Your erotic stories

She only had one night. One night that would have to last her a lifetime and she knew that the risk was worth it. He had agreed to meet her; but it was for just one night. This one night would be the first and only time she would see and serve the man that she loved and adored; the man that owned her; mind, body, heart and soul.

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Well, here we were, Lia and I, after our first sexual encounter. We were lying there peacefully on her living room floor. Lia had her head on my shoulder as we cuddled one another in the afterglow of the greatest sex I had ever had, the kind of fuck I had barely even dreamed about until now. Then Lia raised herself up, leaning over me, and kissed me softly on the lips.

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Standing in line at the meat counter of the little family owned market, I couldn't keep my eyes off the attractive young woman waiting ahead of me. She was wearing Capri pants that perfectly displayed her fine young form. Over the years I had met far more interesting women in food markets, fabric stores and garden centers than in bars. "Have you shopped here before?" Not terribly original, but it was a start.

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Matthew's heart began to race as he saw the text message from his wife Michelle pop up on his iPhone. The last time he waited up for his wife, his ass had been sore for a week... Of course, in reality he loved every minute of it, but much like her seemingly-innocent text message, it was something that was kept close-knit between the two of them.

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~And that, friends, is how to make a quick sausage and potato feast. Don't burn your fingers!~

I sighed and logged out of the blog. "Mew's Meows" was my pathetic attempt at opening up to people. My therapist had suggested it, telling me that the anonymity of the 'net might make me spill my guts since obviously his sessions weren't helping. I'd grudgingly agreed to make a go of a blog, in return for a promise of a waiting prescription every month. I'd named the blog "Mew's Meows" because I didn't want my whole name (Bartholomew) associated with what I was writing.

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My name is Jake. I'm about 5' 10" and fairly skinny. I like to stay in shape by running, but have never been into weight lifting or building muscle. That said, I like to think that I'm not scrawny and am fairly easy on the eyes. I should also say that I am one of those people who doesn't believe that anyone is completely straight or completely gay, but if you asked me which I was I would certainly tell you straight.

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A cold and rainy Saturday in February. The rain is unusually heavy. Instead of the usual "mizzle" that mists the air with tiny, slow-falling droplets, it's pouring in sheets, pattering against the window. It fills my bedroom with a dull and depressing sound. My mood is equally bleak. I'm snuggled in bed, shivering and miserable. I have the heat maxed but it's taking forever for the room to warm up.

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It's a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon and we are lying in the park. I have my head in your lap, listening to you reading snippets from a magazine as you lazily stroke my hair. My eyes drift closed and I start to get lost in the sound of your voice, your touch, and I think of what I what I want you to be doing to me. I open my eyes just the slightest bit, focus on the shape of your lips and am mesmerized. Your lips can leave the sweetest kisses, yet elicit such desire as they burn across my body.

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Ok, so here's the deal. My name is Marissa Adams, I'm 18 years old and I am a maid at a hotel/casino in Las Vegas. I'm not complaining, pay's good, my co-workers are great and I meet very interesting people and a few stars. Just last week Shaq was staying in the NBA Suite. But that's no where near the best part of my perfect job.

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I was stretched along Andrew closely, embracing him with one arm, while I stroked his ass with the supersized lubricated cock dildo. He was making all of the right noises, but I could sense that the passion just wasn't totally there. He wasn't writhing or trembling as he had been doing for years under the attention of my own cock.

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