Your erotic stories

'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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Becky was sitting on the edge of the dresser with her arms folded in front and a scowl on her face. "I don't understand why you won't go. You love Buckingham's Ale House. She said in a pleading tone. "I'm just not up for it, that's all, I'm...ah, little under the weather." I said very weakly. Buckingham's represented an old way of life that no longer existed for me.

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She flipped her phone open, dialed his number, and then promptly ended the call. "Dammit! No, no, no, no, you're going to do this. You want to do this. Besides, you know him, you can trust him....just do it." Two seconds later she's dialed the number again and smacked the phone shut swiftly. The room felt as if it was going to engulf her with the magnitude of heat that flushed her cheeks.

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*This is the 5th chapter of a story I began a couple of years ago and it's been over two years since I published the last chapter. Please let me know what you think and as always comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated. Thanks and enjoy!* Chapter 5 - Taming Sara

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"Now, let me get this straight so it doesn't happen again..." I pressed the back of my hand across my roommate's forehead, frowning a little. His face, though a pale eggshell color only a few seconds ago, quickly came ablaze in a scarlet blush. "You fainted during class because you had a bad night's sleep and missed breakfast," I assessed with an incredulous grimace, "yet you still want to become a paramedic too?"

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I walked thorough the lobby of the hotel, wondering if the fact that I was a complete slut and slave to your every whim was apparent to all who saw me. Did it show through my casual clothing and downcast eyes? The concierge has sneered at me and tried to look down my blouse when I asked for the other key to your room.

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I was at my professional peak, but single and unattached. My profession is a jealous mistress, demanding constant attention, but paying rich dividends to her ardent worshippers. I had very volatile sexual urges but remained celibate through adolescence with the help of pornography and later on with the net. I was wary of women and my sexual preferences became more defined. As a professional I was aggressive and was clothed in the aura of aggressiveness.

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I went through my mid-life crisis recently, but instead of buying a Porsche or a 800 inch flat screen TV or fucking my twenty-two year old secretary (although it was tempting) Instead I decided to get back in shape. I was an athlete in high school and college, but in my thirties work, family and neglect have added a few more pounds than I was proud to admit.

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The stripper twisted her butt right Jake's lap, as if she were waxing his crotch with her cheeks. His eyes were fixed on the tight rotation, while the rest of us watched her bare breasts swaying in time. Twenty minutes ago she had been dressed like a secretary, but now the G-string stretched between her cheeks (and her tip garter and high heels, of course) was all that remained, and pretty soon that would be gone, too.

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I love how today's older people complain that today's generation are all sluts. I mean, we are, but so were our parents and presumably our grandparents (although I'm not a big fan of thinking of grandma being a slut back in the day). The point is, although I wasn't a slut who fucked just anybody, I was very cock hungry when I was eighteen as was my best friend Kelly...although she was more of a fuck em' and leave them sort of gal.

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