Summer Songs

By Sandy Monroe

Contents

Hot for Teacher by ThothAcolyte
My Favorite...Martian? by Xandra Fraser
Little Rude Girl by Penthesword
The Bookworm & the Surfer by NymphWriter
Sex on Fire by Andrea Detroit
London Calling by Midnight Cowboy
Stroker Ace by Lilah E.Noir
I Really Love Rock And Roll by Sandy Monroe

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandy Monroe
• Release date: Jul 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310445453

Sandy Monroe

Sandy Monroe is a university educated, busy European woman who loves to write erotic stories. Of course she writes about what she knows, so as you read the book, you're looking over her shoulder as she creates the steamy sex scenes. Who'd have guessed such an innocent-looking office worker would have fetishes that would make a porn star blush? She loves to cook pasta, soups, and desserts with her fiancé and to give him blow jobs for breakfast. Besides sex, writing, and cooking, she also likes yoga, reading, and an occasional drink of liquor. Sandy Monroe's email: [e-mail] Feedback is appreciated.

Book preview

Summer Songs

A porn story anthology

Summer Songs

A porn story anthology

Selected and edited by Sandy Monroe

Hot For Teacher

Copyright 2015 ThothAcolyte

My Favorite...Martian?

Copyright 2015 Xandra Fraser

Little Rude Girl

Copyright 2015 Penthesword

The Bookworm & the Surfer

Copyright 2015 NymphWriter

Sex on Fire

Copyright 2015 Andrea Detroit

London Calling

Copyright 2015 Midnight Cowboy

Stroker Ace

Copyright 2015 Lilah E. Noir

I Really Love Rock And Roll

Copyright 2015 Sandy Monroe

These stories are for adult readers only

Published by Sandy Monroe at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

Cover design by Erika Foxx.

Contents

Introduction by Sandy Monroe

Hot for Teacher by ThothAcolyte

My Favorite...Martian? by Xandra Fraser

Little Rude Girl by Penthesword

The Bookworm & the Surfer by NymphWriter

Sex on Fire by Andrea Detroit

London Calling by Midnight Cowboy

Stroker Ace by Lilah E.Noir

I Really Love Rock And Roll by Sandy Monroe

List of Songs

Introduction

by Sandy Monroe

Are you sitting at a beach, having a cocktail and would like to read some hot stories right now? This anthology is your perfect choice. You will find hot summer stories aligned with famous songs here.

I hope the readers of this anthology will have much fun reading these hot stories -- I sure had reading and editing them.

Wishing you sexy reads and a hot summer!

Hot For Teacher

by ThothAcolyte

Ow! Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad, I’m hot for teacher! I’ve got it bad, so bad, I’m hot for teacher!

I walk to class as I did every week, playing the same damn song I always listen to on Friday. Normally I wasn’t one for reflective music, but I never really expected Van Halen to so perfectly encapsulate my life.

The summer semester was just about halfway over (although calling it a semester is a bit of a stretch since I’m only taking one summer class). As I walk, simultaneously cursing the blazing heat and enjoying Van Halen’s masterpiece, my thoughts turned to my amazing art professor, as they always do during my afternoon commute.

My college isn’t really known for its art program, but I enjoyed it as a hobby, so I had enrolled in a few classes, one of which happened to be a four hour friday summer class with Professor Song.

And as Van Halen so profoundly envisioned, I’ve got it bad. Song was a gorgeous woman in her mid-thirties (I guessed) of Korean descent. Her grandparents had moved to America from South Korea when they were young, so she was the second generation to be born here. She was about my height, somewhere around 5’9 or 5’10, and had a bombshell body with huge, perfect tits and a round, firm ass. Of course, her amazing body alone wasn’t enough. She also had perfect coffee-colored skin, long black hair, and a mature yet sexy face that managed to give the impression of an experienced adult with the heart of a kind schoolgirl. Oh, and she wore glasses. I’ve always had a thing for glasses.

Every friday, as I walk to Professor Song’s art class, I listen to Hot for Teacher and imagine doing unspeakable and perverted things to her. Every friday, as I sit through her class, I have to struggle to pay attention to the lesson, and my art, rather than this asian goddess’ unbelievable body. And every friday, I leave the classroom with a raging erection, both frustrated and already looking forward to next week’s class period.

As I mentioned, I’ve got it bad. Soooo bad.

Anyway, the class period today is reserved for getting a rough draft of our final projects done, and I was kind of in hot water on that front. The lesson itself started fairly normally, with four out of the five students showing up and starting to sketch, and the final one arriving late as usual. Professor Song scolded him halfheartedly about being tardy, then sent him off to practice rough drafts of his final project like everyone else. Our class final was due at the end of the summer semester, and it was supposed to be a drawing or painting of anything we wanted. Of course, my thoughts were unceasingly occupied with Professor Song’s beautiful body, so my hand naturally gravitated towards a female figure drawing.

