Your erotic stories

The man interviewing me was a good looking man. Not a gorgeous man, but a good looking man. His musculature showed he worked out, but still he carried about ten pounds more than his ideal weight. Brown hair, a couple of inches shy of six feet, good nose, thin lips. He did have beautiful blue eyes.

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CHAPTER ONE: ORIENTATION Wesley Bower looked around the campus, more than a little nervous. He was seeing his college campus for the first time since his visit, and now he was having second thoughts. Why did I pick a school so far from everyone I've ever known? he wondered, feeling disconsolate and alone. Well, no use having second thoughts, he decided, stretching his arms, turning to survey the people around him.

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750... 751... 752. I stood in front of the door, puffing from the exertion of climbing the stairs. This was it. There wasn't much decoration. No comic clippings, or assignment drop envelopes, or notes. Just a business card in a slot. "Lisa M. Rohdes, Ph.D., Manfred Jamison IV Professor of Finance." For a few seconds I just looked around like an idiot, afraid to knock. I know what it seems like: the male student goes to see the hot teacher and gets all distracted.

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Prologue Today I can't believe I'm smitten by her. Me, a thirtyish professor of psychology at a prestigious liberal arts college—smitten—of all things, by a young counter girl just out of high school. "May I help you, Miss?" she asked in an inviting tone. I stood silent and frozen, staring like a cougar. In her early twenties, the young counter girl looked like an angel. Almost old enough to be her mother, I felt stupid.

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Ever since I was a little girl, Christmas time has been my favorite time of year. But now I was a grown woman. I was home for the holidays on winter break from college. It was so great to see Paul, my high school sweetheart, after 4 months of being apart. Although we'd been dating for over two years, I was still a virgin and I intended to stay that way until we got married. Paul was okay with it though.

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I don't think I will ever forget that weekend I spent at Meg's. It was the beginning of summer, and I had a couple of days to kill in the city before flying back home. Meg had decided to stay and work for the duration of the summer at the museum, and so she'd rented this small one bedroom apartment downtown. It was the coziest little place you ever saw, and we both had a grand old time decorating it;

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On the outside I've never been weird in any way. I'm popular, with girls and guys. I have normal interests. I go to parties, get drunk, have fun, have normal relationships. I could have sex, normal sex, and enjoy it a normal amount. But it is only when I think about rape that I really start to feel that heat like nothing else. A hollow aching inside me, yearning to be filled.

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10. Sometime in late July, the first year. My hair splayed out around me as the trickling flow of the stream lifted and carried it. Soothed by the water, my body warmed in the desert sun. I held Tom's hand and squeezed with love. We had been lying in the creek for nearly half an hour, letting our tired bodies come back to themselves after fucking so so hard.

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One day, a classmate from my Asian Arts class stopped me just after class. He invited me to a party at his fraternity. I thought about it, and since I had no other invitation, I decided to go and have a little crazy fun while I was there. You know; you're only in college once. Frat parties have not been on my list of 'must do' social events since my third semester.

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I hate it when they keep moving stuff around. When it comes to things like fish or produce, I find better quality at the local health food chain store. But the produce department here seems to like to move things around from week to week, I guess to create a more seasonally appropriate display. But I'm a pragmatic man, and I like to find things in the same place.

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