Your erotic stories

I walked back to my hotel, although I don't remember doing so. My mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions. The high I had been on from being dominated for the first time in real life by my online lover, John, was immediately replaced by the crashing, crushing feeling of betrayal when I saw that wedding band tan.

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Alan walked back through the corridor of his school. He was returning to retrieve his jacket that he'd accidentally left behind. So eager to finish the day and rush home, he had been five minutes gone before he was reminded of the absence of his jacket with the cold nipping at him. Now approaching the classroom Alan sighed in relief when the door was still unlocked.

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Sometimes, I think he really, truly does understand how to handle me- how to keep our relationship in line the best he can. I've tried to explain the overwhelming need to submit, to be controlled, to be HIS- and he tells me he knows, has always known, what makes me tick. This makes me question why he doesn't employ it more often, take the authority that I am happy to hand him, but too often, we are at odds instead. Nearly every time I have finally given up on his dominant side, he turns around and shocks hell out of me again...

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I have been home from work barely five minutes when there's a knock at my door. I open it and smile at the tall, skinny man standing outside my door. "Natalie." He leans forward and kisses both of my cheeks, his hand caressing the back of my neck. "Come in," I step back and give him room. "Where are we heading tonight Sammy?" I ask, returning his kisses.

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It was early on a nice spring Saturday and I was checking out all of the young ladies walking up and down the boardwalk as well as the ones on the beach. It is a rough job but someone has to do it. Anyway, I have found retirement to be boring in far too many ways. There is a spot where the boardwalk makes a curve out toward the ocean. This makes it easy to stand in one spot and see the beauties on the beach and the ones on the boardwalk itself. I am a devout ass man so the rear view is always the most appreciated.

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Madison felt a little self-conscience. Somehow her boyfriend, Billy, had talked her into wearing her collegiate cheerleader uniform to the frat party. She had reluctantly agreed because she knew some of the other girls on the team would probably be wearing theirs. Billy had on his football jersey, all the boys wore their number when they were together and out among fellow students, so it helped Madison not feel so alone and awkward.

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He picked up the envelope, knowing what it contained and struggling to figure out how to justify its existence at the front counter to his friends. "Hmmm, this must be the fax I was waiting for at the office yesterday, " he said, "shit, I may have to do some work tonight." His friends groaned, rolling their eyes, commenting on his inability to have fun even while on vacation. He smiled.

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My name is Waylon Fielding and I am married to a wonderful woman, my wife Celine Fielding. I would like to say that my life is perfect, or even good, but after two years of marriage I'm pretty freaking miserable and it's all Celine's fault. Actually, it really isn't her fault; it's her Mother's, the lovely Melissa Harmon.

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Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Turn. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Turn. Kayden's feet were wearing a path in the floor of her hotel room but she couldn't stop. Conner was going to be there any second. He had already called her a couple of times on his way over to inform her where he was.

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You couldn't forget Crystal. Beautiful, tall, with long black hair, dark green eyes and a full mouth that was usually laughing at something or someone, and always painted with a startling red lipstick. Her full tits clamoured for your attention, invariably only just contained by the fabric of some immaculate designer outfit, worn with high black boots with higher heels. But the most memorable thing among the many things about Crystal was what you saw when she walked away - her broad and glorious arse.

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