ONE.
Call me Sally. It's not my real name but close enough. I'm posting this story with the full knowledge and consent of all parties involved. But with the caveat being that I promised to substitute everyone's real name with fictional ones while also not giving away where exactly in the good ole US of A all of the following took place. But just to protect the anonymity of especially one of us three. And which thus allows me the freedom to detail everything that happened five years ago now in all of it's white hot glory.
And same as today at the age of twenty-three as back when I was an eighteen-year-old high school Senior, I'm a girl-next-door kind of cute, five-foot-five, one-hundred-and-ten-pound, size-two redhead with a killer ass that makes up for the fact that my breasts are only 32-B-cups.
And which I only make mention of because it has it's own role to play in this story I have to tell. My quite nice caboose that is. Just don't misunderstand. It's only a shaped somewhat bigger around than would be expected for girl built as otherwise petite as myself. But it's cheeks are sculpted as firm as can be while being shaped rather orb-like where they're also perched nice and high atop the backs of my thighs.
And I do take at least partial credit myself for just how amazingly fit and taut my butt truly is. I attended college on a tennis scholarship so needless to say I've been running around on tennis courts since about the age of seven. And my legs are nice and toned themselves as a result of which also. Either way though, not to put down my face (which I promise really is rather cute) or my boobs (which are at least pert and perky to the max despite their being shaped rather small) but especially for those individuals who happen to be into girls with long manes of kinky-curly red hair, clothed or especially unclothed, the view of me from behind might be considered even better than the view of me from the front.
And I blame my mane of red hair for the way I am. Not that I'm evil mind you, just something of a mischief-maker is all. Take for example the time when, five years ago now as I'm writing these words, I decided to try to seducing one of my high school teachers. And one of my female teachers to boot.
I had long since come to the realization that I was attracted to guys and girls both by the time I was an eighteen-year-old Senior. I had also yet to share that certain bit of information with anyone else however. But not out of shame or embarrassment or anything of the sort but for different reasons instead.
I was captain of the tennis team, top ten in my class in terms of GPA, worked on the Yearbook Committee and was a fixture on the prom and homecoming courts. Miss All-America in other words. Plus I was born and raised in a town so small that my now alma mater is the only high school located within it's city limits. And there was still only something like eighty of us in my graduating class at that. Or in other words, I grew up in the type of environment where the news that I was bi would have spread like wildfire across Small Town City within a matter of hours had I actually confessed as such to just about anybody I knew.
Hypothetically speaking: "Thanks for calling Aunt Lisa. Uh huh. You heard it from your hair stylist Angie? No that's okay. Everyone else knows by now anyway. What's that? Yes I know her son is on drugs. Huh? No I don't know if he's bi too!"
Yeah, no thanks. I was fine with waiting until I was living away at college for most of year before I finally came out as being bisexual. Trust me, it was for the best for all parties involved. Especially myself.
And for what it's worth, I had boyfriend at the time of these events I'm about to detail also. He was a linebacker on the football team. We dated exclusively from early on Sophomore year throughout the rest of the time we attended Small Town High together. But it was always more of a formal arrangement than anything else however. We liked each other well enough and got along just fine but there was something else. We were both so good at playing our respective sports that I was always going to be heading off for whatever college offered me the best tennis scholarship while he was always going to be heading off for whatever college offered him the best football scholarship. So we basically just served as friendly escorts for one another to all of our school's dances and the like until we went our own separate ways shortly after graduation. Again, it was all for the best.
And he and I never did the deed together either. But not for lack of trying on his part. (Quite the opposite in fact!) I just wasn't quite yet ready to deal with the precautions required to assure that such a thing wouldn't lead to me getting pregnant as a result. So things never progressed behind the heavy petting stage between me and my linebacker boyfriend. At my insistence that is.
But boyfriend or not, I was certainly open to the idea of trying out lovemaking of the girl-on-girl variety however. There was nothing to worry about pregnancy-wise there afterall. But there were other problems inherent with me wishing to seek out a possible partner for that sort of thing. Just for starters I needed to make sure to find someone who I could trust with keeping my certain secret all to herself.
