Your erotic stories

This story was from a dark corner of my mind that DreamWeaverAz helped me write. I am not that good at reacting as a Dominant would. This is a story warning the wanna-bes out there. A true Master goes beyond the kink. "Three fingers, teasing softly, not entering but lingering, the middle finger pushing lightly wanting to enter, mmm how wet you are."

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It was supposed to be a straight forward assignment. Jimmy occasionally did some camera work to help out the local paper when their regular photographer was busy, or to collect background shots for local stories. The editor had told him this one was quite simple. The local gym was on a membership drive and had arranged for him to do a story on them. Jimmy was to wander along that evening to take some snaps of one of the women's fitness sessions.

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Carl was a large young man, heavily built but in the manner of a fit sportsman rather than an overweight desk jockey. He looked slow and his smooth forehead seemed unlikely to ever be wrinkled by deep thoughts. A casual onlooker would assume him to be a dumb jock, unfit for anything other than manual labour when he wasn't playing sport.

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The idea is that you get home from work, take off your shoes, grab a beer from the fridge, turn on the TV, sit down, and relax for half an hour. What you do not want is to come home from work, walk in the door and find all your furniture has been tossed about. Neither do you want to hear swearing and clattering and banging coming from further in the apartment, apparently in the kitchen.

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