Your erotic stories

Crack. The sound slices like a steel blade through the chatter of the conference room. Heads whip around, staring at me, while I stare at the broken glass of water. The glass of water I was supposed to bring. "Well don't just stand there, clean the bloody thing up." I bend down, black pencil skirt riding up slightly as I gingerly pick up the delicate shards of glass.

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Tony stood anxiously in his back yard looking up at the full moon. Earlier in the day he had shut off the breaker to the lights in the back taking the first step to his plan. The squeaking hinge had even been oiled something he had been meaning to do for quite a while. He had complained about the squeak a few times over the past week to help throw Alicia off from his plan.

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The anger and determination of Qin Shih Huang was almost palpable as he unleashed his cavalry, war chariots, and bronze and iron weapons—all battlefield levelers that his enemies had never before encountered—on the rebel town of Anyi. Within hours of receiving the message that the Lord of Anyi would not send tribute and yield in the season of homage, Qin Shih Huang, his loyal servant and chamberlain, Li Yuan, riding three strides to his rear, galloped out of Xian at the head of his cavalry and war chariots.

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I stood in front of my Dad, head hanging in shame. In my senior year of high school, just about to graduate, I still lived at home and probably would all through college and until I got a good job. And during all that time, Daddy would control me. Today, I was in serious trouble.

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Judge Thomas Oakley slowed the car as he crossed Martin Luther Key Street on St. Catherine where it turned into Jefferson. He often slowed down here, in passing the King's Tavern Lounge—although he'd never gotten up the gumption to go in there. It was too close to home and he was too well known.

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"Hello. I'm Mr. Devereux to see Ms. Hill," I said to the receptionist. My voice was clear and authoritative, but not overly aggressive. I was standing in front of her desk, which had the usual assortment of secretarial accoutrements; a large phone, pens, paper, rolodex and computer, which she was busily typing away at.

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It was a very pleasant date, all in all. She was lovely and funny, and the curves beneath her dress made me very aware of the hopeful bulge in my jeans. She seemed shy, though, and I did not feel quite ready for 'the talk' just yet. Still, when she insisted I come in for a while, I humored her. That was my first mistake. My second was accepting the drink.

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She was awakened as she had been so very many times before... By the exquisite feeling of a talented tongue lapping relentlessly between her legs. She had almost come to expect the morning ritual that she loved so dearly. Her husband Peter always managed to wake in the morning just a few minutes before she and very early in their relationship had taken to waking her by crawling under the bed covers and finding her well-rested pussy ready and waiting for him.

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It was one of those situations I had heard about but never believed. Three friends were over at my house playing poker, and I was down about $300. It was a string of bad luck, really. My hands had been good all night, but someone else always had something a little better. Now, I am sitting here with a ace-high flush, the other three guys have gone in, but I do not have enough money to match them.

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1. England in the early Eighteenth Century was a lawless country populated by the toffs on the one hand and the proletariat on the other. It was also a land noted for its number of highwaymen, chief among which was Dick Turpin from whom nobody who travelled the highways and byways of that green and not-so-pleasant land was safe.

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