Fifty shades of hot teacher-on-middle-schooler sex is a book you can buy now
Hey, America: You can now explore the national epidemic of teacher-student sex romps in hardcover form (or in a Kindle edition, or via unabridged audible audio).
Alissa Nutting’s debut novel, Tampa (Ecco/HarperCollins) involves a very randy protagonist, 26-year-old middle-school teacher Celeste Price. She seduces a 14-year-old male student in hedonistic, sociopathic, American Psycho style.
There’s sex at the student’s house. There’s sex in the teacher’s empty classroom. There’s sex everywhere.
“I went to high school with a woman who became rather notorious on the news for sleeping with one of her students. Her name was Debra LaFave,” Nutting explains in a Cosmopolitan interview. “It got me thinking, ‘Well, what are some novels that are about female sexual psychopaths? I really didn’t have many references for that, and I felt like that was a void in transgressive literature that I wanted to fill.'”
LaFave is among the more notorious real-life characters in the dozens of teacher-sex stories of recent vintage. The married, blue-eyed, platinum-blonde former Florida English teacher was convicted in 2005 of having sex with a 14-year-old middle-school boy. Police officers allegedly snapped graphic nude photos of Lafave in stirrups when she was in jail.
The Daily Caller doesn’t typically prefer middle-school teacher porn for summer jaunts to the beach, and likely won’t make an exception here. A preview available at Amazon as well as Boing Boing does look pretty scintillating, though, if you are into this kind of thing.
The story begins:
“I spent the night before my first day of teaching in an excited loop of hushed masturbation on my side of the mattress, never falling asleep. To bed I’d worn, in secret, a silk chemise and sheer panties, beneath my robe of course, so that my husband, Ford, wouldn’t pillage me. He always wants to ruin the landscape.”
A later paragraph reads:
“Thinking about the boys I was hours away from meeting, the fruity syrup of body wash I slathered across my breasts seemed to ferment to an intoxicating alcohol in the air. I smiled imagining them breathing the fragrance of the green apple shampoo I worked into my blond locks; despite the chemical bitters its scented foam belied, when one frothing swath of hair slid down against my face I had to force it into my mouth and suck. Soon I felt so dizzy that I had to kneel down on the shower floor…”
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