Dirty Little Lessons (A Collection of Short Eroticas)

I shouldn’t have come to work today. If it were up to me, I’d still be curled up in bed, lying in frustration. But here I was, slumped lazily behind my desk, forcing myself to look busy. Forcing myself to work.

I flipped through a stack of assignments, from the freshmen literature class, anything to distract myself from the restless ache burning between my thighs.

That was when I saw it.

Noah’s paper.

The instructions I had given were simple: write a short romance story of your choice. Most students had submitted predictable storylines,—sweet shy crushes, innocent first kisses. But Noah’s title stopped me cold.

Dirty Desire.

A nervous laugh escaped my mouth. Surely, I was imagining things, I had to be imagining things. Surely, this wasn’t what I thought it was.

But when I opened the first page, my breath hitched. I couldn't believe my eyes.

Noah hadn’t written a romance. He’d written a fantasy. His fantasy, a well detailed one at that.

The words became more and more serious with each line: “She’s older, irresistible. Her voluptuous boobs pressed against my mouth”, “her wet pussy clenching tightly around me”, “her big fat ass bouncing against my hips.”

I swallowed hard. My skin prickled.

Because he wasn’t just writing about any older woman. He was writing about me.

The name of his heroine? My exact name. Lola.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, to my chest, lower, lower, I could feel the heat on every part of my body. I should have been furious, disgusted even. Instead, I pressed my thighs together under my skirt, already wet with arousal.

God, what was wrong with me?

I dropped the paper on my desk, stood quickly, and locked my office door. The click echoed like a confession.

My hands shook as I reached into my bag. I had packed my rose vibrator this morning, a pathetic preparation for a lonely day, since Eric had turned me down last night. He had a new girlfriend now. He had refused me, even when I begged for just one last time.

“Just fuck me tonight Eric, please”. I cried.

The rejection still hurts. Maybe that was why I was so desperate. So shameless.

I sat back down, one heel on the floor, the other leg propped carefully on my desk. I pushed my skirt up high, to my belly, baring my thighs. I slid my panties to the side with trembling fingers, the cold air blowing against my slit made shivers run down my spine.

Then I grabbed Noah’s story and set it where I could read every filthy word. Every filthy word he had written about me, his professor.

My finger traced the slick folds of my pussy. I teased myself, circling my clit, tapping it lightly. I was soaking wet. My breath hitched.

One finger slid in, slow at first, then deeper. A soft moan escaped my lips.

“I spread her open and licked her until she screamed my name…”

My finger thrusted deeper. I read the line again, biting down on my lip as I started pumping faster, five quick thrusts, five slow ones. The tension coiled tighter and tighter.

“Fuck,” I whispered. “Yes… oh yes.”

One finger wasn’t enough, I slid in another, stretching myself as my wetness dripped down to the chair. I felt full and content, my moans grew louder, shameless, bouncing off the soundproof walls.

“Her tits filled my hands, her nipples rock hard and begging to be sucked. ”

I whimpered, wishing there was a warm mouth on my breasts, hot breath and soft kisses on my skin.

My free hand fumbled for the vibrator. I turned it to the highest setting, it was buzzing loudly, pressed it hard against my throbbing clit, and nearly cried out from the wave of pleasure.

“Ohhh, fuck—yes, Noah,” I moaned, lost in the fantasy. “Fuck your professor’s pussy. Make me cum.”

The combination of his filthy words, my fingers plunging deep, and the vibrator buzzing mercilessly pushed me over the edge.

My orgasm tore through me like a powerful wave. My body shook violently, convulsing in pleasure, my toes curled from pure pleasure, and my cries raw and desperate.

When I finally stopped shaking, I collapsed back in the chair, panting, my pussy throbbing and my thighs trembling.

For a long moment, I didn’t move. Then shame seeped in, heavy and cold.

I cleaned myself quickly with a towel, wiped the chair, and spritzed air freshener to erase the scent of sex hanging thick in the room. My vibrator went back into my bag, a secret waiting for a proper wash at home.

I stood, adjusting my skirt and blazer, swiping on lipstick as if I hadn’t just fucked myself to the thought of a student. My student.

But I couldn’t shake the question burning in my mind:

What had prompted Noah to write that?

He needed to be reprimanded. He had to be.

Glancing at my schedule, I saw I was due in the freshmen classroom in ten minutes. Perfect.

I stepped out of my office, a smile firmly in place. Students greeted me cheerfully in the hallway, and I smiled back, my lipstick fresh, my hair neat.

No one could see what I had just done.

No one could know.