Your erotic stories

It was the day before Thanksgiving. Denise was happy that the four-day school break was finally here. It had been a rough last few weeks trying to get her high school students to comprehend the World History material. She looked forward to dinner with the family the next day, and then lots of holiday shopping!

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The sound of the bell ringing after third period was a reminder for the four girls to hang back and get their favorite teacher to sign their academic reports so the volleyball coach knew they were okay to play. Letting the other three go before her, she waved as they headed off to fourth period as she held the page out to the teacher. He was, hands down, the hottest teacher on campus, all the students thought so.

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When I was little I used to sit outside with my Grandmother on her wide front porch and we would dream about what we would do to the gardens one day. It was one of my favorite things to do with her when I was visiting. My parents died when I was in my early twenties and my Grandmother was all I had left. Eventually I moved to New York City and made my life there, becoming a very successful writer. I had more money than I knew what to do with and I would send her checks, telling her to make her special garden.

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"Hello, Frank." I turned and smiled. I expected to see at least a couple of my old teachers when I decided to stop by my old high school, but I was still surprised to see Mrs. Ross standing there. What was even more amazing was that she looked just as hot as I remembered.

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"You'll have to take Sex Education today for 4C, Miss Martin." Just the words I'd been longing to hear, I don't think. "Why me? Doesn't Mrs Annot take that?" "Normally," said the Principal with a grin, "but she just called in sick and you're the only one with free time for that period. Don't worry. The kids are only around fifteen. You can handle then with no problems."

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Moving and having to transfer during your senior year of high school is quite difficult to do. I had to leave all of my friends behind and start in a new school which would be difficult for anyone but when you are pretty much just an average guy ( not an athlete or anything like that ) you pretty much just blend into the surroundings. I did have one advantage, I was a good student in a private school which made me an excellent public school student. I was getting straight A's without much effort but unfortunately in high school this makes you more popular with the teachers than with other students. Did I say unfortunately?

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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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Every one knows that high students often have crushes on their teachers, especially if the teacher is not bad looking and is sympathetic to their adolescent problems. And the crushes can go both ways, even all three ways. Female students may have a crush on their male teachers. Male students may have a crush on their female teachers. Or even a student of one sex may have a crush on a teacher of the same sex.

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I celebrated my eighteenth birthday during the middle of my senior year in high school in 1988. Soon after this, I had an experience I will never forget. Miss Pikes was my English Composition teacher. She had just recently turned 40, but she was hot. There was a rumor that at one point in her life she had posed for Playboy. I hadn't seen any of the glossy photos of her in print as proof positive, so I couldn't attest to the truth of the rumor. But I certainly saw how it could be possible.

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It wasn't easy being a young professor at a southern university in the US. When I say young, I mean young. I was always an overachiever, and got my Ph.D at 22 and began teaching immediately. This meant that I was barely older than my students at best. This had the potential for becoming an outright, unmitigated disaster, and everyone knew it. The Director of my program never came out and said anything to me directly, but it was clear he was keeping a close eye on me.

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