However, as the crumpled pages piled up on the floor around my stool, I grew ever more vexed at my own inability to put to paper that which at this very moment flounced around the classroom, critiquing the student’s art and driving my hormones nuts.

All I’d managed so far were innumerable half-baked sketches of vaguely defined women in various poses, all of which fall marvelously short of both Song’s brilliant figure and my own standards for quality.

Mark, honey, are you doing all right? You have more discarded drafts than anyone else the class. Professor Song remarks in concern as she approaches my workstation.

Fuckfuckfuck, I thought, shifting nervously and hoping my cock would behave itself for once. Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just having a hard time getting the proportions right. I say, tossing aside another attempt. Professor Song bent down and picked it up, her half-unbuttoned blouse parting to reveal a sexy black bra and cleavage deeper than Tartarus itself.

I swallowed and avert my eyes as she uncrumples my sketch and looks it over. Hmm, Mark, this is good enough for a rough draft, why did you throw it away? She asks, looking at me over her glasses with those brown, almond-shaped eyes.

Inwardly yelling at my heart to start beating again, I manage to reply: I just can’t seem to get the figure down properly. I mean, I know what I want it to look like, I’m just not sure how to get there…

Hm. Are you doing anything today? She asks.

The question catches me off guard. Um, no, not today.

Excellent. In that case, would you mind seeing me after class?

Oh. Uh, sure, since I’m not busy… I reply, unsure of how to feel about this development.

Lovely. I think we can make some progress then. She says, and trots off to the next student, her incredible butt stretching her tight skirt to its limits.

Fantastic. She probably thought I was so bad, I needed extracurricular lessons. On the other hand, I did get to spend more time with her, alone even, but still, I didn’t like the thought of being behind everyone else. And to top it all off, I had spectacularly failed to prevent a raging erection, and now had a ferocious bulge in my pants to contend with. I returned my futile exercises, crying internally.

After class was over, everyone but me packed up their shit and left, glad to be free for the rest of the day. I toss aside yet another draft and sigh in frustration. Giving up drawing for a bit, I just sit and watch Professor Song clean up the art room. She scampered around the studio, picking up pieces of paper and wiping up paint off of tables, her voluptuous chest jiggling tantalizingly with every movement, her ass flexing and straining against her skirt. I went into a sort of daze just watching her move, such that I didn’t even realize I was staring until she came over to clean up the crumpled tsunami I had created.

Oh, no, Professor Song, I’ll get it- I say apologetically as I get down on the floor beside her to pick up my mess.

It’s fine! She says, smiling while inadvertently giving me another amazing glimpse down her blouse. I feel myself turning red and turn to pick up some other stray papers.

We clean up the rest of the room in awkward silence, although Professor Song didn’t seem to be bothered by it. Then again, nothing seemed to bother her at all.

Once everything had been put in order, I set my sketchpad and pencils on the nearest table and sat down, unsure of what to do with myself.

Thanks for the help! Song says brightly, sitting down across from me. So, you want to do a realistic drawing of a woman for your final project?

Yeah, but it’s not going too great… I respond somewhat dejectedly.

No, it’s fine, but doesn’t that seem a little contrived for you?

Well, I thought about giving up and drawing something else, but this is all that seems to come to mind. I admit sheepishly.

It’s not a problem. If you’re sure this is what you want to do, then I’m happy to help.

So, um, why did you call me here after class? I ask nervously.

Oh! It’s not that I think you’re incapable or anything! She says quickly, which makes me feel a little better. It’s just that I think the reason you can’t get the figure you want is because you lack a proper reference.

Um, maybe, but diagrams and pictures can only get me so far… I say, thinking about the various images I’d already downloaded to try and help me, all of which were subsequently discarded.

Yes, obviously pictures wouldn’t help a lot at the level of quality you’re aiming for! Professor Song said. That’s why you need a real model!

Yeah, that’s what-wait, hang on a minute! I protest, realizing what she was saying. I don’t have the kind of money to hire a model, especially for an elective class!

Of course not, I realize college students these days are on a tight budget. Song responds, leaning forward (and once more giving a good view of her cleavage). "That’s why I’ll model for you."

My mind went blank for a second. Wha-? I stutter in disbelief.

From what I’ve seen, the body type you’re trying to draw is pretty close to mine, so I’ll just pose for you for a bit so you can get a proper sketch down. How about it? She asks brightly.

