101 EROTICA STORIES

by Green, Vallen

  Megan Brioche was hot, as in sizzling hot. She had straight black hair that fell down to a tiny, slender waist. Her face was more on the square side, but her face shape did nothing to diminish her beauty. She had a high creamy forehead that screamed of intelligence. Her eyes were of a deep dark brown. They were so dark that they were almost blank. Her nose was a bit pointy, but you can’t tell unless you looked long enough, and when you do look long enough, you wouldn’t care about her nose anyway. Her cheekbones were insane. They could rival those of a ramp model’s, I swear. She had slightly full lips that were neither flat nor pouty, but they looked soft enough. Her neck was long and slender. It was creamy and graceful as a swan’s. I couldn’t believe it. It just didn’t seem fair for a person to be gifted with looks and matching brains to boot, did it?

  I found myself hypnotized with Ms. Brioche’s dark, mysterious eyes. Good lord, I was being suckered into its deep waters! Then someone coughed, and whatever it was that Ms. Brioche and I together snapped and broke. I flushed and felt beads of sweat begin to make way into my forehead and on my back.

  The bell rang, and English with Ms. Brioche began. She pushed the chair behind her and stood up. My eyes ran all over her figure. She was tall, roughly around five feet and nine inches, I think. She was wearing a bright striped sweater that hinted of a shapely figure underneath it and well-fitting pants that clung to every mold and curve like her skin itself. Her breasts were small but round and pert. Her hips were okay, nothing remarkable, but she had a good behind that spoke of regular walks and runs down difficult trails and paths. The girl had a firm tush, I had to give it to her. Looking at her ass, I felt the urge to run my hands down and all over them just so I could have an idea on how they felt, just so I could feel those toned muscles ripple and tighten beneath my flat palms.

  What a fantasy. I flushed again. Thankfully everyone was too absorbed doing their own thing to notice. I felt something between my legs, but I ignored it. I couldn’t be fantasizing about my female English teacher, can I? No, scratch that—my hot female English teacher.

  Other than a sudden attack of pure lust, I also felt something while looking at the divine being that was Megan Brioche. At eighteen, I do have the occasional body issues. Staring at Ms. Brioche was like having all your insecurities thrown in your face. She was so freaking gorgeous.

  The class went by without any event. I, on the other hand, was too absorbed with thoughts of Ms. Brioche to focus on what it was she was saying. For an English nut like I am, it was a first. I just couldn’t concentrate. Every time I looked up to listen to Ms. Brioche’s lecture, I found myself looking with something like sheer rapt at her face and body. My eyes and brain seemed to never get tired of her, and I felt like I could look at her forever. The thought was so cheesy, I was jolted out of my reverie. I felt like giving myself a good, solid kick on the head.

  It didn’t take long for the bell to ring again, this time giving the signal that class was over. I sighed in relief and snapped my textbook shut. I felt guilty not paying attention in class and thinking of lewd thoughts about my English teacher. I scolded myself for my silly behavior. I’ve never behaved like this in my entire eighteen years of existence. I can’t afford to mess up in school right now, especially with the college scholarship that has been offered by my university of choice. This time I took a deep breath. I’ll do what I can to stay on top, I promise, I told myself mentally. Ms. Brioche or no Ms. Brioche, I’ll do my best to be the best cream of the crop.

  “Blake Summers?” a voice called out.

  I froze. So did the few remaining students in the classroom. Michelle, opening her mouth to strike a conversation with me, shut her mouth with a slightly audible click. I still hadn’t moved from my position, slightly bent over my backpack. The dots of sweat broke out all over my body again, but they were bigger and more ferocious this time around.

  “Ms. Brioche?” I answered in a calm voice. Which was a major achievement, considering the solid ball of anxiety I felt inside. Oh, my god, Ms. Brioche just called me! What did she want? Suddenly the stuff they’ve been saying about this drop-dead gorgeous but scary, twisted woman came rushing back into my head. I started to panic.

