Ms Ball

In addition to new students, a new semester sometimes meant new staff. When my secondary school resumed for the third term of my senior year, a new English teacher had joined the staff.

Ms Ball was a recent graduate in her early twenties, and she would be substituting for Ms Leary, who was going on leave for the rest of the year. Any young female teacher would naturally draw the attention of the male student body, but Ms Ball was something else entirely. She was about medium height and exceedingly pretty, with long, straight fiery hair, pale skin, and a slender body that she unfortunately concealed under conservatively-cut summer dresses. Her mouth was wide, with full, plump lips and perfect pearly-white teeth that showed when she gave her broad, signature grin. I envied her students and wished I was among them.

On the Wednesday of Ms Ball's second week, the school held one of its "casual days", where students could make a small donation in exchange for a reprieve from wearing our uniforms, but teachers often took part too. Given her usual attire, it was a surprise that Ms Ball donned the school uniform in a statement of irony. The light blue polo shirt clung to her torso and accentuated her modest breasts, and the dark blue plaid skirt fell just above her knees, revealing her smooth, pale legs. With her hair tied back in two bunches that fell around her shoulders, she looked every part the schoolgirl.

I imagine that half the school — most of the boys and probably some of the girls too — got themselves off that night thinking about Ms Ball, myself included. Once alone, I tugged myself off, imagining the things that I would like to do with Ms Ball if we were alone. I fell asleep with the thought of finding out whether Ms Ball's carpet matched her drapes still on my mind.

Two days later I was studying alone in a free period at the end of the day when I looked at my watch and discovered I'd missed my bus. Although I was eighteen and could drive, I couldn't afford a car of my own. The school was a notorious phone blackspot, but I still looked at my phone and cursed when I saw I had no reception. Kicking myself for having my music up so loud that I didn't hear the bell, I packed up and made my way toward the administration building.

"What are you still doing here?" Principal Benson asked in surprise when I knocked on the door to the main staffroom. It seemed that I'd interrupted an after-school staff orientation meeting, because several heads of faculty and new teachers were there.

"I lost track of the time and missed my bus. I was hoping I could call my parents."

"There's a phone in the front office you can use. It should be unlocked."

"Great, thanks!"

"But actually," he continued as I was turning to leave, "I think Katrina lives in your direction." He turned to Ms Ball. "Katrina, would you mind giving this student a lift home?"

"No, not at all," Ms Ball said, flashing me her broad smile. "If you can wait ten minutes or so, that is."

"It'd take either of parents at least as long to get here, so that would be really nice of you. I'll wait in the foyer."

Although I harboured no delusions that I would ever be in a position to act out my fantasies, I was looking forward to the opportunity to observe Ms Ball more closely, and to etch her image in my mind.

As Ms Ball promised, she was among the throng of teachers that streamed toward the staff car park ten minutes later. "Here, let me help you," I offered, noticing Ms Ball was struggling with her stack of books and binders."

"Oh, how kind of you," she beamed. "Such a gentleman!"

I gave Ms Ball basic directions to my house as she led the way to her car. "That's not out of the way at all," she remarked. "I live only a few minutes further down the road."

We soon arrived at her small blue Ford and put our things on the backseat.

"I liked your costume, by the way," she said when we were on the road. "Dickens was a clever choice. Quite original."

"I'm glad someone got it. I kept having to explain it to people. I guess they would have recognised my costume if I'd gone as Shakespeare, but —"

"You didn't want to wear a bald cap," she finished my sentence with a laugh.

"Exactly," I said, joining in with her laughter.

"And it would be a real shame too, with your hair," she said, looking over at my dark, should-length locks. I felt my face flush, but her eyes had returned to the road.

"I liked your costume too." I'd never been particularly good at small talk, but I wanted to build on the rapport we seemed to be establishing. "I hadn't considered that the school uniform is basically just casual attire for anyone who doesn't have to wear it."

"I'm not really sure I managed to pull it off. It's been more than half a decade since I wore the school uniform!"

"I think most people would disagree with you on that one."

"That's kind of you to say, but there must be at least a hundred girls at school who wear it better."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm pretty sure you left a lasting impression."

