Your erotic stories

Heather walked into the quiet little coffee shop that day to meet her best friend Shannon, noticing immediately that she had claimed a booth in the back. "Heather! I'm so glad you could come and meet me on such short notice! Please come and sit down." "No offense, Shannon, but this had better be as important as you said it was. I had to reschedule some very important meetings to come here today and my boss is oh, so pissed."

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For the last five months, Stephanie and I have continued seeing each other outside of the office. I have tried to convince her to see another dentist; however, she refuses. Our relationship has moved beyond just the sexual. Nonetheless, we really don't go out and about in the town we live. We have gone on weekend getaways and enjoyed many evenings at my home.

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'Josie ... Come in, come in ... I'm so glad you could help me out like this.' Mistress Megan held open the door to her apartment, and as I walked in, I felt the normal jumble of emotions rise up and threaten to overwhelm me. I had received a text message from her at 4.30, while I was sitting rather bored in a meeting at the bank where I work. I was helping on a presentation to a group of fund managers who all thought they were rather clever and wonderful, but unfortunately, I didn't.

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My cell phone buzzed, making me jump. My first thought was that Megan was calling me, calling me to apologize, calling to ask me to forgive her. Forgive her for screwing me over and kicking me to the curb like a dog. I'd been dozing in the old, worn recliner in my darkened living room. The TV was on, and the baseball game I'd been watching was over now.

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As he sipped his gin and tonic he realised he had mixed it too strong. A little dutch courage was a godsend on nights like this, but he had to keep his wits about him. He dragged his eyes away from the muted television to his watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. He thought a moment, and decided she could wait a little longer.

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"That's my good girl," You praise me as you stroke my hair and pull it away from my neck and face. I am kneeling naked at your feet and you are fully clothed. You fasten the buckle on the collar you bought for me. The lining is soft, but the hard, strong intent to control me is inherent in the leather and silver buckled design. I look into your eyes with complete trust as you test the ring at the front of the collar, onto which you will fasten a leash.

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