
Dirty Little Lessons (An Erotica Collection)
⚠️ WARNING: This story contains explicit sexual content. If you are under 18 or uncomfortable with steamy, erotic, forbidden, or taboo themes, kindly exit now.
"I'm sorry, but I now have a girlfriend", Eric said.
" Just fuck me tonight Eric, please ", " Just tonight ". I cried.
Lola, a college professor, just got dumped by her no-strings-attached sex buddy, Eric. She's pissed, frustrated, and painfully horny.
Back in her office, she flips lazily through student assignments, the task was simple: *Write a short romance story of your choice.*
But one freshman, Noah, took it way too far. Instead of a harmless love story, he wrote out his filthy, unfiltered fantasy. About her. His professor.
Dive into Noah's bold approach, Professor Lola's burning curiosity, and a collection of sizzling short erotica that push every boundary.
--------------------------------------
This book contains a collection of different short erotic stories.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
My body was still slightly trembling from what Noah had just done to me, my thighs were damp and weak, my breath jagged as if I had run miles. His fingers, slick and glistening with my wetness, slid out of me slowly, deliberately, and the sight of them nearly made me collapse again.
But Noah wasn't done, he wasn't even close to being done with me.
He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, his voice husky with wild desire.
"That," he whispered, "was only the beginning."
A helpless moan escaped my mouth, I should have been disgusted, sending him out of my office, pulling my clothes back into place. But instead, heat coiled in my belly again, and I felt desire rose in me.
His mouth captured mine, kissing me like he hadn't just shattered my pussy with his hands. His tongue tasted me, claiming, pushing, taking. By the time he pulled away, my blouse was half undone, the top button broken where he'd tugged too roughly.
Noah smiled at the mess he was making of me. "Take this off." he commanded.
When I didn't move, he reached for the hem of my blazer and slid it down my arms himself, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. His fingers worked at my blouse, popping each button one by one while holding my gaze. Every snap of fabric echoed in the quiet office, daring me to stop him.
But I didn't.
My bra was next, black lace that had once made me feel powerful in my own skin. He peeled it away slowly, reverently, until my breasts broke free, his eyes darkened, a sharp inhale of air rattling through his chest.
"Fuck, Professor," he muttered, his hands covering my boobs, squeezing, molding, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until they pebbled hard.
"Do you know how long I've dreamed about this? About these?"
My head tilted backwards, and a gasp escaping from my throat when his mouth replaced his hands. Hot, wet, he sucked and licked, biting softly until I arched against him. His name fell from my lips again, traitorous and needy.
"Noah..."
He groaned into my skin. "Say it like that when I'm inside you."
I shuddered. The words should have stopped me, but instead they pushed me deeper into the blissful moment.
His hands moved down, tugging at my skirt, yanking the zipper with impatient fingers. The fabric slid down my thighs, pooling at my feet. I stepped out of it like I was under his command, my panties clung to me, soaked, ruined from his earlier teasing.
He hooked his thumbs under the waistband and dragged them down slowly, savoring every inch of bare skin he revealed. By the time I was standing naked before him, my heart was thundering so loudly I thought it might shake the windows.
Noah dropped to his knees.
The sight alone nearly undid me: my student, on the floor, staring at me like I was his last meal, like I was a walking goddess. His big hands spread my thighs, pushing them wide apart until I had no choice but to give him a full show of my pussy.
"Please," I whispered, shame burning hot in my cheeks.
He grinned wickedly. "Oh, I'm going to, Professor. I'm going to ruin you."
Then without warning, his mouth was on my clit.
I cried out, my hands flying to the desk behind me to steady myself as his tongue slid over my pussy in one long, hungry stroke. He devoured me, licking, sucking, groaning like I was his favorite sin, his grip on my thighs tightened, holding me open, keeping me from closing them around the unbearable intensity of his warm mouth.
