High-school senior Ashleigh Alaris is determined to let her favorite teacher, Mr. DeCosa, know exactly how she feels about him. She only hopes he will give in to temptation and allow himself to be seduced by a sexy, barely-legal schoolgirl. The taboo lust this just-turned-eighteen student feels for her handsome, young philosophy teacher is too good to give up without a fight. Ashleigh decides to pursue the forbidden relationship and risk being caught in the act.
***Warning! This 7000-word erotica fantasy contains depictions of a forbidden teacher and student relationship with a fifteen-year age gap. Scenes include graphic descriptions of a sexy, new school philosophy teacher having his way with a younger, insatiable female student, age gap play, references to multiple partners, a steamy teacher/schoolgirl relationship, and explicit language. 18+ only!
*Authors Note: All characters within are of legal, consenting age and are willing participants in the actions described. ~ Happy Reading!*
Mr. DeCosa was reading aloud from a book when I burst into the room a few minutes after the bell.
“Nice of you to join us, Miss Alaris,” he said with a welcoming smile.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said, heading for my seat in the front row. Mr. DeCosa cast me another quick glance before reading on. His eyes traveled down my body as I took my jacket off and hung it on the back of my chair. I’d not remembered how chilly his room sometimes was in the mornings. As I was sitting down, I gasped when the smooth plastic of the student desk chair touched my upper thighs.
My teacher shifted his casual position on the desk so that his legs opened toward me, his package bulging slightly at the front of his pants. I leaned forward on my desk a little and waited for him to speak again.
“The art of life,” he started, reading again, “lies in taking pleasures as they pass, and the keenest pleasures are not intellectual, nor are they always moral.” His eyes lingered on me with the last few words, and he raised an eyebrow ever so slightly in my direction before panning his view across the entire room.
“Who can tell me who said that?” he asked the class, shutting the book with his finger inside saving the page.
I knew the answer: Aristippus; but I was too focused on the quote itself to raise my hand. A boy in back shouted the correct answer after a few seconds of expectant silence.
The keenest pleasures are not intellectual, nor are they always moral. The last few words wouldn’t stop tugging at my mind. I got lost in thought, which then spiraled into fantasy about forbidden, amoral relationships in which Mr. DeCosa played a starring role.
For the rest of class, I daydreamt about what it would be like to be underneath that powerful, mature body. He isn’t that much older, I tried to reason with myself. He said he’s in his thirties. That’s what, less than a twenty year age gap? It’s not like it’s such a crazy thought.
I resolved to try to catch him after class. It’s worth a shot, I decided. After all, I’ll be heading off for college soon. Things would only be awkward for a little while if he turned me down. But if he doesn’t…
For the rest of the day, I couldn’t think of much other than Mr. DeCosa doing unspeakable, wonderful things to my body.
Finally, the last bell rang, and I rushed to his classroom as his class was leaving. When it looked like the last student had left, I went for it. Cracking open the door to his classroom, I leaned in and saw that he was, for once, alone. Maybe it’s my lucky day, I thought hopefully.
“Sir, I was wondering if you have time to talk privately for a few minutes,” I started, trying to make my voice sound more confident than I felt.
“Of course, Ash. Come in and have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward a comfortable-looking, leather chair in front of his desk. I walked inside the classroom, carefully shutting and locking the door behind me.
“I was thinking about what you were saying in class earlier today, the Aristippus quote. He said the keenest pleasures weren’t always the most intellectual, so in other words, not the smartest ideas, right? So…it’s just…I know you’ve probably been asked things like this before, but I want you to know this isn’t going to be like that.”
“Where are you going with this, Ashleigh?” he asked, slowly putting his book down and giving me an appraising look.
“I can relate to Aristippus’ philosophy, because it would be a little amoral to pursue the pleasures I’ve been thinking about all day.” I said, posing flirtatiously as I sat on his desk. “And it would definitely be pushing some moral boundaries for you to help me in my pursuit,” I said, my eyes burning lustfully into his as I slid my hand to rest on top of his.
“I really can’t be doing this,” he said, abruptly recoiling and scooting back in his chair. “We really can’t be doing this.”
“But I want to,” I protested, forgetting my practiced, logical argument and whining a little. “It’s not like I’m underage or something,” I said, suggestively leaning forward and giving him a nice view of my cleavage. “We’re just two people…two adults. Right?” I reached out and stroked his bare forearm.
“No, Miss Alaris. I am your teacher, and you are my student. The rules of the contract I signed with this school forbid any faculty member from becoming personally involved with a student.”
“So we’ll keep it impersonal,” I say simply, looking up him in earnest.
“I think you should leave now, Ashleigh.”
Mr. DeCosa stood and gestured toward the door. His tone was stern, harsh even; but his eyes weren’t angry. Instead, as I cast him a final hopeful look, I saw a combination of lust, desire, and a tiny bit of fear in his eyes.