"A lasting impression."

"Let's just say that it would have been pleasant dreams for a lot of students that night."

"Oh. I see." There was a long, awkward silence, but Ms Ball didn't seem visibly upset. I half-expected her to kick me out of the car and regretted how brazen I'd been. "Does that include you?" she asked softly, raising her eyebrows.

I considered lying, but felt that might just prolong the interrogation. Concluding that honesty was the best policy, I simply nodded under her watchful gaze and looked out the window, preparing for her to pull over and tell me to get out.

"That's a bold thing to admit to a teacher." Her voice was calm, and I could see her glancing at me in the reflection of the window. "Well, I'm flattered all the same." I remained impassive and Ms Ball changed the subject. "So, this is your final year?"

I was relieved and faced forward again. "Yeah, just this term and the next one to go, then exams, of course."

"University next year?"

"I think so. I'm not really sure what I want to do though. I used to want to be an English teacher like you and Mr Merchant —"

"He said you're one of his best students," she interjected with a nod.

"But I don't know anymore. I think I've run out of steam when it comes to academic pursuits."

"There's still time to figure that out. You won't have to apply for a course until next term."

"There's still time," I agreed. "Oh, this is me up here, on the left."

Ms Ball pulled over to let me out of the car. I stooped and called through the open window. "Thanks for the lift!"

"You're welcome!" she replied, giving me another broad grin. "Oh," she began as I was straightening up, "rub one out for me!" Not sure if I'd heard her correctly, I opened my mouth to ask her to repeat herself, but she'd already driven off.

Whether or not I'd misheard her, I dutifully did as I was told that evening. It was only later when I went to start my revision that I realised I'd left my things on her backseat, and for the second time that day I kicked myself.

***

During homeroom on Monday, where attendance was taken and we heard the daily announcements, I explained the situation about my books and pens to Ms O'Morin, who permitted me to go and see Ms Ball about retrieving my things. I found Ms Ball in the English staffroom. Ms Leary hadn't had a homeroom to supervise, so Ms Ball hadn't been assigned one either.

"I was expecting you!" she said when I knocked on the open door. "I had a busy weekend moving the rest of my things in, but I saw your things in the car this morning. I need to get the rest of my books, so we can go together."

Ms Ball locked the staffroom and we made our way through the quiet school. "Did you have a good Friday evening?" she asked as we walked.

"Um, yes, thanks." I found the question unnervingly specific and deliberately chose not to elaborate. "Did you?"

"Very pleasant, yes. You know, seeing as you live on my way home, if you ever miss the bus again or need to stay late, you're welcome to a lift. You're eighteen, so we don't even need to get Principal Benson to clear it."

"Oh, thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Ms Ball took the lead and stacked her things together on the backseat. I took the opportunity to watch her backside wiggle, and admire the fiery ponytail running down her back, the way the summer dress followed her contours, and the smooth skin of her calves. Concerned that this might prompt and awkward physical reaction, I looked away, but it was difficult to keep my eyes off her. Eventually my gaze wandered back to her alluring body, but now something was different. The hem of Ms Ball's dress was raised above the small of her back, revealing her thighs and a pair of frilly white panties. I stared at the perfect skin of her buttocks, using my eyes to trace the strip of fabric that crossed her hips and disappeared between her legs. With me standing in the way, she was hidden from others' view, and so too was the growing bulge in my trousers.

Minutes seemed to pass before Ms Ball straightened up and her dress fell back down. She turned and gave me another of her smiles. "All yours," she said, adding "your things" in response to my confused expression.

The bell rang. "You better get to class!" I scrambled to grab my things and rushed off, leaving Ms Ball behind.

Once class began, I didn't have much time to dwell on what had happened, but during the mid-morning break I was able to rationalise the situation. Although it seemed improbably serendipitous for Ms Ball to be unaware of her exposure, I was prepared to write off the event as an accident, probably caused by a lucky gust of wind. That was that, as far as I was concerned.

***

That week the school held its annual cross-country race to determine who would represent each grade at the regional level. Two hours were allocated for each grade, and the first male and female students to complete four laps were declared the winners. Although I wasn't particularly good at sport, I could run okay, but had never managed to make the full distance within the time allowed.

