Teacher's pet

TEACHER’S PET (part 2)

Class is over. Around me, students storm out, while I slowly and reluctantly pack up my things. I flatten my skirt one last time, glancing for stains, and get up to walk out.

“I’d like to have a word with you before you go, Lucy.”

My heart skips a beat. The last student walks out of the classroom and closes the door behind her. Trembling, I turn around. Ms. Brahms is leaning against her desk, her hands beside her, looking as perfectly seductive as always. I clear my throat.

“Yes, miss Brahms?”

She takes a piece of paper from the desk and looks at it.

“I’ve corrected your paper. It was very good. I thought you’d like to know that.” She hands it to me: I take it, relieved. Smiling faintly, I turn around to leave.

“Lucy?”

I stop, frozen, panicked.

“One more thing.”

I turn roundin, in, facing her, trying to look as innocent as I can.

“Yes, miss Brahms?”

“I don’t think what you just did was very appropriate in a classroom, do you?”

I look down, deeply embarrassed. My heart starts pounding again.

“No, miss.”

“Besides,” – she pushes herself away from the desk and takes a step toward me – “I can’t imagine a girl as pretty as you would have to do that herself.”

I look up, startled. What does she mean by that? She is standing right in front of me, two inches taller, her black hair in a ponytail, her piercing blue eyes inspecting me from behind her small, square glasses. Her skin looks beautiful from up close, slightly pale, but soft and creamy, almost begging to be touched. And her lips! I realize once again that I’ve never seen more beautiful, deeply red lips, lightly pouting as if constantly asking to be kissed. My entire body trembles.

“Maybe it’s time someone else did it for you.”

She leans forward, putting her hand on my shoulder, and presses her lips on mine. I panic: without thinking, I pull back, breaking free from her. Dropping my paper, I turn around and run out of the class room. I hear the echoes of my own footsteps as I run through the hallway and out onto the playground, not daring to look back.

...

Evening. As I’m lying on my bed, thinking about what happened today, one word keeps echoing in my mind: stupid. Why did I run away like that? What was I afraid of? I have been wanting her to kiss me ever since I first saw her, and today, she almost did. What will she think of me now? I’m close to crying, clutching a teddy bear I haven’t touched for almost two years. As I absent-mindedly stroke its fur, I can’t help but imagine I’m running my fingers through her long, black hair, as we’re lockn oun our embrace on my bed.

“Maybe it’s time someone else did it for you.” Her words ring through my brain as clearly as when she said them, when their real meaning hadn’t jet fully sunk in. How could I have rejected an invitation like that? I toss and turn, trying to ban her from my mind, but it’s no use: the image of her wonderful face, so incredibly close to mine, keeps coming back to me. I feel my desire for her well up again, as I try to picture what would have happened if I hadn’t run away. I would have returned her kiss, softly at first, but growing in intensity, until I slowly opened my mouth to welcome her tongue, all the while feeling the shape of those exquisite lips on mine. She would undress me, sensuously, unbuttoning my blouse with her soft, long fingers…

I feel myself getting wet. I slip out of the school uniform I’m still wearing until I’m lying on my bed in my underwear. That will have to go soon too, but it’s okay for now. I start rubbing my left breast through the thin fabric of my bra, arching my back languidly, feeling my nipple harden. Pressing the teddy bear between my legs, I rub it up and down over my crotch, bucking my hips against it slowly. The pressure against my centre feels wonderful. Images of Ms. Brahms dancing naked before me flash through my mind: I can almost feel her wet lips on mine as I imagine it’s her hand fondling my breast, the weight of her lower body between my legs. Quickly, I unfasten my bra and toss it aside. I squeeze my naked breast, running my fingertips over the hard nipple. Pushing the teddy bear harder against my crotch, I start tugging at my nipple. In my mind, Ms Brahms has her delicate lips around it and is sucking my tit eagerly. I imagine the wonderful sucking noises she’d make, and my lust becomes unbearable: in a frenzy, I throw the teddy bear aside and wriggle out of my panties. Without wasting time, I plunge two fingers into my sopping pussy, while I press my panties against my face to sniff my own desire. I try to imagine what Ms. Brahms smells like, in the heat of her lust, her wet pussy pressed to my eager face, as I lap up her sweet juices with my tongue. Pumping my hand against my vagina, I listen to my own moans as they grow louder and louder; I can hear the sopping noises my wet centre makes as I thrust my fingers in and out of them. I need my release, badly. Pulling up my knees to give myself greater access, I start fucking myself with even greater intensity, my entire body bouncing on the mattress in time with the pumping motions of my hand. My thumb brushes over my clit like crazy, sending jolts of pleasure through my muscles. I tense up: while I picture Ms. Brahms divine body pressing down on top of me, my orgasm starts to build. My muscles shake and spasm as I cum, my warm juices gushing over my hand. I let out a long satisfied groan and drift into semi-consciousness, my bedroom nothing but a distant blur to my half-closed eyes. A knock on the door jerks me out of my trance.

“Honey? Are you alright?”

The voice of my mom, in the hallway. Obviously, she heard my cries of passion and came to check on me. Hastily, I pull a blanket over me as she opens the door and sticks her head in.

“I’m OK, mom. I just… fell asleep and had a bad dream, that’s all.”

She smiles. “That’s okay, sweetheart. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”

She disappears again. I let out a sigh of relief as I toss the blanket aside and start to gather my clothes. Picking up my damp panties, I promise myself not to run away next time Ms. Brahms makes a pass at me.