Your erotic stories

William Devlin made ready the umbrellas, the seating, and even metered the ambient light of the room in preparation for his new client. Ms. Kayden Summers she had requested a series of bust close ups of herself in a long black gown. She had found his little off path studio via referral from a young lady that had sat for a series of graduation photos several years back.

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"Micah." I groaned slightly at the sound. "Micah, wake up," a voice sang to me. I groaned again, louder this time. "Micah, babe, you can't stay asleep all day," the sing-song voice chided me, "you have to wake up now." "It's Sunday," I mumbled in protest.

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Chapter One "Damn him. He wasn't supposed to be the first one to go. He promised me. He's really screwed it up, he has." Sadie, jarred by the tone of Jan's voice, sat up on her haunches and nosed her head into her new mistress's hand. Without even realizing she'd done it, Jan stroked Sadie's head and behind an ear. Reassured, Sadie gave an "I wasn't really worried" yawn and settled back on the ground beside the folding chair Jan was sitting on.

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He was getting close, and Lois showed no signs of stopping. She was riding his sodden shaft like she was riding a bucking bronco, except he lay utterly still. Her bouncing breasts drove him crazy. He wanted so much to explode right inside her, but he couldn't. "Stop, Lois." "Almost there. Just a little –"

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"What do you think of him," I asked, pointing to an older man with a combover. "He looks like he won't spit on our food." "Ugh, I hope not. He looks like the kind to talk about his grandkids to us for twenty minutes and then forget to take our order."

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There is a long, still silence. Finally, you exhale slowly and speak. "Yes." "Yes, what?" You hear my voice beside you. "Yes. ... I surrender... to you." You are blindfolded and tied to your own bed, secured by each ankle and wrist to the four bedposts. You are spread-eagled on your back, naked except for the exquisitely soft blanket covering you from shoulder to ankle.

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He would never forget that day, for as long as he lived. Every time he thought about it, his cheeks burned with shame and his eyes flashed with anger. It was just a casual get-together for her and her friends, celebrating a college graduation. The drinks flowed liberally, as liberally as the piano music in the background, as liberally as the laughter and merriment.

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Dr. Randy Wolfe, PhD, stared with purpose into the bathroom mirror as he applied the last bit of near fluorescent, ruby red lipstick to his mouth. Setting it aside, he used a piece of toilet paper as a blotter to dab away any excess, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. Suddenly his deep voice began to reverberate off the walls and ceiling of the small bathroom.

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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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The snow storm was getting worse. It was about ten miles to the next town and I began to wonder if I would make it. The Ford F250 I am driving is four wheel drive, but even the big truck was having a hard time staying on the road. The snow storm was almost blizzard like and there were short periods of white out. These conditions made visibility minimal at best. I literally couldn't see much more than thirty feet in front of the truck. I had slowed to five mph trying to stay on the road.

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