Teachers Pet Ch 03 10

I wrote about a 40K word piece on the continuation of the basic story beginning right where Chapter 1 left off, then threw it all out. This started as another vignette about Landrie's sister, who was introduced in Chapter Two, but morphed into something more central to the story as I got into it. As always, all characters are over 18. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Three: The Trouble with Suzie

Part One:

One of these things is not like the other.

Susan Tennyson Souther (Suzie) was nothing like her sister. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Suzie has the same jet-black hair, same green almond-shaped eyes, and a voice so close to Landrie's that you'd have a hard time picking one from the other if you listened to the two blindfolded.

As my relationship with Landrie grew, Suzie was always on the periphery, either waiting for a ride home from her older sister outside our class, in the reception line for the academic competition team when it returned from the state competition or watching from afar when I waved my goodbye to Landrie at her graduation. She always observed my relationship with Landrie, even in little things, with an intensity that made me uncomfortable.

I did not appreciate the significance of the differences between the two until Suzie enrolled in my senior honors college credit history course. She'd taken junior US History from my cohort Janice, who reported her to be "crazy smart, but a flake, with a huge lazy streak" who was "more interested in getting laid than making a grade." I thought this was a needlessly uncharitable statement, but after a couple of weeks into fall semester, I could see Janice' point.

Landrie was smart in a very systematic and linear way. She understood that the study of history involved recording and recalling events, then interpreting them to learn about human nature and human conduct from history. This process fit Landrie's personality like a glove because her mind was one of the most organized places on the planet. Suzie's mind was not orderly. Rather, it was a chaotic whirlwind of thought with only one common denominator, the rejection of everything smacking of authority or of an official explanation.

This did not mean that Suzie was dumb. To the contrary, in some ways she was smarter than Landrie. When Suzie applied herself, she perceived patterns from history that very few perceived. She was capable of drawing parallels in human behavior from events separated from one another both geographically and by decades of time. Her language skills, when she bothered to employ them, were more highly developed than Landrie's. She also exercised a razor-sharp ability to perceive the motivations that drove history's actors, though most often interpreting and expressing them in an ugly and jaundiced way.

For example, in her first week, we happened to hit the rabbit trail of the Mormon migration to Utah a little early, even though out of our time sequence, and Suzie summarized it thusly: "they just wanted to fuck as many women as they could get their fucking hands on, and they couldn't do that back East." It mattered not that she had a point, I couldn't allow this to pass, or the rest of the class would spend the rest of the year trying to one-up her. The rest of the class drew in their collective breath to await my reaction. I quietly stopped, pulled one of the pre-printed red discipline referral notes from my side drawer, wrote a description of the offense, split the two, retained the carbon copy, and calmly instructed her to "take this to "Vice Principal Tompkins, right now, no detours. I will be checking with her."

Suzie was suspended for a week and put in alt-school. It was not her first trip to alt-school. It probably wouldn't be her last. I scheduled a pop quiz during her censure to ensure that she'd get a zero on it. I didn't believe in free rides and had the sneaking suspicion that Suzie used the double-fuck phrase solely to give herself a mini-vacation.

While Landrie was obsessed with accomplishment and reveled in recognition for it, Suzie seemed offended by the idea that any student should care whether they got an "A" or an "F" on a test, or what a teacher thought of them. I looked at her transcript following the "fuck as many as they could" episode, and the results were telling. Suzie was probably the top student in our high school in Calculus and Physics, but barely passed accounting and business math, courses that ought to have been layups given her ability. Her math and science grades were off the chart, but in every social science she was a C- student who would have earned Ds had it not been for a healthily sized bottom of the bell curve present in our high school. Her college board exams showed the highest possible score in math and science subjects, and laughably weak scores in the humanities.

The transcript screamed "substance over form"—Suzie was a student who cared about what she knew and what she could do with it and gave not one good Goddamn about whether she proved it to anyone else. Once she mastered a subject to her liking, she quit, and it didn't matter where that the teacher was only 50% finished with the lesson, or what subjects might later be tested.

