It had been another average day at college. English class was a breeze as usual. The instructor never engaged with the students much, and although this wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it made the class go by so slowly you thought you just might die. He was also always 25 minutes late, and well, that definitely wasn't a bad thing. It was almost as if he made it a point to speak in the most monotone of voices and talk about things almost completely unrelated to the subject at hand. I also found it interesting how he always seemed to ignore the students that slept during class, the ones that listened to music, the ones that typed away on their laptops, and even the kids who always showed up stoned. I could never tell if he simply didn't care what we did, or if he was just so passionate about lecturing that he never noticed. It was probably the former of those two.
Mathematics was difficult, but the challenge was always a pleasant change of pace. The classroom was small and that's how I liked it. Biology was my favorite course. Not because of my interest in the sciences, but because of my instructor. I had taken the class in high school years ago and retained most of what I had learned, so I knew it would be a breeze and an easy A. I also knew it would certainly be easier than taking chemistry or physics, and that may or may not have also played a role in my decision to sign up for the course.
Ms. Grant, the biology instructor, wasn't quite like the other teachers. It's hard to explain, but from the moment I sat in her class, I knew there was something different about her. She was strict, stern, and serious. She didn't smile often, but when she did, you knew that it was absolutely genuine. I thought about Ms. Grant a lot, I really couldn't help myself. When my mind wasn't occupied with daily mundane tasks, chances were that I was thinking of her.
I was out of my final class and was off to my weekly tutoring session with Ms. Grant. Although I really didn't need to be tutored, I figured it would be an interesting way to spend some of my free time, and I could possibly get to know her a little bit. After the first Biology class, I mustered up a bit of courage and went up to her desk. I told her that I was probably going to need help with the class, and inquired if we could arrange some dates and times to get together each week for a tutoring session. I made up a lie about how I work better and absorb more information when I'm in a one-on-one situation with someone, and although she did seem a bit skeptical, she agreed. Ms. Grant had a closed personality and never seemed to reveal much about herself during class, but I didn't care. All I knew was that I enjoyed being around her, and if this was the only way I could do that, then so be it.
After having several cups of coffee throughout the day, I had to use the restroom. I did what I had to do and noticed that my lips were a little chapped. Hating that feeling, I desperately ruffled through my bag looking for some chapstick, or any type of cream for that matter. While looking for it, I found a clothespin which reminded me of what I sometimes do with them. Putting a pair on my nipples, or even on my clit. It was my favorite clothespin, actually. It seemed to work perfectly for me. It was never too tight, or too loose. I could tell it apart from the others because of a mark I had made on it, and I smiled to myself when I realized it had been in my bag this entire time. I began thinking about how dirty it would be to show up to the tutoring session with Ms. Grant rather horny, and I liked that thought. Something in me said this was a good idea, so I pulled my pants down, rubbed my clit briefly, and put the clothespin on. I leaned against the stall and breathed in sharply at the initial pain of it, cringing, but was soon biting my lip and moaning quietly as I eased into it. Noticing that I was getting carried away, I quickly took the pin off, placed it in my bag, got out of the stall, washed my hands and rushed off to class.
As I walked into the classroom with flushed skin, Ms. Grant sat quietly at her desk writing something--she was focused--or atleast she was pretending to be. She didn't even take the time to look at me, she just sat there quietly, writing. As I sat down and took my books out, a bit nervous, I muttered "hello Ms. Grant."
She looked at me seriously, "you're late."
My face reddened as I thought about what I had been doing, "I know, I apologize, I had to use the restroom."
She stood up. "Listen. I don't care how badly you have to use the restroom, when we've got a session, you come here first and then ask for permission to use the restroom, understood? Don't let it happen again."
A bit intimidated and yet strangely turned on, I replied "yes, Ms. Grant. I understand. I won't ever let it happen again."
She sat back down at her desk and put away whatever it was that she was working on. "Okay. Lets get started."
"Alright" I replied, "I've been having a bit of trouble on the homework. I don't quite understand how homeostasis works. It's rather confusing."
She looked at me and nodded, "Okay. Homeostasis is the ability of an open system to regulate its internal environment...", my mind drifted off of the subject of homeostasis, I knew exactly what it meant. As she spoke, all I noticed was how sexy and perfect she was. Her face was beautiful, symmetrical, toned, and her short haircut fit her so well. Her style was also perfect, for me at least. Normally she would just wear jeans and a t-shirt, but today she had a skirt and tan blouse on. The skirt wasn't short, it was professional, but it still revealed enough for me to accurately fantasize about what her legs would look like without it on. "...And, that's homeostasis in a nutshell." My mind snapped back and she gave me a look I was all too familar with. I always had a difficult time paying attention during class, and would often get called out on it by a teacher, only to be unsure of the answer and be humiliated in front of the entire class. "Did you catch any of that?"
