Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, ft/ft, Fa/ft, Mult, Blackmail, Consensual, Reluctant, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, School, Light Bond, Spanking, Group Sex, Orgy, Teacher/Student,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Our trainee teacher is a total hunk and a kiteboarder. His intentions are honourable but, would you believe it, there are one or two schoolgirls whose intentions aren't. He mustn't give in to temptation, of course. Really he mustn't, or he could end up being compromised.
“Teachers have status, and that can make adolescent girls susceptible of course, so it can be a temptation to take advantage of them.”
Thus my formidable new Head Teacher, Janice Waters, laid down the law when I started my Teaching Practice at her school.
“That’s why it’s illegal,” she emphasised the word, “for teachers to touch them, even the over-sixteens,” she looked me up and down, as though accusing me of lustful intentions.
“Rightly so,” I nodded hastily. This was my first real hands-on in teacher training and I was anxious to make a good impression. And honestly that was my mindset. Naturally I like girls, which is why I’m happy to be around them; be around them but not do anything inappropriate with them. After all at school age they can be impulsive and impressionable, and get themselves into situations they later regret.
“It’s been against my better judgment,” Janice continued, “in some ways, to accept a young man in such, er, condition, not to say so, um, eligible, but I am assured by your college that you are a disciplined person, and I daresay this is evidenced by your physique.”
“I do maintain a training discipline,” I smiled, hoping to get off on the right foot with her.
“Very good Carl. So let’s make sure that gets applied around the students shall we, and hopefully in the classroom too.”
But one of the girls, Christina Nering, seemed to have real a thing for me. It was hard to ignore. She was always asking questions, coming to me after class, smiling at me, sitting in the front row, that kind of thing. Her skirts seemed to get shorter and shorter, and she took to wearing little short tops under her jacket, leaving enticing displays of tummy, and no bra straps where they should have been.
She was attractive to the point where, even being a teenage girl, she didn’t have to worry about whether a man would react. To be fair I suppose I couldn’t quite hide that I did react. She was big, confident and very sexy.
When I say she’s ‘big’, I don’t mean that as a euphemism for fat. She’s big as in about five-ten, with a strong build: a fairly broad skeleton with plenty of muscle, and just a hint of feminine softness on top. Her tits are growing into a D, and she has beautifully shaped legs she likes to show off. A waist. Fine skin. Developed.
One Tuesday about a month into my first term, at the end of the morning, she sauntered up to my desk as though I had ‘help yourself’ written on my forehead. Without asking she came round and stood cockily next to my chair.
“So, Sir, is, like, ten to-the-minus-one the same as the square root of ten?”
I sighed. She knew perfectly well, right? Year 10 meant she could be fifteen already, this being October, and looking at her she quite likely was. And anyway the exponent thing is quite straightforward and I’d just taught it.
“It’s point one,” I said, trying to avoid looking at her face, or her legs, so close. “The square root is the number that makes ten when multiplied by itself and that’s not point one is it?” She was wearing scent, that I couldn’t avoid.
“Sorry,” she faked a retreat in response to my tone, “are you busy? Do you have to be somewhere? It’s just that I, you know, nearly understand it, but not quite, kind of thing, and I really need it for my project. I have to do all these calculations...” she prattled on for a minute while the classroom emptied.
“A negative exponent is the same as the reciprocal of the positive exponent,” I explained pointlessly when she’d finally petered out, while I registered that the other kids had left for the lunch break even more quickly than usual.
“Wow you’re so clever,” she smiled, swaying her hip towards me, “I hope you’re going to stay and be my teacher when you qualify.”
“We’ll see.” I had to smile back, and look at her for a second. She ought to have said ‘our teacher’ didn’t she? As the twinkle in her big green eyes told me she knew perfectly well.
I’d done enough of the Classroom Management segment to know she was testing me, of course. I’d been warned that being twenty-two, not all that far from the older kids’ ages, would put me in the firing line for some challenges, and this was one.
The scent was too strong to have been on all day wasn’t it? It was freshly dabbed. She was standing too close, with too much bare leg, under her skirt that was much too short - it had been short to start with and she must have given the waistband a quick hoist as she stood up. No tights. We were too alone - the last student out had pulled the door closed. She’d chosen to perform this little tease in a class in the old building which has solid doors with no glass in them...
She played with her hair while she stood and smiled at me. Her hair is very long. It’s like a label saying ‘girl’: honey blonde, straight, thick, and kind of gratuitously sexy. Her makeup goes with it perfectly, and with her eyes, nose, lips and cheekbones.
“Do you do something to have these shoulders?” she unnerved me with the change of subject, and with touching one. I wondered if she was challenging me to shy away, or to touch her back by pushing her arm off, so I didn’t. It felt amazing.
