The substitute English teacher seemed harmless enough when he first entered the classroom just a few mornings ago.
“Good morning everyone, I'm Mr Brodie and I'll be covering Miss Johnson’s classes for the rest of the term.“
Tara rolled her eyes as Deirdre Donnelly jiggled her boobs in front of him as she asked some inane question in a desperate attempt to get him to notice her. DD by name, DD by nature Tara thought as she stared at Deirdre’s impressive set of tits.
She wondered what it must be like to be a middle aged man teaching a group of hormonal seventeen year-old girls. The fact they were studying ‘Romeo and Juliet’ was bound to cause plenty of embarrassing questions.
He seemed nice, there was no denying that. He wasn't classically attractive but there was something about him. He had little crow's eyes wrinkles around his eyes and they seemed to sparkle as he took, in good humour, the subtle and not so subtle flirts and innuendo coming from the class.
He was an enthusiastic teacher and he ran his fingers through his hair, the first wisps of grey showing as he prowled around the classroom, encouraging the girls to shed their inhibitions, taking on the role of Romeo himself as he demanded they acted out the scenes, asking them to put themselves in Juliet's shoes as she met Romeo for the first time.
“Imagine how Juliet felt when Romeo first took her hand,” he whispered as he took Deirdre's hand in his.
The look of barely suppressed lust on Deirdre's face was a picture. Mr Brodie didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were glazed as he seemed to draw her under his spell.
“Come, gentle night, come, loving black-browed night,” he whispered.
Deirdre’s mouth opened, her lip quivered as she whispered “Come.”
The bell rang to signal the end of the class but nobody moved. Finally, Mr Brodie dropped Deirdre’s hand and slowly stepped away.
“Right, for Thursday , I want everyone to write 300 words discussing if Romeo really was in love with Juliet.”
He seemed to be looking straight into Deirdre’s soul as he spoke. Her mouth hung slightly open as if hypnotised. Finally, everyone roused themselves and silently filed out of the room. As Tara glanced back, Deirdre still seemed rooted to the spot.
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That night as Tara lay in her bed, her fingers beginning their nightly descent down over her stomach and between her legs, her thoughts seemed to take on a mind of their own. Her eyes opened with a start as she realised it was Mr Brodie's face hovering above her in her dreams. As she tried to push him away, recalling her usual stock suitors, he kept reappearing. She groaned as she imagined his eyes boring into her soul as his face descended between her spread legs.
She arched her back, whimpering as her middle finger smeared her juices along her slit and over her clit. She circled it, teasing it as she squirmed on the bed until she couldn't hold back. The vision of Mr Brodie sticking his tongue deep inside her virgin pussy was too much for her and she felt herself explode. Her sheets and thighs and fingers covered in her cum.
When she awoke the next morning, she was unsure where she was. Her brain was foggy and she felt as if she hadn't slept a wink. Normally she could recall her dreams quite clearly and often noted them into her diary but this morning her brain was filled with snapshot images of Mr Brodie taking her virginity.
Images of him kneeling between her legs, her on her back with legs spread welcoming his cock, her straddling him, her on her hands and knees, her with her face pressed into the mattress and ass in the air; they all fought for supremacy as she struggled to make sense of it.
She could feel the ache between her legs. Her fingers brushed her knickers and she was shocked to feel just how wet she was. The cotton material was soaked.
She crawled into the shower and as the hot water beat down on her, her fingers dipped between her legs again.
“What is wrong with me,” she thought as her fingertip circled her clit. Mr Brodie invaded her thoughts again as she leant back against the cold tiles and let him take her again. His tongue, fingers and finally his cock taking her as she shuddered and slumped down the wall.
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She glanced around the classroom as they sat, watching Mr Brodie read their homework. Tara noticed Deirdre's chair was empty. Tara had never known Deirdre to miss a day of school.
Even being in the same room as Mr Brodie was causing Tara's knickers to get damp. She watched him as his eyes flickered across the A4 pages of lined paper. Each one scrawled with a biro as the class had poured their thought of love and desire onto the pages for his delectation.
He had asked them to read quietly while he marked their work but Tara found her eyes torn from the page, again and again, to stare at him.
She read and re-read “With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls” again and again. The imagery of her love taking flight as she stared at Mr Brodie overwhelmed her. She felt herself squirming in her seat.
Suddenly she noticed that there was something different about him. He looked younger than when he'd last taught them. It couldn't be possible but she was sure the wrinkles around his eyes had been more pronounced. She studied him again. His hair was darker too. She was sure there'd been flecks of grey in his hair. He looked younger, fresher, even more handsome.
It must be just the light, she reasoned with herself. Then all thoughts of his rejuvenation went out the window as he raised his head and saw her looking at him. His eyes bored deep inside her and she almost whelped when he smiled at her.
She felt her pussy clench and only just managed to stifle a groan. Was this what Deirdre had seen and felt?
He stood and stalked across the room towards her. His limbs stretched and he seemed to glide stealthily towards her. The other eighteen girls in the room became bit-part players as she felt herself taking centre stage.
“Tara,” he began. “Your essay was wonderful.”
He stood in front of her desk, laying the piece of paper almost reverently down onto her desk.
“Thank you, Sir,” she managed to whisper.
She felt her throat tighten and her lips were parched. A blush was rising, she could feel her cheeks go red. His eyes were hypnotic close up. She felt herself drowning in his pupils as she melted in front of him.
Just then the bell rang to signal the end of the last class of the day. As everyone else gathered their books and slipped off into the darkening gloom, Tara felt rooted to the spot.
“I feel as if you are Juliet,” he told her as the door closed behind the last girl to leave the room.
“I feel in you that same sense of virginal wonder and longing that Juliet must have experienced that first time with Romeo.”
His fingers brushed the back of her hand. She couldn't help it. A low groan escaped her lips as she gazed up at him. The merest touch causing her nipples to harden and her legs opened, as if on instinct, underneath the desk.
“What witchcraft is this?” She whispered, her mind scrambled.
“Something wicked this way comes, perhaps?” he whispered, smiling as his finger traced a path up the arm of her school blazer, stroking the strands of her long brunette hair before he gently tilted her chin up to stare into her eyes.