Every flick of his tongue, every swirl over my clit sent fire racing through me. My hips bucked forward without my permission, grinding against his mouth, chasing the friction that had me arching my back all over again.
He looked up once, eyes blazing, lips glistening. "Taste so fucking sweet." Then he buried himself back between my legs, tongue thrusting deep, fucking me with his mouth.
I lost it. My moans filled the office, desperate and shameless. "Noah, oh god-yes, yes-don't stop-"
He didn't, he ate me like I was a five star meal, he ate me like he meant to break me apart piece by piece, sucking my clit, plunging his tongue inside me, switching between torment and bliss until I was shamelessly moaning his name. My legs trembled so badly he had to hold me upright, one arm wrapped around my waist as if I might collapse.
The orgasm hit sharp and violent, ripping through me with brutal force. My hands clutched his hair, yanking, grinding harder against his mouth as pleasure consumed me. I came screaming, wetness flooding his tongue, but still he didn't stop, licking me through the aftershocks until I was shaking uncontrollably.
"Noah-please-I can't-"
He pulled back at last, lips wet, chin glistening, eyes feral. "Oh, you're not done yet." He swirled his tongue over his wet lips, tasting me.
Before I could protest, he stood up, grabbing me by the waist and spinning me. My hips slammed against the desk, the papers scattering like confetti across the floor.
I barely caught my breath before I felt him behind me, the hard, unyielding press of his cock against my ass. He'd already freed himself, his length was hot and throbbing against my bare skin.
Terror and desire crashed inside me. "No, we can't-"
"Yes, we can," he growled in my ear, grinding against me. "And we will."
He spun me back around, facing him, he kissed me hard, his tongue silencing every weak protest, and I tasted myself in his mouth. His hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it a few times before lining up against my slick, swollen slit.
"Noah-" I tried again, but it came out a broken moan.
"Shhh," he whispered, his forehead pressed to mine. "Let me in, Professor. I'll make you mine."
And then he pushed it in, in one strong thrust.
The stretch hurt at first, tight and overwhelming, and my nails dug into his shoulders. He groaned, head tilting back, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck-you feel even better than I imagined."
He slid deeper, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt, and his balls were the only thing hanging out. The sensation stole my breath, my pussy clenching around him instinctively. He held still, letting me adjust, kissing me softly, surprisingly tender in the middle of his ruthless claiming.
Then he started to move.
Slow at first, dragging out every inch, pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting back in hard enough to make the desk shake slowly. My gasp echoed in the room, sharp and needy.
"Noah-oh god-"
"That's it," he panted, his pace quickening, slamming into me harder, faster, until my desk creaked under the rhythm. "Take it, Professor. Take all of me."
Each thrust sent sparks exploding through me. My body met his greedily, rocking back, desperate, reckless. My breasts bounced with every motion, my hands scrambling for balance, looking for something to grab, something to hold onto but finding only him, always him.
"You're mine now," he growled, biting at my neck, leaving marks that would damn me. "Say it."
"I'm, fuck-I'm yours," I cried, the words ripped out of me in between gasps and moans.
"That's right," he snarled, driving harder, deeper, until I could feel him everywhere. "Mine."
The coil in my belly snapped violently, pleasure ripping through me so intensely I screamed. My nails raked down his back, my pussy clamping tight around him as wave after wave of orgasm tore through me.
"You're so fucking tight." He cursed.
Hips pounding faster, chasing his own release. With a final thrust, he buried himself deep, groaning my name as he spilled hot cum inside me, filling me completely. The sensation dragged another shuddering climax out of me, leaving me shaking, wrecked, and satisfied.
We collapsed together against the desk, panting, sweat-slicked, clinging to each other like we'd just survived a war.
For a long moment, the only sound in the office was our ragged breathing.
Finally, Noah pulled back just enough to look at me. His lips curved into a wicked, satisfied smile.
"This isn't the end," he whispered, brushing his thumb over my swollen lips. "It's just the start."
And god help me, I believed him.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like

