Your erotic stories

She's got long, straight blond hair that always smells like coconut, a pair of legs that make up two-thirds of her height, and a round, narrow little ass. She also has an insolent, self-satisfied swagger, a pert, better-than-thou smirk, and a fifty-dollar manicure. I've taught a few like her before, and I know the way it goes. She's seen how I look at her. She's slacked off this whole term. I can tell she thinks she can scam an A out of me by shaking her ass.

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It was a hot Saturday night in the summer of 1971 and the bathhouse was throbbing. A guy I knew from school at San Francisco State, had suggested the visit after we'd struck out with a couple of secretaries at Perry's Bar on Union Street. They'd teased us right up until closing time, and then given us the slip. We found ourselves on the sidewalk as the bar closed, high and horny.

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"I'm concerned about your work in this course, Theresa. You've already missed three assignments, you haven't been to half of my classes, and your midterm research assignment is due in two weeks. How is that coming? Have you started it?" "Yes, Professor Burk, but I don't know what to write. I tried to do the other assignments, but I'm behind in all my classes.

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Amy stormed into her dorm room and threw her books on her desk. "Damnit, I'm freaking failing this class!" Her roommate Carey looked up at her, wide eyed, from her computer. "What class is it?" she asked, eyeing her rather angry friend. "Stupid Computer Science! I fucking hate it, but I need the stupid credit!" Amy snarled, her voice sharp.

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She walked into his office knowing what this meeting was about. Earlier that day, Sarah had received an email from one of her professors wanting to discuss an important topic. While the email didn't specify what the topic was, Sarah knew her last paper was below standards. She had just started dating someone and, while she knew she shouldn't, Sarah was putting less effort into her school work and more into her new relationship.

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Linda looked around the classroom, filled with over 200 first-year students. My God, she thought to herself, how am I going to get any personal attention out of this class? I enrolled in this university because it sold itself as having an average class size of 25. I guess I'll have to remind myself what an average is.

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The lecture was boring. Even Natalie was bored, and she was delivering it. She looked at the ten faces in front of her, sagging with indifference and incomprehension. Is this what her life had come to? Trying to teach maths to engineering students at a provincial university. What had happened to the bright ambitious graduate she had once been? Here she was, almost 40, still in the same job she had had for the last 17 years, still single, unloved, unlovely, frustrated and bored to death. Is this all that life had to offer her?

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You look out the window as the plane takes off, leaving home and your fiance behind. In a few hours you'll be where I am, at the conference on the west coast. You first really big conference. Your first time giving a panel paper before such an influential crowd. And your first weekend away with me.

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You sit there bending over your work, and then you stretch, you lean back on the sofa with your arms behind your head and fluff up your hair, and I see your nipples jutting out in excitement through your bra, through your shirt, and then you say, "I must make some tea," you leave the room. I pause. Mustn't leave too soon after you, the two events aren't connected. Some day she will notice, but if I'm careful, not today.

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Dr. Randy Wolfe, PhD, stared with purpose into the bathroom mirror as he applied the last bit of near fluorescent, ruby red lipstick to his mouth. Setting it aside, he used a piece of toilet paper as a blotter to dab away any excess, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. Suddenly his deep voice began to reverberate off the walls and ceiling of the small bathroom.

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