The Lesson

Erin put on the new bra and panties she'd bought that morning. New underwear always made her feel good, more confident, in control. She was going to a formal dinner that evening and wanted to look her best. She wasn't looking for hook-up, she just wanted to be noticed, and remembered by the senior staff for when permanent teaching jobs came up at the college.

She checked herself in a mirror. The new bra - a half-cup, push-up - made her breasts perkier, more assertive. She drew her hands up over her thighs, across the flimsy, silky material of the panties between her legs, and up to the bra, where, she let her fingertips play over her nipples, making them tingle and stiffen under the fabric.

Next went on a blouse in stretchy cotton. The extra half-inch of assertiveness, courtesy of the new bra, made the blouse tighter than usual, straining the buttons. She liked that. Then black pantyhose. This was Oxford, England. Full of draughty, medieval buildings. She didn't want frozen legs at dinner. Finally, an above- the-knee, skirt, a jacket and some killer heels.

The dinner wasn't till seven-thirty but, before then she had a teaching commitment. The college ran an outreach creative writing course for local people, and the onus of teaching it fell to the newest doctoral student, Erin. To make things less "academic", Erin had asked her students to write a short piece on Love. In whatever context they wanted. One student had, predictably, written about their dog, another about his parents, another about his baby son. The piece that gripped her was by Carl, who had written about his girlfriend.

Carl's story was erotic and when Erin first read it, it made her horny. Horny enough to reach for her vibrator. She'd noticed Carl's good looks already, and his comments in class were always intelligent. He showed a sense of humour too. Sexy writing suggested a sexy man. Erin wanted to get to know him a lot better.

The regular location of Erin's class had been moved, because of some college maintenance work. It was now taking place in a sixth floor room, in a historic tower, which, of course, had no elevator.

Erin walked up the stone staircase alone and in the quiet atmosphere, she was aware of the soft susurration as her nyloned thighs brushed together. She seldom wore pantyhose and had forgotten how sexy the silky rasping was. She liked its sound, liked the feel of the slippery nylon between her legs. It aroused her. She thought about Carl. She wanted him. A burst of desire swamped her body. Her nipples tingled; her clit swelled. She pressed her thighs close together. For a moment she thought about slipping a hand under her skirt... But she had a class to do.

Carl might not even make the class, might not have found the obscure room it had been moved to. No point getting excited too soon.

On the sixth floor, she pushed open the seminar room door, and saw only one other person in the room. Carl. More than she could have hoped for. Her heart thumped hard.

'Sorry I'm late, Carl. Where's everybody else?'

He said something about a key football match, somebody being ill, and the fact that the location had moved. "The signs to the tower were... difficult to find," Carl said with a warm smile.

His deep, bass voice was like a smooth, rich, red wine - and just as intoxicating. The low-pitched sounds resonated inside Erin's body. Like an organ in a cathedral. Like a bass guitar at full volume. She hardly listened to his words; she was gazing at Carl, studying him properly for the first time. He was tall, with a slim waist, broad shoulders, powerful muscles, but not an inch of fat. His hair was thick and black with a natural friskiness. His tawny-brown eyes sparkled with warmth, and a sense of fun. Like her, he was also dressed more smartly than usual: a slim-cut, crisp, white shirt under a navy sport coat; designer jeans - with button flies, she noticed with a thrill.

Carl had been attracted to Erin for a while, had been waiting for an opportunity to ask her out. She was usually enveloped in chunky sweaters, but now her smarter, tighter clothes revealed her to be even hotter than he'd thought. Her legs were slender, her breasts - neither big nor small - jutted jauntily under her blouse. Her eyes seemed full of light, and a frolicsome half-smile was on her inviting lips.

'Looks like it's just you and me,' she said, as they sat down on chairs facing each other. She dragged her eyes away from Carl's body and forced herself to concentrate on work. 'Let's begin,' she said. 'I liked your story.'

Carl knew he had a way with words, and he'd written a sexy story on purpose, to attract Erin's attention. 'I hope I didn't go too far. I didn't want to offend.'

Erin chuckled. 'No danger of that,' she said. 'In fact, you could have gone further.' No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she worried she'd said too much.

'Really?' Wow! Carl felt an excitement run through him. Erin was obviously an adventurous woman.

