I am a thirty-year-old teacher at a small town high school. It is a job I've had and enjoyed for eight years, coming into it right after college. Recently events occurred that have made it much more enjoyable than I ever dreamed possible. The reason is I have begun sampling the sexual delights of my students.
It started a few months ago when I was doing some paper work in the Principle's office. The local teacher's union was preparing a routine quarterly seminar for the region and several of my colleagues and I were busy getting the forms ready. Richie, a senior and the co-captain of the basketball team was helping with the collating.
Somebody started talking about a recent talk show they had seen dealing with the topic of sexual appeal. What is sexy and what is not, etc. etc. One of our macho associates started getting a bit raunchy in regards to certain female body parts.
"Give me a woman with big hooters," he proclaimed. Everyone laughed.
"Not me," retorted our Assistant Principle. "I'm a sucker for long, shapely legs."
It was at this point that I went into the adjoining stock room to get reams of paper. I could just barely hear the conversation through the open door behind me. Several of the women had started in on their own leggy attributes and one of them asked Richie who he thought had the best legs at Whitmore High. I was almost most at the door when I heard him answer, "That's easy. Ms. Johnson."
I was caught off balance. Standing there, package in hand, I was totally befuddled. Deciding to push on, I re-entered the main room as if I hadn't heard Richie's comment.
"Hey, Doris," one of the other girls wasn't about to let it pass. "Richie here thinks you have the best looking legs in the school."
Richie's cheeks flushed with color. "Aw, come on. Don't embarrass Ms. Johnson."
Realizing humor was my only out, I put down my load, reached down and saucily raised my skirt to mid-thigh, sticking out one long, shapely leg for all to see. "Well, that only tells me, Richie not only has good taste, but that he's also not blind."
One of the guys let out with a wolf whistle and the awkwardness quickly evaporated with good-natured laughter. Still, as everyone continued with their work, I saw Richie's eyes open a bit wider at the sight of my nylon-clad limb. Lord, I thought, he really is taken with me.
It is not unusual for teen-age students to develop crushes on their teachers. Happens all the time. And to be honest, although no budding young miss, I do consider myself an attractive woman. Routine sessions at a downtown gym have kept my tall, 5'7" in good condition. I have long black hair, a full, 37" bust that has turned many a head, both male and female, a small waist and those long, already mentioned legs. This certainly wasn't the first time somebody had complimented me on my figure. But it was the first time such a remark had come from a student. I liked the idea. It was both flattering and exciting.
The rest of the afternoon passed and Richie and I, along with the others simply went about our business. It was as if the entire sex thing hadn't happened. Still, leaving the parking lot that evening, I spotted Richie and he gave me a friendly wave good night, the look on his handsome, rugged face, was clearly one of adoration. Driving home, I chuckled knowingly. That boy had the hots for me.
Later that night, stepping out of my shower, I studied my image in the fulllength wall mirror. As I wiped the terry cloth towel over my breasts, my mind pictured Richie. He was a tall, lanky boy with hard, sinew muscles. On the basketball court, his body rippled with energy. Hmm, I thought wickedly. What other uses could I put that drive to. Uses that would bring me forbidden gratification. My nipples were hardening under the rubbing I was administering and purposely I worked the cloth down to my crotch. Thinking of Richie was turning me on. I began to finger my vagina, opening the fleshy petals and tweaking the nub. It felt so good. I closed my eyes and imagined Richie there, his hand fondling me. His fingers working in and out of my pussy. The image was so real. Gasping, I dashed out of the bathroom and went into my bedroom. I found my silver vibrator in the night table, twisted on the battery and quickly slipped it into my wet pussy. In and out, I drove it, my eyes again closed and envisioning Richie. His body naked, his hard cock sliding in and out of me. Oh, it was so wonderful a fantasy. I came long and hard.
The next day, I decided to have some innocent fun. Or so I thought it would be. Rather than dressing in my usual style, prim and proper, I chose a particularly tight skirt that rode my figure like a second skin. Then I picked out a pair of smoky black nylons that I only wore on special occasions. They have a thin black seam in the back and many a male admirer has commented on their effect. I affixed them with a lacy garter belt and finished the packaged with a pair of gray high pumps that lifted my calves to full advantage. A starched white blouse that clearly outline my bosom completed the ensemble. Examining myself in the mirror, I turned and bent at the waist. The resulting sight was pure tease. The gray skirt hugged my tight round ass, while the tops of my nylons were just barely, a hint here, visible beneath my dress. The two seams sliding down over my long, long legs.
Poor Richie. He wouldn't know what hit him.
