Your erotic stories

She was kneeling astride my chest, completely naked. One hand was behind her, holding my cock. My wrists and ankles were tied to the four corners of the bed. I was helpless, turned on and feeling thoroughly humiliated... but still incredibly turned on. The hardness of my cock was a very concise testament to that fact. It's not like she was even pumping it, or alternately squeezing and relaxing her hand. She was just holding it. Using it as a barometer -- a guide to my state of sexual arousal.

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Candace punched the button for the elevator with mixed feelings. She was already running fifteen minutes late, and if she didn't make up the time somewhere, she'd be late meeting Jeff. Usually she arranged her day to allow herself an extra twenty minutes to walk up and down the stairs from her 40th floor office, to avoid suffering through an anxiety-filled ride in the express elevator.

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You'd think graduate students would be better behaved, right? I mean, we're adults, we've done the college partying thing. We're there to get our degrees, basically, and that's about it. At least, that's the theory. And while, for the most part, my experience doing graduate work was like that, there was one particular incident that veered so far off the path of "appropriate" it probably would have gotten all three of us kicked out if we'd been caught.

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