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Please, Call me Samantha

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I began to get that feeling again. The one where my pussy starts to throb when he rambles on about nothing I seem to understand. Just for the fact that he knew what he was talking about made him sexy. Sure, a lot of girls at some point would have petty crushes on their teachers, but what I had was not a crush; I lusted for this man.

Everyone in school knew that Mr. Jacobs was sexy. All girls had a slight thing for him and prayed that he was their History teacher. My praying had done me well, because I made the class. I was not the best student in the class, but really, how could any girl focus on learning when six feet of tall dark and handsomeness was in her line of sight every day?

“Miss Langley.”

I was suddenly pulled out of my dirty thoughts as the God himself called out my name.

“Welcome back.”

The entire classroom chuckled at me, but I did not care. He had spoken my name. My name had crossed his soft pink lips that were slightly hidden behind a perfectly trimmed goatee.

Our eyes locked for a brief moment and something clicked. I could feel it and I knew that he could feel it. As he shook it off I could feel myself dripping wet into my panties and prayed that it was not soaking through to the seat beneath my ass.

“Don’t forget that your papers are due on Monday,” Mr. Jacobs called out over the class as the bell rang and everyone jumped to their feet. Everyone except for me seemed to be in a hurry to get home or to his or her friends. I was already where I wanted to be.

I waited for the classroom to clear open before making my way up to Mr. Jacobs’ desk. Normally, I would just leave like everyone else, but today I seemed to have no control over my actions. My body did not want to leave, it wanted to stay and admire this amazing piece of human being that the world had graced us with.

"Can I help you with something miss Langley?" he asked as he took a seat behind his desk.

"You know," I smiled, making my way to his side of the desk, "Miss Langley is my grandmother. I would prefer it if you called me Samantha, or Sam."

"I think that I will stick with Miss Langley," he laughed slightly as he turned his attention to the papers sitting on his desk. "Was there something else I can help you with?"

"I was wondering if you could help me with my paper," I said almost shyly. "I keep trying to get it done but I just can't seem to get it started."

"I assigned this paper almost a month ago. Why are you waiting until a few days before it is due to ask for help?"

"I am not the best at asking for help," I blushed at him. "But, if you don't want to help me, I will figure it out."

I began to move away from his desk and head over to the desk I was sitting at to grab my things. This was definitely not going the way I had hoped, though I was not sure what I was going for specifically.

"I get off work at 6:30," he said as I was almost through the door to his classroom. "If you would like to meet at the public library at 7:00, I would be willing to try and help you out."

"That would be really great," I smiled, turning around to face him. "I will see you at 7:00."

________________

I spent the next two hours getting ready. It was harder than I has imagined trying to dress up for someone without it looking like I was trying to dress up for him. I was sure that I could come up with a reason as to why I looked dressed up, but I wanted to avoid raising suspicion.

By the end of my "getting ready" I was satisfied. My black skirt was just above my knees, not showing anything off. Over my skirt hung a long red sleeveless shirt, showing off my firms arms instead of my firm stomach. My favorite thing about this shirt was how amazing my 36C breasts were perfectly viewable. You could not see the flesh, but you could see every shape that they gave off. I had decided to not wear a bra because of this. I wasn't wearing panties either.

Once I decided I was ready, I snuck out the back door and headed for my car. Normally I would not need to sneak out, but I did not like lying to my mom and she would find it strange that I was meeting my teacher. Well, maybe not strange that I was meeting with my teacher; more that I was meeting with my teacher in this outfit. It was not very study appropriate.

I panicked the whole way to the library. I already had a paper written and ready to turn in, so now I had to lie that I had no paper at all. Really I was just looking for an excuse to see him outside of class. I wished he would have picked his house or someplace more private to meet, but I would take whatever I could get of him.

By time I got there, he was already there. His car, which I had thought about sitting in many times was in the parking lot already. It was not even seven yet, so I was not late. Though, honestly, I wished I had arrived before him.

