Your erotic stories

I could hear the faint sound of music emanating from behind the door as I made my way down the hallway. Each step brought me closer as the music became louder and louder. I listened intently as I closed in, but could not make out place the song or the band, writing it off as one of the many independent, no-name artists that Laura always listened to.

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His eyes were closed, a vain token of propriety: if he didn't see what was happening, was he really responsible? Around his finger her mouth closed, warm, wet, sucking. He felt her teeth graze over the hardness of his wedding band, then those hot, soft lips closed about his finger, retreating slowly towards his fingertip with a delicious, unfamiliar suction. What am I doing? There is a reason I've worn this band for fifteen years.

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I took a long sip of my dirty martini and leaned into the bar, staring resentfully down towards the end of it. My boyfriend of three years, Ryan, was still engaged in conversation, feeding his ego with clever banter. I noticed the familiar animated expressions, grand gestures, and overly enthused laughter that captivated the small crowd of people he was talking to. I sighed heavily, and settled back onto my bar stool and played with the spear of olives in my drink.

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I shifted my computer bag on my shoulder as I hustled down the corridor. I hated being late, especially when it was my own presentation. I was cutting it close, very close, and at these things audience reviews were everything. The last thing I wanted to hear from my manager was that my reviews sucked because they were preoccupied by my tardiness.

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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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Sometimes, I couldn't stand my father. I believed it was his fault my mom killed herself. He was gorgeous and he could have anyone he wanted, and so he did. He cheated on her all the time. Men, women, she-males. And he would bring them home since mom died, not caring I was in the house. He was the dominate type, I would hear them begging for him, he told them too. I wouldn't be surprised if I had siblings out there I never knew of.

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How could he? That bastard of a boyfriend of mine? Yes, despite living together we both had our freedom. He'd never been unfaithful to me before. Not that I knew of. Neither had I with him. Not with another man, anyway. A woman was different, of course. My boyfriend had no idea I was bisexual. That was, and is, a side I keep to myself. I love men. Love cock. But I love women, too.

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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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Skylar McGill was an attractive girl. She was just 19 years old, around 5 foot 5 and just the right balance between slim and curvy, with tanned skin, grey-green eyes and dark brown hair to her shoulders, she was nothing special but certainly not ugly. However, that morning, after crying all night, she definitely did not look her best. Looking in the mirror, she sighed, wondering when it would be over. Her friend Magdalena was playing mind games with her again.

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I was feeling a bit tipsy as I topped off the two glasses and dropped the empty wine bottle in the trash. I had a splitting headache that wasn't responding to aspirin, and I had nothing stronger. "Sandy?" Julie, my best friend, called from the living room, "You put the other bottles in the fridge?" "Yeah, they should be cold by the time we finish these."

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