I was secretly hoping it would happen, even knowing how bad for me it would be.
I'm a Social Studies teacher at Marina Junior College in Southern California. I've been here for twenty-two years. I'm forty-four years old. I've had some good times with the students. Some have been bright, friendly and eager to learn and to grow as people. I've been attracted to a handful of the girls.
I knew when I was going to college that someday I could get into a mess like this. I probably was asking for trouble every time I looked at a pretty student. Twice I even made overtures toward them. I asked one girl out for coffee and the other girl I kept asking to stay after class so we could do extra work on the course material. I never really got anywhere with either of them romantically. But I did get close enough to them to smell their hair and their bodies. I was able to brush up against their arms and their necks – feel the softness of their skin. I've done such amazing masturbation while thinking about them and what we could do together. It's their legs that I crave. I think about their thighs and how soft they must be. And I look at the muscles in their calves and imagine them wrapping them around me, especially around my neck. I become so hungry for them. And I wonder if they know what I'm feeling – that I'm not a rapist or fucker – that I'm a kisser and licker and lover of their legs, whether or not they would tease me more or less than they do. Because they do tease me – flirt with me. I know it's only to get better grades. They're not really interested in starting anything with me. A couple have flirted just to torture me, I know. The sadistic ones are the most dangerous ones because they're more likely to get me into an uncomfortable position where I could make a grave mistake. But, if they're really sadistic, they will probably just laugh at me, rather than turn me in.
I probably was in trouble with Liz even before she was my student. I teach sophomores. When she was a freshman I noticed her. She was a cheerleader and she was tall – maybe five feet ten inches. She stood out from the other girls, not only because of her height, but because she was so beautiful. Her face was immaculate, white, smooth. Her hair was long and yellow. She had obviously had breast enhancements and her bust was massive compared to other girls'. They were perfectly shaped and she took every opportunity to show them off. But it was her legs that, to me, made her different from other girls. They were very long, very full and muscular and very sexy. On Fridays, when the cheerleaders would wear their uniforms to class, the short, pleated skirt revealed lots of Liz's legs. I lived for Fridays. When she was a sophomore, I'd look for her in the hallways, walking to class. Those low-cut tennis shoes without any socks set off her perfect ankles and calves. I tried not to stare. She was so gorgeous. I'd watch her flirting with every man she passed and some of the girls, too.
Last August, when I learned she would be in my class, I began shaking and crying. I didn't know how I was going to handle performing for her every day. I could never keep her entertained or interested in the subject, I was sure. I just hoped I'd be able to behave myself enough that the other students wouldn't notice how much in love I was. The first day of class was the worst. I didn't know where I was, what time it was, or what I was supposed to do. All I could think of was that Liz would come walking through that door at any minute and I would be a puddle of goo. It eventually happened. Most of the students were already in the classroom, seated. Liz came in at the last minute. I had arranged the students in their seats so there would be only one open seat – in the front row. Liz seemed to know it was for her and sat down. She was wearing a white skirt and a red blouse. And her eyes lit up when she looked at me, looking at her. What a smile! She quickly positioned her legs so I could see most of her thighs. She sat sideways so I couldn't see between her legs very well. I imagined that would come later. I sputtered and stammered through the first days' lesson. And Liz didn't speak to me for about three days. Finally, one day after class she approached me.
"Mr. Otis, Hi."
"Hi," I managed to get out.
"I don't know if you know this or not. Oh, what am I saying – of course you know it. I'm a cheerleader. And we have to be places at odd times. You know – practices, catching rides to games, going to perform at different places for different things. So I might have to leave suddenly, or arrive late sometimes, or even miss class once in a while." Just then she bent over so I could see she was wearing a lavender bra under her pink shirt. The bra was very low-cut and exposed part of her nipples. She showed them to me. "So I hope that's going to be OK with you, Mr. Otis. Maybe I can make up the time later – like after class or something."
I'll have to admit I was speechless for too long. Finally I found myself saying, "Sure, Liz. That sounds fine with me. I know you're busy. Just check in with me whenever there's a serious problem. The small stuff – don't sweat it." I smiled at her. I wanted to sound official and serious but I couldn't.
