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.

read more

The Schoolhouse was Rob and Penny's first home together and it was perfect. The grey stone building had lots of character and was set in a very private garden just outside the village which was only an hour's commute to Rob's office. Rob's recent promotion meant that Penny had been able to give up her IT job with a major corporation and the aim was for her to work from home setting up the software business which she had always wanted to run.

read more

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.

read more

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.

read more

Christian sat in the back of the class, his eyes glued to the back of his teacher's skirt. She wasn't really his teacher, just a substitute. Every once in a while one of his normal teachers would be out sick, or take a personal day, and nine times out of ten he'd walk into the classroom and there would be Miss Anderson. Sometimes one of his buddies would have her in an early class, and they'd let him know at lunch what he would be looking forward to.

read more