It was Saturday morning. The day I had been waiting for all week. And not just because I had no school, not just because it was one of the solitary two days a week I could relax. It was because I was going for coffee with my 12th-grade English teacher, to discuss the reason why I was failing his class. I knew perfectly well why - I was so distracted all the time.

Mr Jordan could easily have made it as a male model. He stood at around 6’2”, with a muscled chest and arms. He must regularly work out, I thought. His hair was a delicious chocolate brown and was usually pushed back, providing a fabulous view of his deep green eyes. Mr Jordan usually dressed in jeans and long-sleeved shirts, which highlighted his chest muscles even more than usual. All the other teachers wore suits with ties - not nearly as sexy.

It had been my 18th birthday 3 weeks prior to this weekend, and I was still a virgin. The thought of a teacher being my first thrilled me, and I often thought about it (well, one teacher in particular) when I touched myself. Just the thought of Mr Jordan was enough to make my freshly waxed pussy ache and hunger for attention, so I hated to ignore it.

I climbed out of bed, slipped out of the silk blue camisole and shorts I had worn that night and stood naked, staring into the wardrobe. I was then faced with the problem that had been the bane of femalekind since the dawn of time.

"What the hell am I supposed to wear?!"

I rooted through the wardrobe, pushing various ensembles along the line, throwing some on my bed and ignoring others. After consulting the weather, I eventually decided on a tweed miniskirt (taking care to pull it up to halfway down my thigh) and a white vest top, topped off with some gold gladiator sandals. But then... there was the question of underwear.

After an even longer period of staring into my underwear drawer, I decided on a rose-pink silk bra, with matching panties. I made one final check that the bra was clearly visible through the vest, then left the house. I walked down the street, closed my eyes and stared up at the sun, feeling the irresistible warmth spread across my face. It was a beautiful sunny morning in San Clemente, California - there were people, families, everywhere, enjoying the weather. I glanced up at the clock tower in the middle of the square - it was 2 minutes to 11.

I smoothed down my hair and skirt as I approached the coffee shop I was meeting Mr Jordan in - I also pulled down the neckline of my vest slightly, attempting to reveal more of my 34B cleavage. I pushed open the glass door and glanced around the cafe. Mr Jordan was sat on a leather couch by the window, sipping a mug of coffee. He smiled as he looked up and saw