World War II was just over and Joey Lassister, like many other veterans, had recently returned home. Even though he was technically a veteran, he didn't really feel like one. He had joined the Army in his senior year of high school and only spent a little more than two years in service, none of which involved combat. Nonetheless, there he was, with mustering-out pay in his pocket and no goals in life. He figured the best thing to do before deciding about the rest of his life was to finish high school. He checked with his old high school principal and was told that if he took senior English, Algebra and History, the principal would see that Joey got his diploma after just one semester. That sounded good to Joey, and he enrolled for the upcoming spring semester of high school.
Joey's History and Algebra classes were taught by old maid teachers well past retirement age, and they were dull, dull, dull. To compound the problem, even though Joey was only about three years older than the other seniors, he felt like an old man among kids. He couldn't even get interested in any of the girls; they all acted like giggling little kids. The only thing that made school bearable for Joey was his English class and its teacher--Birdie Harman.
Birdie, or Miss Harman as students were required to address her, was a 21-year-old fresh out of teacher's college. Joey's class was her first teaching assignment, and even though she seemed a little nervous at teaching students only a little younger than herself, she knew all the latest techniques and was able to make English interesting. Joey, though, was more interested in Birdie Harman than he was in English.
Birdie had a dynamite body. She was about five-foot-one and, just like the cigarette ads of the time said: so round, so firm, so fully packed. She couldn't have weighed over 105 pounds, and every one of them was in the right place. Her breasts were just right--firm little half-melon handfuls that bounced a little as she walked about the room but didn't sag one inch. Further down, her ass was sheer perfection. When she turned around to write on the blackboard, the beautiful globes jiggled just a little and made little twisting motions as she moved her hands across the board. That ass rounded down into shapely thighs and then into calves that had just enough muscle showing to send Joey into daydreams of them wrapped around him tightly as they would make love. Joey chose a seat on the first row of the classroom right in front of her desk so that he could get as good a view as possible.
Joey could tell from the way Birdie moved and walked and sat that she was in touch with her body. She always seemed to be a little tense, to be holding herself in tight rein, and Joey sensed a suppressed sensuality that seemed to ooze from her every pore. Even though the book, "The Sensuous Woman" hadn't been written yet, that was exactly how Joey thought of her. Often as she stood before the class talking, one of her hands would stroke down her side, caressing her hip. Sometimes she would even move a hand behind her and lightly stroke her buttocks. Joey longed for it to be his hands doing the stroking, to be lightly tracing the contours of that magnificently sculptured ass.
Joey was so turned on by Miss Harman's body that he kept at least a semi-erection, and sometimes a full hard-on, all the way through class. Joey worried that she would notice since he sat on the first row, but she never seemed to show a reaction. An incident occured one day, though, that did produce a reaction. That was the day Birdie sat on the edge of the desk right in front of him and crossed her legs. Joey had a quick glimpse of thigh all the way to her crotch, her lace-trimmed black panties hitting him right between the eyes. They hit him right between the legs, too. His penis grew instantly erect, running seven inches down the inside of his leg and swelling out his tight-fitting Chinos. Birdie saw it, too, because her face flushed a little and she stumbled in what she was saying to the class. Luckily, the bell rang then, and they were both spared any more of the moment's embarrassment.
Birdie had one major problem, though--her looks ended at her neck. Even though she had a body that wouldn't quit, her face wasn't anywhere near a close match. She wasn't really ugly, mind you--not that traditional clock-stopper--it was just that her features were put together wrong. Each one would have been okay by itself, but taken together, the result was not very successful. Her face just wasn't in harmony with the rest of her.
Even so, Joey didn't let her face bother him. He had fallen in love with Birdie Harman's body, and he was so enamored of it that he was willing to take the face along with it. He often sat in class, watching that body in motion, and daydreamed of their being in bed, wrapped in each other's arms, body to body, merged together in passionate sexual union. The hard-ons caused by those daydreams sometimes caused a wet spot on his trousers leg from pre-cum oozing out. Joey sometimes worried that she would notice, but he was often so caught up in his daydreams that he was past caring. His English lessons may have suffered, but his daydream love-life prospered enormously.
