Who looks forward to Parent/Teacher nights? Particularly for a guy trying to look after his twelve-year old son on his own. But recently I discovered that Tommy’s teacher Maria is not the shy officious school marm I first thought her to be.
It started when I turned up late to the last PT night and found Maria just locking up.
“Oh, Mr. Taylor, we’ve just finished for the evening,” she explained sweetly, looking at me over her glasses before pushing them back up her nose. A very teacherly gesture. But Maria was a bit of a stunner. Even having her hair pulled back in a commonsensical bun couldn’t detract from her shapely legs, shown off by the short skirt she was wearing, and her luscious busom which strained at her bra beneath a thin white blouse. “You really are a naughty boy,” she scolded me playfully, “but I think I can just squeeze you in. I have nothing else to go to but a warm cup of cocoa and a good book. Come on up stairs and we’ll have a little talk about Tommy.”
Maria turned on the light in the classroom and invited me to sit in the chair next to her desk. She sat in her chair behind the desk. For a while we had a serious talk about Tommy’s progress, which was satisfactory. Any problems he had were the usual ones of discipline and paying attention that most boys of his age have.
“You’re doing a good job with him,” Maria said. “How long is it since your wife died.”
“Five years,” I replied. “Tommy and I are best mates. He’s really no trouble.”
“Still, I suppose you miss having a woman around,” she said.
“Yes,” I replied, finding such a personal comment a little embarrassing. I wanted to tell her that what I missed most was having someone to cuddle up to in bed at night. Sally had had such a strong sex drive, too. I always looked forward to crawling into bed at night, knowing that it would not be long before I would feel her soft hand on my dick, and that trademark giggle that told me she was horny. She loved to climb on top of me and ride my hard cock while telling me in the most graphic way just what it was doing for her. And she gave the most heavenly blow jobs.
These thoughts of sex soon brought my cock to rock-hard stiffness in my pants. Such thoughts also drew my attention to Maria’s gorgeous legs, particularly the part of them that I could see just beneath the hem of her short yellow skirt. She was wearing light pink stockings and occassionally I would get a flash of skin above them.
“David!” cried Maria, using my first name for the first time, “Are you trying to look up my skirt?”
“Well...I...that is...” I stuttered.
“You really are a naughty boy,” she said, shaking her head, “I think I’m going to have to make you stay behind class.”
At first I didn’t know what had come over her. She seemed to be acting kind of weird. I wasn’t one of her pupils after all. But then I noticed her looking pointedly at the lump in the front of my trousers and when I met her eye again she winked at me knowingly. If she was in the mood for a bit of sexy playacting then I certainly was.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” I said, adopting an air of wide-eyed innocence. “It won’t happen again.”
“I should hope not!” she said. “But just to make sure I am going to make you do detention. I want you to stay behind and write out a hundred times: ‘I will not look up teacher's dress, just in case she isn’t wearing any knickers.’ Do you understand.”
“Yes, Miss,” I replied. “Are you really not wearing any knickers?”
“What impertinence!” she cried, “I said , ‘just in case she isn’t wearing any knickers.’ Of course, I’m wearing knickers now. At least I think I am.” She lifted up her dress just to check and I got an eyeful of pink floral cotton knickers pulled tight over her pubic mound. “There you go again! Now you’ll have to write it out two hundred times. Do you remember what I taught you in maths class about exponential curves?”
“You’ve got lots of curves, Miss,” I said, trying to be helpful, “are they exponential curves?”
“No, they’re not,” she replied severely, “an exponential curve is made when each number is the double of the one before. One, two, four, eight, sixteen... Now, if you keep being naughty, I’m going to increase your detention exponentially. One more example of naughty behaviour on your part and you will have to write your lines 400 times, another and it will be 800, another and it will be 1600, another and it will be 3200... Do you understand? And if you don’t finish them tonight you will have to come back each night until you do finish them.”
“Yes, Miss,” I said, obediently taking the pen and paper she handed me and sitting down in one of the student’s desks.
