Your erotic stories

Barbara Clausen woke with the first light of dawn as it crept through the curtains. Moving slowly and carefully, she slipped from under the sheet and swung her feet to the floor. She stood and tip-toed to the chair where her clothing lay. She donned her dress, picked up her underwear, pantyhose, shoes and purse and left.

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Hannah Allbright rode Lancaster, her husband’s favorite mount, down the charred and blackened streets of Pleasant Harbor Township, the stink of smoke and soot still lingered thick in the muggy summer air. Though it was her third visit into town since the burning she still wept at the site of her beloved village smoldering in ruin as she made her way to the mercantile, the lone building left standing after the Redcoats' unprovoked attack.

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I was told that the drive into Camp Larry Horton would relieve me of all my fears. I was skeptical, of course. This was my first full-time position as a young adult camp coordinator and nothing seemed capable of alleviating the butterflies in my stomach. But soon after turning off the main road onto the dirt and gravel path leading to the camp, I began to believe. Dense woods on either side of the car quickly blocked out civilization's existence.

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