  “I need you to come to my office after class,” Ms. Brioche said. Her voice was sort of clipped and cultured. It was a voice that was a complete contrast to her angelic looks, but like most of her flaws, it added to her charm.

  “I see you’re new in this school,” Ms. Brioche continued. “I don’t know Mr. Hanes’s style of teaching, but I know it’s an excellent one. However, I do have a different approach to teaching English. My style is miles apart from Mr. Hanes’s, but that doesn’t mean it’s defective.” She paused to look at some sheets of paper in front of her. “I need to discuss my teaching style with you, make sure you know how it goes and how I run things here.”

  Like I have a choice in the matter, I thought. I nodded to my teacher. “Sure, Ms. Brioche. I have study period after this, anyway.”

  “Great!” Ms. Brioche exclaimed, and stood up. “Follow me then, Ms. Summers.”

  I grabbed my backpack and headed out to follow Ms. Brioche. I saw Michelle had waited for me outside. There was no need to tell her what happened. I’m sure she saw the whole thing with her own two eyes.

  “I’ll see you at lunch,” I whispered as I passed by her.

  “Not a problem,” Michelle whispered back. “Good luck, Blake.” Then she gave me a wink.

  I was puzzled. What was that supposed to mean? You don’t wink at people who are about to be, well, punished. I knew I haven’t done anything wrong to offend Ms. Brioche, but I couldn’t get rub off the feeling that I was off to be punished for something.

  Ms. Brioche’s office was small but tidy. It had a desk, two chairs in front, and a small couch in one corner. She held the door for me when I came in and shut it resolutely. Most of the room was in white. It had a minimalist, Zen-like feel to it, which I liked immediately. I stood where I was and waited for Ms. Brioche to begin whatever it was she was set to begin.

  She went behind her desk, sat down on the chair, and gestured to the two chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat. You wouldn’t want to stand in there for an hour, would you?”

  “No,” I agreed, and sat in one of the chairs. The seat was surprisingly comfortable, but I was a bit shifty. Being this close to Ms. Brioche did it. I smelled some of her perfume. She smelled of something white and fresh, but beneath the mask of purity was something else—Ms. Brioche’s womanly smell.

  She was looking at me intently. I was too nervous to look back, so I fixed my gaze on the skull paperweight on her table.

  “Blake, look at me,” Ms. Brioche ordered.

  I gulped. Here it comes, I thought. God, what a riot. Only the first few months in school, and I’ve already fallen under the infamous “iron hands.”

  “Look at me, Blake,” Ms. Brioche repeated. Her voice was slightly sharp, but it was also a little breathy.

  I mustered up all my courage. I looked. And couldn’t believe what I saw.

  Megan Brioche was looking back at me with a wide naughty smile on her lips. Her dark perfect hair was tousled, and she no longer had her bright sweater on. I started to wonder how she managed to get the whole thing off without me noticing, then I realized the sweater was likely to be very loose. She could easily slip the garment down her thighs like water, which was very likely what she did.

  Ms. Brioche had nothing on beneath the bright sweater. I found myself staring at her small round breasts that were clad with nothing but black lace. She didn’t have the best cleavage in the world, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t agree her breasts were amazing. They were as round as I suspected them to be, and with Ms. Brioche sitting erect, they looked bigger than their normal size.

  “Ms. Brioche, I whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “I like you, Blake,” Ms. Brioche said clearly. “I liked you the very first time I saw you this morning. You’re a pretty little thing. I like pr
etty little things.” She began to brush her throat with her fingers in small feathery strokes.

  I sure wasn’t little, but I’m very much aware that I’m pretty. Okay, that sounds like I’m full of myself, but I grew up to people telling me what a pretty girl I am. Although I was shocked with Ms. Brioche’s actions and declarations, I wasn’t completely surprised.

  “But, Ms. Brioche, you’re a girl,” I blurted out. I realized what I said and blushed furiously again.

  Ms. Brioche threw her head back and laughed. The movement revealed her pale throat even more. Despite my initial emotions of shock and surprise, I found myself wanting to run my tongue up, down, and all over that delicate bit of flesh.

