The Futa Fairy – Futa Teacher’s Naughty Wish Chapter 1: Ms. Marcie’s Student Dilemma

The Futa Fairy – Futa Teacher’s Naughty Wish
Chapter One: Ms. Marcie’s Student Dilemma
By mypenname3000
Copyright 2017

Every day was torture when I walked into the hallowed halls of Washington College, the school where I taught at. Everywhere I looked, the girls strutted down the halls, so youthful, so sexy in their tight jeans, their tighter tops, their short skirts, their leggings that molded to nubile flesh. My heart raced, my pussy so hot in my panties and pantyhose, my nipples hard in my blouse. So many beauties. The eighteen-year-old freshman just budding into womanhood. The twenty-one-year-old seniors strutting like they were hot shit, the nineteen-year-old sophomores and twenty-year-old juniors trying to emulate them.

It was enough to make me salivate like a dirty, old man.

And I wasn’t old. I was in my early thirties and, more importantly, a woman. But I was just so hot for all of them. I wanted to pull on my strap-on, bend their pretty asses over my desk, and fuck them so hard. I would plow them, ramming my dildo over and over into their hot, steamy depths.

My cheeks burned as I walked through the halls, my heels clicking, my hips swaying. The boys noticed, of course, their hungry eyes on my flesh. But I ignored them. They weren’t the soft, silky, feminine delight that made me wet.

I licked my lips, watching a cute girl sway by, her ass writhing in the jeans. I swear she had to pour herself into those. Her thong peeked out the back. I wanted to snap it before I ripped down her jeans and devoured her barely legal snatch.

I was such a bad teacher.

“Good morning, Ms. Marcie,” one of my favorites smiled as she walked past. I had Keily Redding last year as a freshman. And again this year, the auburn-hair nineteen-year-old making my pussy so wet. How I would just devour her. I would go to town on that pussy.

I bet she was a virgin. I bet barely legal, virgin cunt tasted amazing.

I lusted after all my female students, but I had my favorites. The girls I really wanted to usher into the joys of lesbian passion. To teach them, mold their impressionable minds to the delights a woman could offer them. It made my clit so hard, my pussy so wet as I pictured them.

Keily Redding on her hands and knees lapping at my pussy, her auburn hair spilling about her naked shoulders.

Sita Korrapati, the principal’s nubile daughter, bent over my desk, her red-brown ass wiggling at me, the Indian girl begging to have her cherry popped by my strap-on.

Heather Jackson, a pixyish blonde with short hair and big, blue eyes that looked so much like my own daughter’s.

Yunjin Kim, a Korean doll who would shudder as I devoured her pussy.

Pattie Jones would scream her pretty head off as I devoured her Black snatch, her beaded braids clacking as she bucked and shuddered.

Jamie Miller shuddering on my desk, her cheerleader skirt hiked up over her waist as I fucked her hard with my double-headed dildo.

Amber Matheson, that delicious beauty mark on her fair cheek, staring up at me as she fisted her hand in and out of my cunt.

And the one I lusted after the most: Belinda Baumgartner. My daughter with her brown hair in pigtails, her blue eyes centered on her angelic face. I would love to pop her cherry. Eighteen. Just started at Washington College. And enrolled in my first afternoon class.

I was such a wicked teacher and a bad mother all rolled into one.

“Hey, Ms. Baumgartner,” a male student said, nodding his head. He was in my second class. I hadn’t gotten his name yet. I was so bad with the boys in my classes. I also insisted that they use my last name. Only the girls could call me Ms. Marcie.

Which made me feel so naughty.

“That was such a good game on Friday,” I smiled at Jamie as she walked by. “You did such a great job your first time out.”

Pink spotted Jamie’s cheeks. “Thanks, Ms. Marcie. It was a lot of fun.”

“I bet. Losing your cherry to your big sister’s huge girl-cock must have been amazing.” Memories of that wild game shot through me. The cheerleaders put on such a rousing show, writhing in lesbian passion. And two of them were futanari. Just amazing.

I couldn’t wait for Friday’s game. I only went to ogle the cheerleaders, and this year their routines were so naughty.

“It was, Ms. Marcie,” she beamed. “I have to get to class. See you in an hour.”

“You better have your English homework done.,” I smiled and continued striding along.

And then groaned in annoyance. Two cherub-faced girls were kissing in the hallway. I vaguely remembered standing beside them as I cheered on the Pussycats, the nickname for the college’s cheer squad, on Friday, groping both their asses as they fingered each other. I grit my teeth. I hated PDA.

“No kissing in the halls,” I snapped at the girls.

