SO TEMPTED TO TOUCH: Erotica short stories.

Tessie “So, last night I met this obscenely hot lawyer guy. He had a long D and a hurricane tongue.” Melissa grinned, twisting a loose curl around her finger as we walked to class. “And let me tell you… the man did not disappoint.” I sighed, tucking my cardigan tighter around me. Must be nice. Melissa collects men like spare change. The tall and super cute she gets them all. She has that ‘90s supermodel face card men worship and women secretly want to photocopy. Slim figure, beautiful medium sized t!ts, blond straight hair and blue eyes. Meanwhile, there’s me—Tessie, the awkward, double d sized, glasses-wearing girl who still shops in the grandma section. “You’re so lucky,” I mumbled as we slid into our seats. We were early for once—probably the only time this semester. “You can get literally any man you want.” Melissa tossed her bag on the desk and turned to me“Girl, you could too if you stopped dressing like you’re in mourning. Burn the cardigans, ditch the buggy jeans. It’s not 1857. Show some skin.” I laughed but didn’t argue. She’s right. I’m still a v!rg!n. I know—it’s weird at my age, but no one’s ever caught my attention long enough to make me cross that line. Or maybe I’ve just been terrified of the whole thing. Melissa always says p0rn is fake. That the real thing is way better. Honestly? I’m really curious. The lecture hall quieted as Mr. Crews walked in, and my curiosity suddenly spiraled into something… inappropriate. Mr. Crews. Former military trainer, towering at six one . Built like temptation itself. His shirt clung to his broad shoulders and his arms? Veins. Thick, defined, snaking down to his rough, calloused hands. He had a working man’s hands. Hands that could ruin you in the best way. “Phones off. Let’s begin.” His voice was smooth. I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to focus on anything but the man in front of me. As he paced the aisles, his cologne wrapped around me—warm spice, fresh cedar. He stopped by my desk as he explained some literature concept I wasn’t even pretending to hear. My eyes drifted to his belt then his zipper. Wonder how many veins are there are on his— I snapped myself back. Jesus, Tessie. Pull it together. But my thighs pressed tighter anyway. I tapped my pen against my lip. This is the man I want to take my V-card. Hands down. Too bad he’s gay. Everyone knows it. He wears his wedding ring proudly. I’d bet his husband doesn’t know some hopelessly h0rny student wants his man to be her first. Mr. Crews’ gaze flicked to mine. He licked his finger absently and turned the page of his book. I swallowed hard. Oh, to be that page. “Group essays on my desk by five. Class dismissed.” His voice still rang in my head as I packed my things and headed home. Later, after my shower, I emailed my essay. Buzz. Melissa. "Send me your hottest pic. Gonna hook you up with the football captain." I scrolled my gallery. Cardigan, nope she'd complain about that. Pajamas too boring. Oh. The nud.e too much. Summer bikini one, She'd definitely thank me for that one. I glared at my na.ked picture for a moment. The one I took for me. Or maybe… the one I’d secretly taken thinking of Mr. Crews. My phone slipped from my hands, face-down on the bed. I picked it up, wiped it on my thigh. ‘Sent’ popped on my screen. Buzz. Melissa: “Still waiting” Huh. Still waiting? I paused. My stomach flipped. I checked my email. No. No, no! I didn’t just— I DID. The n*de, I just sent it to Mr. Crews! My pulse spiked. My stomach dropped. I wanted to scr3am and wanted to crawl under my bed and die. But beneath the panic… a shameful little thrill crept in. I’d wanted him to see me like that. Somewhere deep down, I wanted him to imagine me like that. I pulled myself together, changed into a white sundress, and doused myself in Pure Seduction perfume like it was armor. I knew where he lived. I needed to drop off the group assignment anyway. And maybe… I just wanted to see if he’d look at me differently now. The sky threatened rain, but I didn’t care. I was already far ahead to go back for an umbrella. When I reached his door, I rang the bell, the weight of the blue file in my hand. I smell good and feel good. No glasses today. Simple, hand the file say sorry for the pic. Taylor. The glow of my laptop screen reflects off my glasses as I scroll through essay after essay, most of them as dull as dishwater. My students have mastered the art of using twenty words to say absolutely nothing and some using AI as if I'd not notice. All except one. Tessie. The girl in the oversized cardigan. Quiet with eyes hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses, like she’s trying to disappear… but failing miserably. Her gaze gives her away every damn time. So beautiful and curious. She's temptation wrapped in thrift-store sweaters and buggy jeans. She thinks I don’t notice her watching me. But I do. Every lecture. Her stare lingers far too long when I roll up my sleeves, when I gesture across the board… when I stand too close. And then there’s the way she presses her thighs together like she’s fighting a losing battle with her imagination. The things I’d do if I ever got to part those thighs, perhaps I'd start by licking her thighs. Then I'd spread her lips apart and get a good look at that beautiful coochie, lick from the base to the back past her a$$ hole, b efore the grand finale of —