Author's Note: Everything in this story is completely fictional, including the names. BTW this is the first erotic story I've ever written, so please tell me what you think.
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Any normal girl would go gaga for Mr. Watson, my high school's resident "hottie" teacher. Everything about him is perfect. His 6'2 athletic physique, soft brown hair, and eyes that are as blue as the ocean. He also looked especially handsome with his usual 5 o'clock shadow.
Ever since I first laid eyes on him my sophmore year, I wanted him. And it wasn't just the thrill of fucking a teacher that made me want him. Although, getting frisky with a man who was 10 years older than me was such a turn on. But it was so much more. He has an amazing personality. Mr. Watson is funny, charming, charismatic, and intelligent. Pile all that on top of being totally gorgeous, and you have perfection personified.
Mr. Watson teaches junior American History and senior U.S Government. So when I became a junior I was pretty excited to finally have him as a teacher. And I only began to lust after him more when I became a senior. I hardly call it class since all I do is spend 40 minutes ogling my history teacher. It is kind of like a 40 minute real life Bod commercial that I get to watch everyday 5 days a week. And although he has his shirt on the whole time, it's still enough to get my blood pumping.
I would sit in class watching him lecture but never really listen. Too busy fantasizing about him instead of actually paying attention. I'd watch his lips move and wish that they were moving against mine. And although he wore fitting clothes, I'd look at his body and wonder how it'd look without the bulk of clothing being in the way. Every time he'd put a hand on my shoulder, I would wish for it to linger. Aching for his touch. Yes, I was crushing on him that bad.
There were plenty of girls in class that would talk to him a lot. The popular girls never had a problem with talking to him or attempting to flirt with him for that matter. Whereas, I would blush if he even called on me to answer a question in class. That isn't to say that I never spoke to him. Although I was probably the color of Dorothy's sparkled shoes the whole time we talked for the first few months of my junior year. Eventually, I began to get more comfortable around him. Chatting with him freely whenever the opportunity came.
When I finally turned 18 and we came back from winter break, I began to notice his eyes on me a lot more than usual. We would occasionally lock eyes with each other, if I wasn't feeling too nervous to do so. I used to wonder if he could read my eyes like I hoped he would. Sometimes a look can say more than a thousand words. And mine said "I want you."
I obviously couldn't come straight forward with my feelings towards Mr. Watson. Just in case I was reading too much into our exchanged glances. If anything was going to happen, I wanted it to be him to make the first move. So I would do things in class to spark his attention of the sexual nature. Such as hiking up my uniform skirt to expose most of my thigh or playfully sucking on a pen while he lectured. In these instances, all I would get was a coy smirk and if my eyes weren't deceiving me maybe a wink at times. Although this non-verbal flirtation went on for the whole trimester, nothing ever happened.
When we came back from spring break, everything changed. He couldn't even bring himself to look at me. Not even when I raised my hand to answer a question. I tried my usual tricks to catch his attention but it was to no avail. He even went as far as to not even look in my section of the classroom; which consisted of about 8 students. I had no clue what happened but I had to do something to get him to at least look at me.
So today I walked into class with my phone intentionally taken off of silent mode. Mid-lecture my phone went off with a text alert. I could feel his eyes on me as I nonchalantly pulled the phone out of my jacket pocket and proceeded to read my text message.
"Marie," I heard his voice chime.
"Yeah?" I replied as I looked up from my phone at him.
"You know the rules. No phones in class," he said as he walked through the aisle and stuck out his hand.
When I looked up at his strikingly gorgeous face, I fought the urge to smirk. But instead, I exaggeratedly sighed as I dropped the phone in his hand.
"You can get this after school," he then said as he put the phone in his top desk drawer; unknowingly playing into my hands.
I went through the rest of the school day rather robotic. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about what I wanted to say and do to Mr. Watson, if I ever got the chance. I had no idea how he would react to it but I waited anxiously for the time when I would find out.
I wandered around the campus for a bit after the final bell rang. I wanted to make sure I had him completely to myself. And that wasn't going to happen if there were students in there asking about test grades or homework. After about 30 minutes, the school was a graveyard. Except for the athletes, who were out in the field for practice, or the handful of students who always goofed off in the campus parking lot. With a deep breath, I walked into the hallway where his classroom was located and stepped into the doorway. He was standing by the bookshelf adding a few books to the collection.
