I had promised never to tell this story out of privacy and respect, but after all these years and still not being able to get it out of my mind, I think the only way I can stop thinking about it is to write it down and release it into the world. For the sake of retaining some privacy, details like names and places have been changed, but other details? Those are emblazoned in my mind as if they only just happened, so I assure you, you're going to see, read and feel every moment as I did.
My story begins during my senior year in high school when I was 18. I was relatively strong academically, seemingly at the cost of my popularity with some of the other students. I've never understood why people are criticised for actually wanting to learn whilst at school, particularly by their peers, isn't that the point of being there? I was tall and slim although not much to look at in the looks department as I was regularly reminded. You try to ignore these things but it does eventually get to you, and even after close to 7 years of the same relentless abuse, I found myself quiet and alone as my peers filed out of our English class.
"Alex, is everything ok?"
I looked up to see my English teacher, Ms. Scott, stood in front of my desk with a concerned look on her face. I had always gotten on well with Ms Scott as I think she appreciated my willingness to contribute in class. She had become something of a light confidant over the years and I felt comfortable talking to her about the issues I was having with other students or any kinds of struggles in my life. She was in her early 30s but still retained a youthful face and a pleasant smile that lit up when she was discussing the different aspects of English. You could tell she was in teaching for the pure love of the subject, and it was an energy that I found to be contagious.
She was relatively short, no taller than about 5"4' I would have said, meaning that when I stood I towered over her with my own 6" frame. She wore modest clothing that was appropriate for her job role, usually consisting of a blouse and fitted trousers. She had what I would have described as being a typically womanly figure if you were to base your assumptions on what you see day to day rather than on TV. Her fitted trousers, whilst still professional and appropriate, stretched tight across her ample backside and her breasts whilst always covered were noticeably outlined beneath her blouse.
If you couldn't already tell, it was safe to say that I had more than a bit of a crush on her. Like most boys at that stage in their lives, I had hormones racing all over the place pushing thoughts of various degrees of sexual and lustful desires into and out of my mind. I would never have dreamed of acting on any of my impulses like some oafish Neanderthal with no self-control, although it was noticeable that some of my male peers didn't exactly share my philosophy. It was embarrassing to be completely honest, witnessing the way they would leer at and talk about the female students and some of the female staff to a certain degree. I don't consider myself to be prudish (I mean I'm writing this for heaven's sake) but I found something distasteful about the way they openly went about things.
I appreciate that all of that makes me sound like a hypocrite considering the description I just gave you of Ms. Scott's figure, and I suppose I am to a certain extent, but still I maintain that whatever thoughts I may have had I kept to myself and only to myself where they could do no harm. I had my fantasies, and they were to remain as just that. That being said, the gods, if there are any, seemed to think it fit to reward me every now and again when it came to aiding my imagination. I remember the first time that my feelings of affection towards Ms. Scott breached into full on desire; I had developed a habit of what I hoped was subtly noticing her figure, particularly as she walked away from me in class. Being sat at a desk, I was eye level with her waist and ass, making it difficult not to steal a glance as she passed my desk, and typically causing an excited rush in my body. Not enough to get me hard, thank God, but enough that it was pleasurable and that I took the opportunity to do it whenever I could. I guess there was a certain voyeuristic rush to it.
On this particular occasion, she had walked past me and as normal I stole a quick glance away from my work to check her out and noticed she had squatted ahead of me to assist another student. Her ass looked fit to burst out of her trousers from the additional pressure but what caught my eye the most was that her blouse had also ridden up slightly at the back revealing her lower back and the top of a lacey, black thong.
'Holy fuck,' I thought.
Now blazing at the forefront of my mind was the image of Ms. Scott standing in nothing but that black thong. I quickly snapped my gaze away as it suddenly felt like I had been staring for hours rather than the couple of seconds at most it actually was. Still the image wouldn't go away and what was more, my mind was adding to it. It was as if every desire was suddenly being activated as in my mind I heard her say, "do you like what you see Alex?"
I very much liked it. Too much in fact. I could feel a rapid tightening in my pants as blood started to rush uncontrollably to my crotch. Thankfully, Ms. Scott stood back up and removed the visual stimulus from me, allowing me to start regaining control before I embarrassed myself. That was the first time I vividly remember having such a strong reaction to her. Needless to say, at home that night I blew the biggest load I had ever mustered as I thought about her and touched myself.
