Your erotic stories

My name is Derek and I am a burglar. And I love Christmas Eve. Not because I'm religious but because it makes my life easier. I mean who is going to question a man, dressed in red and white, carrying a sack, whilst climbing in through a window. And a fake beard hides most of the face as well. Only an hour ago an old lady shouted at me going into a house. I just turned back to her and winked. "Shh! You'll spoil the surprise."

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I was working late in the audio lab when Nora, my best friend came up behind me. I had my headphones on so I didn't get any warning. She looked over my shoulder at the monitor. When she put her hand on my shoulder, I was so startled that I quickly turned it off. Too late, she had seen what I was doing and I knew my secret was out. So the long explanation began. I couldn't just tell her I was clearing background noise in a recording I had made because the video was on the screen along with the audio.

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It was a Thursday, and my classes had been cancelled because of all the snow. He thought that he would get out of work, so we had planned to lay in bed and watch movies all day, but when he called his boss early that morning he had found out that he was still required to go in, and he had been griping about it all day. He grumbled through his morning routine, and he had even been sending me text messages to remind me what a bitch I was for getting to lay in bed all day without him.

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Marsha walked out of her office building onto an empty sidewalk, it was 10 o'clock at night, and it was dark outside. Her idiot boss had made her stay late for some stupid project because he couldn't get his act together. Some self-inflicted crisis and she got stuck doing all the work as usual.

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I don't know how it happened. Nothing seemed out of place. The last thing I remember is getting out of the shower and drying my hair. That's when I saw him in my vanity mirror. A figure, clothed in black with a mask over his face, wrapping him arms around my shoulders and face. Then everything went black. I know I should call the police but...I don't know if I want to.

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"Hey, I'm going to go over to Ryan's house, Luke has something for me I guess," I told my boyfriend, Kyle, as I was gathering up my purse and keys to my car. "Luke?" Kyle put on a disgusted face. I didn't blame him. Luke was my ex. We'd only gone out a week, so I didn't really count him as being an "ex-boyfriend", just an "ex". I know, I'm weird. I sighed and tried to smile at Kyle. "Yeah. I guess. I'll be back in hopefully under a half hour. Unless Ryan's there and then I might stay a bit longer."

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Lorraine Marie Burk checked her e-mail every day before going to bed; no one ever really mailed her anything personal. But she did use it for reminders of special TV programs she wanted to drop in on and other special dates of interest. She was going through the inbox this particular day and spied a message with slut written in the subject field.

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1. When she was nineteen, two bandits dressed-up as Indians killed Molly Sheridan's father and her three younger brothers, and burned their ranch. They carried her off, but hadn't tied her hands properly, perhaps because they'd got so drunk, perhaps only because they didn't imagine she could give them any trouble, bound or no. Thus as they were riding, she was able to get hold of one of their pistols, and shoot the men dead.

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It all started simply enough. We had met on a personals site. Each of us had placed an ad, and we eventually got into contact with each other. Though our background and situations were different, we each saw something in the other's profile that piqued the curiosity. We made contact and began chatting.

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Zarah's eyelids fluttered as she moaned softly, waking up to a pounding headache... what had happened last night? She only remembered having two drinks, not nearly enough to be hung over... She stirred gently, and only then noticed that her movements were strangely restricted... Her eyelids flew open as she suddenly took in her surroundings, her eyes locking on wrists wrapped securely with rope and attached to leads bound to the bedposts of the big four-poster bed in which she lay.

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