Your erotic stories

Goldie couldn't believe it. There she was, scuffing down a back road on South Goddamn Georgia with her disabled car half a mile back. It was getting dark, it was colder than the South had any right to be, her cell phone was broken, and there wasn't a soul in sight. Damn him anyway, him and all the shit he'd put her through over the past five years.

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I am asleep. Then, suddenly, I am awake. I can feel him. Standing there in the dark corner of the room. I can't see him, I only know he's there. Did he wake me? It's cold. And I'm naked under the covers. I sit up, thinking maybe I can catch a glimpse of him if I do. But I cannot.

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Our physical difference was striking. I'm a brute—at least I look like one. Over six feet, with broad shoulders and thick legs, I dwarfed her barely five foot frame. Where I loom, all burliness and beard and full, round ass, she receded, her thin arms and legs topped by a spindly bottom and slightly sunken cheeks that were the most obvious sign of her fifty-nine years.

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Preamble – a delivery. The six foot, 210 pound guard dragged the captive blonde across the room. "Take your hands off of me, you goon." She yelled as she raked a heel down the shin of her assailant. He manhandled her towards the small dark room that was to be her home for the next weeks. "Hey you great lunk, be careful with the merchandise," her kidnapper admonished. "We don't want this one bruised."

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