7.7
In their first year of marriage, Melinda's husband never shared her bed, and the loneliness became a craving.
She understood why after catching him kissing her sister-she was just a stand-in.
When that restless craving finally sharpened into an ailment, she went to the hospital and met a doctor whose steady hands almost unraveled her.
The next day, he showed up as the company's new CEO and made her his assistant.
"Sir, I have a husband. Stop hitting on me." She had tried to resist, but eventually, she still became his girlfriend.
Her ex begged tearfully, "Melinda, let's start over. Don't leave me."
Melinda huffed, "Sorry. I'm not interested in a man who couldn't perform in bed."

9.2
Rebirth with a Twist.
Fawn Jones doesn't get a chance to resolve the issues with her marriage. No, she gets murdered in her own bathtub. Drowned by the husband she hated after he had moved his mistress into their bed, Fawn's last lucid thought is a promise before death. "I will not stay weak. I will make you pay. If not in this life, then the next." Then she wakes up. Different room. Different body. Different life. Cassandra Huntington – rich, infamous, beautiful in a way Fawn never had been. Cassie had been in a coma for six months after a car crash. Her billionaire husband, Blake, had just signed the paperwork to turn off her life support when she suddenly started breathing on her own. Now everyone thinks Fawn is Cassandra. The media calls it a miracle. Blake calls it complicated. The woman wearing his wife's face is softer, sharper, funnier... and so tempting he hates himself for wanting her. Fawn calls it an opportunity for revenge. Her killers are still out there. Her old body is in the ground under a lie. And the only weapons she has now are Cassandra's money, Cassandra's reputation... and Cassandra's husband. So, she plays the role. Learns to walk in six-inch heels. Smiles for the cameras. Seduces a man who once couldn't stand his wife and now can't seem to stay away from her. While she quietly buys into the company that ruined her old life. While she gets close enough to the man who killed her to watch him crack. They drowned the wrong woman. Now she's awake. And she's not done.

7.4
"I wanted to ruin her. Instead, I craved her."
Revenge was all Clemente Cassano ever lived for. The son of Sicily's most feared mafia leader, he swore to destroy the man who betrayed his family. His plan was simple-break the daughter, Vivian Gustavo, and watch her father burn.
But Vivian wasn't fragile. She was fire-untouchable, ruthless, intoxicating. And the deeper Santiago pulled her into his darkness, the more he realized she wasn't his enemy... she was his weakness.

8.0
I sat at a table for two in the center of Le Coucou, clutching a gift box that had cost me two months of savings. It was our three-year anniversary, and I was waiting for Gavin to finally ask the big question.
But when the heavy oak doors opened, Gavin didn't walk toward me with a ring. He walked in with a polished blonde heiress tucked under his arm, her hand resting protectively over a small baby bump.
"This is Tiffany Stone. My fiancée," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't apologize for being late or for the three years we'd spent together. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid a ten-thousand-dollar check across the white tablecloth.
"Consider it severance for your time," he added, as Tiffany mocked my cheap drugstore dress. "Don't contact me again. Tiffany doesn't need the stress." I was the entertainment for the entire restaurant—the pathetic girl dumped for a better model. By the time I walked out into the rain, I had lost my boyfriend, my home, and the funding for my secret medical research project.
I was an orphan with no safety net, facing an eviction notice and a ruined career. I had given Gavin everything, and he had discarded me like a broken tool. The injustice burned in my chest, a hot, sharp rage that replaced my tears.
Desperate and freezing, I ducked into a coffee shop where I met Colton Bentley, a reclusive billionaire in a wheelchair. After I defended him from a cruel date, he offered me a contract: a marriage of convenience and a seven-figure payment to act as his shield. I signed the papers that night, ready to use his wealth to rebuild my life. But as I watched my new husband navigate his penthouse, I noticed his "paralyzed" legs tense with a strength that shouldn't exist.

8.8
After three years together, the man who had once promised to marry me, Babur Caldwell, threw me out the moment he got into Redmont University.
"Valeria, a pretty little fool who only knows how to dress up, how could you ever be worthy of someone like me, a future elite of Gilded Row?"
Later, when I, Valerie Quinn, became the Financial Queen admired by thousands, he knelt in front of me, sobbing, begging for another chance.
Holding the bouquet Kearney Smith had sent me, I answered in the same tone he had once used. "Sorry, Babur, someone as short-sighted as you isn't worthy of an elite like me."

8.0
I spent ten years as the ward of Kason Oneal, the ruthless Underboss of the city's most dangerous crime family. He saved me when I was a child, raised me, and made me believe I was his queen.
But the moment his ex-girlfriend, Dalia, returned, the illusion shattered.
Kason demanded I return the jade pendant—the one he had hand-carved for my sixteenth birthday—just so he could hang it around Dalia's neck. To him, I was suddenly nothing more than a placeholder who had kept his bed warm.
The cruelty didn't stop there. He stood by and watched as Dalia shredded my clothes with scissors, laughing at my tears.
When I collapsed on the floor in agony from acute appendicitis, Kason didn't call an ambulance. Instead, he dragged me to a shady clinic, accusing me of faking a pregnancy to trap him. He ordered the doctor to "terminate it" while I was dying of sepsis on the table.
He called me trash. He called me property. He stripped away every ounce of dignity I had left, all to please a woman who was lying to his face.
I realized then that the hero who saved me when I was ten was dead. I was done begging for scraps of affection from a monster.
Trembling, I walked to the phone and dialed the number of the one man Kason feared most—his sworn enemy, Hadley Payne.
"Tell him yes," I whispered into the receiver. "I accept the arrangement. I will marry him."
Kason thought he could break me. Instead, he was about to watch his "property" become the Queen of the rival family.