I have quite a few drabbles which go past the T rating. They're not explicit sex as such, but more smutty than the other ones I've been posting. The M rating could also be because of adult themes and/or the odd swear word.
The first one I'll start with was written for the 'happy new year' challenge. It's a/u obviously. :) And really quite silly! But hey, it was an indulgent bit of fluff for the holiday and a friend's birthday.
Title: Hot for the Teacher
Working 60 hours a week took its toll and Laura's New Year's resolution was to get a hobby. She visited her local college and ran through the list of short courses on offer. She settled on pottery.
The first week she wondered if she'd turned up to the wrong class. Their instructor, Bill, looked like he'd be more adept with boxing gloves than a potter's wheel.
However, at the beginning of each lesson, he would give them a demonstration. His large hands moulded the clay with flair, making it look easy. He would then walk amongst his pupils; murmuring hints and encouragement.
Every time he stood behind her, the hair on the back of her neck would tingle, she'd suddenly grow ten thumbs, and any structure she had been creating would collapse before his (very blue, she'd noticed) eyes.
Tonight was no exception. "Slow down," he said, "be more patient."
She seethed; his calm demeanour was as frustrating as the mud she was trying to squeeze into some sort of shape.
At the end of the lesson, she still had nothing worthy of firing a kiln for.
She lingered at her turntable as everyone filed out of the workshop. She'd confess that she wouldn't be returning.
Suddenly, he sat down behind her and took her hands in his.
"Let me help," he spoke close to her ear. "You need to be wetter."
Not possible, she deliberately misinterpreted his words.
He splashed extra water onto her hands. She was distracted. She imagined sliding her messy hands against the muscles that refused to hide beneath the turtlenecks he wore.
"I think you'll get there eventually."
"Private lessons?" she suggested, turning.
"It's not my usual practice."
Her breasts heaved, wanting him to spread the slippery clay across them.
"I could make an exception."