This anthology contains the story E620, set in a university classroom and centred around a sexy daydream. Enjoy Sex, Love and Valentines.
Morning lectures are a bitch. No matter how much sleep I get the night before – whether it be the recommended eight hours, or an excessive ten – I still cannot get to grips with mornings. I’ve just come to accept that I’m far from being an early bird, and always stop at the University shop for a can of Red Bull before continuing up to room E620. I then saunter in, half-asleep and grin weakly at my classmates and lecturer before slumping into a chair and popping open my can.
Today is no exception. Although I’m not bored, or particularly tired, I still feel myself dozing off. Aware of how bad this would look if the lecturer noticed, I decide to do something to spice up the atmosphere a little. I let my mind wander, not even telling it off when it hesitates outside the door marked ‘XXX.’
I chuckle inwardly at its boldness, particularly this early in the day, and my consciousness takes this to be the nod, and we’re in. Welcome to the naughty part of my brain, probably the largest part, and certainly not a place for the faint hearted! A mischievous little character wanders up and down the aisles of my ‘X’ files, and finally re-appears, carrying a box marked ‘favourite fantasies.’ Ah, he chooses well.
Back in the real world, I catch Karl’s eye across the room. He grins, and I suspect his creative mind is up to mischief, not unlike mine. Funny really that it should be Karl. Perhaps he sensed he was in my thoughts. More specifically the box marked ‘favourite fantasies.’
Karl is – to borrow the cliché – “the one that got away.” Our relationship exists purely in erotic daydreams, safe from the prying eyes of the outside world, and safe from rejection.
My entry into the world of erotic literature has plenty to do with Karl’s interference. We were chatting one lunchtime, about sex in general, funny stories and so on. He then suddenly came out with,
“You should write porn!”
“What!” I said, shocked.
“You should. You’re one of the most open minded women I’ve ever met, you should have a bash at writing something. I reckon you’d be really good.”
I didn’t think much of it at first, and soon forgot about the conversation. Karl, however, refused to let it go and kept bringing it up, then eventually he dared me to write something. I relented, and asked him what his favourite sexual fantasy was. He told me the gist; every teenage boy’s fantasy, having sex with his young and attractive teacher. I wrote my first piece of erotic fiction based on that. Needless to say, he read and thoroughly enjoyed the story, and encouraged me to write more erotica, then gave me feedback on what I’d written. From those lunchtime chats, we developed an insight into each other’s sexual tastes.
The fantasy I’m thinking of right now takes place in this very room, E620. As you walk in, you’re standing in a slight alcove, then the room opens out to tables, chairs, and a seldom used overhead projector. The door has a sturdy-looking Yale lock, the type you can lock from inside without the key.
In my fantasy, I’m looking fab in a knee length black skirt, black patterned stockings, knee-high boots and a chunky jumper. It’s winter, for God’s sake!
Karl’s looking damn fine in faded light blue jeans. Tight, of course, clinging to his ass and thighs. His black t-shirt emphasises his broad chest and muscular arms. His sexy tattoos, always an element of fascination for me, are clearly visible on his right arm, one encircling his bicep, the other adorning his inner forearm.
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