Suzie's attire, on the other hand, screamed "fuck me." While Landrie had worn her share of short shorts, short skirts, tight shirts and low-cut blouses during the second half of her senior year (In fact I liked to think that it was this combination of newly revealed flesh that got me in "trouble" with Landrie in the first place), Suzie's attire bordered on the obscene and frequently crossed the border with the pedal pressed to the metal.

Landrie was athletic looking, with an "All American Girl" appearance, while Suzie seemed to come straight off the pages of a men's magazine. Landrie was an athletic 5' 4", Suzie was an hourglass 5' 8" with a narrow little waist, ample hips, a well-defined plum-shaped bottom, and a bust that was a D cup or larger. Unlike Landrie, who kept her black locks well-brushed and pinned up in a ponytail, Suzie looked like she'd just fallen out of bed, which was probably the point. Her legs were remarkably long and tapered and she shared the same strong thighs that her sister boasted. The distinction in their looks hit me one evening as I drove home the first week: Landrie was so pretty she tended to make men stammer, Suzie was so sexy she tended to make them erect.

Several teachers over the course of her years had turned her in for violations of the school dress code. Suzie was so inventive in her exhibitionism that whole sections of the dress code were rewritten on her account, including the addition of several new "no one can ever wear this shit" and "you can never do this shit either" bullet points. She wore cutoff jeans that were so short that the bottom of her ass-cheeks showed with the slightest provocation, which she gave at every opportunity.

For example, before taking her assigned seat in her very first class with me, she made a point of pirouetting to speak to the boy behind her, glancing over her shoulder to see that I was looking, then dropped her pencil before slowly bending at the waist to pick it up. This exhibitionist ballet gave the young man she had been addressing a deep dive view into her cleavage and he appropriately stared down Suzie's shirt like a deer stuck in the headlights. The move simultaneously made the narrow blue denim strip barely covering Suzie's crotch cut so deeply into that crevice that I could swear her labia was exposed. I looked, momentarily, just as she had intended, shaking my head in laughing disbelief, a look I shared with Suzie's classmate and good friend Elise Matthews, who had seen these antics before.

Every shirt, whether a t-shirt or button up, was stretched so tightly across her ample firm bosom that you could tell not only the size of her breasts, but their exact shape, the color and shape of her nipples and areole, and how they reacted to the cold. Short answer: magnificent. Her buttons were so stretched by the tight shirt that small eyelets popped open between each button, allowing a glimpse at her ample deliciously curved chest. A favorite tactic was to wear dark-colored, plunging bras along with tight white button-down shirts so that nothing would be left to the imagination.

While Landrie was personable and met guys as people before engaging them as potential romantic interests, and she had been remarkably conservative in her approach to sexuality Suzie was a tease, or, biblically, a "temptress." She absolutely reveled in creating sexual desire in men, young and old alike, and liked nothing better than to gather gaggle of guys to follow her about. And of course, with her looks, attire, and attitude, a virtually limitless supply of guys were perfectly willing to join the gaggle. One unsurprising byproduct of this attitude was that Suzie didn't ever seem to have had a significant boyfriend, and never dated any boy steadily. Her reputation for looseness came from her appearance, not testimonials from anyone who had "been there and done that." All this led me to wonder why she felt the need to work so hard to create interest. She was beautiful and would have been remarkably attractive without the more brazen behavior.

Unlike Landrie, who maintained a larger cadre of associates but no single close friend, Suzie was very close to a strong cadre of running mates, Elise Matthews being the first of the lot. She garnered rides to and from school, walked between classes, ate, and generally hung out with the same group of four girls, forming an incredibly tight-knit klatch.

Older men were not immune to her charms. In whispers in the teacher's lounge, in carshare rides to and from school, and in the coach's locker room, I heard teachers who knew far better say things like "I'd like to take those shorts down and give her a lesson or two" or "I bet she fucks like a mink" and "she wouldn't look so Goddamned cocky with my dick buried up her ass."

It wasn't long before push came to shove in my own class. Suzie sat in the same position Landrie had the year before—third row, second seat. Her choice.

