Your erotic stories

My favorite teacher was my math teacher, Mrs. Gibson. She was in her late thirties, a wife and a mom, but man, was she sexy! She had long full blonde hair, a pretty face, was average in height, and had big tits. Like most of the teachers she dressed casual more than she dressed up, but whatever she wore, it was hard to hide her hot body. I wasn't much of a math student, and since I had math my last class of the day, I spent most of the period staring at Mrs. Gibson and having fantasies about her.

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Mia flicked her long, dark braid over her shoulder and took in her work with a critical eye. Her compressed lips softened into a slow smile as her gaze swept from one side of the wall to the other. She planted her hands on her hips and let out a relieved breath, pleased with her efforts. Even with the scaffolding still in the way it didn't detract from the overall effect.

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It was pouring rain as I pounded on the door to my best friend's house. The lights weren't on and her car wasn't in the driveway, but I was so enraged that I didn't care. I was about ready to give up on the door and just crash through the front window when the light in the front hall came on and the door flew open. "What in the hell..." Ashley's dad looked furious until he saw me. His jaw dropped as he looked at me, and he was silent for a moment. "Nicole, what's going on?"

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What a lucky kid. I thought as my son bustled through the door of our entryway. He was laden with bags of luggage, grumbling about how he had married an overpacker. His wife followed him carrying two suitcases, her blonde hair falling in her face. The pair bustled up the stairs into the spare bedroom. I walked out to their Lexus and saw they had gotten most of the bags in. There were just two left. A brown suitcase in one hand and a black gym bag over one arm and I was in.

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So the truth was, I'd hired her for her tits. The benefit was, she was sharp as a tack, the heart and soul of the daily operations as it turned out. The fact that Theresa had looks, and like I said a great pair of tits that she (sort of) enjoyed showing off was an obvious factor when I had hired her on. Being damn intelligent and multi-functional, I only learned after she had started working for me. Theresa had an olive complexion, long dark hair with deep-set brown eyes and full lips that were just begging to be kissed every time she looked at you.

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September is a lovely time of the year in Sydney. The winter chills have given way to a blissful warm sun, but the full blaze of the summer heat has not yet arrived. It is about this time each year that my body clock decides it needs some rays to shake off the winter blues. Luckily, I have a wonderful little beach within decent walking distance of my home.

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Spots of dappled sunlight streamed through the trees and danced and twirled on the pavement as I waited for her outside the building. She was always late, frantically trying to keep up with her life. Not that I would ever want her life, I snorted to myself. Immediately regretting the thought, I focussed on the distant rush of traffic echoing softly through what had to be the last quiet street in Brisbane's central business district.

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It was a dark, calm, clear Friday night in May. Layla had just arrived at her friend Joy's house for a sleep over because they had not seen each other in quite a while. Joy lived towns away, so of course they did not attend the same school. They had kind of grown apart with time, but still very much enjoyed each other's company and would be eager to catch up on what was happening in each other's lives.

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All characters in this story are above the age of consent (18). The story and its characters are all fictional (even though I wish they were not). I love hearing your comments so please leave one. I love to get messages from my readers. * Behind schedule, over budget, and never good enough for the client, status quo for a creative director; that was my situation when Sandra popped unexpected and uninvited into my office. "Somebody has a crush on you." She chirped.

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"Here we are -- home, sweet home," announced Amber as the car pulled up out the front of a battered old caravan down the far end of the park. "Looks great," I said, getting out of the back seat. "Homely. Looks like it hardly would leak at all in a storm."

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