Your erotic stories

Dear Debbie: What is your opinion on your submissive's RIGHT to occasionally kiss your boobs? My husband is totally hot for my full, pink 36D melons, but since he became my slave,I gradually weaned him off of them. Part of the problem is, I'm not as attracted to Joel as I used to be, he's kind of chubby now, and having his hands groping me when he brushes by in the kitchen is not that pleasant. I don't mind him going down on me, but I've outlawed intercourse, especially since meeting my young lover, Emilio.

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Every time the door opened, I sat straight up and looked in anticipation of you. Finally just before closing time, you came in. You look at me expressionlessly and push the lock on the door closed before making your way to me. I fumble on my desk for the book I was so anxious to show you. I stand up as you get closer and start to remove my glasses. "Leave them on!" you bark out as you grab my arm tightly.

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The music thudded and pulsed through the private party. Female escorts provided for the evening mingled with executives and local politicians who networked and chatted in the bar area, or who clustered round the raised stage, waving paper money and begging for the dancer's attention.

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John Dorland pressed his foot down on the break, slowing the car down as he approached his usual stakeout spot and eased his navy blue unmarked police cruiser off the interstate and into a wide truck turnout, backing the rear of the Dodge Charger up under the cover of the maple trees that lined the turnout fifty yards from the edge of the asphalt. He turned off the headlights, leaving the engine idling, and flipped on the dash mounted radar, settling back into his seat for the remainder of his ten hour shift.

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He was too handsome for his own good. I'd long since recognized that it might very well lead to the end of us. My sore whipping arm was longing for an overweight sub with the face of a pug. Good thing for Precious, the rest of me was not. Eyeing the furtive glances of the young girl, I immediately knew she wasn't his type. She was submissive, for one thing. It leaked from every pore of her overly exposed skin.

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Jenny was having a great day. During the morning shift she'd sold tons of clothes at the retail store where she had worked for the past year, and as usual received the enthusiastic praise of her boss Giulio. The sun was shining. She'd been out to lunch with her old friend Madeline for the first time in months, and they were heading back to the store side by side, chatting casually yet happily in the way you only do with really close friends.

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Eighteen-year-old Kristina entered the Dean's office. The busty blonde was wearing her school uniform which consisted of a white blouse, which was currently unbuttoned enough to show her ample cleavage, a short skirt and her white knee-high socks with black shoes. "Miss Mitchell, please come in and have a seat." said Dean Whitmore.

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He pulls slowly past her house, noting with satisfaction that the windows are dark. She's either sleeping, or at least back in her room. All he needs to do is figure out how to get in quietly. He circles the cul-de-sac, then coasts his motorcycle into the drive...cutting the engine as soon as he's off the road. He steps off the bike, and removes his helmet and coat. He'll keep the soft leather gloves on, he decides.

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We were in the Capitol. Jonathan was the Captain again, and it was the Captain who pushed me none-too-gently out of the carriage, and I stumbled and fell and scraped my shoulder on the pavement, and he pulled me up by my elbow and marched me into the courthouse. I had been to the Capitol several times, but I'd never seen any of the courthouses, although I knew that each district had one.

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You stand before me, hands behind your back, awaiting instruction attentively. I gesture in a way you understand. You unhook your bra, slide off your panties and hand them to me. I inhale the warm undergarments, kiss them, then set them aside. I step closer, grip you firmly by your upper arms and lower my head onto your throat, just under your collar.

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