Your erotic stories

Sean Harper was nervous as he pulled his car into the driveway of the home where Rita Murray lived with her parents. The house was dark and quiet, since her parents were out of town on a long weekend visit to relatives. Rita, on the other hand, sat so close to Sean that if he had not put his arm around her shoulders there would have been no room for it anywhere. Sean had taken her to a restaurant with more ambience than flavor, although both of them had enjoyed the meal, paying more attention to each other than to the food.

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"I'm not sure what you want me to do?" The Man questioned after the woman had laid out her story to him. Mr. R had already heard it sometime before but stayed in the room for the retelling. "The man has already struck. There is nothing to be salvaged here." "I want revenge," Valerie Coombs responded intently. The Man knew of her vaguely; she'd been a fashion model and spokeswomen for a variety of products when she was younger, but that had been years ago.

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Pt. 1 - The Rehearsal Dinner So far it was a very lovely dinner party. Krista sat at the table with the others, her legs crossed. She slowly brought the glass of champagne to her lips as her eyes danced about the room. She looked over at her mother, Karen, sitting there looking nearly lifeless, a former shell of her energetic self. Krista smiled, knowing all to well, and proudly she might add, that she was responsible for the woman's lack of energy and near lack of a will to live.

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Rachel and I had been best friends since we were eight years old. We were always there for each other, through good times and bad. We had even been each other's maids of honor when we got each got married. While we were alike in many ways, we did have some personality differences. She tended to be a little more conservative and reserved than I was. I was always up for adventure and risk while she stuck to the straight and narrow path, always doing what was "right" and always maintaining order. For her, everything had to be in its place - she tended to be a bit anal when it came to putting things back where they belonged or turning off the light when leaving a room. Yet, I still loved her like a sister.

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The steady beat of an axe on wood echoed through the forest, loud in the absence of animals. It was foreign here, the first sounds of a long train of newcomers. It was wrong. For thousands of years the animals and their kin had run these lands, living in harmony with the forests and rivers that ran through it. Now man was coming, and with man came change. With man came war. With man, inevitably, would come death.

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Eight months of hell, that's what it's been! I don't know now why I ever accepted that job offer through the university when I graduated, other than the fact that I was a referral from the Dean's Office, an extremely rare gesture from Brender University. To give you a little background, and why I ended up in this mess, let me explain.

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Traci opened the door to the bar and stepped into its dimness. As she scanned the room she knew immediately she was over dressed for the place, but what the hell. She knew she looked good and that was what she needed right now. That and a stiff drink. She made her way to the long bar and slid onto a stool at the far end.

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She lay in the silent darkness and listened hard. Listened for any sound of movement, she could feel her ears straining into the silence reaching for even a whisper and found nothing but her own breathing and heartbeat. How long had she waited? He had said not to move, not to try and leave, not to cry out for at least 15 minutes after he left. Had it been that? It seemed it had been hours, days even.

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It was unquestionably the weirdest phone call I've ever gotten. I was in the middle of a workout at the gym when my iPhone lit up and the name on the screen said "Kerri" - as in my ex-girlfriend Kerri whom I had not spoken to in three years. Usually, I wait until after a workout to return calls, but this time I was curious, so I picked up. "Uh, hello?" I said, cautiously.

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"Slow tonight, huh?" The "mixologist" glanced up at me through her blonde bangs as she poured my drink. They weren't allowed to be called bartenders... something to do with not having a liquor license, not wanting to attract the attention of the authorities to a club like this.

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