Your erotic stories

"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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Dave was having a hard time staying focused. The exams were complete, the term papers graded and the students were gone. A few more forms to complete and this school year was over! In just a few days, he'd be in the Keys - fishing with his college buddies. "Mr. Becket?" He didn't even have to look up from his paperwork. He knew the voice all too well.

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As I have mentioned in an earlier story ("Teaching Kaci"), I worked as a professor of English at a small but expensive New England college for about thirty years. The college had a mandatory policy of "retirement at 65", but I had decided to take mine about five years before that. My wife had died of cancer some years earlier, and I wanted to spend what remained of my life doing some traveling. I even thought about the idea of moving to Paris if I could get a small apartment.

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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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"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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That day started like any other first day of preschool for Julie. She greeted the returning children as well as the newcomers. Parents milled around the room to see what new things Julie had set up for the children to do. As she was speaking to one concerned parent, she noticed a tall man standing in the doorway, with a large Stetson in his hand. Wrapped around his leg, was a small girl in a pretty green dress and saddle shoes. She seemed to be terrified at what she was seeing.

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Alan walked back through the corridor of his school. He was returning to retrieve his jacket that he'd accidentally left behind. So eager to finish the day and rush home, he had been five minutes gone before he was reminded of the absence of his jacket with the cold nipping at him. Now approaching the classroom Alan sighed in relief when the door was still unlocked.

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“Okay guys. It’s time to finish what you’re doing and start tidying up.” I called to the six young guys in my decorating class. “Conner, I’m going to the staff room to get changed, so you’re in charge. No messing around, you lot! I need to be out of here in 30 minutes.” I’m a part-time leader for a Community Programme. The kids (usually 18 to 20 year olds) come to us for six months at a time to learn basic skills like joinery, brick laying, mechanics, or, in my case decorating.

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Miss Annabelle Nella was a high school teacher who really enjoyed her job and loved teaching her senior class. It was, for her, great to give all the students one last piece of education before sending them off to college, where many she hoped, would make something of themselves and enter the real world off to a great start.

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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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