There's always one of them in class. I've been a high English teacher for twelve years, and it never fails. Every year I watch them rise through the ranks of girlishness into budding womanhood, there are always those girls who get in touch with their sexuality early on, who realize and understand what their nubile young bodies do to men and who enjoy the torment they cause.
But I've learned how to deal with these vixens. This is the story of Cheryl, a classic tease from the word go. Even as an early blossoming freshman I'd witnessed the way she coyly drove her male classmates to distraction, and I daresay there were many a time that I would close my eyes while fucking my wife and imagine it was Cheryl's tight pussy I was plowing into.
But I bided my time; waiting and watching her grow from untouchable jailbait to a barely legal eighteen-year-old senior, knowing all the time that, eventually, I would have her.
I've been fucking my female students for many years now, and many might think me a deplorable dirty old man, especially for my methods, but I don't care. As far as I'm concerned these little teases are getting a final, valuable lesson from me, namely, that you can only tease for so long before someone will call your bluff.
Graduation was a mere month away and it was finally time to put my plan into action. Cheryl, as always, sat in the front row. Most of her time in class was spent passing notes to her friends or doodling on her notebook, but today I had sprung a pop quiz on them and the class was quiet as they sweated over the test.
I watched her sitting there in the front row. Today was cheerleading practice, and Cheryl, of course, was captain of the squad. She wore her uniform to class, and so much the better. I replayed all the times that she had sat there in that same uniform with it's yellow blouse and short, pleated, blue skirt, crossing and uncrossing her gorgeous legs, watching me with her wry smile as I tried not to steal glimpses at her panties. There were days when I couldn't even stand up to use the chalkboard, as my hard on would have been painfully evident. Today was no different. She pretended to concentrate on her quiz, chewing on her pencil as she struggled with a question I knew she hadn't studied for. But I knew, as I watched with my peripheral vision that she was watching me. She uncrossed her legs and slowly, ever so slowly, parted them until I could just make out a maddening slice of virginal white panty stretched tight over the pussy that I had been dreaming about for so long.
Well, I thought, let her tease. Before this day ends I'll take those panties home as a trophy.
My eyes traveled up her body, taking in the beauty that would soon be mine to do with as I pleased. She wore white and blue sneakers with ankle socks that set off her tanned, perfect legs. Her skirt ended at firm, taut thighs. Her flat stomach gave way to pert breasts that, while not huge, were certainly not small. I remembered many days when she would come to class wearing thin t-shirts and her nipples would force their way against the material, making my mouth water with desire to suck and bite them. Her features were angelic, her complexion flawless. Her eyes were wide orbs of innocent blue with just a hint of the devil that lay beneath. Her hair was silky blond and shoulder length. She was every bit the all American girl, every school boys (and school teachers) fantasy.
The bell rung and thirty seats scrapped back from their desks as the class rose and came forward to deposit their quizzes on my desk. Cheryl was among the last to get up, still fretting over questions. When she finally approached my desk I looked up to meet her eyes. "Cheryl," I said, matter of factly, "Please stay after class, I need to speak with you." A pout crossed her face and her perfect red lips opened as if to protest, but my look told her the matter was not open for discussion. Begrudgingly she sat back down at her desk.
When the last student had filed out and the door closed, leaving the room empty except for Cheryl and myself, I let her stew for a few minutes more, as I pretended to mull over some paperwork. At last I looked up at her.
"Cheryl," I began, clearing my throat, "We need to discuss your grades." She rolled her eyes in the manner of a spoiled child, but I somberly pressed on. "You've slacked off most of this year. You haven't been turning in assignments, you haven't been reading the material, and you've spent the majority of your time in class giggling with your friends."
"But…" she began, only to have me cut her off. She could do little more than sullenly chew on her lower lip and look terribly put upon.
"And now here we are." I continued, pulling out my grade book and opening it to her name, "At the end of the year, and I must say, young lady, your in serious trouble. I'm afraid, as things stand, I simply would be remiss if I were to give you a passing grade."
That caught her attention! Her head snapped up at me and her eyes grew wide with stunned apprehension. "But…but…" she stammered, "If you don't pass me I won't graduate! I'll fail my senior year! I'll have to do it over! Mr. Smith, you can't! You can't do that! My father will kill me! All my friends are graduating! You can't…"
"Perhaps you should have thought about that earlier, Cheryl. You've dug this hole yourself. I just wanted to give you fair warning so that you can break the news to your parents. I'm sure they'll be very disappointed."
She stood up and approached my desk, and I could hear desperation creeping into her voice. That was good. "Mr. Smith, please! You don't understand, if I don't graduate I'll be the laughing stock of the school! And my father, oh god, my father! He'll take my car, he'll take my allowance, he'll take everything!" She was nearly in tears, her lower lip quivering, her blue eyes watering.
"Cheryl," I said, relishing my opportunity to make her squirm, "It's out of my hands. You simply haven't done the work. There's nothing I can do."
"There has to be!" she wailed, "There has to be something! I can't fail, I just can't! There has to be something I can do! Some kind of extra credit! I'll work hard Mr. Smith, I promise, I'll do anything!"
There they were. The words I'd been waiting for.
Slowly I raised my eyes to meet hers and pretended to ponder the problem. The fear and desperation I saw in her face was delicious. Finally I said, "Well, there might be a way…"
Hope sprang into her eyes and she leaned on the desk. "Anything!" she swore, "I'll do anything! Just so I can pass! Please!"
"You'd have to work very hard." I said.
"Oh, I will! I'll work hard Mr. Smith!"
"And you'd have to follow my instructions…"
"I will, I promise!"
