Your erotic stories

Author's Note: Thank you for reading my first attempt at writing erotic fiction, "Unlikely Love". This is the first part of the story, so check back for updates. Also, please feel free to leave comments or suggestions; I would really appreciate them. Thank you. Tonight was like any other Friday night; paying off the bouncer to accept my fake idea and grant me access to the popular gay bar/strip club. Not that it was unusual.

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My pet had been very bad today. She was taking the day off from her internet professions and I was going into work. She begged and pleaded with me to stay home with her but I said I couldn't, and went to work. I hadn't been at my desk for five minutes before my phone went off. I checked it, and it was a picture that my pet, Rebekah, sent me seemingly in retaliation for not staying home.

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She leaned against the cold brick wall, trying to defend herself from the three hoodlums. 'Leave me alone!' she yelled, covering her breasts with her left arm, while slapping away the many hands that were trying to go under her short shirt. 'All we want is some of that sexy ass, baby,' one of the punks said, trying his best to get a feel between her legs.

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He's leaving after graduation, next week. Leaving for another city so far away. He's my best friend. He's been the only best friend I've ever had. John. A simple name does not do judge to the complexities you've shown. He's leaving after graduation, forcing me to attend university all alone, with no support, no back up. I'm supposed to step into the tumultuous sea of books, rhetoric and profs, haranguing me with papers, exams and the answer to whether or not Leopold Bloom liked to eat feces. Who knows? Who dares? Who fucking cares?

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The bride worried that she would shatter. She felt as fragile as the glass bottles of oils and perfumes set out for her bath--a bath she didn't welcome, and one she knew would never make her feel clean. In the water, a gilded lion gushed rose-scented water from his mouth. Julia had always thought the fountain beautified the room, but now the lion seemed like he was just another predator waiting to pounce.

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You had to be living under a rock this past year not to know the economy is in the pooper. But even in these economic hard times, people continue to buy houses. So it was when the old two-story cottage beside me went up for sale in the last quarter of 2007. It sat empty for nearly a year until a middle-aged woman purchased the property.

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I wake up. My room is darker than I've ever seen it, pitch black with no moonlight slipping in through the drapes. I start to move my hand to search for the candle on the bedside table and find that I can't – my arm doesn't respond. The sensation brings me wide awake and I try moving my legs, panic setting in when I can't shift them and realize I have lost the power of movement. I want to open my mouth to cry out for help but a tightly stretched fabric muffles my lips.

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All characters are 18+. This is my first submitted story and I would welcome any advice on how to further improve my writing skills. Enjoy! ***** The back door was shut slowly. A quiet wine emanating from the hinges as the latch flicked into place. A small, young raven haired girl turned around. Her beady eyes looking towards the clock upon the kitchen wall. It read 1:36.

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It had been a year since I'd seen her...months since we'd last spoken. When she walked up to me in the lobby of the hotel where our convention was being held all those feelings rushed back to me in an instant. The heat growing through my body. I tugged at my clothes and patted my hair as I watched her walk towards me with that easy gait. Her strides long and confident. Her clothing all black, just like always.

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This is a work of fiction, that does deal with certain depression issues. All people included in this story are figments of my imagination. Any mistakes are my fault, my editor did the best she could with what she had.

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