| Straight: Serial Stories: Teacher: Teacher: Part I (2/6) |
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tones – she always sounded like she was either about to cum or lose her voice – turned me on anyway, but I was bursting out of my school uniform on hearing her rasp those forbidden sexual words. Later, quietly as the class worked, she put an arm around my shoulder as she congratulated me for the highest mark in the latest biology test. I couldn’t speak without displaying my aroused condition, merely nodded my head. Her perfume lingered after she stepped away and I breathed it in deeply, eyes closed, imagining depositing my own seed inside her. She left the school soon afterwards in sudden, mysterious circumstances. Rumour was she’d had an affair with an ex-pupil, and her husband - a PE teacher at the same school - had found out, beat the lad up and forced her to quit her job. It was great, juicy gossip, but it was never confirmed. That story had me lying in bed night after night, imagining I was the student, conjuring up sexy scenarios in which she was always the star. The arm around my shoulders slowly slid into my groin and her sweet perfume filled my head as I exploded onto the sheets. I had such a crush on her that for a while I couldn’t consider messing with the ‘silly little girls’ that were my contemporaries, preferring instead to surround myself with fantasies of that very attractive and intelligent woman. What she saw in that sadistic gorilla I couldn’t imagine. Now, here she was, the object of my teenage desire, reduced to a laughing stock. From respected teacher to silly whore; a sad middle-aged woman, parading and making a fool of herself in front of a drunken mob. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stepped into the seething fluid, grabbed the nucleus by the wrist and tore her from her cell, transplanting her into the mass of anonymous bodies that filled the darker sections of the club. Other women, spurred on by her display, stepped into the flashing void, began cavorting just as wildly and she was quickly forgotten. ‘Get off my fucking arm. Who the fuck do you think you are?’ I could hear her, but couldn’t look into her face, just dragged her into a secluded corner. ‘Fucking let go of me!’ ‘My mum!’ I explained to a couple of concerned-looking bouncers who just laughed and shook their heads. ‘Get off!’ she screamed and finally tore her arm from my grasp. She took back her hand to slap me, but her wild eyes were suddenly filled with shock rather than anger, and the spread palm moved slowly inwards to cover her mouth. ‘Alex? Is it? Oh, my God.’ Her voice barely cut through the banging music, but I read her beautiful lips. Then both her hands clamped to her face and she slumped onto the leather couch behind her. I moved closer, put an arm around her shoulders and yelled into her ear. ‘It’s cool. Yeah, it’s me… How are you, Miss?’ realising that my question was a little unimaginative. She opened her fingers and looked at me and a smile began to spread across her face. ‘Christ, what must you think of me? I…’ A plump, dark-haired woman tapped me on the shoulder, motioned with her heavily made-up eyes for me to go away. Mrs Cheetham looked at her in a very particular way and they smiled knowingly at each other. The plump woman gave Miss a wink then handed her a small black handbag and a tall |
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Mixed feelings.........