Rheumatic fever started it all and set the stage for what ultimately happened. While rare in the United States, the fever still managed to overtake me early in the fourth grade. Complications from the disease proved serious enough that much of my school year was sidelined and my family decided it was best to hold me back a year.
Being a year older than everyone else in my class was both a blessing and a curse. I was called 'Grandpa' or 'Pops' by my many of my classmates. Most of it was good-natured but the whole thing got stale after a while. Hence the curse part.
Things changed as I approached high school. I turned sixteen the summer before tenth grade and was the only kid with a driver's license when school started. That was the blessing, or so I thought the day I got my license.
I became a popular transportation resource for my friends during daylight hours but my parents were too smart to let me drive after dark, which put a major damper on my plans for an active sex life in the back seat of the family Crown Victoria.
I attended one high school in the tenth and eleventh grades. Then my father accepted a job in a different state, the family moved, and I found myself facing a second school entering the twelfth. Biology became a problem. Both schools required one credit in biology to graduate with the 'academic' diploma required for students heading off to college. The problem was that the two school districts put the biology requirement in a different grade. The first school held it to be a senior level subject. The last had it scheduled as a part of the tenth grade curriculum.
Since I had most of the credits I needed to graduate, my senior schedule was going to be fairly light. Biology would be my first class in the morning followed by AP Math and English. Lunch would break the day in half and was to be followed by two back-to-back study halls. My school day would be over by two o'clock. And so, on the first day of classes in my senior year, I found myself, at the advanced age of eighteen, entering a room full of tenth graders.
Normally, I would take a seat in the back of the room where I could observe the other students during class when the subject matter got boring. But since I found nothing interesting about sophomores, I took a seat in front that first morning. No teacher was in sight so I settled in to wait for his or her arrival.
A bell rang. Still no teacher. A couple of minutes passed before she strode purposefully through the doorway carrying what was probably a class roster and grade book. I immediately lost interest in what she was carrying. She was gorgeous. Or at least her face was. Her body was hidden by a long, loose-fitting skirt and matching long sleeved blouse that blurred the lines of her figure.
She was a small woman, perhaps five foot two or three and likely not much more than a hundred pounds or so. She had an unruly mop of short, dark curly hair, a generous mouth, and beautiful green eyes I could easily see from my vantage point just a few feet away. Biology class was beginning to look far more interesting than I originally thought.
"Good morning class. My name is Miss Wells," she announced. "We have something in common. This is your first day in biology class and it's my first official day of teaching. I know a lot about biology but I have much to learn about teaching so we'll all just have to work our way through the school year together. I'm betting it will be lots of fun."
Miss Wells spent a few minutes taking attendance and we each acknowledged our presence when our names were called.
"Let's get started," she finally declared, satisfied that her roster and class attendees matched. I paid little attention, completely mesmerized by her beauty and overwhelmed by my own raging hormones.
Two days later I got an 'F' on a pop quiz concerning the previous day's lab work. I was dumbfounded, having never received a failing grade in my life. When the bell rang to announce the end of the period, I tried to blend in with the younger kids and slink out the door.
"Chris!" Miss Wells called out. "Hold on a moment please."
"Yes Ma'am," I answered and returned to stand at her desk.
"After grading your quiz last night, I pulled your transcript this morning. You've been a straight 'A' student all your life. I'm a little puzzled."
There was no way I was going to tell her I'd spent every moment during the week fantasizing about her instead of paying attention.
"I guess I thought the material would be easier since the class is for sophomores. I should have paid more attention. It won't happen again."
"Good. With your academic record, you should be able to handle this material with ease. I'll see you tomorrow. And if you need help, just ask."
"Yes Ma'am."
I kept my word. With great effort, I focused on the class material and got high marks on quizzes, tests, and lab reports. Miss Wells was confined to my nocturnal activities. I jerked off every night after lights out with her as the center of my thoughts, trying to imagine what might be hidden beneath the loose clothing she wore.
****
After a month or so went by, it was apparent that Miss Wells had a gift for teaching. One by one, she uncovered some special area of interest to pursue with each student in addition to the routine biology lessons. In my case, she detected something satirical and loaned me a copy of Voltaire's Candide. After that it was the works of Jonathan Swift beginning with Gulliver's Travels.
By late October, I began to realize that she had singled me out for a little more attention than the younger students received. The difference was subtle but detectable. Greatly flattered, I chalked it up to my age and maturity compared to the others.
