Recently an old friend confessed her still smoldering feelings for a teacher we'd had back in high school and knowing about my writing, asked me to put her fantasy down into words. It's a bit modernized, but tried to hew as close to reality as possible and yes, Megan's physical description is dead on (one of the most challenging parts). It turned into a sexy, naughty little love story that I hope you'll enjoy. I look forward to hearing your comments!
As always, all characters are fictional and they and the events described exist solely within the confines of the story and my mind. Enjoy!
*
As I sit on the edge of the bed, stark naked, staring at the full length mirror before me, I know that many would see me as simply a child-like waif, a fey nymph of legend without the requisite womanly attributes necessary to accomplish my goal. I am eighteen, but look much younger, some, I am sure, would say that I look obscenely young -- far too innocent and wide-eyed to be considering the lewd thoughts that run constantly in my mind.
Long brown hair hangs down almost to my hips, parting in the middle to frame a face that looks virginal and innocent with a pert nose, perfectly sized lips and gloriously big, blue eyes. My naked body does nothing to betray my age -- flawless porcelain skin on a slender, five foot frame, breasts like budding apples and coltish legs between which lies a hairless mound...my slick, glistening, aroused pink flesh the only note betraying me as an adult rather than a child.
I run my hands slowly down the top of my thighs until I can grip my kneecaps and spread my legs wide, making my small, but thick labia spread to reveal that I am so wet. As I admire my nakedness in the mirror, I can feel my small nipples harden into rocky pebbles and I shiver a bit as the need to caress them, to pinch myself is almost overwhelming.
I stare at myself for what seems an eternity, measuring the sexuality of my body with its child-like dimensions, knowing, feeling the burning restless within me, pulsating in my tight, hairless cunt and throbbing in my blood gorged nipples and yearning for that perfect moment...that perfect union with the mate of my dreams. I imagine myself in his arms, enveloped in his strength and his passion, confident in his ability to master me and teach me everything I do not yet comprehend in the art of love.
Slowly, my fingers begin to trace a path backwards from my knees -- now tickling the velvety soft flesh of my inner thighs until the very tips of my fingertips brush across my nether lips, drawing the softest of moans from me as pleasure threatens to rise up and consume me like a fire gone wild. I gasp for air and stare at my image at my reflection, my great, pale blue eyes becoming hooded and my mouth gaping open as the need to orgasm makes my face go slack.
I draw my legs up until I am squatting on the edge of my bed like a lewd fairy on a mushroom, my knees on either side of my face as my torso leans into my legs, affording my hands better access to the simmering wet flesh between my thighs. I wonder if he would find this attractive, erotic -- this image of a fairy tale Lolita, his very own woman child, putting herself on display...offering herself freely and obscenely to him.
I think to myself that such a display would provoke an erection and I feel myself getting wetter imagining his cock growing harder...longer....thicker because of me. I watch myself bite my lower lip, conscious that among the many things that make me pretty is the slight overbite I possess. I gasp as I slowly slip two fingers...my long and delicate fingers, inside me, curling them upwards to where my sweetest spot resides and I keen with carnal delight as fingertips gently brush the spots that seem to turn my insides into liquid ecstasy even as I brush my thumb over my swollen clitoris which has emerged like a flower bud from it's bulb, throbbing with its own pulsating pleasure.
I glance at my scandalous reflection through strands of hair hanging in front of my eyes. With one hand, I finger myself, the two fingers inside my wet pussy picking up speed even as they appear more covered in my own creams with each in and out motion of my arm. My other hand is busy, one second rubbing my palm over a hard nipple, trying to soothe the intense itch of desire and then the next second pinching the engorged nub tightly between forefinger and thumb as if to both extinguish and inflame the exploding sensations in front of me.
I can feel and see my orgasm approaching and I call to him again and again, using his formal name -- not daring to speak so casual to him, knowing that it is our unique relationship that creates the maddening taboo that makes my desires for him all the more sinfully sweet. I can envision him standing before me -- naked and hard for me. I can envision him inside me, thick and long, making me..."OH GOD, I'M CUMMINGGGG!" I sob aloud, feeling the room spin around me as my world becomes centered around the eruption of pleasure radiating outward from my pussy to flood every cell of my body with sexual ecstasy.
