All Characters are 18 or older.
While they wish to stay anonymous, I wanted to thank an unnamed editor for their help with this story. I appreciate their expertise and time they gave to help me.
There comes a moment in a guy's life when he has to, as the saying goes, 'put up or shut up.' If you can't figure that out, it's another way of saying, 'take the chance.' I came to that crossroad fairly early in my life, and it changed me, and who I was, forever.
First of all,let me introduce myself. I'm Jamie Doyle. As it so happens, it's Jamison Doyle, thanks to my Irish heritage. But everyone calls me Jamie. I grew up in a medium- sized town, in Ohio. We weren't a bustling metropolis, nevertheless, we had two hospitals, four high schools, one college and a mall.
I attended one of those high schools, and it was in my senior year that my predicament began.
Let me clarify. In actuality, this initiated in my junior year of high school, when the District hired Mrs. Rita Holmes.
Mrs. Holmes was the new English teacher at the school, and to say she was stunning, would be an understatement. At that point in time, she couldn't have been more than twenty-six.
She was a petite and slender woman, brunette hair and striking green eyes. Her high cheekbones and toned body drew the attention of her horny students.
Her long, tanned legs, was accentuated by her stunning and spherical ass, and perky 36C breasts. From the moment that I saw her, she drove me wild.
Mrs. Holmes was what one would call, predictable, when it came to clothing. Generally, her attire was a fairly conservative top, a pencil skirt just above the knees, nylons and heels. Almost every day, except for the occasional pants or pantsuit, you could guarantee that's what she would wear.
Needless to say, Mrs. Holmes became the newest fixation and the star of many of my masturbatory fantasies. Many nights, I'd lay in bed with my hand sliding up and down my hard cock, thinking of gliding into her beautiful pussy, whilst she laid naked beneath me.
The only problem was, I had already met my English requirements to graduate, and I didn't take any English electives that year. However, in my senior year, I planned a little better.
I had a growth spurt my freshman year, and at 6 foot and 185 pounds, I looked much older than most of my male classmates. My parents had held me back in grade school, so I was always the oldest in my class.
In the summer of 1987, I turned nineteen. I was a starting receiver on the football team, which made me quite popular around the school. Of course, I used this to my advantage when it came to the opposite sex. I had a string of girlfriends, yet nothing that lasted more than a few months.
It was the end of my junior year and we were registering for classes for the following semester, when I saw a creative writing course was being offered. The information board didn't list the teacher for that term. Nevertheless, I decided to take a chance.
I spent the better part of my summer, waiting on the class schedules to be issued.
For those younger readers, yes, we had to wait for things like this, back in the day.
When the moment finally arrived, and I got the class schedule in the mail, my cock thumped in my shorts as I opened the mail.
My Creative Writing teacher was none-other than Mrs. Holmes. I was beyond thrilled for the school term to be re-opened. Not that I wasn't looking forward to my senior year! But now I was both exhilarated and impatient to see Mrs. Holmes.
By now, my libido was in hyperdrive, when I thought about Mrs. Rita Holmes. I would stroke my cock almost every night, thinking about different sexual scenarios. I frequently thought about what she'd look like naked, or what her tits would look like exposed for my eyes only.
I constantly fall asleep, wondering what her pussy looked like, how it felt, and what it tasted like. And the feeling of those wonderfully shaped legs, wrapped around my head or waist. It's a wonder my mother never asked me or my father where all the tissue and paper towels were going.
Finally, it was September, and the first day of the school term. As a senior, I reveled in being one of the bigger students on campus. I should have enjoyed all of the female attention that I was receiving, but I wasn't.
To me, they were all immature girls, when compared to Mrs. Holmes. I had that woman seared into my brain and I had to wait until fucking third period to see her!
I scrutinized the clock hands slowly ticking, second by second, through my second period Government class. In what seemed like an eternity, the bell to end that period, finally rang!
I almost trampled over my fellow students trying to get out of the door. I sprinted to the other end of the building to reach Mrs. Holmes' class.
I walked into room four hundred and twelve, okay, it was probably more of a run, as I tried to compose myself.
There were a couple of students seated in the room when I arrived. And there, seated at the head of the classroom, was the object of my sexual fantasies, dressed in a white short sleeved top, with a black pencil skirt, nude nylons and black heels. Holy fuck, I had no idea how I was going to keep my composure for the next few minutes!
Against my better judgment, I took a seat right at the front of her desk. Looking back, I can probably attribute that to fate, but things could have gotten very embarrassing for me too. Finally, the bell rang to initiate class. She gracefully stood and wrote her name on the chalkboard. Like I didn't know her name.
"Good morning, class. My name is Mrs. Holmes, and I will be your creative writing teacher for this semester. Over the next fifteen weeks of this introductory course, you will learn to write poems, short stories and essays. If you enjoy the class, you are more than welcome to take the intermediate creative writing course for the spring semester."
Welcome to take? Lady, I'm already there. Even if I hated creative writing with every fiber of my being, nothing will keep me from taking the intermediate class. I still had to wait for another ten weeks before I could register, but I already knew one class that I will be taking next semester for sure.
The first day of the class, continued with me casually snatching a look at her body, every opportunity that I got. After the first week, she knew all of our names. I came to enjoy the creative writing process, and her teaching skills made it even better.
During the second week of class, I knew I was in trouble. As she discussed some of the great poets of the 20th century, like Frost, Yeats and Plath, she slowly hopped onto her desk.
There, three feet in front of my desk, she sat cross-legged. Her shapely legs were almost close enough to touch. I tried not to stare at the black nylons encasing her wonderful legs, but it was hard. Unfortunately, so was my cock, as she uncrossed and crossed her legs.
All I could think about was parting her thighs and sliding my hands up her skirt, as it hiked around her waist and...
"Mr. Doyle? Hello, earth to Jamie Doyle," her beautiful voice remarked.
Shit, she asked me something while I was deep in my horny daydream. I had to think fast.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Holmes, your description of some of this beautiful poetry just got me lost in thought, but then again you would know the true definition of beauty, wouldn't you?"
That got some snorts from the back of the class. Where the fuck did that come from? Normally, I'd clam up or trip over my words when I'm asked a question. However, today my words flowed richly.
With a sly smile on her face, she replied, "Well, Mr. Doyle, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or concerned with that comment, but now you're committed. What had you in such a daydream?"
I guess there was no going back from here. Put up or shut up, right?
