Teacher Student Literotica Novels & Stories

But then my twin said something that froze me cold. "I need a literature tutor, Mom," she said. "The subject is so hard, and I can’t cope anymore." In a flash I was off the bed and standing with my ear pressed to the crack between the door and it's frame. "Oh, sweetheart," my mother crooned. "Of course you need a tutor. Why didn't you tell me before now? Do you have anyone in mind?" "Yes," Tessa answered sweetly. "There’s this new literature professor in school - Professor Cassian. I hear he’s really good, but he isn’t teaching my class, so I need some extra private tutoring."

She laughed, patting my arm in an infuriating way before straightening up. Just then, the English Lit teacher Mrs. Winslow came striding in, calling for everyone's attention. "Okay class, settle down. Today, we'll be diving into the works of Shakespeare," she began, pacing before the class. "His intricate wordplay, brilliant metaphors, and profound exploration of human nature have cemented his legacy..."

With graduation three months away, the seniors in my advising cohort still hadn't finished the internship credits they needed. I talked my father into taking all of them at Morgan Components: three thousand a month after tax, free room and board, weekends off. Brooke Hayes, our senior class president, was the first to object. "Three thousand? That's what you throw at a panhandler. Everyone, I've already found us placements. Eighteen thousand a month. They sign off on the paperwork after thirty days, and the company's flying us overseas on top of it." I told them it had every mark of a recruitment trap, and I called their parents. Brooke turned the whole cohort against me. They said I'd us

There is a dead mouse stuck in the air conditioning unit during summer, filling the classroom with a foul odor. Henry Hudson, my homeroom teacher, instantly blames it on me, saying I don't shower. He mocks me for reeking of pigs and polluting the air in the classroom since Mom and Dad raise pigs for a living. He even insists that Mom and Dad sell our pigs to buy new air conditioners for the classroom. I flush with shame as I repeatedly insist that I shower every single day, but my classmates still mock me and call me "Stinker Tucker". I am forced to transfer to another school after enduring the endless insults and hostile glares from countless people. Years later, I head a major biophar

Walter cast a fierce burning gaze at Jack. “He stole my book!" Jack cried out. “That's a lie, Mr. Walter!" Lucas spoke up in his defense. “If he says I'm lying, open his backpack!” “Lucas, would you be kind enough to open your backpack please?" Mr. Walter narrowed a gentle gaze on Lucas in expectation for him to comply with his calm request. Mr. Walter has been voted for straight three years as the best teacher in Orleans High School. He is the geography teacher. For the past ten years of working in Orleans High School. He is always early before the students and always the last to go home after school.

I must be ice. The walk to the classroom is an obstacle course. The murmurs follow me like a swarm of flies. "...completely crazy after Raphaël dumped her..." "...apparently she spent the night out, who knows what could have happened..." "...Liora must be so ashamed..." Each word is a needle prick. Precise. Painful. When I enter literature class, a silence falls. All eyes are fixed on me. The teacher throws me a sympathetic look that's almost worse than contempt.