Teacher's pet
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
21,125
Reviews:
66
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
21,125
Reviews:
66
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Teacher's pet
DISCLAIMER: all characters are fictional and created by me...
TEACHER’S PET
She’s in her mid-twenties. I had the audacity to ask her today, before class: she answered sweetly, with a smile. Thank heavens she wasn’t insulted.
Miss Brahms is my English teacher. I think this is his her first year as a teacher, but I haven’t asked her yet. It must be, since she’s so young. I remember the first day of school, when she walked into the classroom, dressed in a skirt and a light, almost transparent blouse. I thought I was going to fall off my chair. She looked gorgeous: like a vision of beauty, come on this earth just to taunt me. She had her long, black hair back in a ponytail, and was wearing that small pair of glasses with the red trim that she always wears. The first thing I saw were her lips: they were full and pouting, highlighted with a lipstick of the most beautiful red I’d ever seen. Then her breasts, scarcely contained in the flimsy blouse: I swear I could see the black lace of her bra. Then her legs, in light nylon stockings, and her feet, in red high-heeled shoes. I must have stared at those legs for half an hour, missing most of her introduction and first lesson. She was like nothing I’d ever seen before: by the end of that period, I had fallen madly in love with her.
I already knew, by that time, that I was attracted to girls. By the time I was sixteen, all of my sexual fantasies included girls and women. I even have a Playboy hidden under my mattress that I masturbate to occasionally. Despite my fantasies, I’ve never had the courage to approach another girl. I don’t know why: at seventeen, I am – if I say so myself – quite a pretty girl, and some of my friends have even told me they’re jealous of my body. Still, whenever I feel attracted to another girl, my knees get weak and I decide to wait it out, secretly wanting her but never doing anything about it.
So here I am, in another English class, frustrated to an unbearable degree by the gorgeous teacher before me. She’s wearing the shortest skirt I’ve ever seen her wear today, a black silky thing that hardly seems to cover her bottom. Her pink blouse is not much more modest: it seems a bit too small around her impressive chest, and it’s open just one button farther down than would noly bly be considered decent. I’m pretty sure her outfit violates school policy, but I don’t care: the boldness of it gives me plenty of opportunity to fantasize about her. I watch her intently, standing there, half turned to the blackboard. I look at the profile of her breasts, at her lips, moving slowly, enunciating every word she’s written down: I watch as those lips pout, draw back, open, and close; I imagine I’m kissing them, pressing my lips against them while she’s saying those words. I picture her tongue slowly entering my mouth, while she slides her arms around me and gently squeezes my bottom…
I shift uneasily in my chair. The period has only just begun, and already I’m turned on. She reaches for her book on the table: it slips from her fingers and falls on the ground. No one laughs: I’m sure almost everyone in the classroom feels the same way about her that I do. She bends down to pick it up, her ass turned to me. My heart s a s a beat: I swear I can see her red panties peeking from under her skirt. I wonder if anyone else saw it. Why did she turn her back to me when she went to pick it up? I feel myself get damp, and I get the uncontrollable urge to touch myself. Frantically, I close my eyes, trying to focus on the lesson. It’s no use: I can hear her seductive voice, and I have to open my eyes again. I can see she’s glancing at me, looking up from her book, and smiling almost mischievously. I look away, but the warmth in my pussy continues to grow. I rub my ass back and forth against my seat, trying to look calm, as Ms. Brahms slowly and clearly reads the sonnet out loud.
“The little Love-god lying once asleep
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand…”
I can’t take it. My fantasies are out of control. Looking round nervously, I bring my right hand to my crotch. Fortunately, the school uniform, with its knee-length skirt, gives me easy access: I hitch up the skirt and touch my panties.
”Whilst many nymphs that vow\'d chaste life to keep
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand…”
I feel how wet I am, even through the fabric of my panties. Staring at Ms. Brahms intently, I start to rub the folds of my pussy through the cotton. I look at her legs, perfectly adorned by those light stockings. I imagine pushing them apart and forcing my hand between them, feeling her wetness as I am now feeling mine. Breathing more heavily, I pull my panties aside and run a finger between my wet folds.
