Naughty Lessons: How To Be A Great Teacher

 

Naughty Lessons - How Teacher

Who says a good conversation can’t include great sex?

When Yuri returns to his former high school for advice on becoming a teacher, he gets tons of amazing wisdom and brilliant insights from the most popular, and the sexiest, teacher in school. She’s his wet dream, the teacher he and everyone else drooled over as teens. A walking fantasy. Locked in her classroom, she gives him a lesson he’ll never forget.

Genre: Older woman/young man, exhibition, straight

Erotica. Approx 14,000 words

Excerpt:

They continued and strode through the semi-dark halls. The walls on either side of the councilor’s office were adorned with career and post-secondary education posters. A busted drinking fountain was roped off with caution tape. They passed a long line of classrooms until they reached her home room, which was some distance from the staff room. She unlocked the bright green door and and ushered him in, closing the heavy glass and metal portal behind them. He stood just inside, watching her.

The facts all seemed to rush at her at once just then. That he was no longer her student. That he was old enough to make his own decisions. That they were very much alone. And that he looked so strong and and young and cute and young and handsome and…scrumptiously young. She hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek, then quickly came to a decision she fervently hoped wasn’t a bad one.

With a tremor of excitement racing through her veins, she boldly stepped forward so that the tips of her pillowy breasts brushed up against his hard, curved pecs. “So.” Her hand reached out and her slender fingers daintily tip-toed on long, glossy pink nails up his forearm until they reached the elbow. She looked up through long dark lashes into his eyes. “You’ve come for a special lesson on teaching.” The fingers jumped over to the doorknob and flicked the lock shut with an audible click. “Let’s get started.”

Yuri’s jaw hit the ground. He fought to pick it back up and make it useful again. “Uh, Mrs Botumshaker? Wha-?” He tried to step back but the wall was in his way. He worriedly glanced over his shoulder but there was no escape. Or no-one could see them.

She wondered which it was he was looking for. The teacher with naughty thoughts on her mind smiled slyly. “The door’s window is shuttered, and both the hall and outside windows are all curtained. We’re safe from prying eyes.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him unresistingly further into the room, his eyes wide at this unexpected turn of events. “I’m all yours. Feel free to pump me for as much information as you want. I want you to really probe me deeply. I’m sure it’ll be a pleasure for both of us.” Her sublimely rounded buttocks bumped into the teacher’s desk, stopping her, but she pulled him forward until his pelvis touched her own. “Or maybe,” she purred suggestively, spinning the boy around, switching places, and pushed him backwards onto the desk, “maybe I should get things started?”

“Mrs Botumshaker, please! I had questions. I-”

“So, ask. Ask me anything.”

She watched him swallow heavily as she glided forward and pressed her body to his. Hot damn, this was exciting. She didn’t know what had suddenly come over her, but she felt so alive! Being on the prowl, taking charge, dominating him like this. All the while wondering: how will he react? Will he go along with it, or chicken out? Was he still attracted to her, the way he was when he was a student, mooning over her and day dreaming about her body? Or had she become too old in his eyes, plain now that he’d experienced the eager delights of fellow campus classmates, horny university girls who were exploring their freedom and sexuality for the first time, full of energy and tight little curves? She inhaled and caught a mixture of cologne with the barest hint of musky body odour. His body heat radiated into her. The smell, the warmth was a heady mixture, but she wanted more. She added touch. Reaching up, her palm slid over his stomach, feeling abs under the thin material.
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