Your erotic stories

Five o'clock was here and none too soon. This particular Tuesday had been a madhouse at work. Working at my computer terminal, answering the phone and talking to colleagues, often all at the same time, had taken its toll. My back and shoulders ached, and, to make matters worse, I'd overdone it at the gym during lunch hour on Monday. In a word, I was sore.

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Five o'clock was here and none too soon. This particular Tuesday had been a madhouse at work. Working at my computer terminal, answering the phone and talking to colleagues, often all at the same time, had taken its toll. My back and shoulders ached, and, to make matters worse, I'd overdone it at the gym during lunch hour on Monday. In a word, I was sore. The only good thing was that now it was time for my monthly massage therapy appointment. My spirits rose as I drove toward the small apartment that served as Randy's office.

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She was beautiful, she was sensuous, and her name was Angel. She checked her watch again, as she waited for the meeting that she knew she should never have agreed to. Not only was her date a mysterious man she knew only from brief contact on the internet, he was late. She tapped her foot, and looked around the little resteraunt again. Just because someone's stories turned her on, she was starting to think that was no reason to trust him to show up for a clandestine meeting.

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"You will wear the blue skirt!" she tells me, reaching to pull it out of the closet. I am already wearing the corset; black satin, laced, long suspenders linked on to sheer black stockings. Fishnet, she says, is tacky. Personally I think the whole suspenders-and-stockings thing is tacky, and much prefer bare flesh, but then, it's not for me to decide.

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