  “So what if I’m a girl?” Ms. Brioche asked. “I don’t give a fuck. But I do want to fuck you, Blake. Very much.” She stood up abruptly. “The couch, girl.”

  She went to the couch and sat down on it. I saw she had stripped down to her panties as well but she had kept her heels on. The sight of Ms. Brioche in her underwear and black high heels aroused me, and against my better intentions, I walked over to the couch where she sat seductively.

  Ms. Brioche ordered me to kneel in front of her. I knelt where she told me to. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. She buried her face in my hair, and I felt her inhale deeply. On the other hand, my face was buried in her chest. I had one of her springy breasts on my cheek. Her breast was as soft and firm as I pictured them to be. I closed my eyes and inhaled as well.

  Ms. Brioche’s hands roamed all over my back. She ran her hands over my waist and up to my breasts. She cupped them hungrily and ran her tongue over her lips. She knead my twins for a while before she went to the top button of my shirt and began to undo it.

  I couldn’t believe what was happening. I never expected Ms. Brioche, stunning as she was, to have a thing for females. But I discovered I wasn’t complaining. I’ve never done it with a girl before. I counted myself lucky for having someone as ravishing as Ms. Brioche do it with the first time.

  My English teacher finished dealing with the pesky buttons on my shirt, and she slid it down my shoulders. Now I was wearing nothing on top but my lacy purple bra. Ms. Brioche leaned closed and kissed the tops of my breasts. Chills ran all over my body, and I shivered. I felt something wet and sticky in the space between my legs. My skirt, however, was in the way. I started to tug at the waistband, and Ms. Brioche, sensing what I was doing, reached down and helped me. My skirt became a discarded mess on the floor. I was as naked as Ms. Brioche minus the black heels. I slipped my thong sandals off my feet.

  Ms. Brioche’s dark eyes roamed over every inch of my almost-naked body. She smiled, seemingly satisfied. She leaned close over my face this time, and before I knew it, her lips were on mine. She was kissing me deeply and passionately.

  I kissed Ms. Brioche back. By then my desire for this beautiful creature had taken over. We kissed hungrily. We groped at each other madly. I unhooked her bra while she unhooked mine. In seconds we were bare at the top. I let go of my reservations and wrapped my arms around her as well. She stiffened, more from surprise than from any other emotion, but she relaxed in a second and allowed me to pull her close. I felt her breasts pressing against mine.

  I groaned. I wrenched my lips free from Ms. Brioche’s and attached my puckers over one firm breast. Ms. Brioche moaned and arched her back. She pressed the back of my head closer to her tit, urging me to take in as much as I can. I obliged by opening my mouth even wider and taking in a whole lot of her breast inside my mouth. I pleased her using my tongue, teeth, and lips. While I was doing this, Ms. Brioche was squirming and trying not to scream out loud. Her hands were digging into my breasts as well. She was squeezing and pinching at my nipple. It hurt a bit, but I let her do her thing.

  Then Ms. Brioche gently moved my head away from her chest. This time, she did to me what I did to her moments ago. She clamped her mouth over one nipple and began to suck on it. I shuddered and gripped her hair. The sensation was delicious. Ms. Brioche went on doing it, occasionally tugging at my chest with her teeth. While she was doing this, she dug her hands into my buttocks where she grabbed and squeezed each cheek furiously.

  I was on fire, and so was Ms. Brioche. As if some unseen and unheard signal went off, we began to frantically remove each other’s panties at the same time. Ms. Brioche was so impatient that she practically ripped my lacy panties apart. We were naked in an instant. I leaned back a bit to study her body. She was every inch as stunning as I imagined she would be. I saw Ms. Brioche’s mound was wet and glistening. I couldn’t believe I managed to turn her on. I reached between the thin curls and touched her there. She moaned but spread her legs apart to give me more access. I pressed more firmly, and she moaned even louder. She decided to make things even by placing her hand in between my legs as well. She didn’t do it gently. The motion made me feel as if I were on fire. I was extremely turned on.

