I found some old short stories written long time ago when I was a teenager for a Polish website that no longer exists. Even though these were my first attempts, I thought that maybe still they would make someone's time more pleasant, and at the same time be an interesting example of the evolution of my work.
The story is pure fantasy. The similarity of names, places and situations is accidental.
English is not my main language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes caused by using a translator. Enjoy.
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As you already know from the previous parts, I managed to advance to the next stage of the French language contest. The competition was to be held in some town near PoznaΕ, Poland, and since I live near KrakΓ³w, the journey was to take place by train and, as it turned out, it would last more than just one day. But in one go.
Three days after the district stage, Mrs. Lydia asked me to stay for a while after class.
"Listen, Ralph," the teacher began, "I talked to the principal about our trip. We booked tickets for the train on Monday at 11 AM and we will be staying in a hotel so as not to be crowded at night. The day after the competition, they are to organize some sightseeing related to the French language and in the afternoon we will return home by train. So tell your parents that we will be there for 3 days and we will be staying in a hotel."
"Okay, ma'am," I replied.
"Or you know what?" she asked. "Tell them that we are leaving on Sunday afternoon. You'll come over to my place, my husband is going on a business trip this weekend and won't be back until Monday. I'll have an interesting surprise for you."
"Great!" I shouted back with joy, thinking about 4 days alone with Mrs. Lydia.
Finally, those mercilessly long 3 weeks passed and the long-awaited Sunday came. At 6:00 PM, I drove up to the teacher's house with my dad, so that in 15 minutes I could theoretically leave with her for the station from which our train for tomorrow's competition was leaving in an hour. Theoretically, because I really wasn't going to leave today, my train wasn't until tomorrow morning at 11 AM, and the contest was on Tuesday at the same time. So I said goodbye to my dad, waited for him to leave and looked at her house. An ordinary one, in a quiet suburb of a small town. I noticed that only one large window covered by curtains was lit. I went to the door and rang the bell. I didn't have to wait long, because after a moment Mrs. Lydia appeared with a glass of champagne in her hand. She was wearing tight jeans to her ankles and a flowing, white blouse made of a delicate, silk-like material. On her feet were black stilettos as usual, although this time without the red bottom. Her light hair was tied back in a ponytail with a small part left falling over her forehead in the form of fringe and covering part of the frames of her black glasses.
"Good evening," I greeted.
"You're here!" she said enthusiastically and pulled me inside, spilling some champagne, "Put the bags here, you won't need them for now."
After these words she pushed me lightly against the wall and pressing me with her not-perfect, but therefore so tempting body began to kiss me passionately. I could feel the taste of her bright red lipstick on my lips, the pressure of her large breasts on my torso and her thigh riding on my crotch.
"Listen to me, Ralphy," she interrupted suddenly. "I told you at school about a certain surprise... You probably know that Elizabeth, our teacher, is getting married in a few days?"
"Yes, of course. Who wouldn't know?" I replied quickly, not knowing where she was heading.
"There are a few teachers from our school in the living room, because we're organizing a small hen party for her, but don't worry, I told them about you and they'd like to meet you too."
"Well. I don't know what to say."
"Oh, don't worry. Of course, don't grab them right away, just wait. The situation will develop itself," she said with a smile and kissed me on the cheek, "Let's go."
Mrs. Lydia led me down the hall to the living room. Thoughts were running through my head, but the view exceeded my expectations. In the spacious living room, on three large sofas surrounding a table filled to the brim with alcohol and snacks, sat 6 teachers from my school. I was speechless when 6 pairs of eyes were staring at me at the entrance.
The closest to me was Mrs. Joanne, a 38-year-old English teacher. If Mrs. Lydia had a big bust, then she had a huge one. She was not tall, maybe 170 cm and a bit thicker, but not fat. She was wearing a tight, dark green dress to the knees, emphasizing her ample bust and the waistline, which was created by her massive butt. She had black hair, down to her shoulders, and on her feet, like probably every other woman present here, were high heels and black stockings. Next to her sat the future wife, Mrs. Elizabeth, a school counselor. She was probably no older than 35. She had long, black, curly hair. She was wearing a burgundy shirt and a black skirt, slightly below her knees. She also wore black stockings and high heels in the same color. When it came to her bust and butt, she couldn't boast as much as the other two women, but she also had something to breathe and something to sit on. A little further away, on the edge of the couch sat the vice principal, Mrs. Magdalene. She was quite a tall woman, although shorter than me, with short hair approaching very dark purple. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with some kind of print. On her feet were red high heels. Her average-sized breasts gave the shirt a convex shape, but her butt was big, tightly fitting the material of her trousers.
On the second couch, located directly in front of me, sat two women. The first one was also Elizabeth, an art teacher. Average height, light hair to her shoulders, large bust and a large butt, a bit more flesh. She was wearing a white shirt and navy blue material trousers, and on her feet high heels in the same colour. Next to her was Mrs. Alice from mathematics. A thin and tall woman with long, black hair falling down her back. Her average-sized breasts and the same butt were covered by a flowing, light green dress that reached down to her knees. At the end of her exceptionally long legs were spring shoes, fastened with ribbons and on a cork platform. The last couch was occupied by Mrs. Sandy, my class teacher. She was exceptionally short, with short, light hair. She didn't have large breasts or a big butt, but what she did have was incredibly firm. She taught physical education, so she could boast an appetizing, trained body that many a man would like to possess. For this evening, she put on a tight T-shirt to somehow show off her small breasts and extremely tight, light jeans to emphasize her shapely butt and athletic legs. Her feet, on the other hand, were surrounded by high, black stilettos (after all, she had to somehow lift herself up at least a few centimeters). Mrs. ydia sat down next to her and extended her hand toward me.
"Are you going to stand like this all evening?" she asked.
"I'm coming," I replied and, as she told me, sat down between her and Sandy.
