Your erotic stories

The stewardess was being very slow. Annoyed that she was being put on hold, Miranda Davis turned and looked over her shoulder for the woman she had ordered a glass of wine from nearly fifteen minutes ago. The man sitting next to her, who had been buried in a book until now, glanced over with her movement.

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"I am uncertain of the formalities, but one imagines our allegiance to your demon mother has been automatically transferred to the new incumbent...." The blonde woman trailed off. Her companion, a stunning brunette, glared at her through narrowed eyes. "The old queen was weak, I kept her that way. It was only through my influence at her court that you were ever granted access." She replied, menacingly.

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On Caitlin's thirtieth birthday, she woke to find a letter on her husband's pillow. "Open at 10 AM," it said. She looked at the clock. It was 8:15. She looked back at the envelope, and considered it. If she opened it now, there was absolutely no way Richard could know. Right? As logical as that seemed, Caitlin didn't trust that. Richard had a way of knowing these things.

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The second estate agent was in his forties. He had a heavy, ponderous look about him and a blue shadow round his jaws as if her were poorly shaved. His name was Cheetham. It was he who watched her. She looked to be early twenties, seemed nervous, as if she was unsure of herself. They'd been married three months. The husband's name was Christopher. He was in a wheel chair.

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You know what it is like when you are fast asleep & you hear the phone start – are you dreaming it or not? Well I opened my eyes to look at the bedside clock to see it was just after midnight & the phone was actually ringing, I wasn’t dreaming. “Hello,” I said groggily.

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Erica was a smart lady in her late thirties. Trim figure, short black hair, always dressed immaculately. Attractive in a cold way. Untouchable - none of the rest of us would ever be allowed near her. And formidable. Not formidable in an unpleasant way, but someone who had to run things. Chair things. Be in charge of things, and enjoyed the status that went with it. Sometimes the things she ran were run to feed her ego, rather than for the benefit of the organisation or members.

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The next day I had no classes. Thank god. I tried staying in bed, hoping that everything had transpired over the last week would simply cease to exist. My reverie was cut short by a burst from the telephone which was sitting way to close to my pillow for comfort. Unwittingly, I answered, still weary from the prior evening, "Hello?"

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Alex settled back comfortably in his seat. It was late and he was hungry and happy to finally be heading home. The night was pleasant and the train reasonably empty, so with a bit of luck he wouldn't have the yammering of idiots on their smart-phones and the mosquito buzzing of their music. He was relieved to note that apart from a young couple sitting opposite him, the carriage was empty, and they were just chatting between themselves.

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I was getting ready to take a shower when I heard a knock at the front door. I was naked except for my panties. I glanced at my watch. 9:15. It was a Tuesday night and I wasn't expecting anyone. "Shit," I muttered to myself as I threw on a pair of shorts and a button-up shirt. I went downstairs to the front door and looked out the peephole.

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My name is Ella and my story began before I was born. I was adopted at birth and my adoptive parents provided me with the best of everything. We lived in a large house set some distance from the road in manicured gardens set behind a high hedge. They were wealthy and made sure that I went to the best school and when I went to college my tuition was fully paid for by them, along with a generous allowance.

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