  Ms. Brioche couldn’t take the whole thing anymore. She got off the couch and pushed me to the floor. She sat on top of me and straddled me at the hips. She placed her pussy strategically over mine so I could feel the growing wetness in there. She grabbed my arms and placed them over my head. Her eyes glinted with triumph. She had me. I was trapped.

  “There’s nowhere to run, Blake,” Ms. Brioche told me. “You’re mine, and mine alone.”

  I played the willing victim. Ms. Brioche shifted so she could move closer to kiss me on the lips. When she did, I shifted as well and wrapped my legs around her hips. The torrid kissing set off again, but it was steamier and hungrier than before. Ms. Brioche licked my face all over. She sucked on my chin before she ran her tongue down my throat. I suddenly remembered the fantasy I had in class. There was no way I was going to let this moment pass by without acting out that scenario. I broke our kiss and ran my tongue down her slender throat and relished the taste of her sweat. She looked at me, smiled, and resumed pleasing me with her tongue.

  Ms. Brioche had a heavenly tongue. From my throat it ran down my breasts and encircled each one. It poked and prodded at my nipples then to the underside of my breasts. It made circles around my stomach and dipped into my navel several times. It swirled at the tops of my thighs then on my thighs themselves before it inched closer and closer to my dripping-wet pussy. By then the pleasure was too immense, and I had unwrapped my legs from Ms. Brioche’s hips. She, on the other hand, had let go of my arms and was now spreading my legs as far as they would go.

  Ms. Brioche plunged in. Her tongue slipped between the private crack of my pussy, and I stiffened at first. It was weird but not unpleasant. Ms. Brioche made as if to slide her tongue out, but I shook my head.

  “Go on,” I told her.

  She went on, her tongue poking and prodding at the inside of my cunt this time. I buried my hands in her hair as black as midnight and egged her on by pushing her face closer to my cunt, practically burying it into the space between my legs that was sopping wet. She didn’t disappoint. She plunged her tongue deeper, and I gave off little moans the entire time. I was in pure bliss. I was in pure heaven.

  Ms. Brioche added to the overwhelming pleasure by slipping a finger into my pussy with her tongue still inside. Her finger felt cold and hard. It was then that I understood why they referred to her as the teacher with the iron hands. So that was what that phrase meant! Ms. Brioche wasn’t punishing or torturing her students—she was fucking them.

  That was why Michelle had given me a wink, I realized. Good heavens, Ms. Brioche must’ve gotten a piece of her too.

  I was jolted from my thoughts by a sudden stab of pain in my pussy. It didn’t last long, though, and everything was roses again after that. I felt more than saw Ms. Brioche slide another finger deep inside me. She made thrusting, sliding motions with her fingers. She slid them in and out of my pussy just like a real penis. Her moves had the air of someone who knew what she was doing, of someone who had been doing it for a long time. And I liked it.

  I felt the muscles in my
vagina clench, and I knew it was only a matter of minutes before I exploded and went out my mind. I no longer cared whether Ms. Brioche was fucking kids like mad or not. What I wanted was for her to keep on doing what she was doing, and to never stop, if that was possible. My eyes were rolling up their sockets. I was so wet already. My bodily fluids had begun to trickle down my thighs. Ms. Brioche removed her tongue from inside my pussy and licked the juices trickling down my thighs. Her fingers kept doing their erotic movements inside me. I was so wet, I could barely feel her fingers anymore. She must’ve sensed the same thing because she slid in another finger. That made a total of three fingers inside me. The pleasure intensified, and I wrapped my legs around Ms. Brioche’s neck.

  She placed her tongue back inside me. This time, she thrust her tongue and fingers faster and more urgently. I thought she was about to explode as well. Her muscles had started to ripple beneath my skin, and although her tongue and the three fingers of her one hand were inside me, her other hand dug at my breast furiously. I felt her tremble. I tugged harder at her hair, and she whimpered. Even her whimper sounded sexy, so I tugged some more. She whimpered some more, and I got even wetter.