I took several deep breaths before walking calmly into the library, my backpack flung over my left shoulder, and my head knee high boots clanking against the tiled floor. I could hear my heart beating in my chest, getting louder the further I got into the library. I almost wanted to turn around and run out, but I did not want to anger him for wasting his time.

The library was pretty dead. Apparently, not even geeks wanted to spend their Friday nights here. People had much better things to do on Friday nights. If it was not for Mr. Jacobs, I would more than likely be at a party or hanging out with my friends. I sure as hell would not be at the public library.

I looked around at all the main tables in the library and Mr. Jacobs was no where to be found. I was sure that his car had been in the parking lot. Sure it was dark out, but I knew his car.

"Are you Samantha?" The old lady sitting behind the front counter asked me.

"Yes," I said confused, wondering how she knew my name. It was not like I came in here often.

"Mr. Jacobs asked me to watch out for you," she smiled sweetly. "He is in his office."

"His office?" Once again my question was full of confusion.

"Yes," she laughed, stepping out from behind the counter. "Let me show you where it is located."

"Why would Mr. Jacobs have an office at the library?" I asked her, genuinely interested in what the answer may be. Did all teachers have their offices at the library, or maybe just a few? Did the school not have the ability to give all teachers their own offices there? That seemed really inconvenient if it were the case.

"Oh," she smiled back at me as she led me down a long, dim hallway. "Troy's grandparents donated the money to have this library opened 70 years ago. He works with keeping us funded and handling events. He spends most of his time not working, here."

"That must drive his wife crazy," I thought out loud. It would definitely drive me crazy if my husband was never home.

"Oh, Troy is not married," She laughed. "Never has been and probably never will be. He always seems to busy with his work to date."

"Oh," I muttered, not really know what to say beyond that.

"Here we are," she smiled pointing to the door. "He is expecting you. Have a good night, Samantha."

The old lady, whose name I never got, turned and made her way back down the hallway, leaving me alone. It was up to me to knock on his door and make an entrance on my own. That was more nerve wrecking than just being here. Still, I gained up my courage and lightly knocked my fist against his door.

"Come in," his voice called through the door and my entire body tingled. I loved the sound of his voice. It was deep, like a country singer.

I took one more deep breath and made my way into his office, slowly pushing open the door. He was sitting behind a giant desk, that was pretty clear except for a computer and a light. It was much too big for those items, but whatever he felt necessary.

"Ah," he smiled, looking up from his computer. "Miss Langley."

"Hi," I smiled nervously, shutting the door behind me. I was not sure if shutting it was a good idea, but it was now too late. "Nice office."

"I find it a little too stuffy," he laughed, "but it is what it is."

"Thank you for meeting with me," I said as I sat down. "I really do appreciate it."

"I was a little confused by it." He looked back at his computer for a moment before turning it off. "You generally seem to have no problem with assignments. I was shocked that you didn't even have something written down."

"Can I be honest with you?" I blurted out, almost placing my hand over my mouth. I had no idea what my brain was doing, but I knew it was a bad idea.

"I don't see why not," he smiled over at me.

"I finished my paper like a week ago," I laughed nervously. I could feel my face turning bright red. "It is pretty good actually, I think you will like it."

"So why are you here exactly?" His face grew curious with his question.

"I kind of," I paused, my worded getting caught in my throat. My heart was beating fast and I was sure that I was going to be sick. "I kind of just wanted to see you outside of class."

"Why?" He asked, turning his chair so that he could get up from the desk.

"Because," I tried to answer him but I couldn't; I was too distracted by him standing up and walking over to me.

"You can tell me Miss Langley," he was now only feet in front of me.

"I," I stuttered my words. "I ... uh ... like you."

"I like you too," he smiled.

"No," I shook my head, my breathing so heavy I was sure he could hear it. "I mean, I really like you."

"I know," he stepped forward, now so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I like you too."

"What?" My voice raised a few notches, only seconds from being a screech.

"I have seen the way you look at me." He smiled at me, moving back and sitting on the edge of his desk. "After a while, I guess I started looking at you the same way. I am glad it was not noticeable though. If other student saw it, I could get into trouble."

