Ms Mora walked casually into the tumultuous classroom she had been assigned to. It was her first day on the job and she seemed to lack the all-to common nerves that she had been accustomed to during her last three brief yet somewhat productive positions. She walked and seemed to ooze a gumption that is rarely found confined between the stark walls of the classroom. All five foot eight of her portrayed a confidence usually found in an older woman. She had ruby hair complete with matching lipstick, blue eyes and a small kitten-like tongue that was deceptively small. Her shoulders were broad but not mannish and her figure was trim and well cared for. Her hips stuck out at her sides, perfecting the hourglass figure and her long legs perfectly shaven and always displayed. In fact everything about her was ideal. However, the same cannot be said for her 'main attributes'. Her breasts were trapped behind a 32B bra and deliciously pale, her nipples small pebbles on the larger mound and her areolas small but fiery when aroused. Her shapely buttocks remained her best feature; or at least that's what I think. They curved beautifully out from her and seemed to tighten and release as she walked, providing with all onlookers (guilty as charged) with a hypnotic swaying that shuddered each step, causing the fabric of her denim skirt to fold -- highlighting her captivating curves.
She walked into the class sat down and waited. The room had been full of teenage banter and this sixth form class, a class unbound by even the most fearsome of staff, fell silent in awe. Ms Mora picked up the pen, bit her lower lip oh-so-gently and squinted slightly to take in her prey.
"Hmm," she wondered, "all 18-19; well built; obviously intellectually competitive and all for me!" her lust had an instant effect on her body as she felt her skin burn slightly and the fabric in her bra stretching slightly to cope with the sudden increase in size. She clapped her hands to avert the class's attention from her statuesque breasts and wrote her name on the board. She was the new philosophy teacher and having just left the warm embrace of Cambridge, had come to Hintens School for Boys, after her previous three job positions at various un-academic schools.
The lesson was far too short as all of the boys had become captivated by her arousing voice and exciting features. But for one boy it was far too long. Sam looked hurriedly at his watch, it was nearing the end of the lesson but the damned bitch wasn't letting up. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk and uttered a small sigh of exasperation. Not small enough it seemed as Ms. Mora snapped the book shut, walked over to him and asked him for his watch. Surprised, Sam warily unattached it from his wrist and handed it to her, "There," she said, "easier to concentrate now isn't it. What's your name?"
"Sam." He said, again his suspicions becoming excited.
"Well Sam, why are you in such a hurry?"
"Oh, well er... its my... " he managed to get out before one of his classmates interjected: "It's his birthday and his girlfriend's waiting for him!" Sam clenched his jaw and slowly turned to find the culprit grinning behind a book, a miserable attempt at hiding.
"Oh, well that's different." Ms Mora stated professionally. "In fact since you have another lesson of this you can pack up and get started on that."
Sam stared, mouth open in shock, never before had any teacher let anyone leave early, especially for such a pathetic reason. He packed his satchel with his books and walked to the door, not without the victory smile to his loyal snitch.
"You'll want your watch though," Ms Mora said as she sidled over to him, "because you can be here at 4:15 for the ten minutes you've cost this class. Bye-bye now." She said as she turned smiling to dismiss her class.
That had been the second time Ms Mora had made him gasp like that but Sam bore it stoically and only let out the curse he had been holding under his breath in the hallway.
