Your erotic stories

(Item: Lyle Alan Buhr, convicted sex offender escaped today from the Barton County Jail in Nevada, Missouri. Buhr, who is a white male, 26 years old, 5" 11" , 190 lbs has been convicted in the 2001 rape and sodomy of a Monette couple during a home invasion. He is considered dangerous and anyone having information regarding his whereabouts is asked to contact the Barton County Sheriff.)

read more

Karen glanced at the clock, frowned, and realized she had probably missed the director of accounting by fifteen minutes. It was 6:45 in the evening, she was hungry and stressed, and this folder of papers was promised to be on his desk before he left the building. She picked up her phone and dialed the extension of his assistant. Three rings ... four ... voicemail. No one there. She pushed the handset hard into the plastic cradle in frustration, slid her feet back into her high-heeled shoes beneath the broad oak desk and pushed up from her tall, black leather seat.

read more

Amber and Nathan entered the door of the Rusty Spoke, a dive of a bar out the outskirts of town. Amber scanned the room as she entered; knowing that Nathan was doing the same. The 22-year-old caught the attention of several men as she entered. She was a pretty girl, with shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes and a very pretty face. Her 32C, 26, 34 body was quite noticeable in her tight fitting brown denim pants, with just a hint of camel toe showing between her legs, and tight long sleeved brown shirt that showed every curve of her firm breast.

read more

Have you ever had the feeling that someone was watching you? I don't mean from across a crowded room. I mean someone watching everything you do. It doesn't matter if you are in a store, or alone in your bedroom, you just get this feeling that you can't describe, you just know, there's someone watching your every move. At first, you throw it off as paranoia. But then, slowly, you begin to realize that it's true. Someone knows who you are, knows your every move, and is always watching.

read more

James is my best friend. Male best friend, that is. I've known him for years but, while we've always been close, there's never been anything romantic between us. Probably because I've known him so long. It's hard to feel romantic about the boy you kicked in the shins for rigging up a gallows and hanging all your dolls.

read more

The rap of her boot heels echoing off the concrete walls was the only sound as she walked down the long line of cars, looking for where she'd parked. She'd been sure this was the row—13-D—but where was her car? She shifted her bags to her left hand where the black leather glove would keep the handles from biting into her and looked back over her shoulder through her blonde hair. Perhaps she'd walked past it? But there was no red Peugeot.

read more

James Wiltshire was the type of professor who was notorious not for his academic prowess or scholarly reputation, but for his looks and background. He was a new appointee to the University of Miskatonic in the fall to the history department. The women on campus gave him more attention than what he was comfortable with. He supposed it was his English accent that endeared him so to the female population.

read more

"Just take it," my best friend whispered in my ear before switching aisles. Like a pro, she pocketed a pack of gummy bears to go with a bag of chips. It stunned me that she could be so apathetic about the whole thing. Stealing? I'd never stolen anything in my life -- not even first base! Yet with nervous hands, I picked up a little baggie of Swedish fish, and looked towards the register. The man there was sitting with his feet up on the counter and his head down, staring into a home and gardening magazine.

read more

My name is Kay. I'm a 31 year-old, happily un-married middle-class white woman with a marvelous life - except for being addicted to sex. Maybe it's only the risk factor that I'm addicted to. I honestly don't know, but I do know I'll sometimes take awful risks to anonymously and spontaneously fuck total strangers. There, now that I have that part out of the way maybe I can also be honest with the rest of what I want to explain.

read more

David Blake examined his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair was neat and combed and cut in the latest style and his face was cleanly shaven. David smiled at himself as he stepped backward and away from his reflection. He did a half turn to admire how his suit fit and couldn't suppress a grin. He was looking good as always and knew it.

read more