"Why?" I asked curiously. "I am eighteen."

"But you are my student," he frowned. "That is kind of a big no no in my profession."

"Oh," I frowned back. "I should probably go."

I turned quickly, just ready to get back into my car and drive away. I should never have come. This was all too much for me. My teacher who I was lusting after was lusting after me as well. That was more information than I needed. We were not able to act on our desires and we still had months left of school. Things were now going to be awkward.

"Miss Langley," his voice echoed in my head as I grabbed for the door. Moments later I could feel his hand on my shoulder and my entire body lit up like fireworks.

I turned around quickly, my heart pounding so loudly that it was all I could hear. His hand had touched me. In the last couple months of being in his class, I could not remember a time in which he had touched me. Even when handing back papers, our bodies never once came in contact with one another.

“Yes?” I asked him once we were face to face.

“Never mind,” he sighed, hanging his head down low and heading for his desk.

“What is it?” I asked him concerned. He sat down on his desk and turned his legs so that they were beneath it.

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“Is something the matter?”

“You should probably go.” He looked down at his desk, not making eye contact with me.

“I don’t want to go,” I held my ground, resisting the urge to slam my foot against the ground. “I want to be here with you.”

“I can’t” he shook his head at me before breaking eye contact once again.

“You can’t what?” I asked him, making my way over to his side of the desk. “Tell me.”

“I can’t touch you,” he informed me with a sad look hanging in his eyes.

“Why not?” I wondered aloud.

“You are a student.” He looked up at me, trying to give me a reassuring smile, but it was not working. “I can’t risk losing my job. It is all that I have.”

“Oh,” I spoke under my breath, looking out at the wall so I did not have to look at him. When I looked at him, I wanted him.

I looked over his office, trying to find something important about him. A picture of someone he may love or anything. They were bare. The old lady behind the counter said he had never been married and that he never dated; how lonely that must be.

As unsure of the idea as I was, one popped into my head and my body told me to go with it. My mind and heart backed my decision completely, though there was still some fear hanging in the air.

“That is okay,” I smiled at him. “You don’t have to touch me.”

“What?” he asked, more confusion, which looked sexy on him. I was sure there was not an expression that he could not pull off.

I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I pushed at his shoulders so that his chair would move back, allowing me to stand in front of him. His hands reached out to touch me but I held up my finger and shook it as if telling him no. He smiled, bigger than I had ever seen him smile before.

Pulling himself up onto his desk, I smiled down at him. I could tell that he was getting excited from the bulge in his pants and that excited me too. Just looking at him made me wet, but now, knowing that he was excited because of me, it was like a flood between my legs.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed heavily.

“Thank you,” I blushed at him.

“You are very welcome,” he smiled, trying to reach out for me again but stopping himself.

“What kind of touching are you not allowed to do?” I asked him, raising my eyebrow at him.

“Why?” He asked with a giant grin.

“Would you,” I crossed one leg over the other, “be able to help me take my boots off; they are very uncomfortable.”

Without answering my question, he moved his hands out and grabbed my leg, pulling it into his lap. Slowly he pulled down the zipper, bringing it from the side of my knee all the way down to my ankle, admiring my smooth skin the whole way down. I could tell he really wanted to touch me, but he held himself back; that only made me want him more.

He pulled my boot off of my foot and set it down on the floor beside his chair and then pulled my other leg into his lap. I used that time to push my now only socked foot against his groin, pressing lightly against his hardness. A moan escaped his mouth as he pulled down the other zipper, this time quicker, unable to control his actions.

I pulled both of my legs away from him, not wanting to let him get to far with me. He said that he was not allowed to touch me and I was going to have to hold him to it, though I had pushed at the rules with my boots.

“No more touching,” I smiled at him, pushing him back with one of my feet. “Only watching.”

“Watching,” his entire body perked up.

I placed my feet against the ground, now able to feel the cold of the tile beneath, but it did not stop me, only gave me a slight shiver. Once my feet were firmly against the ground, I reached beneath my shirt and lifted it over my head, tossing it into his lap. My 36C breasts were now...

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