My Favorite Teacher
Copyright© 2025 by TheDarkKnight
Chapter 1: I Got Caught
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1: I Got Caught - We all remember a favorite teacher, right? In my case, it was Miss Sharon Hawkins, my American History teacher in the eighth grade. She wasn't my favorite because of her dynamic teaching style, or how much fun her class was. No, it was something more personal that made her stand out. (Story codes will be changed as chapters are added)
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa Reluctant Heterosexual School Humiliation Spanking Masturbation Teacher/Student
None of this would have happened if Paul Murphy hadn’t laughed. He had a loud, kind of snorty laugh, and Miss Hawkins heard it. She got up from her desk and walked toward me. I tried to hide the drawing, but she saw it.
“Nathanial,” she said, “let me see what Paul found so funny.”
That was me, Nathanial Miller, commonly known as Nate, and no, nobody ever called me Nate the Great. I was an eighth-grade student at Millbrook Middle School, and Sharon Hawkins was our American History teacher. Depending on which of the horny boys in our school you asked, she would have been described as “hot”, “cute”, “amazing”, or, as Paul called her, “smokin’”. She was just a year or two out of college, unmarried, and the teacher at Millbrook who was the object of many adolescent boys’ fantasies. And now, I was in big trouble with her.
For a second, I considered trying to eat the evidence, thinking that was better than having her see what I had drawn, but when I hesitated, she reached out and took it from my hand. It was two sheets of notebook paper loosely held together with a paperclip. The first page was a picture I had drawn of Miss Hawkins, sitting at her desk. I should add that in those days, I was a reasonably good artist, a skill that unfortunately did not improve as I grew older. My speciality, if that’s the right word, was caricatures, like the artists who drew the cartoons that I saw on the editorial page of our local newspaper. The drawing was easily recognizable as my favorite teacher, and by itself, it wouldn’t have gotten me in trouble. She might even have liked it.
The problem was the second page, which showed Miss Hawkins in the same position, without the desk, her dress gathered up to her waist, legs wide-spread, and using the pointer that she used to indicate things on the maps in her classroom, to stimulate herself. I even included a healthy crop of pubic hair. When she saw that second image, she looked at me and said, “Come with me.”
I followed her out to the hallway, thinking that she was going to march me to the principal’s office, where I would be expelled and my life would be over. Instead, she stopped and looked around to make sure we were alone. She held the offensive picture up and said, “You’re a good artist, Nathaniel, but this is very inappropriate.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m very sorry I did it.”
“I could get you kicked out of school for drawing this, especially since you were sharing it with other students. But you are a good student, and I don’t want to do that to you. This was just a terrible mistake, agreed?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Have you drawn any other pictures of me like this?”
I couldn’t even look her in the eye as I answered. “No, ma’am. I respect you too much to do that.”
She stood there for a few more seconds, then said, “That’s good to hear, but I still think you deserve some punishment for doing this. Do you take a bus home?”
“No, ma’am. I walk.” Only students who lived more than two miles from school took the bus.
“All right then. I want to see you after school.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I knew what that meant. I was going to get paddled. In those days, teachers were allowed to use corporal punishment, and while only a few took advantage of that rule, Miss Hawkins was known to be one of the harsher administrators of that privilege which seemed odd, considering how young she was. Most of the other spankers in the school were older. Even though she wasn’t very big, it was rumored that she had a surprisingly strong arm, according to some of the students who had gotten up close and personal with one of her two paddles.
I had managed to make it to the middle of the eighth grade without having my butt warmed, but it looked like this was the day my luck ran out. And I knew I deserved it. Even though I was dreading it, in some dark, as yet uncovered corner of my psyche, I was also looking forward to it. Getting punished by the prettiest woman I knew intrigued me.
As I headed back into the classroom, I heard her say, “Don’t even look at Paul. I’ll talk to him later.” Since she had decided not to send me to the office, I thought she would throw my artwork away, but instead, when I looked back, I saw her carefully folding it, as if she wanted to keep it.