The next and slightly more embarrassing incident came about later that same year. At this point I had been trying desperately not to rely too much on thinking about Ms. Scott when on my own, but my mind always came back to her in one form or another. It felt like infatuation rather than actual attraction, and I told myself over and over again that it was nothing more than a rush of hormones caused by my maturing body.
I sat down in her class and prepared myself for the next hour. At least when I was doing classwork for her, I had something else to focus on making the lessons manageable. As she was addressing the class at the front of the room, I started to notice something. Each time she turned her body to the right to motion at something on the whiteboard, I saw a flash of black clearly between the spaces between buttons on her blouse. An entirely accidental effect of course, but the material seemed to be folded outwards rather than the typical inwards, presenting a small window to what lay beneath her blouse.
I tried my best to ignore it, difficult as it was. I told myself that as long as I could only barely see from where I was sitting, there was no need to become aroused or lose control. She started us away with a task and I immediately jumped on the opportunity to try and distract myself from what I had seen. As I opened my exercise book to begin writing, the boy sitting to my left raised his hand. He asked for help clarifying the task we had been given, prompting Ms. Scott to walk over to where he was sat. 'Oh fuck,' I thought to myself. Why did it have to be the guy on my left and not my right? Everything would be ok, as long as she kept standing upright. The gods, on this occasion, weren't kind.
She bent over in front of his desk to talk to him more quietly so as not to disrupt the rest of the class, ironically having seemingly no clue of the amount of disruption she was about to cause me. As I had feared, the gap in her blouse was more pronounced up close, and I could see the black was a lace bra and her right breast filling the cup with a combination of size and gravity working on it. It was too much for me to suppress and my mind burst into action filling my head with images of her in the bra and the thong that presumably went with it. My pants were tightening once again, a raging erection trying to force its way out of my trousers and creating a large, noticeable bulge. I tried everything to force it back, but my mind would not let me.
'At least no one can see,' I foolishly thought.
To my left I heard the sound of a pencil dropping to the floor and saw it roll just under my desk.
"Whoops," said Ms. Scott, "I'll get that."
Panic setting in, I watched in terror as Ms. Scott leaned and looked under the table where my throbbing erection awaited her. I couldn't be sure, but I could have sworn she stopped for just a brief second and quickly looked up at my eyes and then back under the desk. What would she do? She must have noticed, surely? God this was so embarrassing!
In less than a second it was over. She grabbed the pencil and returned back to what she was doing as if nothing had happened. Maybe she hadn't seen it? No, she must have, it was pretty obvious! But there was a chance she hadn't, right? Whatever had happened under the desk, I was going to make no attempt to bring it up, on the off chance she either hadn't seen or had seen and didn't want to talk about it. That suited me just fine. The difficult part was spending the rest of the lesson trying to subdue my aching boner so that I could actually leave the classroom.
Luckily, these thoughts were far from my mind as she stood before me in the classroom now. She had asked if I was ok and to be honest, I wasn't. My time at the school was almost at a close and I was supposed to be considering my future, but the only consideration I had at that moment in time was the looming threat of the Leavers Prom. I wanted to go, it was a milestone event after all, but I had no one to go with, no one I would really socialise with at the event even, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it would be better for me to miss it than to turn up alone and open myself up to more abuse.
"It's nothing really, Ms. Scott," I said with the pre prepared lie that everyone seems to do when someone asks how they are.
"Are you sure?" she responded. She knew me well enough to know when something was bugging me and how to get me to talk.
"I don't want to take up too much of your time..." I tried to protest.
"I have a few minutes I can spare," she said, taking a seat at the desk nearest mine.
"Well, it's silly really, it doesn't really matter, but I'm feeling a bit low about the Leavers Prom," I finally confessed.
"Ok, how so?"
"I'm just really wondering whether it's even worth me going."
"What makes you say that?"
"You've likely noticed I'm not the most popular person around here, I feel like going to a gathering of all of the people I don't get on with won't necessarily be the best thing for me. But at the same time, I don't want to miss out on celebrating my achievements, you know? Plus, everyone is going to look their best and it'll just accentuate the fact that I'm not as good looking as everyone else, I get enough grief for that as it is."