My little game, as I thought of it, went just as I'd hoped. When the class with Richie arrived at mid-day, I was seated behind my desk, all but hidden from sight. As the session bell rang and last minute stragglers rushed through the door, I stood and moved around to the front. Richie, who sat in the middle, almost had a heart attack. His mouth dropped and his eyes bulged. When he was able to rip his eyes off my bottom half and raised them up, I was staring right at him. He turned every shade of red known to man and instantly bowed his head.
A little devilish voice inside my head chided me for being such a bitch. Still it was not to be denied. Soon I had the class working on math equations, the subject I teach and as they all diligently slaved over their notebooks scribbling the problems I had assigned, I began strolling up and down the aisles between them. My heels clicked a small tatoo on the hardwood floor as I moved along. Of course Richie's weren't the only eyes on me. I'd hazard to guess every pair of male orbs was sneaking peeks as I passed by. It felt delicious having so many admirers. This was something I could easily get use to.
Passing Richie's desk, I dropped the pencil I'd been carrying. I let it roll a few feet and then, positioning myself just to the front of him, bent at the waist to retrieve it. Feeling the skirt inch up across the back of my legs to the nylon borders, I could all but feel Richie's burning stare. A gulp slipped from his throat. For the rest of the class, the poor boy squirmed constantly in his seat. Not doubt his discomfort caused by a certain hardening of his male prowess.
Alas, the class and the school day ended and I packed up my papers to leave. Stopping at the front office, the secretary asked me if I wouldn't mind dropping off some forms to Coach Hagen in the gym on my way out. The sports complex is an annex affixed to the main building and is located near the teacher's parking area. No sweat. It would only take me a minute to go down to the Coach's office.
Arriving at the complex, I found it all but deserted. One or two boys were charging up the stairs for the exit, their Phys Ed session now over. When I reached the cellar level, I all but bumped into Richie, hair wet and gym bag in hand.
"Oh, sorry, Ms. Johnson."
"No problem, Richie. I was just going to drop these papers in Coach Hagen's office."
I started to move around the boy, the office door a few behind him, when he brought up a hand to halt me.
"Er... I don't think the Coach is there. " He mumbled nervously.
"That's alright. I'm just going to leave these on his desk."
Before Richie could protest further, I slipped around him and was at the door. He mumbled another protest half heartily as I grabbed the handle and pushed it inward.
... and saw Hagen fucking one of the varsity cheerleaders on his desk!!
I froze. The sight of it so raw and unbelievable, my mind trying to quickly interpret what my eyes were actually seeing. Hagen, a rugged, good-looking man in his early forties, was bent over Sally Ann Gardmore, a buxom blonde senior and screwing her from the rear. His shorts were bunched around his ankles, as he held her naked hips and drove his cock into her from behind.
For her part, Sally Ann was only wearing a cheerleading skirt and sweater. The former crumbled up about her middle, the latter yanked upward to expose her massive, ripe tits. Tits that were being caressed and pinched by Hagen's big, rough hands.
"Oh God, baby, you're so tight," he was moaning through clenched teeth.
Sally Ann's head rocked back and forth, her long golden tresses whipping about as she screamed. "It's so hard. Ooh, shove it deeper, Coach. DEEPER!"
That they never saw was obvious, both of them so lost in their passion. A hand touched my shoulder and I almost jumped a mile. It was Richie. He nodded silently and ushered me backward out of the door and closed it gently.
"Sorry. I tried to warn you."
When the words came back to my throat, they were incoherent.
"He's... he's... screwing a student! Oh, God."
Richie took my arm. "Come on, Ms. Johnson. Lets get out of here and go someplace."
Once we reached the exit, I pointed to my car. The images of Hagen's cock ramming into Sally Ann's pussy were locked in my mind. I had to sit down and catch my breath. I mean, I'm no prude and I had certainly done my share of loving, both in high school and college. Hell, I even watched a few porno movies now and then. But to see real people, people you knew, right there in the flesh, banging away. It was too much. I could feel myself getting hot and sweaty.
Richie, the perfect gentlemen, walked me to my car and opened my door for me. As I sat back and twisted to slide in under the wheel, his eyes latched onto my legs again. I was too numb to take notice. Or even the fact that he went around and got into the passenger seat beside me. Out the window, I could see the football field and several soccer teams having practice. Other students, books in hands, were passing in front of us, on their way home. It all seemed normal, but for what was in my head.
"He's a teacher," I finally said. "It's wrong."
"Why?" Richie asked. "They aren't hurting anyone. Besides, Sally is eighteen. She's no baby. She's been screwing since she was sixteen."
"Oh, Richie. You don't understand. There has to be some trust. Some responsibility between a teacher and student."
"From what I saw, there was lots of that in there," he said trying a weak smile.
