Note: chapter I of my story "the Amphiboid" gives a bit of background on this, I'd recommend reading that even if chapter II onwards is not for you.
I.
I had planned to seduce my former teacher for a long time. My efforts at exposing myself to Miss Davis were quite forward and my new source of information led me to conclude that my scheme had sparked something into motion. I was planning my next move when I encountered her entirely by chance, three days later.
It was at the local corner shop. I never really had much call to go in there, but I was low on bread. I grabbed the loaf and looked up as the door clanged with a new customer.
It was her! I couldn't believe it. My heart raced as I stepped up the aisle a few more steps and turned to look at a few random things on the shelves. I didn't need anything, I just wanted to get a bit closer to make sure she noticed me, I chanced a quick glance.
She was staring straight at me, her features stern. She was old when I was a student and now must have been in her mid-sixties: her hair a dark grey, face wrinkled and severe, her eyes a piercing blue. I returned to my shelf browsing briefly but glanced back a few moments later.
She hadn't moved, she had this condescending look on her face. It was the look that she gave at school, the look that had me fantasising about her back then. I snapped from those thoughts with a shudder, one she must have noticed.
I went back to the end of the aisle again. I heard her scribbling on some shopping list as she placed a few items in her shopping basket. Her harsh tone and condescending attitude mixed well with her mature, matronly demeanour.
I could see from her appearance that age had caused her to plump out a lot and her breasts to sag a bit, I imagined an unshaved body underneath, cellulose flesh. This turned me on immensely and remains today one of the key paradoxes of my sexuality: traditional physical unattractiveness, physical undesirability makes the prospect of sexual submission to such women immensely desirable to me. I think it was the thought that my attraction to them, my sexual desires, were irrelevant. It feels like some supreme act of submission.
Then the scribbling stopped and I heard her footsteps coming down the aisle. Another quick glance and I saw she was walking straight towards me, her eyes intent on me. I turned back to the shelf and closed my eyes, I felt like I might have needed to rest my hand on the shelf for support, my breathing trembled, my hands trembled, I could feel my wetness below. She stopped right next to me and stood there, waiting. She must have noticed my arousal, her whole composure made me feel like I was already being dominated by this woman, like I was already her little slut. I turned to look at her.
"I think you owe me an explanation," she spoke in the same low, domineering tone that I remembered from school. It managed to elicit a small muffled moan from me. I was sure I saw a bemused look in her eyes.
"Explanation?" I could barely mutter, trying to play dumb. I knew precisely that she referred to my deliberate exhibitionist act outside her isolated cottage.
"You still mumble to a teacher after all these years?" She gave an indignant snort, "and don't play dumb, you know what I mean."
The shopkeeper was dealing with another customer and she pretty much had me cornered. I was so turned on that had she angrily raising her voice and shouted down at me the way she used to, I think I would have come right there. Hopefully, her shouting would hide my climax from the others in the store, but she remained cool and calculating in her tone.
"I can see I'm not going to get the right answer from you," she held out the slip of paper. "I think if do owe me one though and I think you should come over and give me a full one."
I took the paper, "w... what's this?"
"My cottage has a strict dress code, you will dress smartly for your explanation."
With that, she left to pay. After she was gone, I pocketed the note, took a moment to regain my composure, paid and left. I rushed home as quickly as possible. I dropped the bread as soon as I got in and raced to my room, throwing myself on the bed. I was alone in the house, which suited me just fine.
I gazed up at the ceiling for a few moments before I pulled the note out and read. It listed one white blouse; one formal skirt, hemline no lower than the knee; appropriate tights; black high-heel shoes. Underneath all that, double circled in ink was "8 pm".
I could do all that, but I had other concerns for the moment. I cast the note aside and lifted my knees up. My right-hand reached to my soaked panties and pulled them down to halfway between my pussy and my knees, my left holding up the skirt just enough to allow me access. As I began touching myself, I spoke aloud between moans and gasps.
"Ooh, she knew..." I moaned aloud to myself, "she knew what was happening to you. Uh ah... She was toying with you, she had you cornered. She knew she could have made you come there, showed everyone what a slut you are, they'd... oh... they'd all see it."
My movements sped up and my hips writhe against my fingers. "She's leading you into the trap she has set... Uh... And you're willingly entering it, you want... Oooh.. You want her to catch you. You were right earlier and she knew it too. You... already... are her... little slut! Aaaah."
I climaxed so hard that my come gushed forth over my hand and my legs, which instinctively clamped onto my hand. My left hand gripped the hemline of my skirt tightly. I spasmodically rolled myself onto my stomach and began to grind with my hips against my quivering fingers as best I could.
Once sated, I rolled onto my back again, my naked ass pressed down onto the wet patch on my bed, my panties just above my knees I panted heavily. I run my index and middle fingers up my pussy and to my waiting mouth. It was ten-thirty in the morning, I would be counting every hour until eight.
II.
Seven thirty and I had showered, dressed and was already outside her cottage. I had butterflies in my stomach I had been staying here with my parents for a few weeks and told them I was going out to see an old friend. I was tempted to take something before leaving for the butterflies I felt in my stomach, but all my parents had was the Becherovka my mother seemingly stockpiles every time she visits my grandparents. She swears by it, I remain sceptical.
I was half an hour early but I could not wait. I walked up to the door, I could here nothing inside. The light in the living room was on. I shifted, took a deep breath and lifted my hand to the knocker.
She must have heard me as the door suddenly opened leaving my hand just grasping for where the knocker was.
"Uh... um..."
"You're early, by nearly half an hour." Her tone was as acerbic as it was in the shop.
"Well, I... I didn't have anything planned this evening."
She sighed, "well, I suppose you may as well come in now. You can begin explaining yourself."
I entered, began taking off my shoes, but she raised her tone, "I don't think you need to be doing that. What makes you conclude you'll be here for long?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," I blushed and secured my shoe back onto my foot.
"Follow me," she led me into her living room.
It was a bit odd in style but clearly looked after. There were light pastel paint on the walls and a maroon-coloured carpet. Two couches sat on opposite sides of a wooden coffee table and there was some sort of small study area next to where the now defunct fireplace was. She had a glass of wine poured for herself already.
She reclined in her couch and picked up the wine glass, "why did you expose yourself to me? And don't give me the accident rubbish, you were so transparent when you dropped your bag. Besides, I saw you beam at me."
Excellent, I thought, she noticed both of those things, but her already authoritarian tone made it hard to answer. I felt a bit like I was back to being in that same state as when I first wanted her, all nervous and aroused because of her. This time, however, there was going to be no torment afterwards, no wondering what was wrong with me for feeling like this.
"I guess... Uh, I mean..."
"Can't answer, huh? I think I have a way of find out. You know the rumours about me, don't you? Maybe you thought it was a joke, we'll see. Lift your skirt up fully to your waist," her tone was well-suited to imperatives.
I exhaled a trembling breath and my hands reached down and slowly lifted up my skirt. I wore a soft, white blouse; a black skirt, hemline just above the knees and I choose white, nylon fishnet tights. I wore no underwear, just like a few days ago. I wanted her to be able to see the colour of my aroused sex under the pale white.
I exposed myself to her again. I kept my eyes lowered, never meeting her gaze.
She calmly took a sip of her wine, "well, there's the explanation I sought. Misbehaving little brat, you sought to end up in this very situation. Look at You! You've exposed to me again. Look at how wet you've got gotten your nylons already! I suspected you were poking fun of me being a lesbian. Deep down, I knew what you were really after."