”The fairest votary took up that fire
Which many legions of true hearts had warm\'d,”
Thinking how much I want her, I plunge two fingers in my pussy, no longer worried that anyone might see: my only concern is to get off on this wonderful woman, so close to me and yet so unattainable.
”And so the General of hot desire
Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm\'d…”
My thumb is on my clit, rubbing frantically. My pussy is dripping wet. I stare at Ms. Brahms’ red shoes: I picture myself on my knees, kissing them, working my way up her legs until I reach her warm, wet centre. I stick out my tongue between my teeth, only slightly. Carefully, I slide my hips forward on my chair to give myself greater access.
”This brand she quenched in a cool well by,
Which from Love\'s fire took heat perpetual…”
I’m fucking myself, fast, passionately. I try to moan under my breath. The other students are listening intently to Ms. Brahms, not noticing me. I feel my muscles tense: my orgasm is not far off.
“Growing a bath and healthful remedy
For men diseas\'d. But, I, my mistress\' thrall…”
I close my eyes, bucking my hips against my hand, trying not to make the chair rock. Throwing my head back, I squeeze my legs shut around my fingers, and pump harder. I imagine Ms. Brahms sucking my nipples, her hand inside me, grinding at my clit. My whole body starts to tingle, as if I’m being dipped in a warm hot bath.
”Came there for cure; and this by that I prove…”
I feel it coming: I brace myself for the release, clutching the seat of the chair with my free hand and locking my feet into place against the legs of the table.
”Love\'s fire heats water, water cools not love.”
I cum. I bite my lip to keep from screaming, as the waves of my orgasm surge through my sweaty body. I feel my juices squirt on my hand, no doubt soiling my skirt in the process. Breathing heavily, I open my eyes. Ms Brahms has put the book down and is pointing to the blackboard again. I can see she’s looking at me from the corner of her eyes. I smile. This time, I don’t look away.
TEACHER’S PET
She’s in her mid-twenties. I had the audacity to ask her today, before class: she answered sweetly, with a smile. Thank heavens she wasn’t insulted.
Miss Brahms is my English teacher. I think this is his her first year as a teacher, but I haven’t asked her yet. It must be, since she’s so young. I remember the first day of school, when she walked into the classroom, dressed in a skirt and a light, almost transparent blouse. I thought I was going to fall off my chair. She looked gorgeous: like a vision of beauty, come on this earth just to taunt me. She had her long, black hair back in a ponytail, and was wearing that small pair of glasses with the red trim that she always wears. The first thing I saw were her lips: they were full and pouting, highlighted with a lipstick of the most beautiful red I’d ever seen. Then her breasts, scarcely contained in the flimsy blouse: I swear I could see the black lace of her bra. Then her legs, in light nylon stockings, and her feet, in red high-heeled shoes. I must have stared at those legs for half an hour, missing most of her introduction and first lesson. She was like nothing I’d ever seen before: by the end of that period, I had fallen madly in love with her.
I already knew, by that time, that I was attracted to girls. By the time I was sixteen, all of my sexual fantasies included girls and women. I even have a Playboy hidden under my mattress that I masturbate to occasionally. Despite my fantasies, I’ve never had the courage to approach another girl. I don’t know why: at seventeen, I am – if I say so myself – quite a pretty girl, and some of my friends have even told me they’re jealous of my body. Still, whenever I feel attracted to another girl, my knees get weak and I decide to wait it out, secretly wanting her but never doing anything about it.