During an examination on the Continental Congress, Suzie slouched low in her chair, dawdling with her test, exhibiting the same desultory attitude that would produce another below-par grade. As usual, my eyes traveled the rows to check for students helping themselves to the answers of others, until they came upon Suzie. She saw me checking up and down the rows and smiled in my direction, mistaking my regular review for attention focused solely upon her. It wasn't a friendly or playful smile. It was an "I caught you checking me out" smile, arrogant and triumphant. I stayed focused on her. There was no reason I shouldn't. I was her teacher she was a student taking a test in my class. Part of my job to observe the class to make sure they weren't cheating.

Suzie maintained eye contact, and very slowly lifted her pencil to her mouth. She first rested the butt of the pencil on her lower lip, then raised it up into her mouth and extended her dark pink tongue to it, licking the pencil as if it were a miniature cock. She then closed her eyes, as if overcome by sexual arousal, and bobbed her mouth down over the top of the pencil until she had taken several inches of it into her mouth.

My first reaction was to stare, and my second was to become erect and thus, flushed with guilt. With Landrie, I was the hopeful schoolboy, sneaking a glance at her normally hidden treasure, utterly panicked at the prospect of being caught, and endlessly relieved that Landrie saw my attention as a pleasant game.

Suzie's provocations, however, created an entirely different set of emotions in me. Landrie was a person of inestimable value to me, while I thought of Suzie as an exceptionally fine piece of ass. Still, that didn't keep violently lustful thoughts from cropping up from her little one-act play.

Oh fucking hell!!!

My head screamed as she ran her tongue over the top of the eraser.

Make me that pencil. I'll give you a dividend you weren't counting on m

y mind ached.

The angel on my right shoulder countered:

Get a grip you moron! Don't stare at her, it'll only make it worse! Grow a backbone, better yet grow a pair! She is manipulating you!

Try as I might, I could not break contact with Suzie's eyes. She smiled, not the playful "a-ha! I caught you!" smile of her sister, but the smile the female black widow gives before devouring her mate after sex. Suzie removed the pencil-cock from her mouth. It trailed a thread of saliva which she directed to drop across her chin. She then re-positioned the pencil between her breasts, the tops of which were lush, round, and fully exposed nearly to the nipple, and raised and lowered the shaft of the pencil up and down between them, trailing her spit into the valley between her giant orbs, mimicking a cock fucking her between them.

Oh, fuck yes!

I thought.

You want that, don't you Suzie? I'll oil those big puppies of yours up and drench your face in about twenty strokes! You won't look so smug covered in my spooge, will you? Maybe I'll bend you over the arm of the couch in the living room and give it to you in your hot little ass. Yes, that's it, spank your ass until it's beet red and you're begging for it before I give it to you. You'd like that wouldn't you, Suzie?

The image of me, standing over her as she lay draped across my living room couch occupied my mind, I was inside her, pulling her by the hair while we rutted like animals.

At last something clicked in my head, and I was able to disengage from her. I wanted to send a message, so I looked up at the ceiling, leaned back in my chair, stretched my arms far above my head—and yawned. Openly, obviously, and in clear response to her prodding. When I returned to the upright position, I tracked the student in front of Suzie, then continued to review the fourth and fifth rows, but could see from my peripheral vision that Suzie both understood my message and was furious. When I came back to her, she was writing in her test booklet in short, choppy motions as if attacking it with her pencil.

The very next day Suzie tested me again, this time bringing a gun to a knife fight. When I passed out the previous days questions and began going through the answers and corrections, Suzie purposefully slouched in her seat, then slowly opened her legs just wide enough for me to see some of her thigh. She stared straight at me, to ensure that my gaze was where it was supposed to be, then slouched and spread her legs until the knees were a good 18 inches apart. My breath caught in my throat, and I stared down at my desk to compose myself, because on this day Suzie was wearing no panties at all. Her legs were now spread so broadly, and she was slouched so low, that her bald pussy was completely exposed.

