I work as an English teacher at a small high school in Vermont. Basically, I hate the job. But I have been trained as a teacher, and other jobs are hard to find. The reason why I hate the job is that about one-third of the students are "okay" to teach, one-third are a pleasure to teach, and the final third make your life a living hell on a daily basis.
I have been doing this for five years, but there is one event that I look back on with a great deal of pleasure. And I don't have to look back very far—since it is still going on. And that event was named Christine—in the week before her graduation.
Christine was one of those students in the top third of course, but more than that she also demonstrated the unfairness of life in that she had everything going for her. To begin with, she was very beautiful: about five-eight, 110 pounds, naturally blonde hair down to the middle of her back and unblemished skin that was like silk. From what I could see, it appeared that she had small breasts, but I admired the fact that she did not do anything to enhance them.
And in addition to all that, she was extremely intelligent, my top student in fact, and even at the age of 18 was very well-traveled. Her doting grandfather was a widower and well-heeled, so twice a year he would take her on some European trip. So far, she had been to London, Dublin, Vienna, and Rome. Gramps probably just liked being in the company of a beautiful girl—let the observers conclude what they wished.
For the past year, Christine had been keeping company with a steady boyfriend, Ryan. I didn't know if they had enjoyed sex together, but it would not have surprised me. At least she was intelligent enough to know how to not get pregnant.
If Christine was my favorite student, it soon became apparent that I was her favorite teacher. I know this was true because she told me so.
Although I was 38 years old, I still was not married and lived alone in an apartment. I usually stayed in my otherwise empty classroom grading papers a couple of hours every day after school closed at 2. I didn't really have anything to go home to. One day, around 2:30 Christine came in.
"Can I bother you?" she asked with a smile.
"Of course. You're never a bother."
"I'm glad I'm graduating this year, and I'm glad I'm going to Boston U," she said, "But I'm really sorry that I won't be seeing you anymore. You were my favorite teacher. You really helped me a lot."
"I'm glad you feel that way. And since we only have four days left, I guess I can confess to you that you were my favorite student."
"I thought so." She paused. "This may seem silly, but would you like to have a picture of me to remember me by?"
"Of course. That would be very nice."
"I got a digital camera and a photo printer for my 18th birthday last week, so I can take my own pictures and print them out without having to take any film to a photo shop. It even has a self-timer on it, so I can take pictures of myself."
"Wonderful." I didn't realize then, but she was explaining ahead of time how the pictures that I was going to see were done—and developed.
The next day when I came in, there was a 6 x 8 plain manila envelope lying on the center of my desk. I opened it. Inside were three 5 x 7 color photos. They were taken in a forest somewhere. In the first one, a blonde girl, presumably Christine, was standing on the trunk of a fallen tree with her back to the camera and her legs slightly apart. She was holding the back of her hair up...and she was stark naked.
In the second picture, she was turned around but crouched a little as if she had been discovered naked by surprise. One hand and forearm covered her breasts, and the other hand was cupped over her private area.
In the third picture, she was facing the camera again but this time with her hands on the top of her head and her fingers interlaced. Her pink nipples were about the size of quarters, and her sparse and silky-looking maidenhair proved that she was a real blonde.
WELL! I was going to have a talk with her about this.
We only had three more days of classes, so after her class that day, I motioned for her to come forward.
"Christine, could you stop in my office after school?" I asked.
"All right."
She undoubtedly knew why I was asking, but her face betrayed no emotion. Was she embarrassed? Was she sorry she had done it? I couldn't tell.
Naturally, I expected her to show up sometime between 2 and 3, but she did not do so until 4, just a half hour before I was due to leave and a time when the school probably was completely empty other than the two of us.
She was wearing designer-fitted jeans and a green short sleeve jersey that ended three inches above her belt, thus displaying her pretty navel. She sat in the chair opposite my desk.
"I guess you know why I asked you here," I said as I took the pictures out of the envelope and spread them out across my desk. I'm glad I'm the one who opened this and not someone else. I would have been in real trouble."
"I'm sorry, I never thought of that. You aren't offended are you?"
"No, I'm not offended. In fact, I'm very flattered that you would do this. You look very beautiful." I looked up. "But why?"
"I wanted to give you a present for being so nice to me, but I didn't have any money. So I thought you would like this."
I looked down at the pictures again. "Yes, I definitely like it, and I'll treasure them. The only thing better would be seeing them in the flesh."
She paused. "Would you like to?"
"Would I like to what?"
"See them in the flesh?"
"What do you mean? I was just kidding."
"I'm not kidding. Would you like to see them in the flesh?"
"How?"
"There's probably no one here but you and I, and thanks to the new security, there's a bolt on the door. I could turn it and then undress for you."
I thought about this long and hard. It was a violation of teacher ethics naturally, and I undoubtedly would lose my job if it was found out. But she was the most beautiful student I ever had, she would be gone in a few days, she was of legal age, and she was making the offer.
"Lock the bolt," I said.
She got up, walked to the back of the room and turned the bolt. Then, with a smile, she walked back. She stood in front of the desk, crossed her arms and pulled the green jersey over her head. Then she unzipped her tight jeans, pushed her tennis shoes off, pushed the jeans down and stepped out of them. Now, she was clad only in a matching white bra and panties, both of which looked brand new. She reached behind her, unhooked the bra and let it drop. As I had observed in the picture, her breasts were small but beautiful.
Finally, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties.
"Wait a minute," I said, "Come over here and stand in front of me."
She came around the desk and stood before me. "This is something I've fantasized about doing for my entire teaching career: Pulling down the panties of a pretty student like you."
"Okay."
I put my fingers under the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them down until they dropped around her ankles. She had the most amazing pubic hair I had ever seen. Instead of being crinkly and coarse like most, it was soft, blonde, and relatively straight—like corn silk. Beneath the sparse hair, I could see her downy nether lips.
"I've never seen pubic hair like this," I said.
"I know. I guess I was born with it—or the potential for it."
"Can I taste it?" I asked.
"Of course."
I put my hands on her hips and pulled her to me. Then I licked those downy nether lips. I was in teacher heaven. I pushed the tip of my tongue inside a little.
She began to breathe more deeply. "Can I sit down?" she asked. "My legs are getting rubbery."
"Sit on my lap," I offered.
