Your erotic stories

On Caitlin's thirtieth birthday, she woke to find a letter on her husband's pillow. "Open at 10 AM," it said. She looked at the clock. It was 8:15. She looked back at the envelope, and considered it. If she opened it now, there was absolutely no way Richard could know. Right? As logical as that seemed, Caitlin didn't trust that. Richard had a way of knowing these things.

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"Come on. Tell me!" "Nooo," April whined as she walked past me, leafing through the plastic wrapped costumes hanging from the wall. "And stop asking me." "Fine," I conceded, turning back and selecting a skimpy school girl outfit from a nearby rack. "How about this one?" "Ummm," she said, eyeing my chosen costume with sceptical reluctance. "That's a little too slutty."

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Now. I stand under the needling hot spray until the water starts to cool, and shut it off, and push the wide glass door open to release billows of steam. Drip and splash across the wide marble floor and wipe a clear circle on the mirror with a thick white towel. Behind me the sun is trying, and failing, to pierce the overcast. Not likely in February.

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He doesn't need to blindfold me. The room is dark as pitch, even with my eyes wide open, staring so hard that I can feel my pupils dilated fully, making my ears ring, all I see is dark in dark. The high backed wooden chair I'm tied to is the only solid thing my senses can grab hold of, the harshness of the rope that binds my hands tightly behind my back and my feet to the chair legs.

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I can't imagine an officer, at least one like me, ending up in a situation like this. It was humiliating...and strangely erotic. There I was, tied to a beautiful woman, both of us down to our unmentionables, while she rode me like a two-bit stripper and I tried my best not to embarrass myself by losing it right in my boxers.

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"Ah, the workmen are through for the day," Paige thought as she watched the men loading their pickups and preparing to leave. They were working to create a studio and large bedroom with attached bath out of what had been three small bedrooms upstairs in the big barn of a house she bought for a song because it was so far from town. They had been working for over a week, tearing down walls and running new wires and plumbing for the project.

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Latisha sat quietly while looking at the young man sitting opposite her, he appeared visibly upset by the news and she felt for him. "Duncan, I don't know what to say to ease your mind, but you know our Amanda, she can be very stubborn at times and after what she saw on that video...well it sounded pretty weird," Latisha said, somewhat sympathetically.

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This story was written a bit differently. I wanted to tell the story from all three perspectives, and do it in a unique way. Each break represents a change in perspective from one character to another, which will last through all but the last section of the story. This may seem weird at first, but read and you might begin to notice why I did it.

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My sexual awakening really began when I finally gave in and revealed to my husband my desire to be submissive. No, not the master/slave scenarios that seem to be so predominant and to my mind borders on abuse. No, not the spank me until I cry and can't sit down for a week activities that would label me a masochist. No, I don't want to be violently raped, even by my own husband in the name of sexual freedom. What I was looking for was to be able to surrender completely to my husband and allow him to have his way with me, over and over again.

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Friday, October 30. 9:30ish. I say "9:30ish", but really I knew it was 9:23 pm, just like it was the last time I pushed back the gauntlet on my glove to check my watch. The TV above the bar said 9:27. God – David was such a flake.

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