Your erotic stories

The following is a true story, based on actual events…well, some of the facts are actually as they truly happened, and some events are based on my lustful imagination. Chris is completely real, and as true as any cyber lover can be: and Dora, as many of you know personally, lives life as honestly as small, rectangular hippy glasses will permit her to be. I would caution any of you out there to be suspicious of any lovers you may meet on the Net, they may not be an honest-to-goodness Chris….so, make sure you verify that you have found…the real Dude…..

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Ricks vision began to lighten; the world around him a kaleidoscope of pale swirls. His hearing was coming alive the hum of electric light tubes and a strange ventilation sucking noise filling the air. He sensed the passage of time-was it still evening? He didn't think so. His mind tried to retrace his steps.

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I was at fundraiser at my new husband's workplace. Everyone who was anyone in our small town was there, vying to impress each other with much preening of plumage as the evening wore on. As usual, my husband John had gathered what few young people were in attendance like a pied piper and escaped outside into the warm summer night on the porch, leaving the stilted world of moneyed philanthropists inside. I had noted his exit and attempted to follow, but was intercepted in the hall by a large elderly dame of society who enjoyed nothing more than to recall tales from her long ago youth by the hour.

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He disabled the burglar alarm then pushed the metal pick into the door lock at the back of the house; let the tool play across the lock's pin. Too much or too little pressure, too little or too much finesse guaranteed failure. The skill in using a pick is to bounce it in the keyway according to the resistance offered by each pin. Gently coercing the pins into obeying his will, he was sensitive to the sound, the feel of the pick touching each pin.

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Learning about love can sometimes start out as a forced situation The school bus bounced over another of the countless potholes that lined the country road she lived on, but Ashley could care less. In fact, she could not remember a time when she had been happier than she was right now. There were so many things to be happy about. Spring had finally sprung big time. As of today she was eighteen years old and almost fully blossomed into the same kind of strikingly beautiful woman that her mother still is. And best of all, she now had her very first boyfriend.

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Candy Struthers was the hottest reporter on television at the moment. Her career had skyrocketed over the past two years with her uncanny ability to sniff out momentous leads, as well as landing extraordinary interviews with infamous celebrities, disgraced politicians, and celebrated lawbreakers. That she was only twenty-four years of age was only part of her aura – she had a law degree, an incredible razor-sharp intellect, and an amazing talent to rise to the top.

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Ted got into his pickup truck and slammed the door. "Fucking rain!" He spat as he started the engine and turned the windshield wipers on. The 24-year-old construction worker was going to miss another day of work due to bad weather. He had driven over an hour from home to get to this new site and the rain began just as he pulled in. The Foreman called the job off after listening to the weather forecast on the radio so now Ted was going to have to drive back home knowing that he would be out another day's pay.

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"You're sure you want to do this?" "Yes." "Read this form and then sign on the bottom." The paper slid across the desk, pushed by perfectly manicured dragon lady red nails. Elena took the form with trembling hands and scanned it. Yes... this was exactly what she wanted. No mercy, few limits, so many things so far over her boundaries. She wanted to hurt. To fear. Lance had left an aching emptiness inside of her that needed to be filled, he had left her calling her all sorts of names. Prude. Ice queen. Teasing bitch.

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It wasn't auspicious for a relationship; he wasn't quite...right. Not that there was anything wrong with him per se, because there wasn't. We had met online through one of those dating apps; he was sweet and funny and intelligent. Normally he would have been perfect, but I needed something...more.

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"Student ID?" I fumbled around my jeans for my student ID. The Indian security guard at the gate nodded as I found it and flashed it at him. "Long night at the library?" he asked casually, leaning backwards in his chair as his eyes flicked down and up again.

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