Like maybe someone who would surely get fired from her job and possibly even arrested if word ever got out that she and I were intimate with one another. That was one way to assure myself that any such partner of mine would be keeping her lips sealed about things between us.
Who am I kidding though. It was primarily due to her outrageous good looks that I first came to set my certain sights on the woman I'll be henceforth referring to with the fictional name 'Miss Welker.'
And she wasn't an actual teacher of mine at the time either. I had developed a crush on Miss Welker the year before when I took her class on Greek and Roman History as an elective. Which was only her second year working as a teacher out of college so she was still only something like twenty-five herself when I was an eighteen-year-old Senior with plans on trying to get my hands on her.
But she could have just as easily become a model instead of a teacher. And I'm thoroughly convinced that even a spot in the annual Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition would have been open to her were she ever so inclined to pursue the matter. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty through and through with a gorgeous heart-shaped face just for starters, Miss Welker was also tall and leggy to point that she may have even been a true six-footer. Certainly so when wearing heels at least. And she was also skinny to the tune of being a dress-size four at most. But she was also surprisingly busty for being shaped so otherwise long and slender. So much so in fact that I was nearly certain that it took bras labeled as D-cups to reign in her impressively large pair of breasts.
Not that she would ever wear outfits in class designed to show off just how remarkable her chest truly was however. Miss Welker would instead only wear either loose-fitting sweaters or blouse and blazer combos for tops around school. Probably to keep her male students' eyes off of her boobs as much as possible I reasoned. But they were large enough, especially in comparison to the rest of her body, that their rounded swells were impossible to completely conceal from view no matter what Miss Welker happened to be wearing at the time. And I knew it would surely come as a surprise to her that a certain redhead female student of hers was just as enamored at the sight of her chest as certainly were all of her male students also.
Which was something I actually had working in my favor. I knew that Miss Welker would naturally be inclined to have her guard up against any of her male students trying to put the moves on her. But probably not so much (or at least I was hoping) when it came to any of her female students. Especially one known to have a boyfriend and was thus presumably straight.
Same as Miss Welker in fact. She had mentioned in passing a handful of times when I was taking her class that she had a boyfriend. And operating under the assumption that she and whoever that lucky guy may have been were still together by the time I was a Senior, I first needed figure out a way to discover the true nature of Miss Welker's sexuality before anything else. Afterall, for all I knew she could have been completely against the idea of ever engaging in same-sex lovemaking herself.
Nor was Miss Welker a lifelong resident of Small Town City like myself. Originally from a completely different state entirely, she had attended college on a basketball scholarship before being hired on at Small Town High as both a history teacher and assistant coach for the varsity girls' basketball team. So I decided to wait until second semester was underway and the basketball season was over before trying to find out the answer to my question about Miss Welker's sexuality. And I wound up coming up with a rather ingenious way of doing so if I do say so myself.
Like most of the teachers at Small Town High, Miss Welker would stay after school for a half-hour or so most days in case any of her students needed to speak with her about anything. So shortly after classes had resumed following Christmas Break, I hung around after school for a good fifteen minutes one day before I took a walk and found Miss Welker sitting alone in her classroom grading papers at her desk and...
"Hey Miss Welker, you got a minute? I'm on the Yearbook Committee as you know and wanted to get your opinion about what the layout should look like for the girls' basketball team."
None of which was technically a lie aside from the fact that I wasn't the one responsible for setting up the layout I had mentioned. I just needed an excuse to get my foot in the door with Miss Welker. Both literally and metaphorically speaking that is.
And I should mention here that I had made sure to dress myself that morning in a tight pair of jeans designed to showcase my rather nice posterior. But that was for something later if and when things happened to reach a certain point between the two of us that afternoon. And dressed herself in one of her customary blouse and blazer combos above a somewhat billowy knee-lengthed skirt, Miss Welker rose from her seat and...