“Kiteboarding,” I said, “and some wakeboarding.”
“Oooh that’s why they’re so awesome,” she ran her hand over my shoulder, brazenly fondling. I ought to have stopped her, as we both knew, so when I didn’t she inched nearer. “I always wanted to do kiteboarding.”
“Liar,” I smiled. What was I doing??
“You could teach me.” She slid her hand round the back of my neck. When I still didn’t move she ran her fingers up into my hair. Deft, confident, sensuous fingers.
“You have much to learn?” I asked. It didn’t feel like she did. Christ. I’d promised myself I would NOT let this happen, but Christina was off the scale of girls-who-make-passes-at-Teacher. Or perhaps I just like girls too much and one of them was bound to suss that out sooner or later. Or both.
“You never stop learning, that’s what teachers say isn’t it?” She was grinning into my face, seeing me reacting to her. Fingertips traced lightly over the side of my neck.
“You have to learn what’s appropriate Christina,” I said pompously, standing up to give myself one last chance. I grabbed my laptop and stepped sideways towards the door, but she pursued me instantly.
“You keep spare socks in your pocket?” she grinned, curling strong fingers round my arm and looking at my bulging zip.
“Now stop it,” I turned to face her, which gave her the perfect chance to land her other hand on my crotch. Sex surged through my bloodstream and into my brain, where it took over. She stroked up over my tingling balls and my painfully bent cock. She was too sexy, and her genes were too perfect.
It was too sexy that now, apparently, she wanted to just fuck me, out of nowhere, with no buildup, in this mad, risky place. A risk-taker. Fellow risk-taker, and gorgeous.
She didn’t say any more, and nor did I. I stepped back to the desk and put my laptop on the chair. She grinned at me, not interested in a kiss just what was in my pants - which she unzipped while I undid my belt. In a moment my trousers and briefs were round my ankles and my throbbing cock was in the eager hands of my student.
“I knew it!” she gloated. “What is it? Eight? Nine?”
“Eight and a bit, or so.” I was reaching the short distance up her skirt to her panties. A few seconds later they were on the chair and she was on the desk with her gorgeous legs open, parting her plump labia with her fingers.
“And so thick,” she grinned as she urged me forwards, making my head spin even more. “I’m ready,” she spread juice around.
Luckily my six foot stature put my cock at the perfect height, so I leaned forward to provide propulsion while Christina directed it where she wanted it. She felt incredible as my rock-hard cockhead started to slide in, opening her oily, elastic pussy. Her hands shifted to my waist to urge me deeper and deeper, half an inch at a time.
In half a minute we were fucking steadily, her illegal legs waving high in the air while I pumped euphorically in and out. She liked me to land quite firmly, her hands were telling me, and to go at a medium pace with a long stroke. Whatever she wanted I was going to give her, because she is strong and I knew I was going to orgasm when she did - the sooner the better because this was insane! Insane but irresistible.
She was as highly sexed - oversexed - as me. I supposed she’d picked up some indefinable signs. Well I’d been super aware of her from the first time I’d seen her, too.
We fucked on; delirious, desperate, driven by crazy animal instinct. Her beguiling face was alight with joy, still confident, knowing she was in control and liking it. I was in the control of my cock, simple as. It only needed someone to stick their head round the door and my entire life would be down the pan, but I couldn’t stop. I fucked rhythmically on and on, building her to her climax.
After five minutes or so the pressure had built to bursting. She tensed, then began to shake. An incredible sensation gripped my cock and I began to cum with her. I pumped in, deep, hard, one ecstatic spurt at a time, while she shuddered and spasmed on teacher’s desk with her little skirt round her waist.
“OOOoooohhhh,” she gasped happily as the peak passed and she relaxed with a beautiful, post-orgasmic smile, with just the odd twitch running through her strong, sexy girl’s body.
I smiled back down at her, gave us a minute, then eased slowly out. Reality began to return and I grabbed her panties and passed them to her - cotton panties I saw, with a substantial lined gusset, suitable for soaking up juices. She grinned, stood up, refusing to be rushed, and slid them gradually up her legs.
“Still fancy me?” she teased at my gaze.
“Yes.” There was no point saying anything else.
We straightened ourselves and went out. In the corridor Simon Horton, a teacher, was walking towards us. “Hi,” he smiled as he passed us and went into the classroom after something. He’s one of the younger ones, thirty kind of thing, and a good guy. Had he winked at me? Or grinned knowingly?
Christina’s face had a glow on it of course, and I suppose mine probably did too. The teachers quite likely all know her as not exactly a shy virgin. And what did the classroom smell like?
Shit. I’d got away with it, hopefully, because it had happened to be Simon, but it had been so close. Never again, I swore to myself.