Your erotic stories

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.

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I had been reveling in Talia Dean's need for me. She came, practically on her knees, to get me to give it up to her. Considering I was a scrawny 150-pound nobody, it was nice. Here she was, the star quarterback's girlfriend in my room almost every night telling me how much she needed me and how much she appreciated me slipping it to her on the side.

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I walked into my Civil War history class on the first day of the fall semester. I enrolled in this class as a crip credit. My Dad was a Civil War buff and I spent my entire life hearing about the various battles, participants, what should have been done, stupid mistakes that were made, and endless trivia.

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You have a better chance of appreciating this story if you have a large closet full of dresses that were carefully chosen to look professional and a small drawer of lace and silk originally intended for your husband alone. If you're a man who wants me to swallow a big load of cum by the second paragraph, then you'll get along with my husband; but you'll have to look elsewhere for a story. Even in my husband's stories, I never seem to get laid by another man (or women) until the bottom of the first page or the top of the second.

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