Everyone has that one teacher that they don't really notice. They forget their name, never talk to them and just never give them a second thought. For Coralie, that teacher was Ramona Emerson. Ramona taught Coralie in a class called "Prep for H.E", short for Preparation for Higher Education, preparing the college students for university. Like most students at the college, Coralie found Prep for H.E a complete waste of time and spent most of her time there talking to her best friend, a pretty Syrian girl named Damisi.
One day Ramona was in a particularly irritable mood and soon tired of Coralie and Damisi chattering about boys, and put them at opposite sides of the room, much to the annoyance of Coralie. She looked at Ramona, tall and curvy with shoulder length shaggy auburn hair and blue eyes, the complete opposite of the petite Coralie, who had long, fine blonde hair with the tips dyed black and a full fringe skimming her grey-green eyes. "Silly cow," Coralie muttered. "Not like we do anything in this class anyway."
Ramona heard. She turned and looked down on Coralie. "YOU don't do anything in this class, Coralie! Except for get on my nerves, that is. You should be doing something, you just don't." Coralie smirked and asked exactly what it was she was meant to do.
"I've had it up to here with you, Miss Creamer," Ramona snapped, gesturing above her head. "I'll speak to you after class."
After class, Coralie tried to slip out of the door, hidden by Damisi. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. Ramona. "Move along, Miss Gana," she said to Damisi. "You can see Coralie later, I want to talk to her." Damisi nodded and strutted off down the corridor, leaving her friend with the teacher.
Coralie looked down into her own cleavage, which was spilling out of her black lace-trim tank top. "Coralie," said Ramona simply. The obnoxious 19 year old straightened her turquoise hotpants and stepped back into the room. "First of all," said Ramona, "if I ask you to stay after class, you will stay, not get your friends to smuggle you out." Coralie nodded, shuffling her Converse-adorned feet on the floor. "Another thing, I'm not a stupid cow, you are." Coralie gasped. "You are, Coralie!" snapped the older woman. "You giggle with Damisi for hours about the daftest topics available for conversation, then you complain that you don't learn anything. What do I have to do to get your attention?"
"Sorry," said Coralie, looking up at Ramona for the first time. Ramona shook her head.
"Sorry my ass," she smirked. "And I didn't ask for an apology, I asked you what would get your attention in class. What about this?" she growled, and within a second her jumper was off and she was digging her huge tits out of her bra. Coralie couldn't help but look. They stood up remarkably well for a woman in her fifties, and were full and ripe, topped by large dark pink nipples.
"All you talk about is sex, so how about I teach like this, you slut?" Coralie flinched, knowing she had pushed Ramona over the edge.
Slowly, Coralie walked over to Ramona and cupped one of her breasts with her hand. "Fucking gorgeous," she whispered, pinching the nipple softly to harden it.