Your erotic stories

"Ten full minutes. You gotta lay there, on your back, totally nude. Hands behind your head so you can relax." "Relax, right." How Mike and I wound up in this bizarre, slightly hilarious situation was fueled by very cheap beer and overactive 19 year old hormones. Well, Mike was 19, I was 18, and we'd been buddies since sophomore year of high school.

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I had three choices. I could go home and drown my sorrows in a carton of Ben and Jerry's. I could order something to eat. Or I could get my wine glass refilled - for starters. I motioned to the bartender, and decided not to decide right this minute. I was looking good. I should have been, after the effort I'd made getting ready for this date. The dress was new, and pretty darned hot, frankly. The shoes were new. I had a pleasant tingle of anticipation.

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He watched my chest heaving with each breath, breasts bobbing up and down in my tight black corset. I was dressed entirely in tight black leather, and the heady aroma of our juices, sweat and leather filled the air. I licked my lips as I stood before his bound and captive body, laughing devilishly to myself as I replayed tonight's events in my mind.

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Jessica Line had just started as an administrative assistant at a large firm, she was 22 and fresh out of college. She was initially put in the secretary pool before being assigned to someone permanently. She was happy when she was given a permanent slot, but when the other secretaries heard who she got, she was informed of many rumors.

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Rules were very important to her. Rules about eating. Rules about time management. Rules about messing around. She'd lived her whole life by her rules, and it kept her happy. It'd been awhile since she'd had anyone else play by her rules though; she was getting frisky. That's why she'd texted him, "Are you in town this weekend?" He knew her rules. He liked her rules, and right now he was the only man she knew who could satiate her desires.

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It was one of those situations I had heard about but never believed. Three friends were over at my house playing poker, and I was down about $300. It was a string of bad luck, really. My hands had been good all night, but someone else always had something a little better. Now, I am sitting here with a ace-high flush, the other three guys have gone in, but I do not have enough money to match them.

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Feeling that deep thrill, that slow burn that seems to consume, that long deep obsession with being worshiped. I have him on his knees now, he is complacent, docile....he is submissive. It was not always this way. We began with a completely old fashioned relationship, with no power exchange. We were blind to the Ecstasy of submission, innocent of the line between pleasure and pain.

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You greet me with a nod and a glance. I know I have to obey your instructions and walk into your room silently. I stand there as you walked around me, touching my clothes, a single finger tracing my form. Standing face to face, you grab the collar of my shirt and, expressionless, you rip it open and shred it from my body.

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Mark decided that it was better late than never. He got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. Kristin was already up and had the coffee on. The warm, delicious aroma scented the entire room. He sat down at the table and reached for the paper. He opened it but was not interested in reading it. His mission this week was to watch Kristin, look for signs.

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Her face is perfect, angelic. Her eyes are a soft blue, her hair pale blond. Her features are delicate and childlike, her lips plump and tinted a soft rose. Her body is slender and sylphlike, sheathed in a high-waisted slip of a dress, gauzy and coy. He wants her, wants to possess the innocence she embodies, wants to drive himself into it, own it and shut it away so he'll be the only one to ever taste it.

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