Your erotic stories

When you're a Villain, there are certain things you sign up for. The risk of arrest, the risk of getting shot by police, the risk of getting hunted and severely beaten up by heroes. The risk of what happens when your secret identity is uncovered. The risk of other Villains hunting you for their own ends. Oh yes, don't believe that only Heroines get hunted, trapped and put through slave training by Villains. Villains get it worse.

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An icy wind stung Amy's cheeks as she ran down a tree lined avenue under an overcast November sky. Her breath puffed rhythmically in front of her as her feet pounded the pavement. Only another three miles to go, she thought, rather morosely, to herself. Today was one of those days she just wanted to sit on the couch, snuggled in a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate, not freezing her ass off training for a half marathon.

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It has been a year today since my life changed drastically. I can remember that day with a vivid recollection that would scare most people. Even I was scared for the longest time, though it was a different kind of scared than most would recognize. I actually went through different levels of being scared. It was truly as if my world was flipped upside down that day.

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Recently, while preparing vanilla icing for a tray of cooling cinnamon buns, I heard Todd yell from the bathroom. "Gloria, I haven't got a towel!" It prompted my memory: I'd washed them earlier and had forgotten to replace them. However, there were plenty in the hallway. "Linen cupboard," I called back. He thudded down the passageway naked and wet. Hot, I thought.

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As a newly appointed detective assigned to a special police operation Georgina was less effective than the effect she had on men, which was electric. It wasn't just a pair of long legs or the tiny waist emphasizing large breasts, it was more than that, it was the innocent look upon her face when listening to them. She had a way of tilting her head to one side looking intently into a mans eyes as though he were the only man in the world and what he had to say was important. Sitting in his car with her Sergeant, Angelo was getting the full treatment.

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Mr Valens reached towards the numbers on the alarm panel inside the front door of his modern, two storey home. The red light was not flashing. He paused and cast his eyes around without moving, noting the gleaming kitchen bench, the bleak smell of domestic cleaner. Then he remembered. Today was Wednesday - Sharni Peller's cleaning day.

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I'm so done with this school, with these ridiculous uniforms and my jackass classmates trying to look up my skirt and down my shirt. (Who picked these clothes? I mean the skirt is halfway up the thighs for god's sake. And these shirts must have been designed for girls who, well, didn't develop as early and as, uh, fully as me - which, trust me, is not all it's cracked up to be, big tits are huge pain even in clothes that weren't poorly designed for someone a lot _smaller_.

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My sister Kate had introduced me to the wonderful world of group sex, one in which my incredible endowments were tested to their limits. I had surpassed all expectations, being able to pleasure five horny teenage beauties several times each in the space of a few hours. My tireless monster cock had unloaded plentiful loads of sweet cream onto their gorgeous bodies.

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