Crazy Sex Adventures(Erotica)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please note that the following stories unapologetically contains very dark, raw, and mature contents. It’s not advisable for underage. And if you are not into reading erotica, do not continue, or else you’d be stuck into this new captivating world. These compilations contains a plethora of sizzling erotic romance stories that will keep you on the edge of your SEAT.

Comments are welcome.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

ENJOY…

New Story Title:

THE SCHOOL GIRL (Erotica)

SYNOPSIS:

A horny male teacher gets more than he could wish for at an exclusive residential school for senior girls.

……..

I looked at her with new eyes. Her hair was hanging forwards and her sweet face looked so soft. I looked at her perfectly straight legs, slightly tanned. He thighs were full and her calves had a lovely roundness to them. She had a woman’s legs – not those of a typical skinny schoolgirl. I felt my cock starting to twitch and decided the best thing would be to get this over with a. s. a. p. I moved behind her, holding the ruler poised above her glorious behind.

******************

I arrived at Benlow school late, very late. Miss Archer was expecting me at 10. 00 and it was 11. 30 now. Damn this British public transport. I hoped she would be understanding. Mistake number one!

The school secretary ushered me into the oak-panelled room in complete silence. I was seated in a chair two feet away from the imposing desk. I had been informed that Miss Archer would be with me shortly. I looked casually around the room at the shelves of books, filing cabinets etc. All very ordered, all very British.

I was here to start my new teaching post, the term had already started but it was the first work I could find and I was glad to get it. I had never taught in a ‘public’ school before. Why was it called that? It was anything but public! But Benlow was short of a Geography teacher and the fact that I knew several languages well enough to teach them and deputise, clinched the deal. It was unclear as to what happened to the last Geography teacher, but what the heck, it was my job now.

A British public school. Here was me, a quiet guy from Florida surrounded by all of this history. I guess that’s why the post attracted me – a very well respected school, good grades, extra-curricular activities, sports facilities but most importantly for me, a room on the grounds. This would suit me fine for the next year until I got back on my feet. The pay wasn’t brilliant, but you can’t turn down free accommodation. The only catch was that I would be a ‘House Master’ and that would probably involve some supervision of some of the kids that lived on the campus.

Another first for me would be that this was an all-female school. That didn’t bother me, I’d rather teach girls than boys – far more quiet and attentive. Easier. The door opened as I was woken from my thoughts. Before I could stand a stern voice said “Ah, Mr. Kelaway, so glad you could join us”. This was my first run-in with Miss Archer.

Miss Archer, I never found out her first name, was 40ish, tall and reasonably pleasant. She had a very serious air and my attempts at humour fell on stony ground. She said she was pleased to have me there particularly as I would be filling the post of House Master also. She explained that this involved just being the adult presence in a house of around 16 of the boarding girls, whom I would meet later. She stressed that it was up to me to ensure discipline was maintained and she gave me a look as though she was expecting a reply. I couldn’t think of anything to say so she carried on and talked (at length) about the tradition of the school and the quality of girls it produced. All of this took nearly an hour and I was desperate for a pee at the end.

We toured the school buildings and I got my first glimpse of the girls – and they of me. I got stares and looks as any new teacher would but I think it was the fact that I was male, under 30 and reasonably handsome that surprised the girls. The other two male teachers were both near retirement and fairly disgusting in their personal habits.

The girls were what you would expect from such a privileged background – middle class, affluent, bright, they all seemed to be called Jessica or Laura and they were all very well presented, mainly thanks to the uniform they wore. Standard grey skirt, maroon sweater and white blouse. They could be described with the word ‘neat’ (as in tidy) as could the school. I felt like I would enjoy it here. The girls were aged between 11 and 16 and I would later find out that my house would contain the 5th year – 15 & 16 year olds. Oh great, the rebellious age!

A few days later at the weekend, I moved my stuff into Alban House at the edge of the grounds and prepared for my first lessons on Monday. It was Sunday night however, that I started working. Around 10pm I heard a loud crash and then girlish giggling from the hall. I went out quickly to find two girls (later named as Leila and Simone) hastily tidying a smashed vase. They were hot and flushed and I guessed a ‘game’ had gotten out of hand. I asked the usual dumb questions and got the usual dumb answers but the girls were making a good job of tidying up and the vase was a very plain one used for just holding flowers. I said that if the vase was replaced within a couple of days, nothing more would be said. They thanked me profusely (Very profusely!) and I went back to my room.

The next day went well. I met the class (or Form!) I would be looking after and got my rota (or Timetable!) for the classes I would be teaching. My form was ‘5F’, a group of pleasant fifth-years and, surprise surprise, Leila and Simone were two of the girls in the class, sitting at the back and keeping quiet for a change. At the end of roll-call (or Assembly!) I held them back and reminded them of their promise to replace the vase. They apologised and left. At the end of the day I got back to the house and sure enough, on the hall table was a nice and shiny new vase. Round 1 to Mr. Kelaway!