'What I mean,' she said, trying to talk more calmly, 'what I mean is you could have built things up more, developed the emotions, to add to the impact on the reader. To make it even more...'

'More... erotic?' said Carl, enunciating the words slowly. His voice was a deep, sexy purr and it sent a blast of heat through Erin's body. A rush of desire. If he could write like that, what would sex with him be like?

'I guess so,' she said, trying to sound calm and casual. Erin cleared her throat and crossed her legs, already feeling a dampness between her thighs. 'Whatever kind of story you're writing you have to show your readers the emotions your characters are experiencing, not just tell them.' He nodded. 'And you have to pace it carefully, slow things down at certain points, concentrate on details which build up the tension and drama.'

Carl thought a moment. 'A kind of foreplay?' he said casually with a smile.

'Well... yes,' said Erin, flustered by the comparison, but excited and emboldened by Carl's attitude. 'You have to treat your reader as you may your... well, your girlfriend.' God! Was she coming on too strong?

'Lead the reader up to a climax?' said Carl with a winning smile. Their eyes met. Erin realised he was making a move on her. Things were going faster than she expected. This was thrilling.

'I don't actually have a girlfriend,' Carl said, thinking it was time for a little honesty, and beamed a twinkling smile at her.

Erin got his inference: the woman in the story was based on her. Another blast of heat went through her.

'Could you show me how to... work up to a climax. In the story, I mean,' he said.

Erin gave him a look, and reddened. She knew he was leading her on, but it was so delightful, and it would be a mutual seduction. She looked at the text. 'Well, you don't say why the couple in your story find each other attractive. Is it something physical?' She looked around the room, pretending not to look at him. 'You could say, for example, "He was tall, and his bright blue eyes shone out across the room. She saw how his tight shirt outlined the muscles of his powerful chest."'

'I understand,' he said. 'More description. ' He nodded and smiled approvingly, recognising she was describing him. She had the hots for him alright.

'Your turn,' she said. 'Explain why the man is attracted to the woman.'

'Oh...' He was taken aback, but now was his chance to talk about her. 'Maybe something like: "As she walked across the room, he was rivetted by her long, slinky legs in their sheer black pantyhose, below her short, sexy skirt.'"

Erin knew he was describing her. But she wanted more. 'Physical description is OK. As far as it goes. What about some emotion?'

'Like?'

Erin looked hard at Carl. 'Maybe... "There was something about the look in his eyes and the curl of his hair that suggested he could be a lot of fun."'

Carl smiled, looked hard at her and said, 'The angle of her head, the tilt of her nose, the outline of her breasts told him she was confident in her sex-appeal.'

Erin was feeling warm. She took off her jacket, swivelled round and hung it on the back of her chair. She swivelled back and found her movement had sent her skirt half way up her thighs. Normally she would have tugged it down. Today, she left it where it was.

Carl saw the expanse of shiny pantyhose, and a rush of arousal zapped through his body. He felt movement in his groin.

The late afternoon sun was streaming directly through the windows and the heating was on full. 'You're right. It is warm in here,' he said. Carl took off his sport coat, too, and, with great care, slowly rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Erin watched his thick, strong arms being revealed inch by inch as the cotton was turned back. His bare forearm was like a giant, erect penis, she thought, and the idea made her squirm in her chair. Which pushed her skirt a little higher. Again she didn't tug it down, just crossed her legs again. She'd seen that old Sharon Stone movie where she's not wearing panties and flashes herself at the detective. Erin was wearing panties - and hose. But she thought she might as well not be: her skirt was almost at waist level.

Carl's view of her upper thighs made his erection stiffen further. He couldn't keep his eyes away from her crotch. Was she wearing panties?

Carl's dick was now pressing painfully against his tight jeans. He lay back in his seat, stretched out his legs, put a hand in a pocket. Not caring whether Erin would notice, he eased his dick to a more comfortable position.

Erin couldn't help but notice. Carl's cock was a long, thick tube under his pants, pointing up to his belt. The bulge under his jeans was huge, his flies were straining under the pressure. Erin wondered how strong the buttons were. Could an erection be so powerful that it burst the flies open? Unlikely. But it was a wonderful fantasy.

Her heart was beating faster. But what to do next? In a bar they'd be close together, they could touch. Here in the seminar room they were sitting in chairs ten feet apart. How could she move things on? In desperation, she stuck with the lesson. 'You need to do the same with actions as well as descriptions.'

