Your erotic stories

Maxwell Anderson Jr., or Max to most of his friends, had waited years to be allowed to attend his parent's annual Mardi Gras party. It was considered by many in their social circles to be the grandest party of the season. Max's mother, Edwina Anderson, was born and raised in New Orleans, and left when she married Maxwell Sr. so he could take a position that ultimately led to his running his own law firm. Edwina, like so many other wives of wealthy and successful husbands, was a 'bored housewife' who did charity work, worked out, and drank too much.

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We'd hardly had any traffic on the road that led out of town but the full moon had been our constant companion as it threw a ribbon of eerie light onto the narrow twisty path that led us into the countryside. The stillness was in sharp contrast to the lively scenes we'd passed as we'd driven through the suburbs where pumpkin lanterns decorated houses and kids wearing ghoulish costumes trawled the neighborhoods, trick or treating.

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I feel ridiculous; underdressed and overly aware of how much glitter is on my face. "Come out," Maddy had said. "It'll be fun," Tiff had said. "It'll be good for you," Amber had added. "You have to get out of that dark dungeon of despair you've condemned yourself too," I had said to myself.

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