I fall back on the bed, my hair fanning out all around me as I keep my knees spread wide and both my hands are rubbing furiously over my pussy, fingers vying with each other to spear between my labia and keep my lovely orgasm from fading. When finally, my hands fall away, trailing my juices across my belly and thighs with the smell of my aroused sex hanging thick in my nostrils, I gasp for air until finally I can breath normally again and the sweat on my aroused skin begins to cool.
I gaze up at the ceiling, wishing I had a mirror up there to allow me to witness the condition that imagining him making love to me produces. Finally, I struggle to sit up, again looking at my now disheveled appearance, feeling somewhat pleased and aroused at the wanton look of my body now cooling down from orgasm. I know he would find it pleasing...that even after being fucked by him -- that in the afterglow of my...our orgasm with his seed planted deep within me, my appearance would make him hard again and we could -- no, would begin our dance of love and lust once more.
I lick my lips, almost tasting him on them as I say to my reflection, "Mr. Hamilton...I really want to fuck you."
#
I could feel the last of the other students' eyes on me as they shuffled out the door while I stood before Mr. Hamilton's desk. I had my eyes on my feet, unable to face my teacher's piercing gaze. He said not a word as the door snickered shut and we were finally alone. I felt my face burning as the noise of students moved down the hall, down the stairs towards the lockers and then out to the awaiting buses and into the student parking lot. Still, I was comforted by the fact that Mr. Hamilton was gazing at me and that I offered him a pleasing sight.
I was skirting the limits of our school's dress code, wearing a white blouse and a green plaid skirt that ended at the extreme limit under school guidelines...the hem a full five inches above the knee. White bobby socks and saddle shoes completed my sexy little school girl look and I finally braved a glimpse at my teacher. Mr. Hamilton was indeed staring at me uncomfortably. I took a deep breath and said in a whispery soft voice, "Is there a problem, Mr. Hamilton? Why did you ask me to stay after class?"
My teacher opened his mouth and then closed it. Finally, he sighed and opening up a side drawer of his desk, pulled out a blue folder and placed it in front of him. He looked down at it and then at me and sighing again, said, "Megan...the work you turned in...it..." His face was reddening and he said almost too soft to hear, "Megan, this is completely inappropriate and worse, it's dangerous. If anyone else read this, it would...I could be fired."
I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "I don't see why. I wrote it, not you."
"You handed me a description of yourself sitting naked in your bedroom and ended it with an expression of your desire to have...to make love with me."
I grinned and rubbed my hands across my lower stomach. "On the contrary, I stated that I wanted to fuck you, Mr. Hamilton. Don't you just love that word? 'Fuck.' It sounds so nasty, so dirty, so...sexy."
Mr. Hamilton made an odd noise and his face grew redder. "Megan...you...I am three times your age. I'm a teacher and you're a student. Even thinking of it is wrong!" His voice sounded strangled and he shifted nervously in his seat while tugging at his tie.
I sauntered a little closer to his desk, feeling an incredible rush of desire and understanding that I was more or less in control of this situation. I leaned forward, the front of my blouse gaping open to let him see my smallish breasts enhanced by the special bra I'd picked up. "Again, I don't see why...I'm eighteen now...legally I'm an adult and I love the fact that you're older. You're a man, Mr. Hamilton...a mature man." I waved my hand dismissively. "There's no way I'd allow one of these immature boys to be my first lover. I want a man...a sexier, older man who will know how to please a woman and you know how to do that, Mr. Hamilton. I can see it in your eyes and in the way you look at us young ladies. I know that you fucking me will be the greatest experience in my young life!"
My teacher shook his head violently and said. "This is not going to happen. Doesn't matter if you're over the age of consent or not. Teachers are not supposed to fu...have sex with students, no matter their age. Megan, I want you to never to turn something like this in again or I'll have to take this to the Principal."
I giggled as I slowly strolled around the desk and hopped up on the corner of the old wooden desk, letting my legs dangle while the hem of my plaid skirt rose almost to my crotch -- my feet almost brushing his trousers. "Now, Mr. Hamilton, we both know you're not going to do that. Like you said, you would get fired. And, let's be totally honest, as much as I want to fuck you, Mr. Hamilton, you want to fuck me!"
Mr. Hamilton scooted away from me as if to avoid even a hint of physical contact. "That's not true, Megan, not true! I would never take advantage of a student."