Joey found out where Birdie lived and sometimes on Friday and Saturday nights he would park down the street from her place to see if she were having dates. Not once did he see her with a date. She didn't even seem to have any girl friends, and the few times she went to a movie, she went alone. Joey believed she must be lonely and began to feel sorry for her. There she was with that gorgeous body that needed stroking, a friendly person with a good personality, but a face that seemed to keep boys away.
One night when Joey was parked near Birdie's place, he could see the light shining out of an open window. He had never been a window peeper before, but the open window offered an opportunity for voyeurism that he couldn't resist. Like iron filings drawn to a magnet, the open window drew him. He slipped out of the car, crept into the dark space between houses, and stooped under her window. Very carefully, he edged one eye up to take a look. There stood Birdie, dressed in a dressing robe, apparently getting ready for bed. Even though the beauty of her body was evident under the robe, what really got Joey's attention was what she had in her hand: a piece of carved wood about eight inches long and shaped like a man's hard penis. He saw Birdie run her hand up and down its length, caressing it. Then she put the end of it in her mouth, the end shaped like the bulging head of a penis, and sucked on it like a popsicle. Joey was electrified with eroticism and his penis grew as hard as the piece of wood Birdie held in her hand. My God, Joey thought, maybe she's going to fuck herself with that imitation prick. He could hardly wait to see such a vision--he could already imagine Birdie stripping off her robe and gown and with legs spread wide apart, cramming that wooden dick into her pussy. He was in for a disappointment, though, because Birdie turned out the lights and came over to the window and drew the curtains. All Joey could do was listen, as soft moans came drifting out the window.
The sound of Birdie's pleasure inflamed Joey, making him shake with desire. With trembling hands he unbuttoned his trousers and managed to work his rigid penis out of its confinement. Squeezing and stroking it gently, he imagined that it was what was causing Birdie to sigh and moan. As Birdie's moaning increased in intensity, Joey's pleasure mounted. He blasted a splotch of come over the side of Birdie's house just as she gasped, "Ahhhh, yessss, yesssssssss!"
The next day's English class was sheer agony for Joey. He sat there in front of Birdie and the sounds she had made the night before played over and over again in his mind. Her appearance gave no hint of the passion that rocked her the previous night-- she was once again the proper school teacher. Joey knew, though, that there was a smouldering fire under that facade of school teacher propriety. He ached to merge that fire with his flaming desires, to build such a heated conflagration of love that they both could burn away their passions. At that point Joey had only one goal--to find a way to replace Birdie's artificial cock with his real live one.
Joey waiting around after class until all the other students had left and then approached Birdie's desk. "Miss Harman," he said, "I'm having a real problem with conjugations. I just can't seem to get the hang of 'to be' and 'to lie.' Do you think you might be able to help me with those?"
"Sure, I'll be glad to," she said, with a smile. "Why don't you come by here after school and we'll spend a little time on them."
"Oh, Gee," he lied, "I have a job that I have to get to right after school. I get off about six, though. Do you think we might be able to do it some evening?"
"Well, I don't know," she said, "the school is closed after about five o'clock."
"I could come to your house, if that would help," Joey said with a straight face. The conversation was leading to just where he wanted it to go, and he didn't want to jeopardize what gains he had already made by any show of emotion.
"I'm not sure about that," Birdie said with a slight frown. "There's pretty much of an unwritten rule that women teachers aren't supposed to have male students alone in their homes."
"Who's to know the difference?" Joey asked. "You and I are about the same age, and if anyone saw me they would probably think I was just your date coming to see you. Tell you what, why don't I just be your date? That way you won't even have to worry about that rule."
Birdie blushed just a little bit and with a soft conspiratorial laugh said, "Okay, you can be my... my date."
.... There is more of this story ...