Your erotic stories

How much more could I take? How much more should I be expected to put up with? The time had come. I was ready to pay that that lying, complaining, sexless bitch I had been married to for 20 years. It was time for revenge. It was so different when we first met. She seemed so perfect for me. She loved my friends and they loved her. She’d hang with us, drink beer, and watch sports. And the sex, my God the sex was wonderful.

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Part One: Professor Gregory Stimson noticed that every year there were a more Asians on campus, not only the foreign students, but the sons and daughters of recent immigrants. At one time there had been much fewer. They were good students, but drudges, automatons; all they did was study. They only lived to study and study more.

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Michael Halversun has a hard time recounting his memories, even now that he is safe in the small book laden office of his therapist. The twenty year old is filled with guilt, his voice wavering as he speaks into the tape recorder and his therapist sits across from him, listening to his tale. His upbringing told him that adultery was a great sin, and his masculinity told him that it was his fault. Whether either of those things were true really didn't matter any more to him. Michael had been raped.

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It was late afternoon when Lisa pulled her car into a parking space at the Women's Health Services building. It was time again for her to see her gynecologist. She usually got the early morning appointments, but the office had called a few days ago to change hers. They said her usual doctor was out on leave for a few weeks and would she mind taking an appointment with someone else - a Dr. David Johnson. She preferred to see a female doctor, but her pill prescription was running out and she couldn't wait until her usual doctor came back.

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Wow, she thought, he was pretty well hidden. The car had appeared out of nowhere, lights already flashing, the siren going, catching up to her at rapid speed. She was not actually going all that fast, just over seventy, but then again, it was a forty-five (for no good reason, by the way), and that meant she was flirting with thirty miles per hour of speeding, and that was never a good thing.

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Marsha walked out of her office building onto an empty sidewalk, it was 10 o'clock at night, and it was dark outside. Her idiot boss had made her stay late for some stupid project because he couldn't get his act together. Some self-inflicted crisis and she got stuck doing all the work as usual.

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You know that feeling you get when you're on that terrible amusement park ride, Tower of Terror or Freefall or whatever they call it- where they lift you up and then drop you out of the blue (literally) and your stomach flies up into your heart and your heart flies right out of your mouth? That's the feeling I get when I meet my husband's angry gaze, and that anger is directed at me.

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Caroline McDuffy was lost. She didn't know the exact moment she had gone wrong, but she knew she had no chance of finding camp again. Her friends had asked her to wait for them before she started out that morning, but she had been impatient. After all, she'd been out there for three days; she had wandered the marked trails several times and thought she would be familiar enough with the area to go out alone.

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When it was time for me to go to university my father arranged for me to stay with my aunt and uncle. They lived in this real big place, quite posh, it was. Aunt did all the housework herself and she was an excellent cook. They had a gardener in once a fortnight to keep the gardens and lawn under control.

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They say that a person's entire life flashes before their eyes when they know they are going to die. I don't believe that is true, I do know that the last three years did, though. I answered the knock on my door, expecting to be told where to go work, my heart skipped a beat when I saw the two goons standing there. They just shoved their way in, then stepped aside, separating themselves.

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