Pupil

This story is complete fiction. Note: Consenting adults acting out fantasies on the other hand, writing stories of imaginary events (like this one), or discussing these topics with others; is quite all right, and entertaining as well.

by Morbidream

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It all started innocently. As they say, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.?I don’t know if that is true, but it’s well worth the trip.

I moved down here to teach History and Philosophy for the 11th and 12th grade classes at the local High School in a small Alabama city shortly after my divorce. I figured moving across the country and putting some distance between my ex-wife and myself would be a good idea, allow me to start fresh, concentrate on my job, and start dating again without running into one of her friends or worse yet, her. Not to mention I had heard that the women in the “dirty South?were a spicy lot, and I was hoping I’d have the chance to find out. “Get back in the saddle,?so to speak.

Despite wanting to test the night life, I also take my profession extremely seriously. I enjoy being a teacher, molding young students into their future adult self. Hoping my lectures in History and Philosophy will help them later in life. As such, I usually go out of my way to help them, and often find myself spending too much time working on my class, grading papers, or tutoring after school. That was part of why my marriage had failed.

Unfortunately, the best laid plans often go awry, and boy did it ever. It started slowly enough, with the school year, and my 11th grade History class. Like normal, the first day of class I introduce myself, “Mr. Finch? and explain the course for the year. I tell them my lesson plan, what I expect of them, and then offer assistance in after class tutoring (at a coffee shop), and give them my AOL e-mail in case they have any questions. I try to go the extra difference, and it shows. Every student I’ve had has passed, and done very well on advanced placement tests.

I usually get one or two girls in my class that get a little flirty with me, I’m used to that. I’m 5?0? with short brown hair, a goatee, grey eyes, and 210lbs of muscle due to spending a couple hours at the gym every morning before class. The little girls don’t interest me, other than making sure they were prepared for collage because I had a wife, a kid, and a career. Or?I did anyway. It never occurred to me that the change, the divorce not having a woman could change everything.

She was in my 2nd History class of the afternoon, and I could tell right off the bat she would get flirty. She sat in the front row, and just had those eyes. The ones that look at you, following your every move and have a twinkle of something naughty in them. I naturally ignored her, as I always did, thinking her like the others would be a tease and any naughty twinkle I saw, was just that “a tease? She was certainly pretty though, and I couldn’t help but admire her milk chocolate skin, lovely curves, dark eyes, and luscious lips. It was obvious she had everything going on, including a cute style about her reminiscent of Japanese pop music.

Every day she would sit in the front row, looking at me, occasionally winking. Every day I pretended like she didn’t. However, I couldn’t completely ignore it. I would stay late to grade papers, prepare for the next day and then go home to an empty house. Having a girl winking at me every day did make me feel good, even if I knew I couldn’t do anything about it. “Wouldn’t do anything about it,?I told myself. After the first two months of class though, I couldn’t help but smile when she winked at me, and it was quite obvious she noticed.

When we were getting close to mid terms, I let the class know that I would be at one of the local coffee shops on Tuesday and Thursdays. I both hoped and feared she would show up. I knew I could keep professional at the school, but in the coffee shop it would be a bit harder. Hopefully if she DID show up, other students would too. That would make it easier; though it had become harder and harder to hide my erections in class when she winked at me; especially as her looks had gotten more suggestive.

I got to the shop early and found a nice comfy spot.