Before we start this story, there's two things I'd like to mention. The first is that this is a story about a white schoolgirl, a black teacher and is made to make you cum, so if you like that, this is definitely for you. If you don't, have fun reading all of the other amazing stories on this site! Secondly, all sexual acts in this story are between adults 18 or over. I won't keep you from reading any longer than that. Have fun reading!
~~~
The white crayon squeaked on the blackboard. In big letters I write my name: Mister Longshaft. Yes, I know, a curious last name. Luckily, I've learned to be a gentleman about it. It's my name, nothing I can do about that. It's quite funny if you think about it, really. And in fact, it's quite... suitable.
I heard a snicker behind me and turned around. A Caucasian boy with short black hair, his muscles probably as thick as his head, tried to hide his laughter from me.
"Mister... Hewitt, am I correct?" I asked him, smiling. "Would you care to explain what is so funny?"
"Longshaft?" He said, now laughing loudly. "Dude, you're not serious, right?"
I kept smiling. "It is my surname," I told him. "Nothing I can do about it."
A scrawny boy next of him gave his friend a pat on the shoulder. "It's probably because he's black." He said, laughing as well.
"Well, it seems that someone here knows how to use their eyes," I told the class. There were about thirty students in there. "Very well seen, mister Crowley, I am indeed black. Now, can we start this class?"
The big guy, Chester Hewitt, stood up. "Hah! If you think I'm going to listen to a nigger talk about literature, you're dead wrong. Let's go, Bryan."
Before he knew what was happening, I stood right in front of him. Tall and strong as he was, I was still taller, and the shirt I was wearing almost ripped apart under my muscles. And I may be tall and strong, but I'm much faster than most expect.
"Mister Hewitt, I'm giving you a warning," I told him, now dead serious. I realize that this is a upper-class private school, and that you are unused to seeing black people like me, but I am your teacher and you will listen to me."
The youth scrambled back, intimidated by my large form and strong voice. I'm no Morgan Freeman, but when I speak, people listen.
I looked up at the class again. "First lesson of today. This one won't be about literature yet. It's more of a lesson in class and formality. NEVER call a black man a nigger. Is that understood?"
The faces in the class all nodded. Some because they had to, even though they didn't want to. Those faces I marked in my head, knowing that I could expect trouble from them. Others nodded and assured me that even on a rich private school full of white people, there was still hope for this generation.
Then my gaze met a face, and for a moment the world around me disappeared. She sat on the front row, at the right side of the class. She had beautiful blond hair that fell like a golden waterfall over her shoulders. Het bright blue eyes met mine, and she smiled shyly. Chloe Baker. I recognized her from her school picture, although she wasn't wearing those ugly red glasses this day. I had noticed before, but seeing her in real life was stunning. She was drop dead gorgeous.
I could feel the bulge in my pants twitching. My eyes darted down from her face, towards her tits. They were full and luscious, easily around cup 36D. The white blouse of her school uniform was pulled tightly around them. Somewhere beneath that table, I knew there was a short red skirt and knee high socks, and my cock grew even further. I met her eyes again, and she blushed at me, shyly averting her gaze from mine.
Stop. The thought clearly ran through my head. I had to stop. This wasn't why I became a teacher. I mustn't let myself be tempted by these thoughts. These were my students, and I couldn't have them be my sexual interests as well. Part of why I became a teacher was to rid myself from these thoughts by getting to know them as students, and not as sexual fantasies.
I turned back to the class again, who were still silent after my first firm words. "Well then," I told them, shaking of my own feelings. "Let's start learning about the most beautiful form of art there is: Literature."
~~~
The Halsbury Private High School is one of the most prestigious high schools in the area. Students from here go to the best universities, often get good jobs and live entitled lives. It is also one of the most expensive high schools. That being the case, and this being the country it is, nearly all of the students here come from rich white families.
Halsbury is different from most other high schools in a few ways. First, all the students here still wear a traditional high school uniform. White blouses, red skirts and long white socks for the girls. White shirts and red and black pants for the boys. It also has its own private terrain, including sports fields, a large pool, a park, housing for the students and a school building in the style of old English universities.
There is, however, one thing that makes it completely stand out from any other high school. Students who come here, stay one year longer than at most high schools. It's all part of the Halsbury curriculum, where the extra time is used for classes on diplomacy, starting businesses and other high end jobs. That being the case, many of the students of the two highest years are eighteen and sometimes even nineteen.
So how does a black guy like me, born from a poor mother and without a father, come to be a teacher in a place like this? That's all to thank to the woman who is like a mother to me, and who created the spark that made me want to be a teacher: miss Westmorn. She was my primary school teacher who made sure I wouldn't fall on the wrong path and was my guardian angel most of my life. Since she is a teacher herself, she pulled some strings to get me this job.
~~~
My first class was uneventful. I learned the students something about poetry, and in the end they made a poem themselves. As expected, some took it more seriously than others. Especially Chester Hewitt seems to be someone to keep an eye on. When the bell finally rang, I wished them all a good day, and turned around to erase the things I'd written on the board. I like to keep things clean.
"Ehm..."
A lone voice, tiny and shy, came from behind me. With a friendly smile on my face, I turned around, only to be surprised to see the girl Chloe Baker stand behind me. As I looked around, I saw there was no one else. Now that she was standing in front of me I could see her tall legs and what seemed to be a tight ass, making the school skirt seem even smaller than it is.
I pushed the thoughts away.
"Yes, miss Baker, what can I do for you?" I said nicely.
She nearly jumped at my voice. "Ehm... Ehm... I wanted to say t-that I really admired how you stood up to Chester." Her bright blue eyes looked at me.
I gave a chuckle. "Well, it is easy standing up to someone when you're taller, stronger and, and keep this to yourself, definitely smarter than the one you're facing."