Liz looked at my eyes – right through my soul. I was embarrassed at what she saw. "I'll do what I can, Davey," she said, then turned and walked away.
No student had ever called me "Davey". They all had called me "Mr. Otis". But Liz knew she could call me whatever she wanted. My fantasies about Liz had been that she would be my girlfriend – my lover. I dreamed of kissing her deeply and about her wanting me sexually. I wanted so much to taste and penetrate that amazing body of hers. But she was beginning to make it clear that she regarded me as someone she could manipulate and use for her amusement without permitting me to be sexual with her. She had started to manifest her power over me – to embarrass me just for her fun. It was only the beginning.
The next few weeks went by uneventfully. Liz would wear amazing clothes, of course. And she would give me a good view of her body. Either she would wear a skirt and open her legs in the front row so I could see her panties and thighs. Or she would cross her legs and turn to the side so I could see a large portion of her hips and ass. Occasionally she would wear a very tight sweater that made her tits look huge – which they actually were. Or she would wear a sheer blouse and a bra underneath. And she would walk by me to make sure I could see her bra strap and the precious part of her chest that sloped downward inside her bra strap. I was transfixed by her bras and swore that someday I would own one.
Eventually I had to get closer to her. I was dying without her. She later told me that she was waiting until I came to her. She knew that signified I was desperate for her. So I caught her at the end of class and told her I needed to see her after school that day. She said, "Not today, tomorrow." Of course I told her that would be fine.
The next day at about 3:30 Liz walked into my empty classroom. I had never seen her look so amazing. She was wearing a white dress. It stopped at about eight inches above her knee. It was buttoned all the way down the front, except the top four buttons were unbuttoned, revealing a black bra – a very small and sheer black bra. And when she walked, the bottom of her dress opened up in the front, revealing a glimpse of her black panties. She walked right up to me at my desk and said, "Hi, Sugar. You wanted to see me?"
Even though I was sitting behind my desk, I was sure she could see my boner pushing out the front of my pants. I stammered and eventually said, "Liz. How nice to see you. Yes, I want to talk to you about some of the material you've been missing when you miss class. Make sure you're up to speed on it."
Liz laughed a little and looked right through my eyes. "Is that right, Mr. Otis? I thought you just wanted to check me out, like you do everyday in class. But now we're alone and you don't have to be so careful about it. Why don't you come out from behind that desk and show me what you really think of me?" Another giggle. I had never seen her so animated. Her eyes were flashing. Her mouth was wet and watery. Her breasts were heaving forward, towards me. She sat down on top of a desk and opened her legs up so I could see the entire front of her panties. She bent her legs backwards at the knees and grabbed the bottom of the desk with her feet.
I stood up and came out from behind my desk. My boner was pushing my pants out in front. I could see Liz staring at it and smiling. "I was going to ask you if you think I'm hot, Davey. But I can see my answer right there." And she pointed right to my crotch. I said, "I'm sorry, Liz." I didn't know what else to say. She jumped on that. "Sorry? Why would you be sorry, Honey? You're just a man. You can't help yourself. You're in love with me, aren't you? You want to kiss me, don't you?"
I wasn't ready for questions like that. So I stammered, "I guess so."
Liz was quick to say, "You guess so? You guess so you're a man, or you guess so you're in love with me?"
Now I really didn't know what to say. I'm sure my face was bright red. But Liz seemed to be enjoying herself so I played along. "I guess I'm a man, Liz." This made her laugh very loudly and long. I was afraid she couldn't stop. Then, "But you're sure you're in love with me and want to kiss me?" She laughed again.
"Well....uh," I stammered.
"C'mon, stud. This is your big chance. Tell me. Right now. Tell me. I'm ready for it."
"Yes, I love you, Liz."
"See. That wasn't so hard, was it? Not nearly as hard as your little boner there. And what else?
What else?"
"And I want to kiss you." I couldn't believe I was saying these things.
