Your erotic stories

Chapter One When I met my wife, Susan, she was a sweet, toe headed girl who seems entirely too nice to be in the bar that I frequented with a group of buddies, we were all there for one reason, get laid. I had gone up to speak with her for just one reason, she just seemed out of place. Out of all the freaks and sluts, I'd met there; she was a shining star in the middle of a dark day, a beacon of innocence.

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I don't know how it happened. Nothing seemed out of place. The last thing I remember is getting out of the shower and drying my hair. That's when I saw him in my vanity mirror. A figure, clothed in black with a mask over his face, wrapping him arms around my shoulders and face. Then everything went black. I know I should call the police but...I don't know if I want to.

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David Blake examined his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair was neat and combed and cut in the latest style and his face was cleanly shaven. David smiled at himself as he stepped backward and away from his reflection. He did a half turn to admire how his suit fit and couldn't suppress a grin. He was looking good as always and knew it.

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Zarah's eyelids fluttered as she moaned softly, waking up to a pounding headache... what had happened last night? She only remembered having two drinks, not nearly enough to be hung over... She stirred gently, and only then noticed that her movements were strangely restricted... Her eyelids flew open as she suddenly took in her surroundings, her eyes locking on wrists wrapped securely with rope and attached to leads bound to the bedposts of the big four-poster bed in which she lay.

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Stacy closed the front door, and instinctively headed to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of wine to ease the pain of yet another unsuccessful blind date. This had become a far too familiar routine. Friends paraded guy after guy in front of her, all with the promise of "he'd be PERFECT for you". "Perfect seems to be subjective", Stacy mused to herself.

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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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Mike read the terse text message from his wife Sunny. She was working late, yet again, and had texted not to ask how his day went, but to demand he take care of dinner plans. Again. A second text amended the list: feed the dog, take all the trash out and start washing her work clothes. Sunny had been a real bitch lately, and he was getting tired of dealing with it. He knew part of it was hormonal.

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Victoria didn't know why she bothered. If she had known, she wouldn't have spent so much time on her outfit. She arrived at Simon's place a little after sunset, so she wasn't too worried the neighbors would spot her in her slutty clothes. But... just to be safe, she put on a long skirt and overcoat as camouflage. She used the key Simon gave her last night and stepped inside the duplex.

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She was somebody else's date. I'd met her when they arrived. She was his arm candy for the evening. Of the fifteen or so people in my home, she was the one that caught my interest. It was obvious from the moment I opened the door she knew who I was and she was interested. Others may have thought I was a curiosity or maybe interesting, but she was interested.

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As the car idles in front of the school, in line with all the other parents waiting to pick up their children, I take out my phone and call you. "Hi, baby," you say, the tension in your voice coming through the line clearly. "Do you need something?" "I was just about to pick up the kids and thought I'd see how your day is going and if you wanted something special for dinner. Is Michaels still breathing down your neck?"

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