There's a place in town called Freddy's Burgers that makes the best old-fashioned burgers and chocolate shakes that I've ever tasted. It's a little drive-in on the outskirts of town that used to be popular with kids when I was going to school. Now days the kids generally hang out at the new mall that went up about three years ago, or the skating rink. Most of Freddy's business comes from those of us who remember and those of us who would rather go bear hunting with a water pistol than eat in a place crammed with a bunch of screaming, out of control kids.
I graduated from college seven years ago when I was twenty-three and came back to town to teach high school history. Being a teacher is tough and it's another reason I go out of my way to frequent places that kids normally don't go to. I get enough of them through the school year and the two months I teach summer school. It may sound callous since the general consensus seems to be that kids are our future and should be accorded respect, but I do get tired of them. Trust me when I say that other people's kids are not always the joy that their parents would like the rest of us believe.
It was a little past eight when I ordered a Freddy's Double Screamer, onion rings and a chocolate shake. The sun was just dipping into the west and the really hot weather hadn't quite settled in just yet. I took a table on the backside of Freddy's away from a family eating out front and got ready to dig in when I head a familiar voice, that I didn't quite place to a face call out my name. When I looked up, I looked into a face that I doubt I'll ever forget.
Wendy Carlton was the biggest nightmare of my life for an entire school year until she graduated last month. Don't get me wrong; there were never any disciplinary problems with Wendy. She was probably the best student I had throughout the seven years that I've been teaching at Eisenhower High School. She was by far an excellent student who excelled in every aspect of education. She studied hard, made good grades and didn't cause trouble in class.
My problem with her was something else entirely different. Wendy sat in the front row, center of the classroom, directly in front of my desk. She used to wear short skirts, even on warm days that revealed much of her long legs to anyone who cared to look. I can't count the times when I would look up from grading papers and see Wendy uncrossing her legs, then crossing them again ever so slowly. Many times I would get a good look at her soft thighs and her panty crotch, and there would always be a seductive smile on her pretty face. Some would say that her actions were innocent, yet I knew better. Wendy had known exactly what she was doing.
I cannot tell you how much I began to loathe the last hour of the day, the hour that I would have Wendy Carlton in my classroom. It was difficult for a man my age to look the other way. She was a temptress, a young woman most men would love to sleep with, but I couldn't. She was a student and off limits to me. Somehow, I made it through last year without giving into to temptation. And here she was standing on the other side of my table, more beautiful and sexier than I could have imagined.
"Hi, Mr. Wallace," she smiled. "I just saw you and wanted to say hi. I don't mean to interrupt your meal."
"Not at all," I relied quickly. "How are you?"
"Good," she said. "My dad sent me over to pick up some burgers so I don't have much time."
"Well, have a seat until they're ready," I said standing.
Wendy sat down across from me at the small, plastic table. While I ate we talked about school, history and her plans for the future. She told me that she had been accepted at State in the fall and was looking forward to college. She told me she wanted to study veterinarian medicine.
"You know you are the most popular teacher at Eisenhower High."
"Well, thank you."
"I don't know if you know this but all of the girls think you're hot," she said with that seductive little smile that I remembered so well. "All of the girls talk about you."
"I, ah...I'm flattered," I stammered.
After a small, awkward pause," she said, "And I really think you're hot."
Wendy stared unwaveringly at me with green eyes that could set a man on fire with desire. As she looked at me she pushed a strand of long blond hair from her face, a movement that seemed more seductive than a strip dance. After nine months of having her in my sixth hour history class, I knew where this was heading. I'll admit that while I was becoming aroused I was also a little frightened. She may not have been a student any longer but she was also twelve years younger than me. In a small town like ours, age does matter sometimes.
"I know you're interested in me," she said, that smile nearly driving me nuts. "I saw you looking at my legs in class."
"Wendy, I don't think it's appropriate for us to talk this way," I managed to say.
"Why? I'm not a student anymore," she said. "Besides, I saw the look on your face every time I spread my legs and showed you my panties."
"Wendy, there are people who wouldn't understand," I said. It wasn't much of an explanation and I don't really think it convinced her. My own argument apparently had little effect on me since my cock had become hard inside of my slacks.
Suddenly I felt something sliding slowly up along the inner part of my right thigh that I immediately recognized as one of her incredibly sexy feet. Smiling at me, Wendy gently pressed the bottom of her foot against my hard cock. I'll admit that the feeling was so intense, not to mention surprising, that I dropped an onion ring and turned over the chocolate shake.
"No one will see us," she said in a low voice. "Just sit there and enjoy it, Mr. Wallace."
"Oh, Wendy..." My pulse had quickened considerably and my breathing was shallow and harsh in my chest as I stared at her through eyes that were wide with lust.
"You like what I'm doing, don't you?" She pressed her foot a little harder and grinned.
"Yes!"
"Did you like looking at my thighs and panties in class?" Wendy reached for my shake and slipped the straw between her luscious, full lips. It was the way she stuck the straw into her mouth that brought a deep groan to my lips. When I nodded, unable to speak, she added, "How many times have you jacked off thinking about me?"
"Many times." My voice cracked and I felt a little foolish but she didn't seem to notice.
"Such a nasty boy, Mr. Wallace," she grinned. "Thinking of fucking my little pussy with your hard cock."
"You're killing me, Wendy," I said around what I hoped was a grin. "Maybe this is not-"
