Your erotic stories

When the Black Death swept through her village in central Germany, Brigette didn't really understand the changes it would bring to her life. Indeed, no one was prepared for the chaos that arose from nearly half the village not being able to work – and then beginning to die. Suddenly it seemed that everyone was sick and everyone huddled in their homes, afraid of human contact. But it came home to her when her mother and older brother came down with it, and then both her younger sisters the next day.

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Dan woke up, glancing at the clock that sat on the head board of his giant California King bed. 5:15 AM, the lighted numbers on the clock radio read. It wasn't set to go off, no need for that. Dan woke up every single day within a few minutes of the same time without fail. It made no difference at all what time Dan went to bed, still he would awake and get up around 5, sleep after that time was impossible.

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Just as she always did, Lisa stopped in the doorway and told my son to go and start the car for her. And just like always, he did. Just like always, she made sure that Charlie wasn't looking and turned back to give me a goodbye kiss. And before she did, just like always, Lisa cupped my face in her hand and whispered in my ear, "You can take me if you want to."

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Jim Bluebaker was very selective about the girls that he dated. Hank, his dad told him; "Son, two things to remember in life, carefully pick a diamond for a wife, and when you have a chance to get something really important be prepared to risk everything for it".

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There they were. The Barbie Dolls. The bleached-blond, silicon-enhanced, daddy's-credit-card-endowed, anorectic airheads, aka the Popular Girls, aka the Cheerleaders. They took their seats at a table in the cafeteria, chittering loudly about the upcoming prom. Dresses, corsages, limos, dates…

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Ralph and Jill were getting ready to leave the party at a friends house. They had been there for many hours, drinking, dancing and just having fun. They were both a bit horney and they wanted to get home and fuck. Five other couples were there, all people they knew from work. Three of the couples were married, the others were living together. Everyone had been dancing with each others dates, flirting and enjoying the teasing. The lights were very dim so you could hardly see who you were holding.

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We've been down the pub again with some of your stupid workmates and their tart girlfriends. After three hours we're all halfway drunk and I've had enough of having my arse pinched and tits squeezed by boozy-breathed oversized rednecks. I stub out a cigarette and give you the eye. You've been leering down the dress of your mate's girlfriend at her pushed up tits. You'd be disappointed if you ever got her bra off, 'cos they'd fall down to her belly button.

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Her Mistress was angry. She couldn't remember what she had done, but she was being punished for it now. She was blindfolded and placed on the edge of a stool. Her wrists locked onto either side of a three-foot dowel, hoisted above her head and stretched until her shoulders ached. Her legs were cuffed at the thigh and tied to the wall behind her so that her sex was exposed and opened.

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When I write my stories, I am concerned with one an only one thing - trying to create a mood of tenderness and longing. Sometimes I probably over do it. And I end up getting into such heightened state, I get really worked-up - and I write most of the really "haunted" love stuff when I am right on the edge. When I re-read my stories, I can tell that parts were created in that shaky mind space.

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As I have mentioned in an earlier story ("Teaching Kaci"), I worked as a professor of English at a small but expensive New England college for about thirty years. The college had a mandatory policy of "retirement at 65", but I had decided to take mine about five years before that. My wife had died of cancer some years earlier, and I wanted to spend what remained of my life doing some traveling. I even thought about the idea of moving to Paris if I could get a small apartment.

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