The senior race was held last, commencing after lunch on Wednesday afternoon. The track was about two miles long, beginning in the concrete jungle of the school and winding its way through the adjacent forest. Staff members who had volunteered to act as marshals to discourage cheating started the first lap with us and ran as far as their stations. As a volunteer, Ms Ball put on the sports uniform — the same as the regular uniform but with basketball shorts — and ran with us for just over half a lap before taking up her position in a quiet part of the forest.

By the end of the second lap, sizeable gaps had opened up between the me and the runners ahead and behind, leaving me to run a lonely race. I didn't think I'd make it to the full four laps, but I checked my watch and was happy with my pace.

As I approached Ms Ball on my third lap, she grinned and shouted encouragement. I was within fifteen yards of her when suddenly she crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her polo shirt, and pulled it up to her chin. "You can do it, woo!"

I stared at her chest as I jogged past. She caught me by surprise, giving me just enough time to observe how her modest breasts were restrained by a punk push-up bra before I ran past, too stunned to stop. Once further along I looked over my shoulder. Ms Ball's shirt had returned to normal and she was looking down the track, waiting for the next runner to appear. I shook my head. It must have been a mirage.

It was good I was running, keeping the blood circulating where I needed it. Trying to run with an erection would not help my cause, and would be embarrassingly obvious to any marshals and competitors I encountered.

One more lap to go, I told myself as I crossed the finish line. My legs ached a little, but I pressed on, determined to finish respectably. I figured I was about tenth, and was on target for one of my better finishes. I wouldn't make it in under two hours, but I would complete the distance.

When I neared Ms Ball's station on my fourth and final lap, I slowed down before coming around the corner, wanting to confirm that the last lap had just been my imagination. Nothing happened as I closed in to twenty yards, and I smiled appreciatively as she shouted encouragement. But as I got closer, her arms crossed again, and the hem of her shirt rose swiftly.

There was no bra. Ms Ball's perky breasts were bare, each small pink nipple like a cherry on a milky pudding. She was grinning that broad, ear-to-ear grin. I was so taken aback that my face must have resembled a Picasso portrait of a car crash victim. Once again, I jogged past her and when I looked over my shoulder her shirt was lowered, as though nothing had happened.

My head was pounding and my legs begged for me to stop, but I managed to run the full distance in a little over two hours. After I'd finished the race and rehydrated, I had little choice but to chalk up the visions in the forest to wishful thinking, a lack of water, and exhaustion. Besides, it was normal to have fantasies, and the visions of Ms Ball lingered for the rest of the week.

***

At lunchtime on Friday I was dismayed to find that all the senior study rooms were occupied. Having lost time over the weekend due to my missing books, I was keen to catch up as quickly as I could. What I needed was the sympathetic ear of a teacher with whom I'd recently established a rapport.

I knocked on the door of the English staffroom. It was opened by Mr Merchant, my teacher and the head of the faculty. As I began to ask if there was classroom I could use, Ms Ball's face appeared behind his shoulder, much to my relief.

"You can use my room," she offered. "If you don't mind sharing. I need to set up for my next class."

Ms Ball let me into her classroom and I unpacked my things on a desk in the back corner so we wouldn't disturb each other. Not give minutes into reading I heard a sigh of frustration and looked up. "Something wrong?"

"I can't get my laptop to go through the projector. Any ideas?"

"Sometimes the cleaners unplug the cables when they move the desk and forget to belong them back in when they're done. Do you want me to take a look?"

"That would be most kind of you."

I walked up to the desk, standing on the opposite side to Ms Ball, and crawled underneath it to trace the cable to its socket in the floor. My head was level with Ms Ball's knees, but I wasn't looking at her knees. I was looking up her dress, which seemed to have bunched around her waist. Her legs were apart and I followed her creamy thighs up to her panty-less crotch. Her narrow pink slit was bare to my view, and I could see the short ginger tufts of her pubic hair.

She coughed. "The cable?"

I swallowed and came back to reality, reluctantly tearing my eyes away from her snatch. Plugging in the cable as quickly as I could, I turned back, but there was nothing more to see. Her dress was back down to her ankles and I was again left questioning my sanity.

