Your erotic stories

A little before eight PM, the phone rang. I picked it up and said, "Hello." On the other end of the line, a breathy female voice asked, "Can I speak to Rad, please?" Rad is my internet name and a pen name I use when I write erotica. Very few people know that name and the few who do, know my real name. "Uh, this is Randy, can I help you?" There was a short silence and then a throaty laugh. "If you are the one that wrote the wonderful sexy stories I found, then you can do almost anything to me or with me that you like."

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I had just negotiated a new contract with the company I work for and part of the package was a new life insurance policy. Instead of paying more income tax on a pay rise I accepted the insurance policy.

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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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At last, I see them leaving the house; she is now alone and no doubt, logging into the computer and; expecting to see me there for our regular chats. Looking around I could see that I am totally free to enter, nobody showing any interest in a delivery guy, I mean, who cares? I go around to the back door and finding it unlocked, I quickly slip inside and make no noise that should alert her to an unexpected visitor.

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Greg sat in his office smiling. He could not believe his luck. The 44 year old electrical contractor had been given the CCTV system by one of his customers. The installation of the cameras was easy. He and one of his electricians had mounted the five cameras up in the various areas of the office and had the entire system up and running in less than two hours. He had no idea the benefits that this thing would reap until now.

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The Wrightsville yacht harbor dipped beneath the horizon off the stern of the big sloop. As its hull neatly parted the waves, the rigging beneath the taut sail hummed while the breeze of the yacht's passage gave relief from the muggy July heat of the North Carolina coast. Brenda watched the coast disappear for a few minutes and then turned to the woman sitting beside her.

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She kneeled in front of the wood stove, laying the paper, kindling and logs for the fire carefully. Rocking back on her heels, she lit it, watching the flames grow, hearing them crackle. Once she was sure it had caught, she closed the doors and stood up, walking over to the chaise that faced the fire. The room was lit only by the small tree and several candles, the scent of cinnamon on the air.

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I've been watching her for days and I don't know why. What was it she had that made my colleague, Fran, employ her? She was average looking at best and her figure was nothing special, not that you could really see that much of it as she kept it covered up at all times. Her fashion sense at times seemed frumpy and old for a younger woman. Her name was Claire and I'd say about twenty years my junior.

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Mark decided that it was better late than never. He got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. Kristin was already up and had the coffee on. The warm, delicious aroma scented the entire room. He sat down at the table and reached for the paper. He opened it but was not interested in reading it. His mission this week was to watch Kristin, look for signs.

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Mike decided to go to an auction on the outskirts of a quaint New Hampshire town. Since he had finally left his second wife, Liz, he had one idea in his head. He wanted to make his submissive and lover, Sara, his full time. There was only one problem with this idea. Sara was married.

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