'Could you give me another example?'

She looked at him. Their eyes met. He had a roguish, tantalising look. Was he challenging her? Did he want to hear her talk dirty? Well, she didn't mind if she did. She cleared her throat again, aware she was getting damper between the legs, and looked at Carl's story. 'You wrote "He kissed her passionately." Most kisses are passionate. You can make it better.'

Carl gave her a questioning look, then smiled. 'Like...?'

Erin smiled back. She would go for broke. 'What about this? "He bit gently at her lips, then his tongue thrust deep into her mouth, darting in and out, which was strongly arousing."' She felt a blush suffusing her cheeks and looked towards Carl. He moved his legs further apart and his erection looked even bigger. Hearing Erin talk like this was turning him on big time.

'Shall I try the same with another sentence?'

'Please.'

'OK. "Her mouth opened slightly and the tip of her tongue slid round the edge of her bright, glossy red lips. Her mouth opened wider as she approached, and fastened wetly and energetically on his lips."'

As he stopped speaking, she realised she was acting out what he had describing. Her lipstick was red and her tongue was revolving around her mouth. She looked at him. He smiled.

'Yeah... Just like that.' He smiled again. 'Do another one,' he said. 'Forget my story. Make up something else.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah. I can't wait.' And he almost couldn't. His erection was rock hard.

Erin was breathing harder now, and felt this was becoming a contest. Who could talk sexiest? Phone sex without the phone.

She didn't look at the story. She looked at him.

"She put her hands round his waist then slid them round to his tight, firm butt, and squeezed hard. Her hands moved up and over his slim waist and under his shirt. Her fingers traced a fine line of hair over his smooth skin to his muscular, crinkly-haired chest..." She had to stop there. She was breathing even harder now. She swallowed. 'Your turn,' she said.

"He put a hand on her knee and slid it up the silky nylon of her pantyhose. As his hand moved further up her thigh, she uncrossed her legs, and moved them wide apart. His hand reached the top of her thighs. He pressed against her damp slit, and began to rub."

She felt a buzz throughout her body, a tingling between her legs. She moved her thighs around, savouring the sensation.

This was no longer a lesson in English prose. Would she continue? Hell, yes. She wanted to go all the way. She wanted his dick inside her.

Just then came the sound of a clock chiming the half-hour right above their heads. Both looked up. 'It's the big clock in the tower. Right above us,' said Erin. 'You can almost feel the sound waves.' Like his deep voice, she thought.

'Are they making you tremble?' said Carl with a grin.

Erin giggled. 'Something is,' she said.

The tingling between her legs was stronger, more like an ache. She found it hard to sit still. She crossed her legs. Then uncrossed them, and crossed them again the other way. The ache was almost a throbbing. It needed satisfying. Very soon. She couldn't sit still and had to stand up and walk across the room.

Carl's erection needed satisfying too. He opened his legs wide and shifted his position. How could they move on from phrases and writing. He had an idea. A risky one. She might laugh. Throw him out. But it was worth a try.

He stood up and went to join her. 'Suppose we do actions as well as words,' he said.

She shirled round, surprised. 'Actions?'

'Acting out what I would write - at the same time.' He studied her face. Had he gone too far?

A grin spread across her face. 'That's wild!' she said. 'Do you mean it?'

'Of course. Are you on?'

'Sure.' It sounded mind-blowingly exciting. Physical contact at last - and with a commentary. Phone-sex and physical sex. They were standing face to face and she looked down and saw the rigid line of his cock in his jeans. 'You first,' she said, breathing heavily.

He looked her up and down. How to start? Her breasts, threatening to burst free of her constraining blouse, seemed the obvious place.

'His hands went to her blouse, undid a button.' Erin looked down. Carl was doing exactly what he said. Her pulse raced. He went on: 'The fabric was stretched tight over her breasts, and the material sprang back as the button was released.' She saw him do this. The top of her bra was now visible. 'He undid a second button and slipped a hand on to the top of her left breast.' Carl's hand was warm, soft, gentle. 'Her flesh was smooth, creamy. He undid more buttons and his hand felt her nipple, hard under the bra. He squeezed and fondled it.' She gasped a little. Her nipples were extra sensitive and his fingers were giving her raptures. She closed her eyes for a moment and gave a little moan. 'That's so nice,' she murmured.

