A Teacher's Job

by Wyden Long

Copyright© 2016 by Wyden Long

Erotica Sex Story: Pity the poor teacher who is faced with half a class filled with luscious young things who will promise anything for a better grade.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Consensual   Humor   .

“Ah, these naïve young girls”, I thought to myself. I watched Jennifer approach my desk as the others were leaving the classroom. It was plain to me that she was going to try to get her grade up a bit and that blackmail was a distinct possibility in her choice of solutions as she casually laid her phone down on my desk, with the microphone aimed in my general direction.

Jenny had a decent mind, but preferred to get by on her looks. Perhaps she could learn a thing or two about life as a result of this little adventure.

“How may I help you, Ms. Jones?”, I asked, with an innocent smile. It was very unlikely that she was thinking of flies, spiders, webs and such. Perhaps this experience would be a positive learning experience for her.

“It’s about my grade on this last test, Sir”.

“Yes?” I cocked an eyebrow.

“After comparing notes with some of the other students, it seems like you graded my paper a bit more harshly than some of the others.”

Being very careful of my choice of words for the recording, “I suppose there is a tendency for teachers to expect more from the more gifted students.” Let her try to use that against me.

“More gifted?”

She wasn’t expecting that.

“Yes. If Jimmy Jones had turned in that exact paper, his grade would likely have been somewhat higher.”

“But why? That isn’t fair.” She may have forgotten about her blackmail plan. Now she was intrigued and working herself up to a defensive posture, when she had expected to be wrapping me around her long, slender fingers.

“Because he would have worked his ass off to achieve a paper at that level, whereas you dashed it off with very little thought. My goal here is to guide you toward exercising your full potential. My function is not to babysit you, but to help you explore your own capabilities.” I watched her reaction to that.

It sat her back on her heels for a moment. I enjoyed exploring the lovely details of her long lashes, full lips and pouting mouth while she ruminated.

She reached a decision. “So there is nothing I can do for you, personally, that would help my grade?” Ah! There it was. The hook dangled nicely in front of where my open mouth was supposed to be as she tried to make the act of squeezing her arms together to accentuate her cleavage look accidental. I must admit that the bait was extremely enticing, but this old Bass had seen a lot of shiny lures in his day.

“No, Ms. Jones. It would not be fair to the other students or to you if I were to grade on any basis other than to provide you with a little pressure to apply yourself a bit more diligently to your studies.”

She was definitely becoming a bit frantic as she saw her plans for a speedy solution to her problems drifting away.

Ignoring her pouting lips and furrowed brows for a moment, I slid my tablet in front of her eyes and sketched, “Undo another button.”. As soon as she read it, I erased it, then stared calmly into her eyes as she processed something totally unexpected.

It took her a moment, then realization dawned. A brilliant smile erased the frown of concentration. She reached to her phone and turned it off before undoing two buttons.

“Perhaps I should do as you say and apply myself more to my studies”, she said as she jiggled her main assets in order to get the maximum return on her investment.

“I’m very happy to hear that, Ms. Jones. It will increase the value of your education and will increase my reward as a teacher if you were to apply yourself more diligently to your role of student.” Meanwhile, I was writing another message on my tablet and erasing it as soon as she read the contents.

“No panties tomorrow”.

A brilliant smile lit the room as she took from this message that things would go as she has originally planned, even though her plans for recording my verbal acceptance had been dashed on the rocks of juvenile dreams.

Accordingly, the next time I saw Ms. Jones, she had selected her shortest skirt for the day and sat with her knees far apart throughout the entire class, while brightening the entire room with her smile. She was, after all, one of the prettiest girls in school.

I made certain that my head never lingered in her direction throughout the class, limiting my enjoyment of the lightly tufted crevice to quick flicks of the eyes. Outsmarting female students was one of the more enjoyable perks of putting up with the denseness of the adolescent mind. Their overwhelming desire to be madly coupling on any sufficiently horizontal surface with any available receptacle clouded most of their minds sufficiently that it was miraculous that anything I said would be retained.

It was only after I had returned home and was reviewing the video recorded that day on my carefully aimed laptop webcam that I could verify the liquid evidence of her arousal. Not surprisingly, she approached my desk after class the next day. Her pert bosom heaved with excitement from the game she was playing.

“Was that what you wanted?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Jones. Could you be a bit more specific?”

“Oh, come on, now, Teach. You know what I mean.” she pantomimed the act of removing her panties and spreading her legs.

“Ms. Jones, if you have indeed begun to take the requirements of this class more seriously as a result of our previous discussion, then I am certainly pleased.”

This time the message was, “Lose the bra”.

Again, a quick frown as she accepted her failure to entrap me and began processing the new situation. At the very least, I had started her getting into the habit of using rational thought processes instead of making her way through life by only exploiting her physical assets.

I had expected her to assume that I was asking her to come to the next class braless and watched as she ruminated over the consequences.

Now that she was a bit off balance, I messaged, “Now”.

She stood in shock for a moment, then shook her head slightly and began twisting around somehow to remove it.

“No. Bathroom”.

The light dawned, followed by a mischievous grin. She was beginning to get into the game.

“I’m very sorry, Sir, but I need to go to the bathroom immediately. Do you mind waiting a moment? I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time, Ms. Jones. There are always papers to grade.”

She was back very quickly, as promised. She had also opened a few buttons. As she leaned over my desk again, with her back to the door this time, not only were her adolescent tits on full display for me, but it was a clear admission of her acceptance of the game.

I took my turn at bat and droned on and on how it was to her advantage to exercise her brain to the fullest in order to gain the most value from the time she spent in school. The fact that my hand was feverishly rubbing one out through my pants leg did not detract at all from the intense sensations accentuated by the vision of female beauty presented so freely to my appreciative eyes. She grinned in victory as she saw my eyes rolling toward the ceiling, knowing that it meant that the evidence of my culpability was soaking my pants.