“He should be here any minute,” I say, looking anxiously toward the conference room door. It was parent-teacher conference time: one of my school’s long-standing traditions for graduating seniors. It gave the student’s teacher of choice a chance to sit down and talk about college options with the student and parent. Since I was angry with my father for years of drunken stupidity and aloofness, naturally I chose Mr. DeCosa to host my meeting.
It had been a week since our encounter behind closed doors in his classroom, and he’d avoided having to be alone with me ever since. When I’d handed him the conference request form, he’d glanced at it with raised eyebrows before setting it on a pile on his desk. I half-expected him to try to pass me off on another teacher, but he didn’t.
Instead, when the time came for the conference, we sat waiting in the room in a thick silence. My teacher’s eyes were clouded with lust that he knew he would have to hide once my father showed up.
Ten minutes passed.
“I don’t think he’s coming, Sir. This is typical. I should’ve warned you. Sorry for wasting your time,” I said, pushing my chair out to stand up.
“Any second I spend looking at you could never be considered a waste,” he said before he could stop himself.
“We still have some time left before someone else needs to use this room,” he hinted, looking at me with a glimmer of naughtiness in his eyes. “If you want to stay in here and wait, I mean.” His face and body language were the epitome of professional, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings.
“Does your father often not show up to scheduled appointments?” he asked regarding me curiously.
“That’s a pretty nice way to say it. He’s been consistently absent…well, consistently drunk, since I can remember,” I answered, my irritation slipping into my voice.
“Everyone has their reasons for doing things,” Mr. DeCosa said gently. “Many of the alcoholics I’ve met over the years have been more interested in hurting themselves than hurting others.”
“But it does hurt me,” I said, sitting down again. “And he doesn’t care that it does either.”
“Well that’s not right, of course,” he reassured me, his clear, blue eyes shining genuinely with concern.
“Not to say I know all about your situation, but your father likely keeps a lot from you. Things that have made him want to drink. He bottles them in and bottles them out, so to speak.”
“I’ve never thought about it that way before,” I admitted, taking his words to heart. “Thanks, Mr. D. That helps more than you know.”
In that moment, I felt more attracted to Mr. DeCosa than ever before. Not only was he gorgeous, but he truly cared for those he taught. I sighed and sat up straighter, keeping eye contact with him.
“Maybe in return for making me feel better, I can help you with something. Is there something that I can do to make you feel better, Sir?” I said, bending over and resting my hands on his knees. My back arched, he had a perfect view of my thong peeking out from under my super-short miniskirt.
He was silent, but breathing heavily and watching my every move with hawk-like attention.
“Look, I realize I have some issues, some deep-seated Daddy issues even,” I said with an embarrassed, self-effacing smile. “But is it so wrong to look up to you so much that I feel attracted to you?” I asked.
He was quiet, an unsure expression on his face. He seemed to be weighing conflicting options in his head.
“Well I am,” I continued, “attracted to you, that is.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said, his intense, blue eyes burning into mine.
“And I’m not ashamed,” I stated defiantly. “I don’t think you should be either. And the lucky thing is you’re not my Dad. So it’s okay for me to like you, right?”
He still looked unsure and remained silent.
“I don’t see a ring on your finger, Sir…or a tan line from one being there in the past. You never talk about your love life in class, which I guess is appropriate; but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
“Insightful as always, Miss Alaris. You’re right. I’m not married, nor have I ever been. However, my love life is very satisfying, thank you,” he responded with a forced, indignant sneer.
“And yet, here we are,” I said quietly.
My words hung in the air.
“Can you honestly tell me you’ve never felt even so much as a tingle of attraction toward me?” I continued, pushing him to give the answer I was dying to hear.
“No,” he confessed.
I covered his hand with my own on the desk.
“This isn’t right, Ash. We have to stop.” He started to pull away, but I caught his wrist and looked up at him pleadingly.
“Fuck, you look hot like that,” he said suddenly, letting his true feelings out. I couldn’t stop a huge smile from spreading across my face.
I playfully fluttered my eyelashes and gazed up at him again from my seat. The bulge in the front of his pressed, khaki pants told me all I needed to know.
“I feel like an animal when I’m around you, and animals don’t feel shame or guilt for being attracted to one another. They just are.”
“You’re wise beyond your years, Miss Alaris. I can see why you do so well in my class.”
“I don’t want this to affect your critiques of my work,” I tell him. “This isn’t about grades.”
“I didn’t think it was. Your grades are already the best in the class,” he reassured me.
“Please, Sir?” I begged, taking his hand in both of mine and drawing it up to my face. A pained look of reluctance crossed his face, but quickly changed to lust as he cupped my face tenderly, his fingers gently gripping my chin. His thumb brushed over my soft, puffy lips. I kissed the tip of his thumb before parting my lips and taking it further into my mouth. I looked deeply into his eyes as I swirled my soft, hot tongue around his calloused thumb.