"It's back in."

Ms Ball confirmed that everything was working now and thanked me as I got to my feet. I made my way back to my desk, hunching over to conceal my throbbing erection. Once back in my seat, I stroked myself over the top of my trousers with as little movement as possible, stealing glances at Ms Ball as often as I dared. If I didn't take care of it now, I wouldn't be able to concentrate. It was slow going, and I think she almost caught me looking a couple of times, but I managed to cum without her noticing.

When the bell rang I packed up my things and started to leave, when Ms Ball addressed me. "Oh, by the way, you're welcome to use this room after school today. I have to stay for a staff meeting and to finish off some work. You must have fallen a bit behind without your books. I can give you a lift home if you wanted to take advantage of the peace and quiet here."

"That's really nice of you." I smiled nervously, hoping there was no dark patch on the front of my trousers. "I think I'll take you up on that."

***

When school was finished, I met Ms Ball as she was leaving her classroom. "The meeting will take about half an hour, but after that I'll be right next door if you need anything."

I was engrossed in my books when Ms Ball checked in on me after her meeting. "There was cake," she said, holding out a plate. "I thought you'd like some. I was going to make a cup of tea too, if you fancy one."

"Oh wow, thanks! A cup of tea would be lovely."

Ms Ball soon returned with my tea and some serviettes. "I'll leave you to it," she said, and returned to the staffroom.

Once I'd washed the cake down with the tea, I unfurled the serviette and was about to wipe my mouth when I noticed something. Smeared on the white paper was red lipstick in what looked like the shape of a pair of lips. I put it aside and contemplated it. This might be the first tangible evidence that Ms Ball had taken a bit more than just a shine to me. I tucked the serviette into my pocket and used another to wipe the crumbs from around my mouth.

After mulling over what to do for a few minutes, I picked up my cup and plate and made my way to the English staffroom. "Just returning these," I explained, and busied myself rinsing themselves off at the kitchenette sink. When I was done, I tried my hands and produced the serviette from my pocket.

"Uh, Ms Ball?"

"Yes?" she responded brightly, swivelling her chair to face me.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" I unfurled the serviette and showed her the lipstick mark. My face felt warm and I knew I was blushing.

Ms Ball closed the staffroom door and turned to me. "What do you think it means?"

"I think," I began slowly, "it means there's a good chance you're not wearing any panties at the moment."

"Would you like to find out if you're right."

I stared at her. That wide, seductive grin was plastered on her face. I was dumbstruck and simply nodded. Ms Ball tugged her dress up to her knees so that she could bunch it in her hands and lifted, revealing more and more of her legs. Her thighs looked so inviting as my member began to swell. There was a hint of pink fabric and Ms Ball's panties were soon in full view.

"I could hardly be expected to keep them off all day!" she laughed at my surprise.

There was no need to wait for a clearer signal. Ms Ball dropped her dress and we embraced, locking our lips. I ran my hands over her soft curves, fondling a breast in one hand and a buttock in the other. Ms Ball cupped my member with a slender hand. I began bunching up her dress, eager to get her out of it, but she broke off our kiss. "Not here."

"Where?"

"My place."

That was that. There was no further discussion. Ms Ball straightened her dress and led me to her car. As we drove down the familiar streets I glanced at her, wondering what was going through her mind. Was she as nervous as I was? How long had she been planning this? Had it been from the moment I'd told her that I'd fantasised about her?

I watched out the window as we drove past my house. Whatever doubts she may have had, they weren't enough to make her stop and let out of the car. It wasn't much longer before we pulled up outside a two-storey terrace house with a small white picket fence around the front garden. Ms Ball parked and I followed her to the front door.

Once inside with the door closed between us and the world, she took me by the hand and bounded up the stairs, almost dragging me behind her to the short landing and into her bedroom. She put her hands on my chest and pushed me backwards onto the bed, leaping on top of me, straddling me between her thighs, her long red hair tickling my nose. Ms Ball pawed at the buttons on my shirt, almost ripping it open, then bent her head and pressed her soft lips against mine.