It was my first day as a twelfth grade English teacher at Jacobson High School. It was a big school by all dimensions but looked very old, with two floors and maybe three thousand students crowding them. I was fresh from college at almost twenty three years old, though I could still easily pass for a Senior, much to the eventual embarrassment of the hardly eighteen year old girls passing me in the hallway, blowing kisses to the new guy with eyes that reflected the fly of my pants. I tried not to smile back though the pride a man feels when a woman wants to suck his cock before they've even been properly introduced, it's ageless. Walking through the thinning crowd of mostly half-hearted, seven a.m. smiles, I entered my classroom for the first time. It was small, but the pay was good and the area was excellent, and I'd heard wonderful things about the funds available for teachers, leaving the learning experience as open and unlimited to them as their own ideas and imagination. I wouldn't say I had expensive tastes, but, it was good to know that whatever I needed was within reach, and I could explore a lot of creative outlets to reach my students on a level they would take with them for the rest of their life.
Walking into my classroom as the final morning bell rang painfully from the long, hollow hallway, I closed my door and turned to my first class, my first hour, sixteen in all, ten girls and six boys.
"Good morning," I tried to say as cheerily as possible, hardly a morning person myself despite the butterflies in my stomach as I experienced the first hour and class on my very first day. "My name is Rob, which is the only name I answer to unless someone comes up with a nickname I like. Until then, it's Rob. Hopefully it won't be too weird calling a teacher by their first name, but, I'm only twenty two, so, I really don't think I'm ready to be called mister anything. I don't even drink coffee."
A few of them yawned sleepily, a few girls smiled, the rest seemed like marines at attention, frozen, awaiting their first order.
"First of all, today is going to be very slow and very casual, because being as it's my first day as a teacher and your first day from summer break, I imagine you'd all chase me home with pitchforks and torches if I started handing out homework and sending you home with classroom rules to get signed."
Slowly but surely I was getting their attention, more smiles, less yawns, a few nods and twinkling eyes, suggesting I wasn't quite the stiff they expected, though I knew there was plenty of time to blow that before the day was out.
"My classroom rules are simple, and being as there's only a few of them, should be easy to remember. Number one, honesty. The worst thing you can do to our relationship is lie to me. If you don't know an answer because you had a rough night or a rough morning, you don't feel well, let me know. If I'm having fun and I'm driving you nuts, let me know. Everyone has bad days, bad moods, and bad tempers, and I never want you to feel like that's not important, because it is. You be honest with me, I'll be honest with you, and everything will be as honest as we can both stand."
Now I was really catching glances of interest. I was feeling good. They were getting more life in their faces. I was on a roll.
"Number two, respect. Honesty is an open flame without respect. Respect means that we have to look out for each other, consider other people's feelings and beliefs, and try not to embarrass one another at least as hard as we try not to embarrass ourselves. Now, because I like honesty, and honesty isn't always comfortable, as we get in to different discussions of opinions and beliefs, there is a possibility I have no control over that certain people may feel discomfort. It is important to me that all of you feel capable of expressing yourselves unrestrained of emotion, and naturally of honesty, but please restrain context and language."
Someone coughed and I almost lost my train of thought, suddenly paranoid if it had been purposeful or not, sensing how nervous I felt and trying to throw me off to shut me up. They didn't look that cruel, but, I wouldn't put it past them, I didn't know them yet. I had to pull myself back on their side.
"Personally, I'm a fan of free speech, and if my own job weren't at risk and all of you were comfortable, I wouldn't ask any restrictions on your language, I don't feel this environment should change how you express yourself compared to others, so if something slips, don't worry about it. But if it's consistent, we'll have to work something out, because it'll be my butt if I don't have control."
Looked like number two ran a little too long, I still seemed to be losing them. It didn't take much this early. They were hearing the words, but not all of them were sinking in, lost in their own thoughts and problems, trying to stay awake.
