Teacher's pet
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
21,127
Reviews:
66
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
21,127
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.
Demonstration
-------------------------------
AUTHOR\'S NOTE:
Since, apparently, you wanted
more, I\'m going to expand on
this story. Will there be some
surprises along the way? It\'s
entirely possible :D. For now,
keep giving me your feedback!
--------------------------------
TEACHER’S PET (part 4)
Another day, another English class. After yesterday just sitting in class has taken up a completely new meaning: there’s no frustration anymore, no hidden desire. What’s there is as plain as the both of us can see, and we take great pleasure in alluding to it in front of the whole class, dropping small hints about our desire as frequently as we can. I don’t think anyone suspects anything, but the game is exciting nonetheless.
Ms Brahms is dressed as provocatively as ever, almost to the point of vulgarity. The skirt she’s wearing today, while not as short as yesterday’s, has a split in the side that almost runs up completely, displayihe bhe border of her nylon stockings. Her blouse, far too small for her, leaves part of her stomach naked, and is stretched around her bosom, looking as if it could tear any minute. It’s buttoned strategically with only one button, pushing up her voluptuous breasts perfectly. She’s not wearing a bra. All in all, this would be an extremely cheap looking outfit on anyone else, but it makes her look like a goddess from heaven.
“If you read the first part of the sonnet carefully, you can determine the poet’s views on chastity and the physical act of love. Any thoughts on that, Lucy?”
I smile.
“Do you mean sex, Ms. Brahms?” There’s some soft giggling from the back of the class; Ms Brahms smiles back at me.
“Indeed I do, Lucy. What does the poet have to say about that?”
I lean back in my chair, studying her as I answer.
“I think he’s trying to make a link between love and sex. It feels like he’s saying that sexual desire should not be held back, and that every… opportunity is a good one. That’s why he uses the image of the seduced priest: he’s saying that, instead of holding back, you should have as much fun as possible.” More giggling from the back of the class.
“Very good, Lucy. I do hope you’re having fun yourself.”
The giggling turns into laughter, just for a moment. Ms Brahms looks round the class, waits for silence, and returns to the lesson. I feel the desire become unbearable: staring at her incredible body, I start to touch myself, trying to give her a good view. She smiles encouragingly.
“Now, what you have to understand about this sonnet is that sex, as it is represented here…”
Her words drift off in the clouds of my lust. I open my legs wide and slid my lower body forward on the chair, so she’ll be able to see me under the table. Lifting up my skirt, I rub my wet panties. I keep looking at her as I push my panties aside and run a finger over my dripping folds. Only parts of what she says register with me.
“… even the mention of the word “dance” in line 4 is obviously a reference to sex, if you think about it…”
I plunge in my finger, trying hard not to moan out loud. It feels different than two days ago, when I had been sure she couldn’t see me. Now, I *want* her to see me, to be turned on by me, to lust after me.
“… a ‘dance’ in those times qus quite different from what we consider dancing. For one, the music…”
I stick in a second finger, slowly, making sure she sees every move I make. Almost instinctively, my right hand starts playing with my breast, feeling my hard nipple through my blouse. I close my eyes, gasping. Bringing myself closer and closer to orgasm, I shift back and forth on my chair, now squeezing and massaging my breast with full force. I’m very close: my body starts to tenseand and my muscles prepare themselves for the climax. I bite my lip: one more stroke…
“… but I’ll need someone to demonstrate that. Lucy?”
I freeze, shocked. The eyes of the entire class turn to me as I jerk into an upright position, trying my best to look innocent.
“Yes, Ms Brahms?”
“Could you come forward, please?”
I open my eyes wide. Why would she ask me this, precisely at this moment?
“Right now, Ms Brahms?”
“Yes, of course. I need to demonstrate the dance in the poem.”
I fix my skirt, hoping the stain won’t be too noticeable. I feel the desire still burning inside me, my body still prepared for the orgasm. Very slowly, I get out of my chair and walk to the front of the class. Ms Brahms seems completely calm about the whole thing.
“Now, these weren’t exactly Victorian times, so a typical couple would be dancing rather close. Both dancers would have their arms around each other’s waists, like this. Lucy, just do what I do, ok?”
She places her hands on my waist: I do the same to her. In one fluent motion, she pulls me closer to her until our bodies make contact.
