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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"Hey Lindsay, how's it going?" I asked. The brunette student sat on the floor outside my office. She was studying a page of class scribblings that had been transcribed into a dog-eared, spiral-ringed notebook. Even in the dim half-light of the hallway I could make out her lush and curvy form. Whoa! This girl knocked the wind out of my lungs. I had spent several sweaty nights recreating her image in myriad naughty ways.

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Yet another academic year. Yet another dean's speech. The main hall was crowded with all the staff stuffed in there to hear the good word. To be honest, everyone was there for the subsequent traditional free drink. So everyone was polite enough to pretend to listen to the speech, glancing left and right, waving hellos to colleagues but giving little attention to the sacred word.

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I've never been the type of girl to have a crush. Back in high school, when all of my friends were talking about the various boys of the week, I was talking about my favorite books or newest sci-fi. Sure, my friends shared some of my interests, but we never connected on that level.

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As a new college professor, I was still getting used to being back on a campus. I had spent a few years after graduating in private industry before deciding to go back for my doctoral studies. During those studies, I knew that my calling lied in teaching and started looking for a university position.

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Lisa was nervous. Her last test had come back with a multitude of red marks all over it and a big fat F in the corner. If she failed her algebra class, she would have to go on academic probation, and her GPA might even lower enough that she would lose her scholarship and have to drop out - she couldn't afford the college's exorbitant fees without help, and her parents didn't have any money to pay toward her tuition. She shuffled from foot to foot, dancing nervously on the spot outside her professor's office, waiting for him to invite her inside.

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"Gretchen, are you sure everything's okay? Ever since we got here you've been acting so... nervous! It's okay to relax, you know. I mean, the conference is over. And I don't know about you, but I'm planning on celebrating tonight!" I smiled at Lauren – she was sweet to encourage me to relax, and I did want to let loose. More than she knew.

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Kate double-checked her hair in the glass window of Professor Foster's front door. She wasn't sure why, but the 18-year-old wanted to look her best for her teacher. Probably because it was her first day on the job as his babysitter. "Normally, I'm reluctant to do this during the semester," he'd said at the end of his last lecture, "but my wife and I are really in a bind.

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It's snowing out and you're in the computer lab locking up at the end of your office hours. Your last student just left. It's dark outside and you're worried about driving your new car in the snow. You're also distracted because your favorite student blew off his study session. You wait until like 8:30, and say "Fuck it, I'm going home." Just then the door swings open and he walks in, covered in snow.

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Cat squirmed on the hard wooden chair and watched the seconds tick by on the clock. 4:55 on Friday afternoon. Five minutes until doomsday. She worried at an almost non-existent hangnail, nibbling it smooth. Was she a glutton for punishment? Had a death wish, perhaps? She smiled ruefully to herself. Why, oh why, was it so hard to get kicked out of school?

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