Your erotic stories

I see you heading home, I already know where you live, I have been watching you, I follow you. You are distracted as you turn into your building and I follow you up to your apartment. My pulse quickens as I watch you open your door, I catch up, step quickly in behind you and close the door. You turn and look at me... a tall blonde has followed you into your apartment and your mind can't quite grasp what that means.

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The three men had watched the weather radar all day. With each passing hour, the storm front grew in intensity until a fifty mile stretch of Midwestern farmland was covered in various shades of red and purple on their computer screen. This was a big one. And their pulses raced. The first tornado warning was issued at 2:55 PM. When the local TV weatherman confirmed the sighting, the men knew it was time.

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I cannot ignore your texts or help being provocative, everything you mention to do with sex hits the spot and you are a master of seduction, making me ache inside. You know that I can never consent to what you want, I would never cheat on my husband, but you know how much I want you... We agree that one day it will happen, but the time's not right, but you are willing to wait for as long as it takes, and you promise me one day I will be yours.

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The truth is, I want to be hurt. The red plastic cup of beer in my hand is damp and sweating. The bass is pounding so loudly I can feel it vibrating inside my veins. My shirt is sticking to my skin along my spine, my skin tired and dewy and angry. God, I hate my life.

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Wells Estate / New York / 6:37 p.m. / August 12, 2033 The crunching of the gravel stopped abruptly. Kate pulled the handbrake on her Camaro SS and gawked out the open window. Just twenty minutes (or fifteen if you could drive fast enough) outside the city, Wells Estate stood proudly. Three stories tall, the dark stone and pillars gave it a slight gothic atmosphere. It was relatively new, built in 2028, but the owner had given it an older look. Maybe 1800's, she guessed.

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Traci and Heather were discussing whether or not Karen Cambell would show up at their five year class reunion. They could hardly believe that the 'bitch' would show up after what had happened just over three years ago. But if she did Traci had some three and a half year old pictures that would insure a memorable reunion for her classmates.

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I look at the clock. It's 8 p.m. It's a Thursday night and I'm still at the office. My report is due Friday and I've got at least 2 hours left on it. My whole team has gone home, and my interest in working for another two hours is waning. It's been a long hard week. My stomach starts to rumble. Good idea, I'll get some food. It may motivate me to get this crappy report finished.

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The mother of Debbie and Maria was named Evon. She was, in my opinion, a good looking, plump woman in her late forties. Her tits were full, heavy orbs that frequently displayed her huge nipples through even the thickest of clothing. Her arse was firm and round. A pretty face with full lips complimented her green eyes and long brown hair. She extruded a sexual aura that was palpable with nothing more than the swing of her hips as she walked.

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Imagine a mental hospital - not the realistic environment, more like what you see in movies like "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest." There was a large room where the inmates could gather. The nurse's station was next to it. There was a wire fence over the window, so the nurse was protected, but could see and hear what went on. Next to her station was a wire gate, locked.

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It was summer, back when my summers were times for adventure and wanderlust. I decided to visit my friend John who was living in Athens writing for an English-language newspaper. We were to spend a week on Skopelos, a sleepy Greek isle in the Sporades island group, famous for its wine. John and I were both single guys in our 20's who were wine-drinking buddies from college who still liked to hang out together.

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