "Bad boy!" She reaches down for her riding crop and slaps mildly at my balls, stretched and separated by a leather cock ring.

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I stepped from the shower and looked at myself in the full length mirror. Like most women, I think that my butt is too big, and my breasts too small. My hair is a pleasing shade of brown, thanks to the skills of my hairdresser. The triangle of hair between my legs has telltale streaks of gray. "Fast chance anyone will be seeing THAT anytime soon," I thought to myself. "I guess I could be a hell of a lot worse at 58."

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"Are you sure we can't work something out, Ariana? This is more than a little demeaning, after all." "Demeaning?! I would think it would be more demeaning that a knight can't find enough money to pay his debts to society, as it were. I think you ought to just consider yourself lucky I think you have enough skills to get by without paying for the rent."

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It was almost six p.m. shift change at the small local bar that has been my hangout for many years. I seem to only get there on Sunday evenings now. I shoot pool with friends, look at the strippers and stock up on fantasies for the coming week. One lovely, married dancer named Britney was responsible for a large share of them. She always worked Sunday evenings. Her life has been in turmoil for most of the last year. Every few times I see her I help her relax and get her off with my hands in the private corner.

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It wasn't easy being a young professor at a southern university in the US. When I say young, I mean young. I was always an overachiever, and got my Ph.D at 22 and began teaching immediately. This meant that I was barely older than my students at best. This had the potential for becoming an outright, unmitigated disaster, and everyone knew it. The Director of my program never came out and said anything to me directly, but it was clear he was keeping a close eye on me.

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Lena hummed tunelessly to herself as she put away her groceries. Her voluptuously curvy figure, kept in check by four sessions of yoga a week and strict adherence to a healthy diet, was cased in snug denim and a soft knit sweater. Lena tried to keep her kitchen stocked with only healthy foods—whole grains, fruits and veggies, Clif bars. She knew that if she let herself snack on processed food, her toned waist would gradually expand and soften, and she refused to let that happen.

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Tracy, my new found and rather older lover was, I discovered rapidly, not simply a tease but one who enjoyed it. Each morning as Tracy said, "good morning" she slipped me a sealed envelope before walking down the platform to chat with her friend. I tore the first on open immediately. It read, Dearest Sweetest David. I am so looking forwards to you driving your hot rod in and out of my garage once more. You've missed a treat today, silly me I forgot to put any panties on.

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In high school, I was one of the premier jocks in our school. I dated the cheerleaders, popular girls, and even the less popular girls in other clicks. I was, by most standards, large. At 6'6", 225 lbs (then, not now), and thank you god, blessed to be hung like a horse, I have filled lots of tight pussies. An athlete of state honors level for football, basketball, and even baseball, college scholarships abounded. I accepted a full ride to a Div I college for football as a quarterback.

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I first saw her as she walked from her car towards the supermarket. She was hard to miss, especially in broad daylight. I was parked two rows away and she walked into the Harris Teeter store about twenty steps ahead of me, her tight ass swaying back and forth in her tiny, designer-label jean miniskirt.

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