Your erotic stories

“Watch out for the bat!” I ducked just in time as a flying toy buzzed through the plastic hair on my Frankenstein’s monster mask and crashed into the wall. Immediately, two girls rushed to retrieve it. First to get there was a sensuous Black Cat. With her buxom build and auburn hair flowing down her black velvet back, I guessed that it was Kitty Rourke, the head cheerleader at Hooterville High and a notorious cocktease.

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Jane Pretty looked at the watch on her wrist. Girard Perregaux : a Swiss watch, tasteful and elegant. Like her suit: Chanel ready to wear; prêt à porter, chic and professional. Single, thirty-seven, a high-priced therapist, she spent her money on fine things. It gave her satisfaction to surround herself with them. She crossed her legs, the friction of her pantyhose like a faint shimmer of sound, her black suede pumps stretching her ankle attractively, but not erotically, the toes not too pointed. She leaned over and sipped from her bottle of water.

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John Dorland pressed his foot down on the break, slowing the car down as he approached his usual stakeout spot and eased his navy blue unmarked police cruiser off the interstate and into a wide truck turnout, backing the rear of the Dodge Charger up under the cover of the maple trees that lined the turnout fifty yards from the edge of the asphalt. He turned off the headlights, leaving the engine idling, and flipped on the dash mounted radar, settling back into his seat for the remainder of his ten hour shift.

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I snapped out of my fog just as Nicole stopped talking. She had gotten into a story about some boy she met last summer, and, quite frankly, I couldn't have cared less. Her voice was so sexy though, I didn't mind the droning on. "Uh...mmm" My standard reply. I had been staring at her mouth. Heat prickled up to my face.

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I was down the back of my section getting stuck into the overgrown mass of weeds there with a view to turning it into a vegetable wonderland. Right now the weeds with their long intertwined root systems were winning hands down. However I persevered in the hot sun until I had to stop and take a drink of water from the sipper bottle I had left in the shade. Lukewarm.

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The wife was gone to her sister's for the weekend. I got up late and was shaving in the bathroom mirror when I noticed a reflection in the closet mirrored door. Someone was looking in my bedroom window. I couldn't make out who it was. I only saw the shape of the head. I continued to shave and moved into a different position so I could have a better view. It was a guy. He didn't move. He just stood still and peeked through the blinds.

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I am a burglar by trade. It's not a bad job. You pick your hours, working as little or as much as you like. No boss to tell you what to do and, as long as your careful, no hassles. Mind you, I have more sense than to put down burglar on my tax returns. I'm a registered second-hand dealer and I do a lot of buying and selling over the internet. As long as I pay my taxes no-one bothers me.

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CHAPTER 1 At last new widower Charlie Creek was left sole occupant of his home. His two daughters had returned respectively to Rome and Los Angeles to their families after coming for the funeral and had cleared the house of most of Beth's things but had left the photographs of her undisturbed.

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Dan spent last weekend up at his parents' house in the suburbs. It was one of those dead weekends. Many of his friends were out of town, working, or too tired to go out. On Friday before he left, he called Steve Morgan's cell phone again in one last ditch effort to try to get something going, but was greeted only by voicemail. He hung up without leaving a message, threw some clothes in a backpack, and drove up to his parents'.

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Zosimos felt the whip crack down on his back once more. He screeched in agony and was met with only more blows for comfort. He knew he wasn't supposed to make a sound but by the 20th strike he couldn't help it. His brutal master continued to beat him until all that was left was the comforting dark.

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