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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 1997.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

Teacher's Pet
by Eli the Bearded (address defunct)

***

A female teacher helps her young female student get in 
touch with her feelings by molesting her after class. 
(Ff-teen, ped)

***

I told her to meet me that afternoon to discuss her 
flagging grades. She had said, "Yes, ma'am." She has 
such potential and I want to see her go far. She has 
large doe eyes and a natural beauty far in excess of my 
other students. I often wonder if her innocence is real 
or feigned.

I am grading the endless papers when she raps three 
times on the door. I turn in my chair to let her in. 
She greets me quietly and stands in the door frame 
awkwardly. I admire the way her simple dress -- a polka 
dot shift -- suggests her figure without revealing it as 
I pat a chair to invite her in.

My knee brushes against her leg, just above her high 
socks, as she lowers herself into the chair. Her skin is 
warm and soft I notice before she pulls away.

**

Years ago I remember meeting Mrs. Jacobs after class in 
the empty school room. I was surprised to notice how 
tranquil the room was in the early evening. She was the 
first woman I had had as a teacher. Mrs. Jacobs showed 
us all so much more concern than we were used to getting 
and it made us all love her.

As the sun sank low through the bare limbs of the trees 
outside, Mrs. Jacobs and I talked. I wanted to become a 
teacher seeing her example and I was asking her advice. 
The lights were off for some reason that first day for 
some reason neither of us turned them on as the reddish 
light grew scarcer. Instead we moved our chairs so we 
would not block the light and moved ourselves closer to 
each other.

The sun was setting with rich fiery hues when our hands 
met and held each other. I still don't remember who made 
the first move. I do remember the oddly fruity taste of 
her mouth that first day.

For the next several years, until I left for the 
teachers college in fact, I would meet her after school. 
Sometimes it was several times a week, other times we 
could go a month apart.

I remember finding her to have a rare beauty. Her body, 
while past its prime, was nonetheless wonderful. It had 
grown old the way a pair of slippers does, more 
comfortable with each passing year. Her small and supple 
breasts modelled to shape of my mouth; the skin of her 
legs playfully loose; belly full and soft to lean one's 
head upon; the gray hair created a stunningly elegant 
appearance.

**

In college I met Jasmine. At first I remember 
considering her large breasts ungainly, her strange 
flexibility uncouth, and her mannerisms immature. Over 
time these thoughts of her changed. Her chest became 
sexy, the contortionist skills became enticing, and her 
childishness refreshing.

Her insatiable curiosity and boundless energy led to 
much of my own sexual experimentation. My first -- and 
last -- experience with a man was in her company. The 
equipment was interesting but the performance failed to 
impress. I sometimes think back and feel disgust, other 
times pity.

Jasmine also lead me through my first masturbating to 
orgasm. Many a time have I thanked her in my mind for 
having the disregard of taboo to lead me past my 
inhibitions on that matter. It is certainly enough to 
make me forgive her leaving to marry that guy Oswin.

**

Jane looks nervously uncomfortable seated in front of 
me. "You wanted to talk to me, Ms. Ossi?"

The tremble in her voice throws waves of energy through 
me. "Please call me Jill." I put down the red pen and 
shift in my seat to offer her a better view of my 
breasts. "Yes, I wanted to let you know that I would 
like to help you do better. I remember how helpful it 
was for me to have a friend in the faculty when I was a 
student, and I thought I could offer you similar 
assistance." 

I am not sure but I think I may have over emphasized 
"assistance."

Her hands were in her lap on top of her notebook, but 
now she lifts the binder up against her chest. With some 
trepidation she asks "How?"

I put my hand on her knee and rub my finger in circles 
to feel the soft skin. "Oh, you know a friend can always 
offer extra help, arrange favors, assuage doubt in 
ambiguous situations."

She stares mutely at me. I feel her body's tenseness. I 
roll my chair closer. I hold her knee firmly to show my 
support in her obvious emotional turmoil. With my other 
hand I pull her book aside and put it on my desk. "Do 
you want my help?" I touch her neck gently and she pulls 
away slightly but wordlessly.

I move closer to her and my sense of smell, always poor, 
finally notices her perfume. I put my hand on her 
shoulder. She starts to say something as I press my lips 
to her mouth. She tastes sweet like gum, probably from 
gum. None of the students are allowed to chew it but 
they all do. Her mouth feels so small as maneuver it. 
With one I arm reach further around her and pull her 
close, the other I slide up her leg to the hem of her 
dress. She puts her hands on my chest, pushing slightly.

Abruptly I stop everything to pull her onto my lap. My 
nipples are hard beneath her palms, I am wet beneath her 
weight. I hold her tight to my chest and peck kisses 
around her face. I cup one of her breasts and gently 
play. She has by now pushed my blouse further open and 
has her hand pressed to my burning skin.

While I move my kisses further down her cheek and neck, 
my playing drifts to her tense abdomen. I hear her 
whisper something, but all I make out is "Oh." I don't 
know how long she has been doing it, but I suddenly 
notice that her nails are cutting into skin. I feel 
ripples of energy from between my legs, but I give 
myself no relief. 

Instead I move my hand to Jane's crotch. I rub her hard 
through the polka dots to keep my hand from reaching 
back to my own needs. I bite and suck her breasts 
through the soft cloth. I reach under her dress, pushing 
her legs apart, to get a better position to handle her 
needs. 

I push apart her panties and a finger enters her warmth, 
her wetness. I rub and push and squeeze and force the 
flesh as I know feels best. I push my mouth back to hers 
and feel her energy. I sense her plateau approaching in 
her mouth. I slow slightly to prolong the sensation.

When she does orgasm she nearly bites my tongue but her 
teeth catch on mine. I pull my mouth away and go to suck 
on her ear. A few more strokes for her and my hand comes 
out to go for my own box. I am in too much haste worry 
about my skirt, pushing the material instead into my 
crotch. 

I am quite on edge and even these blunted strokes have 
me quivering. It takes hardly a few moments before my 
orgasm hits me. I relax my hold of Jane and she slides 
back slightly. I continue rubbing to nurse my joy.

I open my eyes and see Jane has crossed her arms with 
her hands tightly gripping her shoulders. I notice her 
eyes are wet as if she were crying. I make one last slow 
pass with my hand over myself.

I reach for a tissue to dry her eyes. "The overflow of 
feelings can be something the first time, can't it?"

She makes a quiet noise like a sob.

"Now, now don't worry, my dear," I offer as reassurance. 
"I want to help you. I think you will do very well this 
year." I put my hand on hers, covering the white 
knuckles. I squeeze gently, "You have nothing to worry 
about."

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 69