Miss Prissy and Other Stories

By Peter Birch, Scarlett Knight, Sommer Marsden and Carla Croft

This sexy collection from House of Erotica brings together four hot stories of sexuality and unbridled passion by four of House of Erotica's top-selling authors!

Don't miss out on this exclusive anthology of sexy short tales. The stories include Miss Prissy by Peter Birch, The Emerald Room by Scarlett Knight, Buckle Down by Sommer Marsden and Jean by Carla Croft.

• Language: English
• Publisher: House of Erotica
• Release date: Apr 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781782348696

Book preview

Miss Prissy

Leila Hunt was a teacher at the local secondary school. We see her go past every morning and back in the afternoon, so perfect with her smart heel clip-clopping up the road, her slim legs in stockings, her knee length skirt and jacket, her crisp white blouse and the little black ribbon tie she always wore. It was like a uniform for her and any other woman would have looked frumpy in it. Not Leila, because even with her glasses and her hair up in a tight bun she was a dream. Just to watch her bum wiggle under that skirt made my cock stand to attention, and for all her effort to look neat and respectable it was obvious she had a hard find finding blouses that would hold her in properly with being too baggy around her waist. Stripped down she’d have looked like a centrefold.

I wanted her from the first day I saw her, and I thought: why not? She was about my age and if I wasn’t quite in her league looks wise, then I’m not a bad catch. My income had to be three times what hers was for a start, so you’d think she’d would at least have been up for a date to see how we got on. Not a bit of it. I thought I played it well, looking sharp when I approached her, making sure she saw the 7 series and knew it was mine, asking a straight question: could I buy her a coffee or a glass of wine at the place across the road?

I didn’t just get turned down. I got looked at as if I was a flasher, or some dirty old man who’d asked if she’d give him the knickers she was wearing, seriously. Her nose went up in the air, she gave a little sniff and walked straight on by, still wiggling that sexy little rump all the way to the corner. I’d expected at least a smile, and I was so taken aback I just stood there in the street, gaping like a goldfish. The boys in the office thought it was hilarious, but I noticed that none of then tried their luck, because every single one of them knew that if that was the reaction I got then he’d get worse.

We reckoned she had to be a lesbian. It was the only explanation that made sense. After all, if she was with somebody she’d still have been flattered and could either have given me a polite refusal or taken a chance that I might prove a better deal than the boyfriend. If she had no interest at all, then it had to be that she preferred girls. That was a thought to make you sweat. I mean, what a waste, to think of that gorgeous woman out of bounds because she’s a carpet muncher, but that wasn’t so bad, because at least if I wasn’t going to get to dip my wick, then nor was anybody else. No, what really got me was the thought of her getting down to it with her girlfriend. I couldn’t see her with some hairy diesel dyke,