“In this position, the couple would start off with a few basic dance patterns…”
She lifts her left leg and pushes it into my groin, hard. My fired up pussy reacts immediately, and I cum. I am very close to screaming, but I keep my mouth tightly shut as my orgasm surges through me: I hold on to Ms Brahms, who is acting like nothing’s the matter, still explaining the dance moves she is trailing me along in. As I ride out the last wave of my orgasm in front of the class, she lets me go.
“Thank you, Lucy. You can go back to your seat now.”
I gasp, once more, and look into the classroom. Some of the students are looking at me, smiling vaguely, but I know they are just jealous of me because of the dance, not because of anything else they’ve noticed. I turn to her.
“Thank you, Ms Brahms.”
I can hear a muffled cheer from the back of the classroom. My head spins as I stumble my way back to my seat. Sitting down, my eyes catch hers, and we exchange a knowing smile. Ms Brahms looks away and continues the lesson.
...
After class. As I’ve done two days before, I wait until the classroom is empty, except for me and Ms Brahms. I thank my lucky stars that English is the last class of the day for the biggest part of wee week. She‘s fiddling with her papers, pretending to be busy. I look through my backpack, trying to look as if I’m looking for something. As soon as the last student leaves the classroom and closes the door, we fall into each other’s arms and kiss. Ms Brahms strokes my hair again, and smiles at me.
“I hope you’re not mad about today. I saw how close you were and I wanted to finish the job for you.”
I smile back, forgetting all the embarrassment.
“That’s okay. I rather liked it.”
We kiss again. I move to undress her, but she pushes my hand away.
“I’m sorry, Lucy. I have to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
I try to protest, but she kisses me again, lightly, pulls away from my embrace, and walks towards the door. She stops and turns around. She’s quiet for a moment, as if she’s about to say something, but changes her mind and walks out. She leaves the door half open: I hear her high heels tapping against the floor as walkwalks through the hallway.
I’m left standing, dumbfounded. What could be so important that she doesn’t have ten minutes for me? I realize once again that I know next to nothing about her. Maybe she has a girlfriend. Maybe she’s married. She might even have children, for all I know. As I slowly take my backpack and move towards the door, I realize that I don’t even know her first name.
AUTHOR\'S NOTE:
Since, apparently, you wanted
more, I\'m going to expand on
this story. Will there be some
surprises along the way? It\'s
entirely possible :D. For now,
keep giving me your feedback!
--------------------------------
TEACHER’S PET (part 4)
Another day, another English class. After yesterday just sitting in class has taken up a completely new meaning: there’s no frustration anymore, no hidden desire. What’s there is as plain as the both of us can see, and we take great pleasure in alluding to it in front of the whole class, dropping small hints about our desire as frequently as we can. I don’t think anyone suspects anything, but the game is exciting nonetheless.
Ms Brahms is dressed as provocatively as ever, almost to the point of vulgarity. The skirt she’s wearing today, while not as short as yesterday’s, has a split in the side that almost runs up completely, displayihe bhe border of her nylon stockings. Her blouse, far too small for her, leaves part of her stomach naked, and is stretched around her bosom, looking as if it could tear any minute. It’s buttoned strategically with only one button, pushing up her voluptuous breasts perfectly. She’s not wearing a bra. All in all, this would be an extremely cheap looking outfit on anyone else, but it makes her look like a goddess from heaven.
“If you read the first part of the sonnet carefully, you can determine the poet’s views on chastity and the physical act of love. Any thoughts on that, Lucy?”
I smile.
“Do you mean sex, Ms. Brahms?” There’s some soft giggling from the back of the class; Ms Brahms smiles back at me.
“Indeed I do, Lucy. What does the poet have to say about that?”
I lean back in my chair, studying her as I answer.
“I think he’s trying to make a link between love and sex. It feels like he’s saying that sexual desire should not be held back, and that every… opportunity is a good one. That’s why he uses the image of the seduced priest: he’s saying that, instead of holding back, you should have as much fun as possible.” More giggling from the back of the class.
“Very good, Lucy. I do hope you’re having fun yourself.”
The giggling turns into laughter, just for a moment. Ms Brahms looks round the class, waits for silence, and returns to the lesson. I feel the desire become unbearable: staring at her incredible body, I start to touch myself, trying to give her a good view. She smiles encouragingly.
