Your erotic stories

The young man beside her was silent, lost in his own morose thoughts. Ginny concentrated on the icy highway in front of them, a hint of apprehension gripping her as they approached the Eisenhower Tunnel. Even though she had lived in the Rockies for sixteen years and made the drive from Vail to Denver weekly, this particular stretch of Interstate 70, approaching the Continental Divide, never failed to frighten her. Once more she wished she'd brought her husband's four-wheel drive, if only because it sat up higher and gave a better view.

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Josie Helling stood on the sidewalk in the sweltering heat of an extreme Manila summer. She waited patiently for the car to arrive, deciding against ducking back into the building where it was definitely cooler. The text message positively said 2:30, it was now 10 minutes before 3pm, and the car was still nowhere to be seen. She was going to be late for yet another meeting. This didn't surprise her anymore, being all too familiar with the horrible city traffic.

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Graphic lesbian sex, questionable consent, and...well...blood-drinking. Also more than likely entirely derivative, albeit subconsciously. If any of that disturbs you, please skip this one. Comments welcome!

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Early in the morning of August 21, 1863 William Clarke Quantrell and his band of Missouri ruffians sacked and burned the city of Lawrence, Kansas and changed my life forever. Amost all of the city was destroyed including the Lawrence Journal newspaper, where I worked, and the Eldridge House Hotel, where I lived. Fortunately I was in Topeka on that day, covering the newly-formed and very contentious Kansas Legislature.

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Chapter 1 I'm a pretty relaxed guy, I don't get upset about most things, I can usually go with the flow but I did realize that I did have an obsession that started about five years after we were married. It started when I was looking through some boxes in the attic, trying to find my high school yearbook. I had a reunion coming up in a few months and wanted to refresh myself on the names and faces from my youth.

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My name is Waylon Fielding and I am married to a wonderful woman, my wife Celine Fielding. I would like to say that my life is perfect, or even good, but after two years of marriage I'm pretty freaking miserable and it's all Celine's fault. Actually, it really isn't her fault; it's her Mother's, the lovely Melissa Harmon.

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"Would you like something to drink? Coffee, a soda, a glass of wine, something stronger, maybe?" I offered. "I know I could use a shot of something." Paula smiled, putting her purse down on the end table and taking the clip out of her hair, letting it down, shaking it out a bit before she nodded. "Coffee would be good, maybe with a bit of Bailey's, if you have it?" I smiled and nodded, then turned to Evan.

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"Half an hour to go," I thought. We closed at six o'clock on Fridays, and I was definitely ready to go home. It had been a long week at the shoe store where I worked. Michelle, the owner, had decided to hold a big summer sale to try to boost the business. It's hard for a small boutique store to compete with the big chains, so I understood the need, but it had been a crazy week. Michelle did a good job promoting the sale.

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"So, come on, tell me!" Jessica looked up at me, smiling, her head resting on the pillow next to me as we lay in bed, our naked bodies still glistening with sweat. Her left wrist resting on my chest, her thin fingers tracing tiny circles as I breathed heavily, having just had an orgasm a few minutes previously.

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In those days, I didn't wear underwear. I had long hair down to the small of my back. I was in good shape, lean and muscular, a bike rider with thick legs and a laid-back demeanor. You probably know the type. So a certain kind of woman often responded to me. A certain kind of man, too, although I'd never given that a thought. For my part, here's what I liked in a woman: Natural, sensual. smart. Sexual intellectuals. Open and daring, although even if they weren't, I usually got them there pretty quick.

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