collection of stories you shouldn't read at work
G’day from down under.
I have recently gotten into erotic literature, as in short stories. However, I would like to find a book—an erotica book with hot sex—that isn’t about: BDSM, vampires, dominance, damage (like emotionally damaged lovers etc) or incest, if that makes sense. Couples, one night stands, group stuff is fine. I just can’t manage to find anything that isn’t like 50 Shades, Twilight or submissive girls with an abused past.
Any recommendation helps ☺
Cheers everyone!
This past Friday night was the coolest sexual experience of my life—and I’ve not been shy about exploring new experiences. I’ve been to sex clubs, fucked a hotwife while the husband watch/videotaped, been in foursomes/threesomes/etc… that all pales in comparison to this night.
The party was hosted by a girl I met back in September, I’ll call her Megan. She’s an awesome, petite bi girl with lots of open-minded, sex-positive friends in the city. She’s hosted small sex parties in the past, and because she’s amazing she invited me out to this event. An intimate gathering of mostly bi women to chat and flirt and play games and fuck, with a few guys to add variety. She even created a web page for the party, with details and pictures of the people who would be attending. I’m not exaggerating for the sake of the story—these people are all complete smoke shows. It was like scrolling through a model catalogue.
Girls started arriving a couple hours before the men so they could talk and get comfortable and break the ice. They played a couple rounds of softcore Jenga, with tasks written on some blocks (make out with someone, suck someone’s nipple, lose a piece of clothing, etc.). There were drinks and a spread of finger foods like chocolate dipped strawberries. Megan had even gotten a sybian for girls to try out.
I want you.
I need to feel your naked skin against mine.
To caress your beautiful, hairy chest.
To feel your warmth when you hold me in your arms, to wriggle with pleasure when you kiss me on the neck.
Just picturing this, I feel a ball of warmth rising in my belly, my breasts are swelling and my nipples proudly point.
Oh, I wish you were here with me in this huge bed, you could take all of me.
I want you so badly.
I'm closing my eyes and I'm picturing us…
For you, I wear my nicest outfit. This beautiful dress with a slit that you like so much – and these heels that sculpt magnificent calves.
I ask you to sit down on the armchair. I'm coming near. I untie your tie and put it down on the floor then slowly unbutton this shirt which hides your delightful hairy chest. I feast in caressing sensually, by sliding my fingers on your skin and by playing with your hairs. I titillate your nice little nipples with my nails then suck them with greed. I'm taking off your shirt and kiss you tenderly. Beginning with your neck, continuing to kiss your body – so attractive – my lips go to your navel then I stop there. I remove your belt then use it to attach your right hand to the armrest. Using the tie I attach your other arm to the armchair. You are now at my mercy.
NOTE: All of the previous stories are up under this user name, but I decided to include a description of us so you don't have to chase it down in older stories.
I’m gonna take a minute to describe ourselves for those of you just joining us. Myself: 24 yo 5’10” average/muscular build, broad shoulders, clean shaven face, dark brown hair. Olivia: 22 yo 5’9” very slender with long gentle curves, shapely legs (hence the title of these stories), a cute shapely ass that is meant to be squeezed and spanked, medium b-cups (but they look amazing on her tall thin frame, Cs or bigger would look odd and this is coming from a Titty-man), a pretty beautiful face and long blonde hair that is usually straight but she will curl it or put waves in it for me.
We reunited after being away for winter break. It was a bit difficult being a part like that, we had been dating for a few months before we left and had just started saying "I love you" to each other, it was just an awkward point in our relationship to be gone for so long, and being about a 7 hour drive or $300+ flight didn't help.
Several months ago, my life as a married submissive woman was put on hold. It's a long and complicated that took 6 parts to tell (which you can find in my Reddit history). The quick summary is that my husband and I decided that after 6 years of marriage and after 4 years of a D/s relationship, it was time for a break. You can skip the next section if you don't care about the details of my marriage.
From married to being a married submissive
We were already married for two years before I told him that I'd been suppressing submissive feelings and eventually wanted to live in a submissive role 24/7. He did his best to learn the ropes, and we had some fun with it for a little while, but I could feel that being a dominant wasn't in his heart.
It wasn't long after we went 24/7 that my husband expressed that he wanted some semblance of a vanilla relationship, but frankly, my heart wasn't into that anymore. I'd come to the realization that the vanilla part of my marriage was over it and I wanted to evolve into the submissive that I knew that I wanted to be. After a lot of figuring things out, we struck a middle ground where we agreed that I would live as a submissive 24/7 and that I would be relieved from all “non-submissive” responsibilities. In exchange, I agreed that he could take on a girlfriend.