“Now, what you have to understand about this sonnet is that sex, as it is represented here…”
Her words drift off in the clouds of my lust. I open my legs wide and slid my lower body forward on the chair, so she’ll be able to see me under the table. Lifting up my skirt, I rub my wet panties. I keep looking at her as I push my panties aside and run a finger over my dripping folds. Only parts of what she says register with me.
“… even the mention of the word “dance” in line 4 is obviously a reference to sex, if you think about it…”
I plunge in my finger, trying hard not to moan out loud. It feels different than two days ago, when I had been sure she couldn’t see me. Now, I *want* her to see me, to be turned on by me, to lust after me.
“… a ‘dance’ in those times qus quite different from what we consider dancing. For one, the music…”
I stick in a second finger, slowly, making sure she sees every move I make. Almost instinctively, my right hand starts playing with my breast, feeling my hard nipple through my blouse. I close my eyes, gasping. Bringing myself closer and closer to orgasm, I shift back and forth on my chair, now squeezing and massaging my breast with full force. I’m very close: my body starts to tenseand and my muscles prepare themselves for the climax. I bite my lip: one more stroke…
“… but I’ll need someone to demonstrate that. Lucy?”
I freeze, shocked. The eyes of the entire class turn to me as I jerk into an upright position, trying my best to look innocent.
“Yes, Ms Brahms?”
“Could you come forward, please?”
I open my eyes wide. Why would she ask me this, precisely at this moment?
“Right now, Ms Brahms?”
“Yes, of course. I need to demonstrate the dance in the poem.”
I fix my skirt, hoping the stain won’t be too noticeable. I feel the desire still burning inside me, my body still prepared for the orgasm. Very slowly, I get out of my chair and walk to the front of the class. Ms Brahms seems completely calm about the whole thing.
“Now, these weren’t exactly Victorian times, so a typical couple would be dancing rather close. Both dancers would have their arms around each other’s waists, like this. Lucy, just do what I do, ok?”
She places her hands on my waist: I do the same to her. In one fluent motion, she pulls me closer to her until our bodies make contact.
“In this position, the couple would start off with a few basic dance patterns…”
She lifts her left leg and pushes it into my groin, hard. My fired up pussy reacts immediately, and I cum. I am very close to screaming, but I keep my mouth tightly shut as my orgasm surges through me: I hold on to Ms Brahms, who is acting like nothing’s the matter, still explaining the dance moves she is trailing me along in. As I ride out the last wave of my orgasm in front of the class, she lets me go.
“Thank you, Lucy. You can go back to your seat now.”
I gasp, once more, and look into the classroom. Some of the students are looking at me, smiling vaguely, but I know they are just jealous of me because of the dance, not because of anything else they’ve noticed. I turn to her.
“Thank you, Ms Brahms.”
I can hear a muffled cheer from the back of the classroom. My head spins as I stumble my way back to my seat. Sitting down, my eyes catch hers, and we exchange a knowing smile. Ms Brahms looks away and continues the lesson.
...
After class. As I’ve done two days before, I wait until the classroom is empty, except for me and Ms Brahms. I thank my lucky stars that English is the last class of the day for the biggest part of wee week. She‘s fiddling with her papers, pretending to be busy. I look through my backpack, trying to look as if I’m looking for something. As soon as the last student leaves the classroom and closes the door, we fall into each other’s arms and kiss. Ms Brahms strokes my hair again, and smiles at me.
“I hope you’re not mad about today. I saw how close you were and I wanted to finish the job for you.”
I smile back, forgetting all the embarrassment.
“That’s okay. I rather liked it.”
We kiss again. I move to undress her, but she pushes my hand away.
“I’m sorry, Lucy. I have to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
I try to protest, but she kisses me again, lightly, pulls away from my embrace, and walks towards the door. She stops and turns around. She’s quiet for a moment, as if she’s about to say something, but changes her mind and walks out. She leaves the door half open: I hear her high heels tapping against the floor as walkwalks through the hallway.
I’m left standing, dumbfounded. What could be so important that she doesn’t have ten minutes for me? I realize once again that I know next to nothing about her. Maybe she has a girlfriend. Maybe she’s married. She might even have children, for all I know. As I slowly take my backpack and move towards the door, I realize that I don’t even know her first name.