Your erotic stories

"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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"Heaton? Paul Heaton?" My assistant addressed the class of sixth-form boys. "Here, Miss." The teenage boy nonchalantly raised his arm. "When this class is finished Mrs. Horner wants to see you in her office. I've already informed Mr. Rotheray that you'll miss his lesson." She handed him a slip of paper and left the classroom.

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I stood in front of Mrs. Moffit's room door, hesitating. I had asked her if I could stop by after the evening orientation, and find out what I'd missed at the group meeting. I was the only student from our team who had entered both a team and individual event and advanced to the national level competition in both. Now the time issues that arose from competing twice were starting to catch up with me.

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Robert Kyle had finally had it. Everyday he allowed his American History class the last five minutes of the period to themselves. And everyday during those last five minutes, the female student sitting directly in front of him would do something to give him a raging hard-on. Dropping a pencil. Re-tying a shoelace. Tossing something in the wastebasket and missing by a mile. All three caused her to have to bend over.

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"Curtis, your 10 minutes late.... Detention." The entire classroom laughed and ohhed at Curtis like a bunch of elementary students. He just turned 18 and this was his junior year at this school after being kicked out two previous schools for bad behavior. Being 18 also scared the younger kids away from him but it also made him cooler by the kids who were just as bad as he was.

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"..And last but not least, Professor Douglas White," I said, making a gagging gesture with my finger as Suzie and Jennifer exchanged glances. We were sitting on the floor of Suzie's room, discussing our classes which began tomorrow. We had always spent the night at each other's houses the night before the new school year started, and our senior year was no exception.

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Grabbing her small backpack, Amelia stepped down from the bus, still ecstatic that her uncle had offered her the use of his vacant holiday cottage in the coastal resort town. It was the start of the University spring term break. The tangy salt air tasted of freedom as she stopped and sampled the beach view from the bus stop.

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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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