So here I am, in another English class, frustrated to an unbearable degree by the gorgeous teacher before me. She’s wearing the shortest skirt I’ve ever seen her wear today, a black silky thing that hardly seems to cover her bottom. Her pink blouse is not much more modest: it seems a bit too small around her impressive chest, and it’s open just one button farther down than would noly bly be considered decent. I’m pretty sure her outfit violates school policy, but I don’t care: the boldness of it gives me plenty of opportunity to fantasize about her. I watch her intently, standing there, half turned to the blackboard. I look at the profile of her breasts, at her lips, moving slowly, enunciating every word she’s written down: I watch as those lips pout, draw back, open, and close; I imagine I’m kissing them, pressing my lips against them while she’s saying those words. I picture her tongue slowly entering my mouth, while she slides her arms around me and gently squeezes my bottom…
I shift uneasily in my chair. The period has only just begun, and already I’m turned on. She reaches for her book on the table: it slips from her fingers and falls on the ground. No one laughs: I’m sure almost everyone in the classroom feels the same way about her that I do. She bends down to pick it up, her ass turned to me. My heart s a s a beat: I swear I can see her red panties peeking from under her skirt. I wonder if anyone else saw it. Why did she turn her back to me when she went to pick it up? I feel myself get damp, and I get the uncontrollable urge to touch myself. Frantically, I close my eyes, trying to focus on the lesson. It’s no use: I can hear her seductive voice, and I have to open my eyes again. I can see she’s glancing at me, looking up from her book, and smiling almost mischievously. I look away, but the warmth in my pussy continues to grow. I rub my ass back and forth against my seat, trying to look calm, as Ms. Brahms slowly and clearly reads the sonnet out loud.
“The little Love-god lying once asleep
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand…”
I can’t take it. My fantasies are out of control. Looking round nervously, I bring my right hand to my crotch. Fortunately, the school uniform, with its knee-length skirt, gives me easy access: I hitch up the skirt and touch my panties.
”Whilst many nymphs that vow\'d chaste life to keep
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand…”
I feel how wet I am, even through the fabric of my panties. Staring at Ms. Brahms intently, I start to rub the folds of my pussy through the cotton. I look at her legs, perfectly adorned by those light stockings. I imagine pushing them apart and forcing my hand between them, feeling her wetness as I am now feeling mine. Breathing more heavily, I pull my panties aside and run a finger between my wet folds.
”The fairest votary took up that fire
Which many legions of true hearts had warm\'d,”
Thinking how much I want her, I plunge two fingers in my pussy, no longer worried that anyone might see: my only concern is to get off on this wonderful woman, so close to me and yet so unattainable.
”And so the General of hot desire
Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm\'d…”
My thumb is on my clit, rubbing frantically. My pussy is dripping wet. I stare at Ms. Brahms’ red shoes: I picture myself on my knees, kissing them, working my way up her legs until I reach her warm, wet centre. I stick out my tongue between my teeth, only slightly. Carefully, I slide my hips forward on my chair to give myself greater access.
”This brand she quenched in a cool well by,
Which from Love\'s fire took heat perpetual…”
I’m fucking myself, fast, passionately. I try to moan under my breath. The other students are listening intently to Ms. Brahms, not noticing me. I feel my muscles tense: my orgasm is not far off.
“Growing a bath and healthful remedy
For men diseas\'d. But, I, my mistress\' thrall…”
I close my eyes, bucking my hips against my hand, trying not to make the chair rock. Throwing my head back, I squeeze my legs shut around my fingers, and pump harder. I imagine Ms. Brahms sucking my nipples, her hand inside me, grinding at my clit. My whole body starts to tingle, as if I’m being dipped in a warm hot bath.
”Came there for cure; and this by that I prove…”
I feel it coming: I brace myself for the release, clutching the seat of the chair with my free hand and locking my feet into place against the legs of the table.
”Love\'s fire heats water, water cools not love.”
I cum. I bite my lip to keep from screaming, as the waves of my orgasm surge through my sweaty body. I feel my juices squirt on my hand, no doubt soiling my skirt in the process. Breathing heavily, I open my eyes. Ms Brahms has put the book down and is pointing to the blackboard again. I can see she’s looking at me from the corner of her eyes. I smile. This time, I don’t look away.