They broke apart with guilty flushes.

“You know that. No public displays of affection. This is a school. Save it for the bedroom.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they squeaked together, their faces flushed. They were cute, probably seniors. They scurried off, their tight asses wiggling.

I shook my head. What was the world coming to? I liked kissing girls, too, but in public? It was so disgusting watching people really kiss in public, especially with all that tongue. There was a place for that. The bedroom. A parked car. The football game while watching the Pussycats fuck and lick each other on the field.

“Hello, Ms. Marcie,” delicious Sita said as she passed me, her face round with that delicious, red-brown skin of the Indian Subcontinent.

“Did you get your homework done?”

“Of course,” she smiled as she fell in beside me. She was in my first class.

“Don’t know why I asked. Your mother would never let you slack.”

“No,” she said, her neck straight. She had a 4.0 GPA and would probably be valedictorian.

I ached to give her a different education. I bet she would be just as diligent at learning pussy licking as she was at learning Shakespeare.

We reached my classroom. I held the door open for her, loving how her skirt swayed covering that ass. She had a great one. I would give anything to see her naked. I bet she was a virgin, too. Everything about her screamed innocence.

I wanted to masturbate so badly as I sank down at my desk, the other students filing in.

My phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out. Class hadn’t started yet, so I could have my phone out. Once the bell rang, teachers, like our students, were expected to put our phones away and pay attention. Principal Korrapati was very strict about that.

I didn’t recognize the number the phone came from, though it had an Alaska area code. I used to live in Alaska, and the 907 area code covered the whole state. Was it an old friend? It had been over a decade since I lived there.

I opened the message. Cute bluish-white snowflakes rained down from the top, the text message in a richer blue font.

Oh, that was such a naughty desire you have, Marcie. I almost came just feeling it.

So don’t you worry your naughty cunt. I will make it happen. I will make sure you fuck every last student you want, even that cute daughter of yours. Expect me real soon. I will rock your world.

Damn, I love naughty teachers.

B

Esq. of Winter

My cheeks warmed just reading the vulgar message. Then I swallowed. Who could possibly know that I had a thing for my students? Was it another teacher? Or a student? They were all so tech savvy these days. And the tone… It sounded like one of the girls these days. They swear as bad as the boys.

I had even heard my eighteen-year-old daughter drop the f-bomb once with her friends.

And she knew I lusted for my daughter. That I wanted to violate the maternal bond I had with her. I squirmed in my chair, my cheeks on fire as I read the message again and again. My heart raced. If anyone found out I wanted to molest my students, my daughter, my career would be over.

My chair creaked as I rubbed my thighs together. It would be so hot if it could happen though. If this mysterious B could make my wishes come true. But that was insane. No one could do that short of drugging the girls so I could have my way with them. I could seduce one, sure. Maybe two, if I were patient.

But I knew the risks if it backfired. It was better to find older woman who liked to roleplay. Have them put on naughty skirts and pretend to be innocent, Catholic schoolgirls for me.

My eyes flicked to Sita as she smiled at me. I pictured grabbing her black hair and pulling her face into my pussy. To feel her tongue lapping through my folds. To shudder and cum on those innocent lips, leaving them smeared with my pussy cream.

I squirmed more. This was so insane. I needed to gain control of myself. Things like that didn’t happen in the real world.

I put my phone away, my stomach twisting. A chill shot down my spine. I really could be in trouble if someone thought I was lusting after my students. My heart raced beneath my breasts as the rest of my students filed in.

And I couldn’t just sit here. I had to teach.

It was probably just a prank. Everyone knew I was a lesbian. A bigot was probably just messing with me, trying to get me scared. They always thought dykes were also predators, looking to seduce innocent girls into our “sinful” lifestyles.

It was hard to focus on teaching, between my fantasies of Sita and the twisting fear in my stomach produced by the text. But I focused, moving before my class as I lectured on Romeo and Juliet, my pantyhose whisking with every step.

Such a comforting sound.

“Okay, I want you to read the final act for tomorrow’s lecture,” I told them, ignoring their groans.

My students stood up. Sita headed to me, holding her text book to her breast. She wore a dark cardigan buttoned up, her white blouse peeking through the V neckline. She gave me such a dazzling smile.

“Ms. Marcie, could I stop by after school and talk to you? I have a few questions about the lesson.”

“You didn’t understand it?”

“No, I just had an idea for a project.”

“Looking for extra credit.” I shook my head. “You’re already at a 4.0 in my class.”

“Still,” she smiled. “Can I?”

“Of course you can.