“We have to be careful, Ashleigh. If someone were to find out about this, I could lose my job, my career, my life. And there would be unavoidable consequences for you too. It’s forbidden for students and teachers to become romantically involved.”
“So we’ll keep romance out of it then,” I suggested.
“Just sex?” he reiterated.
“You’re so young,” he said, shaking his head. “Things change when sex is involved. How can you be so sure it would stay so casual?
“You’re so old,” I countered, playfully poking him in the ribs. “I’m young enough to understand where I am in life and that I’m not trying to get involved for the long-term. I’ll be leaving for college in a few months. There’s no way I can be attached like that,” I explained, shrugging innocently before continuing my reasoning.
“What would Locke say? Epicurus? ‘What is good is easy to get, what is terrible is easy to endure.’ Weren’t you the one who taught me that, Sir? Well here I am, literally falling right into your lap.”
I held onto the doorframe and slowly draped my body over the tops of his legs, reaching my arms backwards down onto the floor until I was in a complete backbend. My shirt stretched up, and he had a clear, close view of my bared midriff and down the gap my hipbones made at the front of my skirt. My hot pink panties were very clearly visible to him.
“God, girl, how are you so tiny? Do you even eat?,” he asked, shaking his head in disapproval.
“Haha, that’s what my Dad used to say!”I laughed, kicking off from the ground into a handstand before letting myself down to stand normally again.
“You…need to eat more,” he stammered, his eyes on the sliver of skin visible below my shirt. I smiled flirtatiously and spun around for him, arching my back a little and standing on my tiptoes to show off my ass.
“Ohhh, I think you like me just the way I am, Sir.”
“You’ve got that right,” he admitted, reaching for me. I flitted away from his outstretched hand playfully, and the look of frustration of his face was comical.
“You’ve been with a man before, right? It’s not like this would be your first time or anything like that…right?” he asked, eyeing me carefully.
“I’ve been with a few guys; but only guys I’ve trusted, and I trust you too, Sir. More than them, even. There have been so many nights I’ve gone to sleep touching myself and thinking of you.”
He shifted uncomfortably, still clearly unsure of what to do.
“So you’re saying you want this? You want me?” I drew closer to him again, straddling his lap facing him.
“I want you,” he whispered. His lips were so close to mine, I could feel his words as he spoke them. “I want all of you, you gorgeous little cocktease,” he moaned.
“Oh fuck it’s hot when you talk dirty like that,” I breathed, feeling myself getting wetter by the second.
“Of course you do, because you’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you? Ohhh, yes, you’re the dirtiest, most perfect little tease I’ve ever met,” he crooned, gripping my face tightly in one hand before kissing me more passionately than I’d ever been kissed before. His fingers tangled in my hair, and he pulled me closer, consuming me with his lips. Overwhelmed by his passion, I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned the kiss.
His cock was straining forward, begging to be released, and I bent down to unbutton his pants. Standing erect before my eyes, his cock was bigger than I’d been expecting. I gasped when I saw it for the first time and wondered how all of it would even fit inside me. It was easily nine inches long and very thick: bigger than any of the guys’ I’d been with in the past.
Leaning forward in his chair, Mr. DeCosa fished out a condom from his wallet.
“Coming prepared? I asked with a wink.
“It’s never a bad idea,” he deflected, kissing me again and guiding my hand to stroke his hot, long cock. When our lips parted, I tore open the condom wrapper and fit the little, rubber circle over his cock. At first I was worried it wouldn’t fit, he was so big, but the rubber stretched wide to accommodate his thickness.
“Are you ready?” he asked, sliding his hand up my thigh and delicately exploring my pussy with his fingers.
“Oh you’re ready, fuck you’re so wet and ready,” he murmured as he felt the slippery evidence of my arousal. He leaned forward to kiss my neck hungrily.
His hard cock probed my slit, searching for my opening. When he found it, I felt the tip of his cock slip inside. He pushed into me carefully at first, letting every inch sink in with agonizing slowness.
When he was sure that he wasn’t hurting me, Mr. DeCosa ramped up his speed and began pounding into me from behind.
“Oh yeah, fuck me like that. Yeah, right up against the table,” I encouraged, moaning the words wantonly.
“Get up,” he said, lifting me by the legs up onto the wooden tabletop. “I want to fuck you on the table too.” After thoughtfully tucking our shirts under each of my knees for comfort, he swiped at my slit again with his throbbing, hard cock. Entering me in one smooth thrust, he drove into my pussy with so much passion that I thought the table underneath us would collapse. I reached down between my legs to rub my clit as he pounded into me from behind.