Even my brief glance revealed that it was...fabulous. Her strong thighs framed a perfect "V" beginning with a flat stomach walled by two powerful thighs. Her pussy lips were large, dark, and thick. Edible. And they were wet. Not a little moist, dripping wet. A small pink cord extended from the bottom of her slit. I knew what that was. That was the control element for a remote vibrator. Suzie was wet because Suzie was masturbating herself less than ten feet away from me. Her cellphone was sitting atop her desk, and her hand was over the top. I could see her thumb moving up and down the screen under her four fingers as she altered the intensity of the little unit. It was a wonder that no one could hear the vibrator insider her buzzing away.

I stared at her perfect triangle for what must have been five seconds, then lifted my eyes. I'm quite sure that I must have stammered during the delivery of my lesson, but I honestly have no recollection of what I was saying, or even what I was teaching. I came to, then abruptly completed the lesson without looking at her again. All the kids noticed because the lesson was about half the length it normally ran. They seemed relieved. When I returned to my chair and surveyed the class. Suzie's head lolled back, her face bore a dreamy appearance, and her legs were still wide open.

Don't look down!

I told myself.

Don't look at it again!

But of course, I looked down. Her lips were redder and wetter than before. Perhaps it was because I knew what was going on, but I thought I could smell her. Her face betrayed that the little vibrator was doing its job well. She no longer wore a slack, pleasure-laden expression, but her eyebrows had tightened, her lips had become pursed, and she was partially hunched over her desk. She was on the verge of cumming. I saw her hands clinch and tremble, and her legs draw back together, crossed at the ankle. She lunged forward slightly, just a few inches, then back, then forward once again. Suzie Souther was orgasming right in the middle of AP history, and though God alone knew why she had chosen to do it, I felt sure she was trying to draw me in.

My eyes continued surveying the class, but always ran back to Suzie. When they came to rest on her again, she had come down from her climax and put the phone away. Focusing on my eyes, she gave me with the same Black Widow smile she'd given me the day before—one that made her thoughts painfully easy to read.

I got you! You're mine!

Though she was obviously finished, her thighs remained wide open for business. She wanted me to stare at her dark pink wet lips, to sink into that cave and lose myself in it.

Don't lose it!

I thought, looking back down.

Don't you look back! Don't you look back! If you look back it'll be like fucking medusa, except that your cock will be stone.

Don't be stupid!

Devil-Tyler said

She's going to do this until you look at her and she gets you. Day after day, until she gets you. So, you might as well get it over now. Line her up and give those pretty lips a good long lick. It's what she wants. It's what you want if you admitted it to yourself. They're fabulous, by the way! Go ahead! Do it! Dooooo it!

I stopped only momentarily, scratched the back of my neck with both hands, and continued to process through the prior day's tests, willing myself to not look in her direction again. My mind was a complete jumble. I thought about turning her in during the lee moments of my test review, and just as quickly dismissed the thought. I could just envision my conversation with our conduct officer:

"I'm turning Suzie Souther in for a dress code violation"

"Okay, what was it?"

"Well, she wasn't wearing any panties and she...was...masturbating in my class."

"Now, how exactly did you detect that Ms. Souther wasn't wearing any panties, Tyler?"

"Ubbb,...ubbbhhh, well...."

No, we would not go in that direction.

Shortly, I came up with a partial solution to Suzie's tease and the next day Suzie gave me the excuse to use it. I shuffled class positions from time to time to break up klatches of students who couldn't keep their mouths shut. It was a basic method of keeping order. My students were familiar with the practice, and I had already done it two or three times this year. I didn't ordinarily make a big deal out of it.

Suzie was prattling to Raife Alsom, the boy who sat immediately behind her. She was loud and lavish in her gestures.

"Suzie, exchange seats with Ms. Matthews" I said calmly.

Elise sat on the fifth row, very first desk, and its' position would be my salvation—the front of the desk was even with the front of my desk pointed in the opposite direction. Suzie could have a ten-inch dildo stuck up her twat and I wouldn't have any chance to see it, and thus no temptation to see it. Suzie looked royally pissed but picked up her books and purse and moved to Elyse' desk.