This is unbelievable. There is no way I can let this chance slip by. Could this offer seriously be real? Well, okay, I mean...if you’re really fine with it? I say, caught between doubt and hope.

Of course! Anything for my most dedicated student! She says enthusiastically. Set up your station over there, and I’ll go get ready. Having said this, she got up and left the room.

In a state of disbelief, nervousness, and anticipation, I got up from the table and set up my sketchpad and stool where she had indicated, next to the small carpeted stage area where models would pose for the higher level classes. As I finished setting up and sat down, the classroom door opens and Professor Song walks in, wearing her long coat.

Alright, let’s get this show on the road! She says enthusiastically as she shuts the door behind her and strides over to the platform. Turning away from me, she opens her coat and sweeps it off her shoulders in one swift motion.

I almost fall off my stool. She’s wearing nothing but a lacy black bra and panties, which barely hid 10% of her perfect, toned ass. She hangs her coat on the hook and twirls around, causing me to almost fall off my stool once more. Her giant, DD boobs were spilling out of their black silk confines (such as they were, being just as skimpy as the panties). My eyes roam unabashedly over her blushing face, her slender neck, her amazing cleavage, her smooth stomach, her wide hips, and her long legs.

Then I snapped back to reality just in time to stop myself from drooling.

Mrs. Song giggles at my reaction. Well? She asks, as if she doesn’t already know my mind.

Beautiful… I croak. I blush, but I am so nervous right now it was all I could do to force out that one word.

Thanks! She says happily, before turning and stepping up onto the stage, her butt jiggling and her breasts bouncing as she moved. So, I thought we’d start with just a basic pose, then move on to some more difficult ones, and see which composition you like the best, then you can do a complete drawing with the one you choose.

O-Okay. I stammer. She sits down on a stool, legs together, and clasps her hands in her lap, her upper arms pressing her breasts together and pushing them up slightly, just like a pin-up model.

Frankly, at this point I was just glad that the easel and sketch pad were directly between her line of sight and my crotch, because my dick was at full mast and ready for action.

Okay, start sketching! I can’t hold this for too long, you know, so just do some rough 20 minute sketches for each pose, and we can go from there. Go on, don’t be shy!

Y-yeah, alright. I respond, wondering how I could possibly not be shy in this situation, but take in as much as I can with one long look regardless. Then I start to draw.

Inspired doesn’t even begin to describe it. I have been having problems drawing for over a week, and now the object of my fantasies was sitting here, mostly nude, just for me. Besides being on cloud nine right now, I feel like it would be downright disrespectful to do a poor job in this situation.

So I draw like a man possessed, the pencil moving across the page of its own volition, perfecting those curves and angles that had eluded me before. I outline her angular asian features, trace the lines of her neck down to her collarbone, fill in her delicate shoulders, fold the marks of her pelvis down between her clasped thighs, and render the gently squashed breasts just above her soft, flat belly.

But before I knew it, Professor Song was calling time and adjusting her body. I turn the page on my sketchbook and whip out another quality figure, this time of her lying on her side with her cupping her cheek in her hand, her pinky stuck seductively in the corner of her mouth.

For another hour and a half or so we followed this pattern, with each of her poses becoming progressively more suggestive, with the final one being her draped backwards over the stool, her silky black hair cascading down towards the floor, her breasts thrust upward, one leg bent and the other extended, her belly stretched and her back arched. It actually looked quite difficult to hold, so I tried finish quickly.

Alright, I think that’s all we need for today. Professor Song says, getting up and stretching. I reluctantly put down my pencil. Okay, let’s see how you did! She exclaims excitedly, and trots over to my easel. My nervousness (which I had forgotten in the midst of my drawing) swiftly returned as she moved in close behind me, still wearing nothing but her underwear. I could smell her vanilla perfume as she reaches out and turns to the first sketch I had done.

Oh, wow! This is really good! She exclaims, peering over her glasses at my work, and my heart shivers against my ribs. This one too! She says proudly as she turns the page. With each compliment, my spirits soar and my nervousness once again fades, until she reaches the final sketch. These are all very good, Mark. Professor Song says in an impressed tone of voice. I especially like the last one, even if it did hurt my back a little. She says with a giggle. Yes, I think any one of these could easily be the rough draft of your final. Of course, they’re not perfect, but you can make any necessary adjustments when you start your final project.

Thanks, Professor Song. It was all thanks to you. I say, turning to look at her. As I turn my head, I start slightly when I notice that her head was positioned just above my shoulder, causing our faces to be no more than an inch apart.

It was my pleasure! She replies, smiling. I swallow nervously, but don’t dare to move from this position, a million thoughts and feelings racing through my brain. In fact… She whispers, staring at