Your erotic stories

"Just come over here!" My best friend, Cassie, could be so impatient at times, and today was no exception. Her voice rang out through my cell phone, "I have to eat some dinner and then we can hang out." "Okay, fine," I replied. When Cassie wanted to see me she always demanded instead of asked.

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The weatherman missed the mark again. Sitting in his cozy tv studio this morning while I readied myself for another day at the office, he claimed that today the city would see the mid 50's and its fair share of sunshine. In other words, it was supposed to be a gorgeous autumn day. That's the last time I listen to him. I'll be damned if it was more than 35 degrees in the city this evening. The wind picked up again, a cold hand sliding over my face and through my hair on its journey through the streets.

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Chapter 2: Hayley I made a really stupid bet with a friend a few months ago. I quickly came to regret it, but at the time I had no idea what far reaching consequences it would have for me, and for my mother. My name's Hayley, I'm 18 and in my first year at university. I share a flat near the campus with two other girls. Simone's a huge black chick who throws the discus for the British junior team.

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I had an uncomfortable few days after I ran into my former lesbian lover out at our village fete. I hadn't seen her for 25 years, I hadn't heard a peep from her in all that time, since I was 18, in fact. I'd married and raised an adult daughter, become a respected pillar of local society -- and then one day she turned up out of the blue!

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Rachel Salvatora took a sip of her Chardonnay trying to ignore the turbulence that was wreaking havoc on both the flight and her stomach. She had been in her seat for an hour and was growing uncomfortable. Lynn had fallen asleep on her shoulder and she didn't want to wake up the young blonde woman. Rachel's sky blue skirt was running up her leg slowly but surely as Lynn moved her leg while she slept. Rachel wondered if the movement was intentional.

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For generations, the Royal Family had been protected by the elite Royal Guard, given the best training and the most advanced weapons to date. With a proud heritage which stretched back generations, the Royal Family had always been under the protectorate one family.

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We buried Brennan on a typical July afternoon, hot and restless. Heavy, dark clouds hung overhead and the smell of rain was sharp and sweet. Mr. Kennedy, Patrick and my father dug Brennan's grave beside his father, mother and younger sister, spilling dark soil across the verdant grass. Father Landon stood at the head of the grave and read from his ancient bible.

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I lay on my side, on my expensive 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. At that moment I felt childish for crying like a baby. People died all the time and no one knew that better than me. As a heart surgeon it was my job to repair the otherwise irreparable and I was good at my job. Years of careful planning and dedication had gotten me that.

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The sun shone blindingly, its radiance and emanating warmth serving as a deceitful mirage, a false comfort that belied the earth's frigid cold. Yet, its beauty was genuine, reminiscent of vintage holiday greeting cards. The snow sparkled with what seemed like an endless bounty of fragmented diamonds, its vast blanket spread out across pure expanses of slopes and dipping valleys, their virginity untouched by the invasive violations of civilization.

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Neeta stared out of the window of the coach, the mountain air cool against her warm face. As the wind fanned her face she felt all her troubles falling away far into the depths of the valley below. Looking towards the mountains, she fervently hoped that this holiday would revive her sagging spirits and confidence in herself.

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