This particular day was an overcast, yet warm Wednesday, sometime in the middle of June. It was then approaching midday, and I was preparing to take perhaps the most easy-going lesson of the day. The morning had been not without its incidents with some of the younger students. Art lessons seemed to incite misbehaviour, and while the number of reprimands dished out today had been relatively less than usual, it was probably too much to ask for children to be totally sensible while handling clay or messing with paint, especially in the highest room of the three story main building. This next lesson I was due to take however was a sixth-form class readying for A-level exams, and totalled approximately thirteen, depending on the occasional truant. As such, it was sure to be free of behavioural problems as the students had chosen the subject because of their interest in it, and over the last ten months they had given me the impression of a rather quiet, grown-up, interesting group of eighteen year-olds. Because of this they were my preferred class to teach by a long way. Their abilities were mixed however, but as you would expect there were a few very talented individuals who were fantastically creative and technically brilliant. Yet of these few young artists, one girl had been a particular pleasure to teach.
Anna was the girl seated farthest from me, meticulously applying intricate, delicate patterns to several pieces of board, for, as she had told me the previous week, the purpose of making stencils. She sat with one leg over the knee of the other, quite at ease but seemingly absorbed in her work. It was perhaps this pose which had drawn me towards her in the very beginning; her black over-the-knee socks highlighted her slender legs in this pose, unique and alluring. The rest of her uniform -- the very short, dark skirt and fitted shirt -- exuded a very kempt appearance, and was matched with the small, shiny, un-scuffed shoes she wore that always looked brand new. The outfit was neatly drawn to the familiar school tie, which hung at a reasonable length, and was showed no signs of fraying, and was without, perhaps unusually for a student, ink stains. This neatness repeated itself in her hair, where her blonde waves exuded care and attention, but nowhere near the blatant over-styling evident in some of her peers. The same was true with her make-up: I always noticed how little she wore. Her striking face came close to looking like that of a model without seeming gaunt, and needed no exaggeration. In comparison to the girls that I often noticed wandering the school clad in a thick shell of foundation she appeared so natural. I imagined perhaps she could have been a woodland nymph, her delicate frame and small height leaving me with the impression that all she lacked were wings of some kind.
Socially, Anna had many friends. Yet she was also strangely solitary. I noticed how her interaction with other students was never restricted by their social groups. She herself seemed to switch factions from the popular girls to the more studious types generally, though she lacked the social ferocity of the first and the reclusive bookishness of the latter. I had no idea to which group her most friends belonged, or where her own loyalties lay. It wasn't something we ever discussed. But I knew she was never alone, never without company, which reassured me greatly. In the art class she worked diligently, without allowing herself to be greatly interrupted by other students. There was only ever one thing that had ever taken her attention away from her artwork. And that was me.
This warm June day was to continue the usual fortnightly arrangement that had been taking place over the last few months, ever since that day last year, at the end of August. It had taken a while to get to this stage but Anna now knew precisely what was required of her. The bell rang for the end of the lesson, and as was now customary she ensured that she was last to pack up, staying behind while everyone else droned hurriedly out for lunch. On a Wednesday, her afternoon lessons were technically to be double P.E. But seeing as though I had a firm acquaintance with her P.E. teacher, and as it was a subject that was geared towards personal benefit as opposed to any qualification or academic gain, I was able to ensure that her absence was all in good cause: helping out in the art rooms, for instance or finishing up coursework. For myself I still had lessons to attend to, following a one hour break. That was of no concern however, as the arrangements planned for Anna didn't call for my interaction until later that evening. But I did like to initiate things early, and let her taste what she knew was coming. I sat at my desk and called out to her, the other students having just left:
"Anna, could you stand up please." She stood slowly, placing her pencil on the table next to her eraser and art tools and scraping the plastic chair against the floor slightly. "Come and stand in front of me, there's a good girl." In a sheepish, vulnerable way Anna shifted herself to about three metres in front of my desk. Her hands were closed and her legs were buckling ever so slightly, a familiar sight. I stood up and approached where she had been sat for the lesson, as I always did. Anna remained facing my desk. I looked closely at the blue plastic chair she had been sat on. I touched it and felt the chairs warmth. There was a slight dampness to it, as usual. I straightened up and sighed, smoothed out my tie and walked back to my desk. I sat down and looked at Anna who had her head bowed in shame, allowing her hair to almost cover her cheeks.
"This really will not do, Anna. You can't ruin school property like that. I mean, just look at how wet your pussy has made the seat." I let it ring in the silence, and she nodded slightly. She knew what was to follow. "Well then. Take off your panties." I said. She reached under her skirt and pulled down her small, white briefs, looped them over her feet. I could see her breathing had increased.
"Put them on my desk, and walk around to me." I said, and moved my chair back slightly so that it was touching the whiteboard. Anna duly placed her white panties, which I could see had gone slightly translucent with wetness on my desk, and walked around to me and stood in between my knees. She faced away from me, and slowly bent over the desk, gripping the furthest edge of it from me with her hands, and turned her head to the side. Her legs were straight and her back arched inwards in anticipation. I watched for a few seconds, before shaking my head, saying:
"You really, really shouldn't get things so messy at school Anna." I lifted her skirt over her back to see her cute butt, soft and smooth and perfectly shaped. I glanced at her smooth, tempting pussy to see it gleaming with juice; over her lips and even as far as her thighs. I had to resist a terrific urge to touch it, taste it. "Your pussy really is very wet this afternoon, isn't it?" I said softly. Anna nodded and closed her eyes; I noticed her slightly biting her lip.
"Yes sir." She breathed. I really was teasing her today.
I brought my hand down sharply on her right buttock and watched her flinch. I ran my hand gently over it, before giving the left side the same treatment. Then I proceeded to strike each side after five second intervals, massaging them in-between, until I could see them gently redden. Once I had finished, I glanced again at her pussy. She was silently pleading for anything to touch it, with more juice flowing from it by the second. It made me wonder if she somehow saved it up just for me. Anna was squirming and gyrating for me to do something about her intense arousal, but she should have known better. This was now over.
"Okay, up you get. Put your panties back on and collect your things." She rose from the desk, leaving a clammy mark of her tummy on the worn wooden surface. "Here's the key. I will see you in a couple of hours." I gave her a kiss on the forehead. Then I removed a single key from the desk drawer and pressed it into her hand, and watched as her pleading eyes looked at me with a familiar mixture of longing and frustration: a yearning to be fucked by her thirty-seven year old art teacher, for her wet pussy to be finally satisfied, and for it to be here and right now, and the painful truth that she would indeed have to wait not just another minute, but another five hours. She made her way to her seat and collected up her belongings. I warned her that I could have confiscated her panties and made her walk back to my house without them, as I had before on occasion. Her blushing face nodded, and she left the room.
The rest of my teaching day would now full of anticipation; an unmatched eagerness to get home driven by the knowledge that Anna waited for me there in exactly the way I taught her. By the time I reached her, she would be close to a passionate frenzy. Through the difficult task of removing this thought from my mind I was usually able to concentrate more fully on teaching in the afternoon, and therefore stop time from dragging so. I would have her for around two hours that evening, with her parents assuming, as I had written to them, Anna was involved in after school art activities. There was a semblance of truth in this, as she was always present at such events. They never took place on a Wednesday however, and her aging, docile, kindly parents whom I had met on more than one occasion at parent's evenings and school art exhibitions would undoubtedly never question the situation. During school holidays I always made sure that I could have her for at least one whole day somehow, which was also easily arranged. Suspicion was absent. The situation was faultless.
