Your erotic stories

I had graduated and ventured out into that scary void known to college students as "the real world." My reaction was similar to others in my situation: "Now what?" After pondering this question for a good amount of time, I realized that six months had gone by and I was still working at one of the campus bookstores, promoted from temp to shipping clerk. Eventually, I realized that it had almost been a year and I still didn't have an answer.

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I've often asked myself how it is that I came to be so addicted to the worship of women's legs. I've never adequately been able to explain it even to myself. I will say that ever since I was a young boy, the sight of a firm pair of legs, preferably in a skirt, is enough to get my juices flowing, my cock hard, and my mind racing.

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College classes are bad enough without falling behind. Between the sheer volume of classes and my work obligations that barely covered my living expenses, it was inevitable that something would give. Biology became the threatened species of my class load. Mrs. Gail Hannity was my Biology instructor. Smart, precise, and really quite beautiful, it was entirely possible that she was a major contributor to my in-class distraction.

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Joanna was a dedicated career woman. All her life she lived by a set of values taught by her parents; work hard, be successful, and be an independent woman. It was no surprise to anyone that she graduated at the top of her law school. She worked diligently at whatever she did and she became successful in her adult life.

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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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Jessica was new to the city. She was a fresh faced 24 year old from the suburbs who recently moved to San Francisco to attend law school. It was the first time in her life that she lived on her own. Being away from her family was hard. None of her friends were there with her, and she didn't know anybody at her new school.

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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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