“I’m about to clean the blackboard,” explained Maria, as I was just reaching line 45. “When I clean the blackboard my luscious butt tends to shake back and forth quite enticingly. Now I don’t want this to distract you from your lines, so if I catch you looking up I’ll have to double your detention again.”
Off course I looked up. Who wouldn’t have? And of course she caught me looking. Now it was 400 lines.
“Oh, dear,” she cried, as I was writing the 152nd line, “my stockings are falling down. I can’t pull them up without showing a good deal of my bare thighs. You promise you won’t look, don’t you?”
Well, you get the idea. By the time I reached the 231st line, I had accumulated enough detention to last me well beyond the heat death of the universe.
“Miss,” I pointed out, “it would take me 3,400,389,000,111 millenia to do that number of lines.” All right so the number was a complete invention, but it would have taken an awful long time. “Do you know what that means?”
“That you will have to do your detention under another teacher after I retire?” she asked.
“No,” I replied. “What it means is that I now have nothing to lose.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, “I could always spank you.”
“Yes, please, Miss!” I cried, turning my back towards her and dropping my trousers and underpants.
“Oh, dear!” she cried, “put your pants back on at once. Actually, we’re not allowed to use corporal punishment anymore.”
“Not only am I not going to put my pants back on, but I’m going to take off everything else,” I told her insolently. “What are you going to do about that?”
“I’ll send you to the Principal’s office,” she threatened, rather desperately, as I turned towards her so that she could see just how stiff my cock had become at the thought of all the things I could now do.
“The Principal’s gone home,” I pointed out, grabbing my cock in my right hand and beginning to stroke it shamelessly. She didn’t look away.
“You can’t masturbate in class!” she cried, in mock horror, “Not even in sex education class.”
“Is there something else you would like me to do with my cock?” I asked, as I walked towards her.
“Of course not,” she replied. “What makes you think that?”
“I think I’ll find out if the teacher has the hots for her pupil,” I said, lifting her skirt. “If your pussy is wet, I’m going to fuck you right there on your desk.” There was a large damp patch forming on the crotch of Maria’s panties, so I pushed her back onto her desk and pulled them down her luscious legs. Her mass of golden brown pubes were an enormous turn-on, as was the pussy juice that glistened and dripped from her sweet pink vagina. The softness of her thigh flesh carressed the hot hardness of my cock as I moved slowly towards my goal.
Maria wasn’t acting anymore. “Fuck the teacher! Fuck the teacher!” she cried, as I sank comfortably and sweetly into her embracing wetness.
She tore open her shirt and unfastened her bra so that she could play with her nipples while I fucked her long and slow over her desk. Finally my stiff cock spurted shot after shot of hot jism deep into her belly, and our mingled wetness seaped out onto the pile of test papers she had left lying on the desk.
“God, did I need that,” she sighed when we had gathered our breath. “And you too, I bet.”
“That was unbelievable!” I exclaimed. “But look what a mess we have made of our selves. We can’t go home like this.”
“What we need is a shower,” Maria stated, matter-of-factly, “I bet you always wanted to see the inside of the girl’s shower room back when you where in high-school, didn’t you? Well now you will.”
I can’t describe the feeling of delerious transgression as the two of us walked stark-naked through the empty halls of the school building down to the gym and through it into the girl’s shower room.
“Now I feel more like a naughty schoolgirl than a teacher,” said Maria as I slid my soapy hands all over her body.
Once we had washed each other and dried off with a towel we walked back up to the classroom and dressed again.
“Now don’t forget, you have to come back next Tuesday and finish your detention,” Maria reminded me as she locked the front door.
“Oh, please Miss, do I have to?” I protested, facetiously.
“I’ll see if I can find my old school uniform. Maybe you would like to be the teacher and I can be the schoolgirl,” Maria suggested enticingly.
“It’s a date,” I agreed, giving her a quick kiss and patting her luscious bottom one more time before getting into my car and driving home.
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