Teacher Student Literotica Novels & Stories

I was confused, and somewhat scared. "You put your career at risk, Lyla." The female teacher in a burgundy dress clicked her tongue and came forward, stretching out her hand. "I'm Cecelia, by the way." "You guys are actually scaring me," I searched their face for something that could give away whatever they were thinking. "I have only taught one class since morning, and I don't think I've really done anything that would elicit this kind of look from you." "Haven't you noticed it already?" Cecelia asked while unwrapping a sweet and sticking it into her mouth. "The weird looks that students are giving you? Some are pitying you, and some—"

For a long moment, the hum of the espresso machine filled the silence between them. “So,” he said, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Literature teacher. What's that like?” Aria sipped her coffee. “Exhausting. Chaotic.” “I can imagine.” “Some days I feel like I’m talking to a wall, but then one kid will say something brilliant about a poem, and it makes it worth it.” “You always liked getting people to see stories the way you see them,” he said gently. “Sounds right for you.” Her chest warmed. “What about you? You didn’t say much yesterday.”

He sat on the seat beside me. “Hey, you’re quite late,” I said quietly. “I know,” Carl groaned. “I woke up really late. Gosh, even though I set my alarm, I ended up snoozing it.” I chuckled. “Classic you.” He turned to me, his eyes bright. “You look really great in that outfit, by the way.” “Oh thank you,” I said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The class began, and the lecturer—Mr. Jones, started talking about literature—its definition, its connection to art, and how it shapes human emotion. His voice was calm and painful to listen to. Within ten minutes, I was already fighting to stay awake.

I said to Ginger, as I slipped my hands under her nightshirt and felt her bare ass with both of my hands. "Right, they don't know about our sapphic love affairs yet," said Ginger. "Sapphic, I like that word. Why have we not used it before?" I asked. "Probably because I only just learned it last week while reading a story on Literotica," said Ginger. "Literotica, what's that?" I asked. "Only the best website in the world for erotic literature and the like. You should check it out," said Ginger. "I'll do that when we get back home, it sounds interesting!" I replied.

Lorena feels that she is not only close to the two professors, but also to all of the professors at Brittle University. Lorena has also heard that there’s another reason her friends believe the rumors. Everyone believes Lorena and Professor Hugo have a special relationship because of Lorena's perfect grades in every lesson taught by Professor Hugo. In fact, Lorena really likes Professor Hugo's teaching style. For Lorena, if Professor Hugo teaches, any difficult subject will be so easy. This makes Lorena eager to learn Professor Hugo's lessons, and as a result, Lorena consistently receives perfect scores in almost every lesson taught by Professor Hugo.

" Hello pretty one, how may I help you?" The librarian turned to Lexa with a gentle smile and connected her fingers together while gazing at Lexa tenderly. " Please, I need to get a book on how to hide a scent," Lexa beamed at the librarian and grinned innocently. Though, she was anxious on how the librarian will react to her words but maintained a calm face. The librarian looked taken aback and adjusted her eyeglass, her gaze changed into a weird one. It seems she wasn't expecting that and arched her thin brows, " Excuse me?"

I take another big gulp of my wine. "He sure does look like he's having fun," Charlotte points out. My eyes automatically go back to him. He's having another sip of his Whiskey, and Grace nudges his shoulder playfully. "Miss Walker is relentless when it comes to men," Lina keeps her eyes on the teacher's table, and turns back to me with a sigh. "I'd do anything to be in your shoes." I don't answer, and instead sigh deeply into my glass.I leave the pasta untouched.

She was an accurate depiction of perfection. As I laid down on my bed that night, all I could do was ruminate on the events of that day. I turned from side to side in an attempt to sleep off, but there I was sprawled out with nothing on my mind, but the new teacher. I barely saw Ms. Ellen throughout that week again, yet thoughts of that brief moment we had shared lingered. All I could think of was how our next meeting was going to be. I was expectant. Although, I had a feeling it was going to be awkward. It wasn't just a feeling though, it was a fact.

She said, adjusting her fingers. “Ohh– that's cool.” The classroom door opened and the room quieted almost immediately. Our Literature teacher, Miss Halley, walked in with her usual no-nonsense expression and her heels clicking like a ticking bomb. “Pardon my lateness, something urgent came up." "Books out. Page 132. Let's begin.” I took out my textbook, flipping lazily while she launched into a dramatic reading of Macbeth, adding so much passion you'd think she starred in the original cast.

I take a deep breath and start introducing myself. “Hello, I’m Emma”, I say, and now I’m unable to talk further. I feel low confident. “That’s it?”, teacher asks me while looking at me with strange looks. “No” , I say immediately, I take a breath and trying to say something. “So, I’m here in literature course because I love literature and reading books is my passion. And my biggest dream is to be a novelist.”