“Ohhhh, yeah, Mr. D, just like that,” I urged, feeling myself getting closer to climax as he slowed his pace and looked me in the eye again.
“Call me Matthew. Or Matt. You know, when we’re not…”he faltered, searching for words. “When we’re not in front of anyone else.”
“Yes, si-…I mean, okay.” Cringing inwardly at my own awkwardness, I tried to focus on the pleasure he was giving me instead. His cock was pounding into me faster and faster, the meaty sound of his balls slapping against my ass was all I could hear. It was raw, carnal fucking, and I was loving every minute. He was fulfilling more fantasies than he knew, and I still couldn’t believe that it was actually happening. I’m fucking my teacher. My teacher is fucking me. Oh my God.
Folding my legs up against my chest, he wrapped his strong arms around my tiny, balled-up frame and lifted me off of the table. Curling his biceps in a sexy show of masculinity, he raised and lowered me onto his cock as he crossed the room and sat in a chair. When my feet hit the ground again, I bounced myself over him. I quickly learned that he loved it when I sat almost all the way forward so that he was only barely still inside me before rocking back and taking all of him again.
“Mmmhh, ohh, fuck, Ashleigh. I’m going to come,” he said, holding my waist tightly with both hands as he thrust far up into me.
I’d been riding the edge for a few minutes, and reached between my legs to rub my clit in time with his thrusts. My body shuddered against his as I came harder than ever before, heat flooding throughout my shaking limbs. When I opened my eyes again, he was looking at me with unmasked wonder.
“You look high,” I commented, amused by his expression.
“I feel high,” he replied, unable to wipe the grin from his face.
“So you said to call you Matt when we’re not in front of people. Am I right in thinking that you’re wanting to be ‘not in front of people’ with me again?” I asked, resting back to lie against his heaving chest in the chair.
“Oh yes. I think we’ll be having a lot of fun not in front of people together, Ashleigh.”
What inspired you to become a writer?
I graduated from college with a degree in Psychology and very little desire to shell out another 100K for graduate school. That path just seemed like it wasn’t for me. When I asked myself what I’d truly gotten good at in school, the answer was practically smacking me in the face: writing. Every class, every job, every year, since grade school, the once skill I’d been consistently improving was my writing. From journaling to writing technical papers, I rarely went a day without jotting something down at the very least. The day I realized that I could potentially make a career (or at the very least a respectable passive income stream) doing something I truly love, I was hooked.
Where do you get your ides/inspiration for your writing?
My inspiration comes from a variety of places: conversations, dreams, snippets of overheard chatter, tumblr pictures and gifs, and my own actual experiences.
What does your writing area look like?
It usually looks like my bed! I’ve spent too much time sitting at a desk (school, various jobs, etc) to want to work at a desk. I love to sprawl and loll about when I’m thinking of the next scene for a story. On nice days, I’ll sometimes take my laptop with me to a scenic place and write there.
How long did it take you to complete your first book?
I was so excited about the idea of writing erotica that the first short story I published only took me a few days to complete. To date, it’s one of my bestsellers.
Do you ever experience writer’s block?
My writer’s block manifests in a lack of motivation. Exercise helps me to refocus. When that doesn’t work, doing some ‘research’ on tumblr usually does the trick. In my case, a picture usually is worth a thousand words.
How hard was it to come up with characters?
Not hard at all. Draw from your experiences. There's literally a world of characters out there and an infinite number in your head just waiting to come to life on the page.
Your thoughts on receiving book reviews - the good and the bad -
People, especially on the Internet, are going to be honest. In my opinion, honesty is rarely a bad thing. If someone likes my work, I couldn’t be happier. However, I don’t expect to please everyone. People are turned on by so many different things; it would be silly to expect everyone to like what I write. Bad reviews are inevitable, I believe. Haters gon’ hate. Keep writing and move on.
Tell us your most rewarding experience since being published?
It would have to be a combination of seeing sales and communicating with readers. I can’t pick just one singular moment. My entire writing experience has been immensely rewarding so far. Every single sale is like reliving my first sale. The ‘wow this person wants to read my work’ feeling hasn’t even come close to wearing off for me, and I hope it never does!
What made you want to write erotica?
Since I was old enough to be interested in sex, I've read erotica. It was only recently that I discovered that writing erotica is one of the most therapeutic outlets I've ever come across. The idea of my own pleasurable experiences and fantasies, communicated via my favorite creative medium (writing, of course) giving pleasure to others is so appealing to me. Once the idea was in my head, it took on a life of its own. Now I write every day!
About the Author:Angeline Figura believes strongly that the exploration of sexuality is a beautiful and natural part of the human experience. If her writing is enjoyed in such a pursuit, she feels lucky to be able to benefit others by doing what she loves. Always thankful to those enjoying her work, Angeline welcomes communication from readers!
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