Your erotic stories

When she came down to greet me at the lobby of her dorm building, nobody -- not the security guards nor the other students nor the people passing by on the streets -- could have guessed what was going on. I was in a suit, she in a sexy (but not slinky) red dress that made the red in her hair pop. They'd have thought we were prepared for a classy night on the town (as classy as college students could afford, I suppose). If they had been paying close enough attention to her knowing smirk and my short, fearful breaths, they would probably have known something else was going on.

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Valerie Nicholls had found her motivation to work out regularly. His name was Connor, and he owned the gym that was incongruously tucked away behind an upscale European furniture store in what most people probably assumed was an area of tony shops and places where you paid four dollars for a small pastry that was wrapped up for you to take away in a small box tied with a ribbon. At forty-two, Valerie had been divorced for six years and was content enough with her situation not to settle for less than what she wanted and needed in a mate.

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I stood in the shower, allowing the hot water to caress my body in an attempt to wake myself up. The thought of another long day at work wasn't helping the situation, but at least it was Friday. "Get through today and enjoy the weekend," I thought.

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Like any other good day, today started out with my wonderful Dom tying me up. Nothing puts me in a better mood than feeling the touch of rope on my skin -- the only thing that centers me more is feeling his hand in my hair as I kneel in front of him.

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She walked softly into the moonlit bedroom. The space seemed to glow with a layer of sheer silk flowing from the ceiling around her bed. She heard the rain outside rhythmically calming her as the scent of jasmine welcomed her into relaxation. There was nothing like coming home. Home was where she felt comfortable to be herself as a natural body, naked within a soul.

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1 The door to his room was ajar, but she knocked anyway, because she didn't want to surprise him, especially if he were in some kind of compromising situation. She heard a distant "Come in!", and she closed the door behind her. "I'm back here," she heard next, and walked back to the bedroom in the suite.

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As I get closer to the door, I can see there is a note attached to the front door. As I get close enough to read it, I see that she is awaiting my arrival. Out of politeness, I knock on the door and wait a moment. Then the door opens. It is Robert. He is partially dressed in a tuxedo and it appears he is getting ready for an evening out. I say good evening to him.

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"I've seen the way you look at me," I whispered in her right ear, my body brushing against her back, my nose flirting with her straight hair, my mouth hanging an inch away from her skin, my own flesh surprised that I had the will to halt its road to her neck and achingly begging me to tilt forward just a little bit more.

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Linda Jones was in the grocery store picking up a few things when she saw her friend Lisa Miller and her son Tommy. Lisa was supposed to come over later in the afternoon with a few friends for bridge club. "Hi Linda," Lisa called out, waving at her in the produce aisle. "Tommy, you remember Mrs. Jones don't you? Be a good boy and say hello."

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She was nestled up next to him tightly when he woke up. She enjoyed his warm embrace while she slept, but it was pure torture for him. His cock was harder than ever and ready to cum. He fought off the urge to hump her as she slept. He knew better. With every breath he took in the scent of her. He struggled desperately as his pent up sexuality fought for control and, of course, release. He knew she was a light sleeper and she expected him to be there when she woke up on his days off. He wondered how many hours he would have to lay here aching and struggling with his urges. Getting hard, going soft and then getting hard again. Over and over.

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