'Now you.'

She opened her eyes and saw he'd stood back, his hands by his side. She wanted him to carry on. 'My turn?'

He nodded. 'It's like bondage. Ever done that?'

'Once or twice,' she said. 'Nothing dangerous or painful.'

'Of course. The thrill comes from wanting to - but not being able to, because you're constrained. Interrupted desire. Delayed gratification. Like this.' He smiled sweetly. 'We take it in turns.'

She saw his point, grinned and nodded. Where to go? There was only one direction.

She grasped the top of his jeans. 'Her hands went to his jeans and undid the top metal stud,' she said, her hands trembling with excitement as she did so. 'Then her fingers moved to the fly buttons...' Her fingers undid the top button, then the second, and third. 'As she undid the stiff buttons her fingers brushed against the cotton of his underpants.' Her voice faltered with emotion. She could feel his gently pulsing cock behind the underpants. 'As she worked, the denim sprang back, forced away by the pressure from within. Against her hand, she felt his dick hard and rigid, pressing forwards. She undid the next button and the next.'

When they were undone she gazed at the perfect, snow-white underpants. They were cutaway high up the leg so the central pouch was emphasised. The stretch-cotton cleaved to his form, outlining precisely the length of his dick and the shapes of his balls beside it. Seeing the shape of his cock, constrained under the fabric, yet erect and eager for sex, sent her arousal to a new high.

She pressed against his cock with the palm of her hand. He gasped. 'Go on,' he breathed.

'No. It's your turn,' she said looking at him, and moving her hands away.

He saw her breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling, her blouse undone, and her hard nipples pressing through the thin fabric of her bra. Her face was pink with a half smile on her lips. She was irresistible.

'I know what...' he began.

She stopped him by holding up a hand as a different thought struck her. 'Did you take all the signs away? The ones about the change of location?'

He smiled a roguish smile and nodded. 'I wanted to get to know you better.'

She looked at him. He was breathing heavily, too. His jeans and flies undone, the pouch of his underpants protruding with his erect dick almost vertical behind the fabric.

It thrilled her that he had set it up so they would be alone together. It thrilled her he wanted her so much. Her heart thumped. Her whole body throbbed with desire.

'Well, now's you chance,' she said, stepping towards him and circling his waist with her arms.

'No more words,' he said.

'No. Just actions.' Her lips crashed down on his, her tongue spearing inside his mouth, as her hands pulled his shirt out of his jeans and she slid her hands down to his butt.

His hands went to the zipper at the back of her skirt and pushed it down. Then he eased the skirt over her hips, over the silky pantyhose and down to the floor.

Their bodies pressed together, their tongues entwined, she felt his dick pressing against her stomach.

Now he was taking off her blouse, unfastening her bra. His hands massaged her breasts, thumbs and forefinger circling round her nipples. Gently, oh so gently. Oh, so excitingly. He caressed the nipples themselves. Exquisite. She was hungry for him. Eager. Desperate. And so was he for her.

He bent down and slid his hands up her pantyhose, to where the white of her new panties glowed through the black of the pantyhose. He pulled down the pantyhose and felt a new thrill as he saw the flimsy, translucent panties.

He slipped a hand between her legs and felt how damp she was already. Through the thin fabric, he stroked her clitoris. Then his hand pushed the panties aside and two fingers eased their way inside her. She gasped with pleasure, panting now. She didn't know how long she could last.

She pulled him up and yanked down his underpants, easing his dick from the fabric until it sprang up horizontal. She caressed it with both hands.

She bent down and took his dick in her mouth, caressing his hairy balls, stroking his thighs. He was panting now too.

They lay on the floor. He pulled off the delicate panties, and she spread her legs wide. She was wet and open. His tongue darted between her thighs, tickling, caressing at first, then inside her, his tongue as hard as any dick.

Soon his dick was inside her. It was big, and boy, was it hard. He thrust easily, rhythmically. She knew she'd come, and come quickly. Her legs found their way over his shoulders - a position she loved.

The clock above them began its ding-dong sequence before chiming the hour. Surprised, Carl stopped his thrusting.

'Don't stop,' she implored, pulling against his strong shoulders. 'Don't stop.' She was nearly there.