Going back to school for my junior year was a much anticipated event. I lived in a very rural community and my home was out in the boonies even for that place. The result was I didn't get to see my buddies all summer, and you can hang up the idea of seeing any of the girls. I didn't have a drivers license, a car, or money for gas. You could say I was out of luck.
Before the bell rang to get everyone moving toward their homeroom, I talked to as many people as I could manage, a frantic whirl of 'Hey, how ya been, whatcha been up to?' This was mostly directed at my male friends as my supply of female friends was basically nonexistent. That's ok, I got it, the little popularity fairy was never going to whiz by and blow pixie dust on my awkward ass. I was kewl with it. Really, I was. Really.
Who the hell was I kidding? I wanted to be popular but when the chance came to chat with a girl my throat constricted to roughly the size of a mouse's ass. That, coupled with the fact that my mind went totally blank for subjects to talk about made me the Invisible Man. I was the prototypical spare tire, the wall flower, the one chosen last, no matter whether it was for a game or a social event.
School dances were a torture for me, but I couldn't resist going. I knew I was going to end up being a miserable, frustrated piece of quivering hormone addled teenage flesh. Nonetheless, I had an almost masochistic drive to subject myself to the indignity of the whole thing.
I'd see the popular kids looking so relaxed and carefree, laughing their asses off and basically just having a high old time. I spent my time lurking along the perimeter, trying to find an unobtrusive section of the wall that needed my support. I could literally feel my energy leaking out from my ankles like Achilles after his mortal wound. I bet that fucker could dance, though.
But this was the first day back, and no dances were scheduled for weeks. I could breath the clear air without the impending doom of a social occasion. My excitement may have been a little over the top, but isolation with do that to you. Even better, I was a junior. One rung down from the Olympian heights of seniorhood, another year away from giving serious thought to 'what happens after'.
My first period class after homeroom was Literature. The same old same old, diagramming sentences, the elements of language, all that crapola which held as much allure for me as typhoid fever. Speaking of which, I always excelled at biology or science courses, things that actually could engage my mind. Don't get me wrong, I love to read, but the mechanics of writing sucked the big one. I liked to drive too, when I got a chance, but it doesn't mean I want to overhaul an engine.
I had Ms. Oren for Literature which was kewl. She was as tall as myself, very slender but with some curves too. Her breasts were small, just little puckers on her chest while her ass was deliciously small and rounded. Her waist was tiny, like one of the babes in the old forties musicals where the female lead was always slim, trim, and oh SO sexy. Ms. Oren had that look about her. A flawless complexion, milky white skin, perfect small teeth, and eyes like a lake of melted chocolate. The only flaw was her hair, which was jet black. She wore it up in this godawful beehive arrangement which was almost like a Roman soldier helmet. I know, it was an in thing back in the day, but so were Slinkies. Cut me a break.
So off we go into the wonderland of the English language. I managed to pay attention for at least twenty minutes. My mind did what my mind does, it started its own mystical journey. It lingered on Katie Lawrence who was showing a LOT of thigh today, and thank you so much Katie for that. It went along in the same vein until almost time for class to end when I started to get this zipper busting spontaneous erection! At first it was just a regular boner, enjoyable but no imminent threat to fabric or modesty. It kept getting harder and bigger until I was hunkered down across my desk in an effort to mask it. That's when it happened.
The bell rang to change classes. I had 3 minutes to get out of Lit and get to my next class which was Drafting I. How to make a graceful exit when Lawrence of Arabia had apparently pitched his tent in the front of my pants? I couldn't sit there until it subsided because the male hard on is like the wind, it comes and goes at no mans behest. I'd learned that word just this past year.
So, my solution was to shuffle out the door as stealthily as possible with my books kind of shifted to the front to at least partially occlude the one eyed monster from sight. I'd seen a telltale spot of moisture as I got to my feet and I knew my rocket was prepared for lift off. Out the door I sidled as casually as I could manage. I'm sure my face was roughly the same shade of red a wrestler's might be after he went a few falls with the state champion.
About halfway to Drafting my raging erection surrendered and went back into dormancy. What the hell was that all about? I was at a loss to explain it except just maybe the Norse god of boners had stricken me with his mighty hammer.