"Number three is the last rule, and it's the only way to get an A in my class. Effort. Not perfection. Effort. No one does everything right, all the time. For as important as your grades are, it is important to me that whatever my grade contributes to your overall grade point average is a fair representation of you as a student, as a person, as a worker, and as a potential success, and I can tell you right now that all of you are A's. You will have to put much more effort into getting a D or an F in my class than you will an A or a B, that's the good news. The bad news is, I can't just completely give you the grade that I know that you're capable of if you're not putting in the effort. So, if you can handle those three rules, rather than drone out something boring in response, pound on your desks and harumph.
They hesitated. I expected that. Unfamiliar instruction from what they're used to always choked up the class, even when I was apart of it. They were trying to figure out what exactly I'd said, which wasn't easy when the windows were still black from the night-sky, flooding over into the early morning. Much to my delight, a smaller guy with glasses and braces began thundering out a drum-roll on his desk and "Harumph-ed". I "Harumphed" back, slowly instigating a back-and-forth Harumphing which really started energizing them.
And such set the tone for the rest of the day. By lunch time, I was full of energy and having one of the best days I could remember, trying to keep track of all of the things I had to tell my fiance' later on. So many personalities and characters, so many smart-asses already, I was overwhelmed by the potential I had to work with in these kids.
By the end of the day, I was all too excited to get home, and having done nothing the entire day, I figured it wouldn't be long at all before I could be on my way.
That's when she walked in.
At first I had no idea who she was. She was tall with petite shoulders and a long, slender body, with light, shoulder-length blonde hair curled softly around her neck and down her back, with bright, subtle make-up and a thin pink smile. The more I looked at her, the more I was convinced that had she been one of my students, which only puzzled me more in how she possibly could have tucked herself away where I wouldn't notice her. She was beautiful in an innocent way that gleamed with sexuality, a natural temptress, the kind of girl that spent her entire highschool career ruining relationships and friendships alike, getting everything she wants.
A whore in every possibly positive and negative connotation of the word. I was nearly sweating. As a matter of fact, I was beginning to lose my grip on the fact that I was a teacher and she was a student, and therefore probably needed to stop admiring how nice her breasts looked. A little bit of cleavage just barely peeked out over her soft, white halter top and the thin, baby-blue shirt that exposed it at the chest, just a hint of white that I couldn't look away from. It was like a curtain behind which the silhouette of a beautiful, naked woman danced and teased.
I wanted to see them, imagined my cum all over them, sliding around the curves and into the depths between, drooling down toward the middle of her long, thin stomach. She was my favorite size, big for a B-cup, and I couldn't help but feel the warm waves of arousal beginning to fall over me like the back-draft of a fire. Feeling my sudden hard-on threw me into a state of complete panic as my hands began trembling and I hid them in my pockets, feeling dizzy and nauseated. I had to keep cool. That's all I had to do. Keep cool and LOOK AT HER FACE.
"Are you mister..." she paused, searching her memory, trying to be discreet as she squinted her eyes at the nametag clipped to my pocket. At least, I think she was squinting at my nametag… though I couldn't help but wonder what about my pants so intrigued her, the fear of being fired coursing wildly through my veins nonetheless. I had to get back control of myself! I may be a pervert, as most men admittedly are, but this was a student; a low even I at my worst wouldn't sink to. It wasn't worth ruining my personal and professional career. I needed to stop!
"I'm sorry," she finally squeeked out. "I don't know where my head is right now… you're mister…"
"Actually," I said, shifting to the side to hide my hard-on, "you're the first person to call me mister all day."
The statement caught her off guard and she lost her train of thought as I smiled apologetically.
"Call me Rob," I said as I motioned for her to sit down at a desk.
"I'm Megan." she said with bright blue eyes staring up at me from that adorable little pale doll-face that I would've went wild over in highschool – as a student, that is.
"What can I do for you?"
She looked deeply in my eyes and then looked away, looked like she was blushing, stumbling with her words with the same awkwardness that I felt trying not to touch the throbbing cock that was baring hard against my pants, begging for release before she left.
