It was another regular day in early Spring, just a couple weeks after I had turned 18. English class with Ms Marshall. I don't remember what we actually done in class that day but I just wanted to go home and do something that wasn't schoolwork like everyone else.
"Could you wait behind please. I need to see you about your homework."
Damn, I just couldn't catch a break. Now I had to stay for five minutes to hear a lecture about putting in more effort.
Bell rang. Everyone left. I put my jacket on, stood up and walked up to the front desk. Ms Marshall waited until the last person left and she closed the door after them. She then turned the lock, which made me panic a little that I was in real trouble.
"I'm going to ask you a question. And I want a straight answer."
Here we go. The usual teacher talk about how you're a an intelligent student that could achieve a lot but you just aren't putting in enough effort.
"Have you ever masturbated about me?"
Time froze. My heart started racing with panic. I was something of a late starter when it came to females and beyond a first kiss at a party a few months back I didn't know anything about talking to women.
"What?" I stammered back.
"Have you ever masturbated about me?" She asked again, hands on hips. Ms Marshall was my English teacher. She would have been in her late 30s, maybe pushing 40. Something of a trophy-wife look about her - too much heavy make-up, bright red lips, platinum hair in a bob, neither slim nor fat but with a large chest for a woman her size. She was wearing a white business suit jacket and a short skirt with high heels.
"No, Miss." Now that was a lie. I went through a phase of jerking off about Ms Marshall a couple years earlier, mainly alternating between thinking about sucking her tits and her giving me a blowjob afterwards, but I had since moved on to younger models like 20-something French teacher Miss Whitton.