This is a tale from my younger days, when I was in the 6th form. I was 18 and studying my second year at Advanced or 'A' level. I was studying English, Chemistry and PE, so I kept in shape, both physically and mentally. For the courses we did, there were three teachers in every subject, but each particular subject was taught by a combination of two of these teachers. My favourite subject was English, particularly with Mrs Green. She was in her late 30's and had a fine figure. She was about a size 12, with nice curves, all in the right places. She had a magnificent pair of breasts, not too large for her frame, and not too small. I'd have said something around a C or a D cup. Her fine legs and sweet smile were all complimented by her long, red hair. She was the primary teacher in English, meaning that we spent twice as long with her as we did with Mr Johnson, the head of the department. That was what made the course.
The English department had been concentrating on our first assignment of the course with us for four weeks solid now, a piece of creative writing, as certain 'rebellious pupils,' myself included, were disrupting teaching during the last semester by reading books when we should have been working. All the stories got handed in first lesson on Monday, and Mrs Green would mark them when she had some free time after lunch. I had a few hours of lessons on the Monday morning after English, but they flew by, and I was exhausted by the end of my PE class. I took a quick shower and grabbed a quick bite to eat after a game of Basketball with my mates. Lunch always ends too fast and before you know it, you're off to your next lesson.
As was normal for me on a Monday, I went to the Library to do homework or read some books, which always helped with my English course. Today was one of the few days with no homework to do, so I picked a comfy chair and enveloped myself with some classic crime novels. I had been reading for about two minutes, when Mrs Green walked into the library and sat down opposite the reading area, at one of the tables. She set up her laptop and began to read some of the work we had submitted to her. As always, she would read it and print off a sheet or two of detailed feedback for us to go through. That was always much better than the red pen treatment, than Mr Johnson gave us.
I was enjoying the book, listening to the rhythmic tapping of Mrs Green on the keyboard and the occasional rustle of paper from both of us, when I noticed that she hadn't typed a single letter for a while. She had stopped typing, and was sat back, no longer upright, but relaxed. This was the first submission which had really grabbed her attention. She read the whole thing through, whilst I prayed that it would be mine she had read, then she put it down on the table, read it like anyone else's and typed the feedback for the author. I thought nothing more of it...
A few minutes later, I looked over the top of my book, and noticed she was doing the same. I was about to go back to my book, when a movement under the desk caught my eye. She had uncrossed her legs and had now adopted a position more befitting of a man such as myself. Her legs were spread about as wide as her shoulders and I could see right up her white stockings to the lacy tops and beyond. I shuffled discreetly, so as not to draw attention to my, or her, activities. The early afternoon sunlight was just perfect. I lifted my book, so that she could not see my face and could believe I was still reading. I found my goal. Her mid-thigh skirt had ridden up far enough that I could see everything, including her golden, silky thong. It was so tight that through the material, I could see her slit and a little protruding lump at the top, just like an erect nipple. Surely this could have only been brought on by my work. I was the only student brash enough to submit a sexually provocative story. It was one about getting lucky with the school's most attractive (and most intelligent) student, Katie West. She was in my English and Chemistry classes, but she did Maths instead of PE, so I did get some time to myself and it didn't look like I was stalking her.
I stared fixedly at her camel toe, enjoying every second of it. I looked along the edge for a trace of her pubes, but I found none. A popular topic with the adolescent males of the school was weather or not she shaved, waxed of was bereft of pubic hair, but I was trying to get to the bottom of it. No joy there, I was getting anxious, because she had spent a full five minutes reading this and surely must be reaching the end of it. I almost looked away again, when I saw a patch on her gusset darken. I turned a page, so as not to arouse suspicion and continued my vigil. Wow, this story was good stuff, because she was actually getting wet. I couldn't believe my luck. Just then, she sat up and crossed her legs again, getting back to her marking of the work. It was at that point I realised that I was as solid as a rock. Even though I was wearing cycling shorts, my hard on was straining against the material. I needed an excuse to adjust the lie of my clothes, without drawing any unnecessary glances from Mrs Green. I sat up, grabbed my bag and placed it on my lap. With my left hand, I unzipped my bag and grabbed a pen and my notebook, while with my right; I adjusted myself, relieving the pressure on my subsiding boner.
With about five minutes to go before the lesson, Mrs Green packed her things away, got up and walked over to the printers. She picked up a stack of paperwork and left the Library. I followed her from a distance, to get to class on time. Walking past the staff lounge, I noticed that she had gone in the door, but was not sitting in the comfy armchairs they have in there. She must have gone to the Ladies, to cure her 'rising damp' I couldn't resist a smirk, as I proceeded to the classroom.
We suffered an hour of Mrs Green starting to talk about our assignments and how that these were first drafts, so we should take on her feedback and make a few changes. But, like always, she got sidetracked and went on a small scale rant about past participles and such like. The end of the lesson came and as we were leaving, she always gave us a parting shot.
"Alright, you articulate reprobates; you can collect your work from me, with its feedback. I want to see the next step taken by Friday. Kate, Will I shall require you two to stick around for a little extra of the verbal. See you all tomorrow." All of the class filed out, receiving our paperwork and getting absorbed by the general flow of people emanating from all classrooms. Mrs Green shut the door and walked over to us two. She picked up a brown envelope, which read 'Katie West' on the front and she looked over in my direction. I took the hint and got my walkman out and listened to a suitable tune, to drown out what they were saying, keeping my back turned to avoid any of the conversation being witnessed through my eyes.
A few minutes later, and I was brought back from my moment with Joe Satriani, by a hand on my shoulder. I turned and looked into Katie's blue eyes and her sweet smile. I pulled out an ear piece and was about to apologise in case I was doing air guitar, when she said
"Well done, Will. It looks like your story is a good one, too." She turned and left, only turning at the door to say "See you tomorrow," while I went as red as a bottle of ketchup.
"See you." Was all I could manage, as she shut the door, leaving me alone with Mrs Green. I turned my attention to her, the colour returning to normal.
"You really are the only one who could possibly hand in a piece of work like this to me for marking, aren't you?"
"Well you did say that we could write about absolutely anything."
"I was expecting something along the lines of a whodunit, rather than you expressing your feelings for a certain girl in this class."
"It could develop into a 'who did them' just change it from murder to rape." I blurted out, before I could stop myself. "Was it that obvious that I was on about her?"
"Yes, it was that obvious. I don't want this to be your submitted piece, as I shall be handing out copies to the rest of the class. I'm not one to call a halt to such a promising project, so you can continue to write it if you wish, but in your own time. What would Katie think if I handed a copy to her to review? It was such a suggestive piece, after all."