Soon events distracted me and the rest of the day was fairly normal. Three classes, lunch, three more classes and off home or to after school activity. I wasn't doing any after school stuff yet, saving my considerable talents for the stage, being a dedicated Thespian. My friend John was a jock and he always ragged on me about being a member of the lesbians. I wasn't against the concept.
Next day the cycle repeated. About ten minutes before the bell to change classes who shows up but Mr. Woody! It was a monumental boner the same as the day before. I'm sneaking peeks to see if anyone is peeking at me. Thankfully, no one was. Back to hunkering over my desk like I'd eaten a sack full of green apples. This was embarrassing! I did not want a hard on, Sam I am, no not even a teenie tiny one. The bell rang and I got up, shifted my books to hide my jutting mast (and accompanying wet spot, because where would Batman be without Robin), and shuffled out the door.
This repeated every day as dependably as the sun coming up. I'd gotten a little more casual about it but it was still embarrassing. I'd resigned myself with just enduring the inconvenience and hoping that this little phase would finally exhaust itself. It wasn't as if I didn't vent my sexual energy. I had a rich and varied fantasy life which led to masturbating two or three times every night. You'd think Mr. Woody would appreciate the rest.
On the third Monday as my hard on appeared I was doing the slow eye, looking to see if I was being noticed. All was well I thought as my classmates were busy with their work. I turned my head in time to see Ms. Oren quickly jerk her attention to the other side of the room. I was busted! She'd been scoping out my bulge as I was looking to make sure I was on the down low!
I was seized by embarrassment, frantically thinking of ways to have Mr. Scott transport me from the surface of this planet! My communicator must have been broken in the last phaser barage because yours truly wasn't going no where. Here I was stranded on planet Phallus with no escape!
Mercifully the bell rang. I was getting ready to finally slink away like a yellow cur when Ms. Oren spoke.
"Paul, can you stay for a moment? I'd like to speak with you for just a minute."
"Uh...uh...mmmm." My conversational skills were cranked up to full power.
So instead of doing the slide for the door here I was stuck face to face with Ms. Oren. I had zero designs on her tender young body. I was old school and my fantasies were spent (or wasted) on my contemporaries. Most of the female teachers could pull a plow, with there being just a few exceptions such as Ms. Oren.
As I stood there by the side of her desk I faced slightly away. I didn't realize that what I was accomplishing was putting myself in profile. She smiled at me and looked me in the eye, a contact which I had difficulty returning. My face was on fire and I wished for a tub of ice water to dunk my head in.
"Paul, I see from your work you're struggling a bit. I could help you with it after school, if you'd like. I don't know what your schedule is after school, but if you're free I'd be more than happy to drive you home. It's up to you, but I'd really like to help."
I got myself together just a little and told her that'd be great, that what we'd been studying was kind of hazy to me. I told her I wasn't involved in any afer school activities and that I usually went home and did my chores. After that, I'd do my homework, or at least make an attempt at it, doing the bare minimum to keep me out of dutch with my Mom. She worked the evening shift so she was clocking in at the factory where she worked at about the same time the dismissal bell rang at school. I was on my own all evening, free to fix my own dinner, watch TV, read or do pretty much as I pleased.
The next day was a repeat of all the others, with one exception. When the pecker fairy came to call Ms. Oren was ready. She didn't make any attempt to conceal her gaze at my swollen crotch. I could see just a tiny hint of a smile toying around the corner of her mouth as she drank in the sight. She asked me to stay just a minute after again, which I resigned myself to do.
"So Paul, do we begin our studies this afternoon after school? I hope you've thought it over. I know your grades will show an improvement with just a few hours of tutoring. What do you say?"
I can see the ball when its coming over the net. What to do, swing or just stand there and lose? I grasped onto whatever vestige of courage I had.
"Sure, that'd be great. I've thought about it and I'm willing it give it a shot."
Her smile was luminous as she put her hand on my forearm.
"I'm so glad! I have to pick up a prescription at the pharmacy first thing after. Can you just meet me there?"
I agreed and that's how I became Ms. Oren's star pupil.
After school I walked the two blocks to the pharmacy and there was Ms Oren just getting into her car. It wasn't parked up front but rather around to the side of the building.