Biology was divided between classroom lectures and lab work. Tuesdays and Thursdays were lab days. In early November Miss Wells detained me at the end of class on a Monday.
"Chris," she began, "I could use a little help on Mondays and Wednesdays getting ready for the next day's laboratory work. I was wondering if you might be interested in being my lab assistant. I know you have back-to-back study halls each afternoon. If you don't need all that time for your homework, I can get you excused to help me if you're willing."
I'd have scrubbed the teacher's lounge on my hands and knees with my own toothbrush if that would keep me close to Miss Wells for a little more time each week.
"I'd love to help out," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "I always knock out my homework in the first study hall period. I usually read the books you've loaned me during the second."
"Good!" she exclaimed. "I'll get you released from the second study hall. Meet me in the lab at one o'clock sharp."
And so it was that I got to spend an additional two hours each week with the woman of my fantasies. I was in heaven. She looked good and smelled good when I could get close enough to breathe in her intoxicating scent. The extra time poured fuel on the fire and my nightly masturbation episodes took on a new intensity.
Miss Wells and I worked together easily. My job was to thaw out the specimens for dissection by the students the following day and to lay out scalpels and pins at each work station. Whenever I thought it safe, I would study her closely as she moved about the lab or sat grading papers.
Over time I gradually learned a little more about her. Another teacher stuck her head in the laboratory door one afternoon and addressed her as 'April.' One of the tenth grade girls got into a discussion about birthstones at the end of class one day and Miss Wells said she had two - tourmaline and opal. A little research told me her birth month was October. I had already concluded that she was very young, maybe only twenty-two or twenty-three; not all that much older than my nearly nineteen years. That started me thinking along forbidden lines.
Day by day I became more smitten. I began to invent reasons to linger in the lab after I had completed my work. Miss Wells didn't seem to notice and I became emboldened. Finally, I made an error in judgment and did something really stupid.
"Miss Wells, do you suppose you and I might have lunch or dinner together this weekend. Or maybe catch a movie?" I asked, hoping like crazy she'd say yes.
Miss Wells stared at me for a moment and then crushed me. She did it kindly, but I was destroyed nonetheless.
"Chris, you are an attractive young man and I'm flattered by your invitation. But it's not going to happen. You are a student and I am a teacher. Socializing together is a line that we are not going to cross. I hope you understand."
"Yes...yes ma'am," I stammered, blushing furiously. "I'm sorry. I know I was out of line."
And then a thought struck me.
"How about after I graduate?"
After another long look, she replied.
"That's a different matter. Perhaps we can have lunch together to celebrate your graduation. We'll talk about it in June. In the meantime, you need to be concentrating on your school work, applying to colleges, and looking for scholarship opportunities. With your grades, you should have your pick of good schools."
"I'm already working on that. I've submitted an application for appointment to the Air Force Academy. I've been thinking I might want to be a fighter pilot."
"Chris, I think you're going to be successful at whatever you decide to do. Now let's finish up and call it a day."
****
The rest of the school year dragged on, seemingly forever. I spent much of my time mentally slobbering all over myself with thoughts of the two of us enjoying an intimate relationship after graduation.
In April I was notified that I had received the appointment to the Academy. My parents were thrilled. After all, a free education was a huge financial windfall for the family.
A couple of weeks before the school year ended, the biology classes were thrown a curve. Miss Wells informed us that the school board had decided to insert a week of sex education into the biology syllabus at the end of the school year. This announcement was met with snickers and giggles from the tenth graders and a pounding heart from the lone twelfth grader.
Miss Wells wrapped up biology work for our class with a final exam on a Friday morning, which I aced. Sex education would begin on Monday and would not be subject to testing for a variety of reasons.
I spent as much of the weekend jerking off as I could manage. I mean, hell, I knew a little about the birds and the bees but the thought of Miss Wells talking about sex openly was almost more than I could handle.
On Monday morning, she walked into class with something rolled up under her arm. All of us watched wide-eyed as she unrolled a huge diagram of female genitalia and taped it to the white board. An equally large diagram of male equipment was soon taped alongside.
Miss Wells turned to face us and stepped to one side without saying a word for a minute or two, apparently letting us get used to the images in the front of the room. She seemed completely at ease while the students, including me, were blushing furiously.
