Your erotic stories

You and I are both in our senior year at a small university in New York. We had been going out for a year and a half and had been renting an apartment together off campus for the past few months. About a year ago we began experimenting more when it came to sex. We had stumbled across the idea of BDSM and both found that we liked it. You are naturally commanding and protective of me. I am naturally eager to please, and have always had a slight masochistic streak. We treated it as a game, playing often, but never for extended periods of time.

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You called and told me that we were going to go out for dinner tonight. You said you'd be home by 6 and I should be showered and ready to go. You would run in, take a shower, and then we were off. I took my time showering and getting ready. Shaving my legs, arm pits, and trimmed my pussy nice and close. I powdered my body before getting dressed and pulled my hair back into clips. I picked out a short black miniskirt and a black blouse that buttoned up the front.

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It felt odd, sitting in front of the screen, waiting to have a conversation with someone. But then it wasn't just a screen. A camera, too. I can see you. Big deal, I can see you too. I like the anonymity of the telephone, I can curl myself up, pull faces, read the news, hell, I can even play with myself, safe in the knowledge that no-one gets anything more than my voice. This felt a lot more dangerous.

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We had a plan. I was to be taken to a hotel, tied up, gagged, blindfolded and left alone until my man returned bringing with Him our guest, a man I had never met face to face. This was the first time we had invited someone else to play and I was a little nervous, no, almost terrified was a better way of describing how I felt but so very excited. We had discussed having a fun session with a stranger who would fuck me and use me while I was bound and gagged. That was about the extent of it though. The real turn on for me was for it to be rougher. Much rougher.

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Ah yes, she's here again - the girl. I've been watching her for several weeks now. She and her friends hang out at the pool where I live. Several of them must be sub-letting for the summer because there's no way a college student could afford to live here on a regular basis. Then again, who knows? Parents give their kids everything these days.

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This is the homework of my slave Gabi. My name is Gabi. I'm from Austria (a German-speaking country near Germany). My Mistress ordered me to write down this story. As a matter of fact this is not really a story – as it is not fictional. This is the description of my first meeting with My Mistress. Mistress Cornelia is my Mistress. I'm one of her slaves and I love to submit to her.

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This story's a sequel to Copenhagen Couple and Meetings with Mark. It's not necessary to read those stories first, but some things will make better sense if you do. * At the age of 20 and after my first experiences with male sex I acknowledged to myself that I was bisexual. But I wasn't going to be open about the fact that I liked to be with men. Sadly, bisexual men are often despised by both gay and straight guys, and even by some women.

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My freshman year at college was one total nightmare. Not the school or the classes, the dorm rooms at night. I was subjected to such outrageous treatment that I'm not sure I ever completely recovered. I'm from a small town and had never even been in as big a city as Austin. I was very excited, though. It was something I had planned on all my life. I had not done well socially in high school. The girls had all been in their little cliques and ignored me most of the time, when they weren't being even crueler. I felt like college would be a whole new start for me.

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Last night after we made love and you left me, I replayed our conversation in my head. We've known each other for a long time, so I admit that it surprised me to hear you say that sometimes you have a hard time telling me your desires. It seems like you're embarrassed, or ashamed. I don't ever want you to feel that way. You can trust me, you know.

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The bedroom was filled with the constant yet broken sounds of bed springs squeaking under the rhythmic thrusts of a man into his woman. But it wasn't the bed making the noise; it was Cindy who groaned intermittently with sharp, feminine 'coos' and 'ahhs' that were neither exaggerated nor too quiet to discern. Matching her steady pattern of moans and no doubt causing them was the driving of Carl's rigid seven inches into that sweet spot between Cindy's thighs.

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