Your erotic stories

Two months later I walked out the prison a free man. I enjoyed the bus ride to my hometown. My mother was surprise when she saw me standing on her porch. We sat and talked before the front door slammed open. My sister ran over almost knocking me down. "You're ass better be home for good!" She yelled as she ran up the steps. "Oh, my God!" The voice was my ex-girlfriend Gloria. "Why didn't you call me when you were on you way home?"

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Pieces of light filter through the room from the crack in the bathroom door. A sliver is illuminated onto the closet mirrored door as sweat beads across my Dom's back. Slick skin glides next to mine as the anticipation of the next move courses through us both. A nervous glance passes between my lover and I as she takes my hand. This move in itself scares me because it is done without permission. We are guided towards him as he uses our hair to pull us into his chest.

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I have seen so many misdirected and misused young women in my long active life, that I often just ignored them. I was building a house near the IHOP and both breakfast and evening meals were convenient there. The lovely young female, still searching for identity, had waited on me for a week now. We had talked and teased every day. I was getting a sense of her unfulfilled sexuality and the frustration she lived with. Tonight her body was tense and her hormones were surging. She needed to belong and serve. She was slow coming back to take my order.

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"I must be crazy," Elise thought fleetingly as she jabbed the needle into her left breast, two inches below the nipple. It hurt, but not as badly as the needle already buried in her right breast. That one was still stinging, sending a thrill through her that left her gasping. She had hoped that the one in her left breast would balance the pain. Pulling her breast up by the nipple, she withdrew the needle, blessed it in the smoke of the incense, and then stabbed again.

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He had never told me his name. That realization hit me suddenly, forcefully, as I hesitated in the doorway of the large, immaculate, well-appointed suite. The very upscale hotel clearly lived up to its advertising -- which used words like "discerning tastes," "classically comfortable," and even "the ideal destination for enjoyment of discrete leisure activities."

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It was during my first summer holiday since I'd gone to university when it happened. I had gone into town one Saturday afternoon to get some CDs, when I saw walking down the street towards me my French teacher from school. Generally I didn't really like meeting my old teachers, it was always a bit odd being treated normally by people who had been authority figures for me only a short time ago, and even if Mrs Woodcock (she was French, but had married an English guy)

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Warning! This story includes very heavy BDSM, rough sex, anal fucking and other nasty stuff. As usual there is also a romance but it is secondary to the stroke. Another caveat: I don't write with a dictionary or a thesaurus at my side. I use words which are familiar to me---words I use in daily conversation. I am not writing stories for children. If you are the persistent anonymous poster who wishes I would use smaller words so that you can understand them, just give me a zero and move on without comment.

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This was the test. "Zenith, take down your pants, NOW." 25 year old Enrico said to his insolent young wife. Zeni tossed her hair at Ric "What the hell are you doing, this is my family reunion." But Ric could see the challenge in her eyes, and he was enthralled by the way her light brown curls bounced against her shoulders as she attempted to flounce away from him.

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Breeding season was always a bitch. Jasper knocked down another drink as he took in his surroundings. He wasn't generally a fan of women - he preferred his fuck toys to be men, but breeding season came with the overwhelming urge to mate. He needed to fuck his cubs into some bitch, and unfortunately, she couldn't be a werewolf. Women of his own species couldn't carry cubs to term - they lost them at the first change. This meant that males had to outsource, and as the leader of the pack, he needed to find a woman to pump his cubs into.

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"Sure" you texted me. It was a simple, unvarnished word, but in this instance, laden miraculously with the stuff of utter elation. I had arranged a trip out to the mountains on a pretext with the hope of seeing you for the first time. It was a very adult thing, I reflected on the flight over.

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