“Please excuse me for a moment, Ms. Jones. I also have an urgent need to go to the bathroom.”

She smiled as if she had won a beauty contest, fully convinced that the best I could do in the bathroom to hide the evidence would be to blot the liquids a bit, but there was no way I could completely eliminate the evidence.

In the bathroom, I quickly stripped the condom I had thoughtfully put in place before class and disposed of it before giving myself a rinse and blot.

As I re-entered the classroom, her plan fell apart.

She was surrounded by members of her clique, all with their phones videoing the proceedings. I noticed that her bra had been replaced and that several cameras were zoomed in on my crotch area, in order to provide the damning proof that I had masturbated myself to orgasm while ostensibly advising a student.

“Hello girls. Isn’t this nice? Did you come to pick up Ms. Jones? I was advising her of the importance of expending her best efforts in order to gain the most value from her education. Are you also interested in getting more out of your educational experience?”

I gave them a big, shit-eating smile, as if it never occurred to me that they had planned to record damning evidence and use it to blackmail me.

Now they did not know what the hell to do.

“Why the cameras? Are you making some sort of documentary video of school life?”

They muttered, jammered, twisted and turned in the wind as they reluctantly turned off their videos and put their phones away. How did I escape their trap?

“I have been very pleased with the efforts Ms. Jones has made to increase her grades. Are any others of you interested in learning how to better apply your minds to getting as much out of school as possible?”

More muttering and jammering.

“Very well. It was nice of all of you to come. Please don’t hesitate to come see me if you have individual questions.” I strolled out, leaving them to mutter and jammer.

They very likely failed to notice that I left my phone in my chair, or that it was recording their conversation.

“Sorry, girls. I forgot my phone.”

They had been huddled together, working on a plan, no doubt, and looked up guiltily as I quickly retrieved my phone and left again.

On the way to the car, I replayed their comments.

“OMG, you whore. Did you actually flash your tits at the man? You know you weren’t supposed to do any more than tease him so we could get some evidence.”

“Are you sure he got his rocks off? Why weren’t his pants wet or why didn’t he at least have a hard on?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. Leave me alone.”

“Well, we can’t just leave it like this. Sooner or later, he will figure it out and we will be in trouble. Our only way out of this is to up the ante. From now on, we will all flash him our tits and pussies as often as possible. No man alive can keep from falling into our trap if we keep up the pressure.”

“Should we get other girls to help out?”

“Sure, why not? If he is seeing cheerleader tits and cheerleader pussies all day, every day, pretty soon he will let his guard down.”

Success! What more could I ask for? I no longer needed to guide their actions. Their hot little imaginations and developing feminine wiles would make my day, every day, with no further effort on my part other than vigilance.

As they left class the next day, one of the last students to leave was one of the gang. As she passed me, her small hand flicked out and left a pair of crumpled panties on my desk.

“Oh, Ms. Smith! You dropped something”. I turned away and began writing on the board. Several in the line going out the door, including a couple of boys, looked around in time to see a flash of blue as she scooped them up while blushing down to her toes.

Perhaps she failed to understand why the laws protect girls her age from men with far more experience. It was doubtful that she would repeat this particular attempt to entrap me. I wondered how many videos were made of that episode and how many disappointed photographers there had been when I failed to rise to the bait. Did it never occur to them that this was not my first rodeo?

Some of them began sitting on the back row and openly frigging themselves as I spoke. I waited until one of them got so near the edge that she might not be able to stop, then, “Are you feeling well, Ms. Black?”.

Of course, all eyes swiveled to her as she frantically tried to get her knees together and her breathing under control. I noticed that some of the boys had been quick enough to get a glimpse of sweaty thighs and moist lips before they disappeared. Their lips were buzzing as the line snaked out the door at the end of class.

Hmmmh. I wondered how this would play out.

Several of the boys continually flicked their eyes up to the back row during class the next day, no doubt in hopes of seeing some fiercely guarded pussy. Everyone knows that society would instantly crumble into dust if boys could see all the pussy they want, don’t they? Perhaps no one has told them about societies where nudity is casual?

I began making it a point to stand by the door as the students left class. Before long, the gang began leaving at the end of the line, rather than forcing their way to the front as they had formerly done, in order to demonstrate their position in the pecking order.

My, my. We seemed to have discovered a mild form of “Lady of the Flies”? How far could I tweak the established order with extremely small, subtle nudges? (That could not be proved.)

As the gang left, their latest strategy was to brush against me. This soon escalated to a timid grope or two. I found that there was no need to go commando to maximize the sensations, when it was only necessary to rearrange myself to allow my pride and joy to extend down the leg of my shorts.

Soon, they were all giving enthusiastic squeezes to my package as they went by. Then they began clustering around me, as if asking for information, and the inner circle was able to extend their play while hidden by the outer circle of their friends.

When I noticed a signal circulate among them, it was obvious that the time had come to nip this plan in the bud, regardless of how good it felt. I waited until one reached for my zipper before acting. All I had to do was to move out into the hallway and tell them I had a meeting to attend.

It was also obvious that the constant contact with my equipment and their excitement at my impending entrapment had worked them all into a frenzy. I strolled back to the uncertain group, who were no longer muttering and jammering, but were attempting to bring their emotions under control.

“Why don’t you girls go into the bathroom and resolve your problems? That is what I intend to do.” I left them looking hopefully at each other as I went to take matters into my own hands, so to speak.

The next day, I made my offer. “If any of you would like to improve your grade by expending a small amount of additional work, I will be offering a short tutorial study session after classes. There is a signup sheet by the doorway.”

There is more of this story...
The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.