I still had three more classes, and lunch, to go before I was to meet my fate. I had no problem avoiding Paul. He realized how much trouble he had gotten me into. But the word had spread. As I tried to relax in the courtyard after lunch, some of my friends surrounded me and started asking a lot of questions.
“Are you gonna get kicked out of school?” Willy asked.
“Nah,” I told him, “but she wants to see me after school, so I think I’m gonna get a licking.”
“Oh shit,” he said, reminding me of what he had experienced a couple of weeks earlier. “Better stuff some toilet paper in your jeans. That woman hits harder than Mickey Mantle.”
“Did you really draw her ... thingie?” Reg asked. He hadn’t used the ‘p’ word because one of the students in the group was Janet Rogers. We tried to clean up our language around her, even though she could swear like a sailor. It was just how we respected girls, even the nerdy ones with a mouth like a sewer.
“Yeah, kinda. I mean, you really can’t see too much of it. I put a lot of pubic hair over it.” and because I really didn’t know what that part of a woman looked like, I added, but not out loud. Boys of that age just didn’t display their sexual ignorance to their friends.
“Have you ever drawn any pictures of me?” Janet asked.
“Not yet,” I said, grinning. It made her blush, which I considered a good thing.
“Would you model for him?” Willy asked.
“Maybe,” she said, “if he asked nicely.”
The conversation was getting uncomfortable, and then the bell for fourth period rang. Yeah, saved by the bell, but I knew there would be no saving me later on.
I showed up at Miss Hawkins’ room five minutes after school ended. I knocked shyly on the closed door, even though I knew she was expecting me. I waited for a few seconds, hoping that maybe she had forgotten and had left for the day—no such luck. The door opened, and there she stood. She was wearing what was my personal favorite out of all her outfits: a light pink skirt that was shorter than any girl in our school could get away with wearing in our somewhat puritanical town. The top was a white blouse covered with pictures of flowers ... Her brunette hair, normally balled up on her head in a librarian-type bun, was loose, hanging down by her shoulders. She looked like a model in one of the fashion magazines some of the girls in school liked.
“Come in, Nate,” she said. Maybe it was the fact that she called me Nate instead of Nathanial, but I was beginning to hope that she had decided to go easy on me. Maybe we could even have a good laugh about the whole thing. I was wrong.
I followed her into the classroom. She sat in her chair and turned to face me as I stood beside her. When she crossed her legs, I got a quick glimpse of her thighs, part of her legs that had been the object of much speculation among the boys in her classes. I saw enough to confirm my opinion that she had great legs, and that I had been pretty accurate in how I had drawn them. I thought the peek might have been an accident, she did not attempt to quickly cover herself up. It was like she wanted me to see just how perfect she was. Then she got down to business.
“Nate,” she said, in that low, sensuous voice I had grown to love, “you know I have to punish you, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Was she dragging this out for some reason?
Miss Hawkins stood up and opened a drawer in her desk, the famous ‘drawer of horrors’ as it was known. She took out the two paddles she kept in there. She picked up the smaller one, a firm-looking instrument made out of a foot or so of smooth, ebony-black wood, as shiny as a new car, with a nicely-carved handle for her to hold. We had all seen that one on the first day of classes, when she brandished it as a threat of what could happen if we misbehaved. The other one, what she called “Miss Hawkins Board of Education”, was at least a foot longer, and had holes drilled into the contact area. The rumor was that made it hurt worse, and I was hoping not to find out.
“Nathaniel, I’m going to give you a choice. You get to choose which paddle I used. Now, before you answer, I should explain how this will work. If you choose the bigger one, all you have to do is bend over and accept ten swats, but if you choose the smaller one, you will have to lower your pants to your knees. Don’t worry, I won’t make you take your underwear off. That would be too embarrassing for both of us. So, what will it be?”
You might think it would be an easy decision. Keeping my pants on seemed like the obvious way to go, but the big paddle and those fearsome holes were frightening. But taking my pants down in front of Miss Hawkins was a fate worse than death to an adolescent male.
“I choose the big one,” I said, my voice quivering.
“All right then, let’s do it. Bend over my desk. Ten swats, and I want you to count them aloud, and think about what you did.”