After our brief tryst in the lounge things seemed to escalate between myself and Emma. I could no longer deny that what was happening between us was just sex, because we both knew we felt something. I do worry that perhaps those feelings are entirely based on a young, gorgeous girl being besotted with me, who makes me feel twenty years younger and has made me feel more virile than any time in my life. But then she is smart and funny too, I tell myself, and that’s plenty of reason to feel something back.
It’s definitely not because she’s some kind of nympho.
We start to fuck anywhere we can, meet anywhere we can. Our list, already full of dangerous liaisons that could get us both into a lot of trouble, extends to include the bathroom in a pub, a changing room in a department store and a house party hosted by one of her friends. The latter was the closest we’d come to being found out, as a teacher has no right to be in attendance at these parties and certainly has no right to be vigorously fucking someone half his age on the bed of said friend’s parents.