School Appropriate Story
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
9,676
Reviews:
23
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
9,676
Reviews:
23
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.
Reality
Disclaimer: The events within are not real. Student/Teacher and some profanity.
To clarify, the last chapter was what Kristina wrote about her teacher.
Crystal=Kristina
Mr. David=Mr. Davis
“Dude, that is the most disgusting thing I have ever read, well except for that one story where this one chick was having sex with a horse, but still… This is our fucking history teacher!” Jenny exclaimed as she read what her friend had written the previous night. “What the hell compelled you to write this Kristina?!”
Jenny’s reaction was perfect in Kristina’s eyes. This was all an elaborate rouse, just to see her reaction. Kristina loved to shock… she was an Alice Cooper in her own right. Jenny had gagged 3 or 4 times reading it. The fact that they were in Mr. Davis’s classroom was also disturbing to Jenny, which was obvious when she had been reading the short story. She had looked at Mr. Davis in increasing intervals as she continued reading the story.
“I was bored. And I didn’t masturbate yesterday. That’s it.” She said, intentionally trailing off, and answering in a sarcastic voice. She was also twirling her hair with a minimal effort to look slightly innocent. She had masturbated yesterday.
“By the way, great creativity with the names. You shouldn’t have brought this to school. Can you imagine if somebody sees this…? Oh my God…” Jenny said, worried for her friend who lacked common sense.
“Hey, Joe, you wanna read a story I wrote?” Kristina asked the guy in front of her as the bell rung.
Mr. Davis stood up as Kristina passed the story to Joe. Mr. Davis began the class by telling a story of his youth. In less than a minute, the entire class was hanging on every word that fell from his mouth. He was an orator; if he had been alive in the city of Athens, and during the Aegean Wars, he would have been mistaken for Pericles.
Kristina perhaps watched the words flow from his small, dark lips too intently. However, she could think of no better person to emulate. All of her former gods, her musicians she had thought could do no evil, they were the devil compared to this tall, well-dressed man.
He finished the story and the class begged for more. They all loved him.
“No, we have to “learn” today,” he said with the quotation marks.
While they were copying a minimal amount of notes, the fire alarm rang. The class groaned; in any other class, rejoice would have been the first response, but in Mr. Davis’s presence, it was a groan.
“Do we have to?” called out an attractive blond boy with spiked hair towards the door.
Almost to answer the question, the secretary working the intercom said, “This is not a drill, please report to your designated area. I repeat, this is not a drill. Please report to your designated area.”
“You know where to go.” Mr. Davis said shortly.
During the relative quick exit of the classroom, nobody noticed that Joe had slipped a folded up piece of paper onto Mr. Davis’s desk.
The alarm wasn’t a prank, a fire had been started in the science building well over a 100 yards away, but they were forced to spend the rest of the hour outside, or at least until it was contained, which was 7 minutes before the bell rang.
Kristina had forgotten all about the story she had handed Joe. Only when she had went to bed did she remember, and became frightened of the possible consequences.
Ironically, Mr. Davis was opening the folded piece of paper when Kristina remembered. Because of the less than vague character descriptions, and the remarkably similar names, it was easy to figure out who the author was.
The next class period, Kristina had bitched at Joe for “losing” the paper. She wasn’t concerned, though. Mr. Davis didn’t treat her any differently throughout the class and she had assumed the janitor had simply chucked the story assuming it was a note.
After the lesson, Mr. Davis approached her and said he would like to speak to her after class. "He knows" was her only thought for the next 15 minutes.
Jenny quickly pointed out that it was Kristina's fault, and that she shouldn’t have brought it to school, and that she was a whore, liked anything with a dick… Kristina stopped listening as Jenny’s arguments began to suck. At the bright side, she would miss the beginning of drivers ed, hopefully.
She approached him after class.
He nodded his head “yes.”
He didn’t speak until they were alone.
“Sit down,” he said motioning to a nearby desk.
“I’d prefer to stand.” She retorted, knowing that he knew, and also that one was more intimidating standing.
“Sit.” He repeated, with an unfamiliar tone in his voice.
She did as she was instructed this time.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the story. Tossing it on the desk, “Explain this.”
“I-I…” It was the first time she had been unable to answer a question in recent memory. “I-it was a joke.” She answered finally, and with a false look of poise.
He said nothing. He seemed to be contemplating, with his head resting on his palm, and was sitting on his desk in an almost teenager way.
Finally he spoke, “I think you do deserve a detention, but I don’t know what to write on the slip. Rude behavior? Inappropriate language? There’s not a box with wrote erotica about herself and a teacher.” He said it musingly. "That would be a bit embarrassing to serve a lunch detention for, wouldn't it?"
Kristina’s mouth formed a small grin. "Yes, sir."
“Also, some of the editing could use work. And could you try and make me sound hotter?”
Kristina’s mouth fell open in disbelief.
“Plus, I think quoting Shakespeare is a little bit cliché.” He continued, not seeming to notice his student’s mouth open.
“Are you giving me suggestions on how to improve this?!” She asked, incredibly surprised.
“I’m a teacher. I want nothing more than to help my students. Although a million bucks would be nice… Just when you complete this… I want a copy. I wouldn’t bring it to school until then. Okay? I’ll write you a pass, unless you have lunch?”
“I need a pass.”
“Okay. The time is…” He muttered to himself.
“um… Mr. Davis?” He looked at her. “What if a student approached you seriously, and asked you to teach them things, sexually? Like in the story?”
