Your erotic stories

Little Devil Chastity was dressed like a cheap whore. Short, black semi-sheer mini-skirt. Braless, she wore a too tight and too small, neon pink tube top that barely contained her boobs. Cheap costume jewelry and knee high faux leather black boots. Poofy blonde hair, overdone make-up and strong perfume. And underneath, lace, red crotchless panties. It made her feel like a slut. It made her feel liberated. It made her feel excited.

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Heavy rain hammered loudly on the roof of our porch. Strong winds whipped through the mesh screening, blowing the heat of the summer day quickly away. The wind pushed raindrops through the screen, vaporizing the droplets into a fine, refreshing mist. The random lighting strikes that brilliantly lit the night-time sky were quickly followed by deafening claps of thunder. The room was pitch black, interrupted only by the persistent flashes of bright white light. Being out in the elements, experiencing the power of mother nature was intensely stimulating.

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I want Daddy to sit in his chair, with the paper, reading. I want him to look up, and see me on my hands and knees, my tail butt-plug deep in my ass, brushing my thighs. A cute pair of ears on my head, and the collar and tag around my neck... and nothing else on. I settle at your feet, and rest my nose against your thigh.

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The bride worried that she would shatter. She felt as fragile as the glass bottles of oils and perfumes set out for her bath--a bath she didn't welcome, and one she knew would never make her feel clean. In the water, a gilded lion gushed rose-scented water from his mouth. Julia had always thought the fountain beautified the room, but now the lion seemed like he was just another predator waiting to pounce.

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She was awakened as she had been so very many times before... By the exquisite feeling of a talented tongue lapping relentlessly between her legs. She had almost come to expect the morning ritual that she loved so dearly. Her husband Peter always managed to wake in the morning just a few minutes before she and very early in their relationship had taken to waking her by crawling under the bed covers and finding her well-rested pussy ready and waiting for him.

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James had first noticed Megan Williams as she shared lunch with a few friends on the campus of the local university. It had been a hot day and they had taken refuge on a bench that sat in the shade of a tall oak tree. The hot weather had forced her friends into skimpy clothing that left a great deal of flesh on display but Megan had dressed more modestly in a cotton summer dress and flip-flops which amply showed off her superb figure without overtly advertising the fact that she had a body worth drooling over- which she clearly did.

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It was 5:30 Thursday afternoon when Roger Hancock walked into Megan Bishop's office. "Yes, Roger?" she said to her 28 year-old mailroom clerk, not even looking up from her work. "I thought you'd left for the day." Miss Bishop had everything a woman could want -- money, power, good looks, great figure. She was president of The Bishop Company, doing what was generally perceived as a stellar job running the business she'd inherited from her father.

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John inserted the key into his front door as quietly as he could. He slipped inside, putting his laptop case down ever so gently, and closed his eyes for a moment. Oh, hello you! There she was, padding barefoot down the stairs. She did not come to him; she stopped three steps up, so that her womanly pubis was level with his mouth, so that he had to look up to her, almost look up her.

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Sue walked into the bar feeling a little self-conscious. She nervously ran her hand through her shoulder length red hair, pulling on the curls slightly, and allowing the curls to spring back, looser than before. It had been a long time since she walked into a bar alone. That, and the fact that she felt both overdressed and underdressed. She was wearing the outfit he, her husband Michael, had set out for her—her black and white v-neck dress.

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Here we are arguing. Again. It's gotten bad lately. I don't know if it's the stress in his new job, or the mounting debt from my student loans. One thing is for sure, I've raised my voice one too many times, and now he's shut down. It infuriates me when he does this, but at least I managed to talk him into a walk. A long excruciatingly quiet walk.

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