Your erotic stories

Dr. Kessa Brammer led him through a creaking metal door into the last storage room in the antiquities department. He stepped past her at her direction, looking around the chamber with slight un-ease. He was perhaps her brightest student, which was part of why she liked him. She pushed her weight against the metal door, which creaked closed, and latched with an echoing click.

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Michael Halversun has a hard time recounting his memories, even now that he is safe in the small book laden office of his therapist. The twenty year old is filled with guilt, his voice wavering as he speaks into the tape recorder and his therapist sits across from him, listening to his tale. His upbringing told him that adultery was a great sin, and his masculinity told him that it was his fault. Whether either of those things were true really didn't matter any more to him. Michael had been raped.

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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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