Your erotic stories

When the so called natural resources started to run out on Earth some super genius among them came to realize that the moon and the asteroids in the heavens above could provide all humanity could every need. With just under 25 billion people murdering each other for food and a place to sleep, the idea of endless space with unlimited resources, did for earth what it had done for the English colonies on the east coast of the Americas.

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I sat at home on this particular Friday night. My wife, Susan, had called earlier from work to let me know, that she planned to stop off at a bar with some co-workers for a drink or two. This was fine, as it had been a long day and a night of television alone sounded really inviting. About 8:15 the phone rang, it was Susan. It seems everyone went their separate ways after one drink, but she was not ready to call it a night.

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The motel was worse than Milene expected, definitely low-rent and in need of repair. Several disreputable-looking characters hung out in the parking lot, checking her out as she drove in. Drug dealers, Milene assumed, or maybe drug users. Or pimp types. This looked like the kind of motel that rented by the hour, as the saying goes. Then again, that's essentially what Milene was there for, so who was she to judge?

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It had been too long of a day for Alexandra. Her classes had assigned above and beyond her average workload, she broke one of her favorite heels, and she was forced into covering her friend's shift at the café. Not only was she stressed and tired, she had to study for her marketing test at 9:00 the next morning.

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This account of some of the events in my life was written as requested by the love of my life, my soul mate, my sister Abby. Here it is 1972 and I am living in Mobile, Alabama. Not sure how I ended up here but it seemed like a nice place to settle after drifting for a few months. I am enrolled in college and have made a few friends. With my injuries and scars from Viet Nam I am a little shy around people. I lost an eye and I wear a black patch over it.

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1. England in the early Eighteenth Century was a lawless country populated by the toffs on the one hand and the proletariat on the other. It was also a land noted for its number of highwaymen, chief among which was Dick Turpin from whom nobody who travelled the highways and byways of that green and not-so-pleasant land was safe.

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Damon: I'll bet you'll get up to some trouble in Cabo. I smirked at the text that flashed up on our chat-log from the computer screen. He was always teasing me. Ashleigh: No trouble. At least not the good kind of trouble. I'm going with my boyfriend don't forget. There was a pause, and while I anticipated his next words, I took a sip of the vodka soda I was prone to drinking while I spent my online hours chatting with my favorite virtual stranger, DamonX.

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I couldn't unfasten her safety belt. Have you ever heard those lyrics? They're part of a song that Chuck Berry put out in the sixties. Basically, the song gives the story of a young lad who took his girlfriend for a drive. He tells of how, when they parked and wanted to go for a walk so he could pitch a little wooing, they couldn't undo her seat belt. She was stuck in the car and he had to home, wooing being deferred to another day.

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The girl sighed as her tea colored eyes flicked over me; her contempt was hard to miss. I rolled my eyes pretending to be unaffected, although her obvious dislike cut to the quick and made my confidence waver. I wondered why she affected me so much, that was a thought I didn't want to examine too closely and so I pushed it aside.

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She took one last look around the room making sure everything was ready. A bottle of wine was chilling on the counter top and the candles were lit, long red tapers, just as he requested. A light mix of Jazz and Blues was playing softly on the radio. Taking a deep breath she positioned the straight-backed chair facing the door, put her blindfold in place and sat down to wait.

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