“I don’t know. All the girls go to the boys P.E. teacher to learn that stuff. You’re dismissed.”
To clarify, the last chapter was what Kristina wrote about her teacher.
Crystal=Kristina
Mr. David=Mr. Davis
“Dude, that is the most disgusting thing I have ever read, well except for that one story where this one chick was having sex with a horse, but still… This is our fucking history teacher!” Jenny exclaimed as she read what her friend had written the previous night. “What the hell compelled you to write this Kristina?!”
Jenny’s reaction was perfect in Kristina’s eyes. This was all an elaborate rouse, just to see her reaction. Kristina loved to shock… she was an Alice Cooper in her own right. Jenny had gagged 3 or 4 times reading it. The fact that they were in Mr. Davis’s classroom was also disturbing to Jenny, which was obvious when she had been reading the short story. She had looked at Mr. Davis in increasing intervals as she continued reading the story.
“I was bored. And I didn’t masturbate yesterday. That’s it.” She said, intentionally trailing off, and answering in a sarcastic voice. She was also twirling her hair with a minimal effort to look slightly innocent. She had masturbated yesterday.
“By the way, great creativity with the names. You shouldn’t have brought this to school. Can you imagine if somebody sees this…? Oh my God…” Jenny said, worried for her friend who lacked common sense.
“Hey, Joe, you wanna read a story I wrote?” Kristina asked the guy in front of her as the bell rung.
Mr. Davis stood up as Kristina passed the story to Joe. Mr. Davis began the class by telling a story of his youth. In less than a minute, the entire class was hanging on every word that fell from his mouth. He was an orator; if he had been alive in the city of Athens, and during the Aegean Wars, he would have been mistaken for Pericles.
Kristina perhaps watched the words flow from his small, dark lips too intently. However, she could think of no better person to emulate. All of her former gods, her musicians she had thought could do no evil, they were the devil compared to this tall, well-dressed man.
He finished the story and the class begged for more. They all loved him.
“No, we have to “learn” today,” he said with the quotation marks.
While they were copying a minimal amount of notes, the fire alarm rang. The class groaned; in any other class, rejoice would have been the first response, but in Mr. Davis’s presence, it was a groan.
“Do we have to?” called out an attractive blond boy with spiked hair towards the door.
Almost to answer the question, the secretary working the intercom said, “This is not a drill, please report to your designated area. I repeat, this is not a drill. Please report to your designated area.”
“You know where to go.” Mr. Davis said shortly.
During the relative quick exit of the classroom, nobody noticed that Joe had slipped a folded up piece of paper onto Mr. Davis’s desk.
The alarm wasn’t a prank, a fire had been started in the science building well over a 100 yards away, but they were forced to spend the rest of the hour outside, or at least until it was contained, which was 7 minutes before the bell rang.
Kristina had forgotten all about the story she had handed Joe. Only when she had went to bed did she remember, and became frightened of the possible consequences.
Ironically, Mr. Davis was opening the folded piece of paper when Kristina remembered. Because of the less than vague character descriptions, and the remarkably similar names, it was easy to figure out who the author was.
The next class period, Kristina had bitched at Joe for “losing” the paper. She wasn’t concerned, though. Mr. Davis didn’t treat her any differently throughout the class and she had assumed the janitor had simply chucked the story assuming it was a note.
After the lesson, Mr. Davis approached her and said he would like to speak to her after class. "He knows" was her only thought for the next 15 minutes.
Jenny quickly pointed out that it was Kristina's fault, and that she shouldn’t have brought it to school, and that she was a whore, liked anything with a dick… Kristina stopped listening as Jenny’s arguments began to suck. At the bright side, she would miss the beginning of drivers ed, hopefully.
She approached him after class.
He nodded his head “yes.”
He didn’t speak until they were alone.
“Sit down,” he said motioning to a nearby desk.
“I’d prefer to stand.” She retorted, knowing that he knew, and also that one was more intimidating standing.
“Sit.” He repeated, with an unfamiliar tone in his voice.
She did as she was instructed this time.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the story. Tossing it on the desk, “Explain this.”
“I-I…” It was the first time she had been unable to answer a question in recent memory. “I-it was a joke.” She answered finally, and with a false look of poise.
He said nothing. He seemed to be contemplating, with his head resting on his palm, and was sitting on his desk in an almost teenager way.
Finally he spoke, “I think you do deserve a detention, but I don’t know what to write on the slip. Rude behavior? Inappropriate language? There’s not a box with wrote erotica about herself and a teacher.” He said it musingly. "That would be a bit embarrassing to serve a lunch detention for, wouldn't it?"
Kristina’s mouth formed a small grin. "Yes, sir."
“Also, some of the editing could use work. And could you try and make me sound hotter?”
Kristina’s mouth fell open in disbelief.
“Plus, I think quoting Shakespeare is a little bit cliché.” He continued, not seeming to notice his student’s mouth open.
“Are you giving me suggestions on how to improve this?!” She asked, incredibly surprised.
“I’m a teacher. I want nothing more than to help my students. Although a million bucks would be nice… Just when you complete this… I want a copy. I wouldn’t bring it to school until then. Okay? I’ll write you a pass, unless you have lunch?”
“I need a pass.”
“Okay. The time is…” He muttered to himself.
“um… Mr. Davis?” He looked at her. “What if a student approached you seriously, and asked you to teach them things, sexually? Like in the story?”
“I don’t know. All the girls go to the boys P.E. teacher to learn that stuff. You’re dismissed.”