James is my sweet little secret. With his honey brown hair, tidy close cut bearded face, and a nice body from his disciplined early morning rows on the river, he’s my cute sugar boy from old Charleston money. He owns a quaint house where his bedroom has a great view of the river, but this evening, the curtains were closed to create our cozy sex den. Candles burned while the music played as I readied for our night. My black PVC bustier teddy was snug, the way it should be, pushing up my tits and kissing my ass with a black shine. I took one last look in the mirror. My red lipstick and newly dyed black hair really set off my fair skin. With black thigh high stockings and hooker heels, I was a Goth sight to behold.
The largest white cylindrical candle on the nightstand, lit thirty minutes ago, had accumulated a nice pool of melted wax in the center. It’s time. I was wet with anticipation.
I downed the rest of my red wine before taking the leather flogger and smacking it in my hand to the rhythm of the music, singing along to the Edwyn Collins song, ‘Never met a girl like you before.’
“Sense and Sensuality, or Jane Austen’s Tears”
1 To say “It started innocently enough” would be wrong. There was nothing innocent about what we were planning, what we were doing. The texts with just a hint of double-entendre. The links to pictures and essays on Fetlife we sent to each other.
No, it wasn’t innocent. We knew what we were doing, and we liked it. We liked the sneaking around (even though our partners knew full well the gist of what we were doing). We liked the excitement of knowing that someone wanted to this, that, or that other thing to us. Or that they were thinking of us in that way when they were by themselves or even with their partner. It was… a nice change from the usual. Well, for me, anyways.
Our texts were never overt, never crude, never trite. No “What are you wearing?” or “What would you do to me if I was there right now?” It was assumed that if and when it happened, it would happen. We’d hint at things. We’d call each other to remember past dalliances and then play those memories in our mind, a smile on our lips and an extra beat in our hearts.
Author’s note: This isn’t an indictment on open or poly relationships, simply a story meant to tell one couple’s experience, which—like with monogamous, monogomish, or really any other relationship configuration you can form—comes with its own unique set of challenges and triumphs. And, I swear, there's a happy, sexy ending. I promise. As always, I hope you enjoy.
There are things in life that you will never plan, but still have to live with anyway. You’ll think, as you drive the familiar road as if by rote, that this is just another one of those things that must be muddled through, one step at a time. You’ll be so sure that—once you’re in the middle of it—it won’t be so hard.
You will, of course, be wrong.
The car’s silence will irk you—you need noise at the best of times, if just to drown out the nagging reservations you’ll have left unspoken.
Because you love her.
You’ll flip on the radio with more impatience than required. You won’t know quite why. And because Fate hates you, an inappropriate story will be on. The one about the preacher or the politician’s aide doing something they weren’t supposed to. Involved in things they would’ve been better off not touching.
Mia ran her hands over the smooth paneling on the front of the box. Each piece had been sanded to be almost impossibly smooth, then painted a black so dark it seemed to absorb all light in the room. The patterns carved into the box were intricate, all delicate leaves and woodsy milieus, a peaceful public face for something that could be anything but.
There were no visible seams but a large brass latch secured in the middle of one section made it clear that there was more to this box than first appeared. Mia knew this all too well. She let her fingers fall to the heavy brass lock which secured the latch and kept everything in place.
She could still remember the day that they had found the latch, beaten and forgotten, on some old trunk in an antique shop. She could remember the way it had caught her eye, and how insistent he had been that she buy it. At the time, she had no idea what it would ever be used for. It was a dingy, beaten up old trunk with an interesting, albeit half-demolished lock.
Evening, r/gonewildstories, and allow me to introduce myself, as this is my first post. My name is Echo, and I have been a long time lurker of this subreddit. Now, it's my turn to share tales of my… adventures.
I am a 22 year old woman, and for those who are hungry for details, my physical description is as follows: I am 5'2", barely over the 100 pound mark. My frame is quite petite, but I was fortunate enough to be blessed with a "nicely shaped" hourglass figure, or so I've been told. A few years of waist training will do that, I suppose. I do love my corsets. I have pale skin with a fair complexion, and chin-length hair dyed crimson. My hazel eyes and pouty lips are my most prominent features. I love to paint my face in dark make-up. Though, I'm sure you would rather I go on with the juicy bits, mm? My bust is a 34C, not too big but not too small. Perfect for my structure, in my opinion. I've been told I have a nice ass by several people, lovers and strangers alike. I can't disagree, really. Even I am guilty of whispering "Damn~" when modeling a new pair of sexy panties in the mirror.