Chapter 1

I have always had trouble in school. Held back twice in my school “career”, I was now an eighteen-year-old junior at Jefferson High School. I had considered dropping out, but I know how hard my parents worked to get me this far. So when my junior year started, I sucked it up and began the drudgery once more. I figured I would give it one more chance just to please my parents. Then if it was still too tough, I was eighteen and an adult – I could drop out and no one could stop me.

And so with very little expectation of a “good” year, I boarded the school bus and headed off to the three-story red brick bastille that would be my second home for the next nine months. The bus ride was everything I expected; noisy, rambunctious, and crowded. It was the perfect way to start off the school year and only confirmed my suspicions that this was going to be another year of sheer hell.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a long ride to school; only about 20 minutes. And soon enough, we were pulling up to the familiar building. I was one of the last kids off the bus, not in any hurry to pass through those doors again. Once inside, I found what would be my new locker, took off my jacket, and got my notebook ready for my first class. I made my way through the crowded halls to my first class (why do they always put classes at the opposite ends of the school from where you are?) in time for the bell.

My first class of the day was American History. I liked history; I always thought it interesting learning how people lived “way back then”. So this wasn’t a bad way to start the day, I suppose. My history teacher was pretty cool too – he told us little facts and trivia information that we couldn’t find in the history books. He had been all over the country and had seen the things he talked about firsthand.

When the bell rang for the second period, I made my way upstairs to my next class. English. Not my best subject – I could never remember the myriad of rules and crap that goes into proper sentence structure, proper noun-verb agreement, etc., etc., ad nauseum! I was a good speller and a great reader – I had always been more advanced than my grade in these two subjects. But putting my thoughts down on paper in proper form was the hard part.

This year I would find it especially difficult though. As I approached Room 217, I paused for a moment. Behind this door was one of the plagues of my existence. I gathered my resolve, remembering that I was a junior and that I only had a little more of this to go through and turned the handle of the classroom door.

When I entered the room, there were only a couple of other students sitting at the desks they were claiming as theirs for the class. I walked in and quickly found a seat myself. I preferred sitting close to the front, first off, because it gave me a head start on getting out of the class. And secondly, I had a better view of the chalkboard without looking over other kid’s heads. As I sat down and got myself organized, I heard the door open again.

I initially thought it was just another student coming into the class, so I didn’t pay the door much attention. I was getting my notebook ready and set up. The first day of class is always confusing with new teachers each wanting to do things their way, books to get, and the first class assignments. So I was busy trying to get set up for that ... until I heard her voice, that is.

“Good Morning class, My name is Ms. Campbell and this is English 101. In this class, we will learn the basics of...”

That was all I heard. The second her melodious tones reached my ears, my head snapped up and my eyes beheld the vision of loveliness that had created such music.

She was about 5’7,” had long, blonde hair, very bright, blue eyes, and later in the school year, I would learn her measurements were 34DD-26-36. I knew the moment I saw her that first day I wasn’t going to learn much about English in her class, but, I was determined to learn a lot about HER!

Right off the bat, I started to have a tough time in her class. Not from the subject matter as much as from the instructor! Ms. Campbell was one of those teachers who didn’t like to sit behind the desk unless she was grading papers. When she was teaching she was out in front of the chalkboard or leaning on the front edge of her desk talking to the class. When she wasn’t doing that, she liked to walk around the classroom checking on how we were doing with the assignment. And let me tell you, the sound of her walking with those high heels clicking and the seductive swish of her skirt or her stockings made it VERY hard to concentrate!

Ms. Campbell always dressed impeccably. She had a smoking hot body and she knew it. Her outfits were always tasteful, but with a definite hint of sex appeal that did not go unnoticed. That first day of school, she wore a tight black skirt that barely reached mid-thigh in length, a red blouse with half-sleeves and button front that she had unbuttoned so far that you could see the top of her bra and her big full breasts. She had a rack on her that made my mouth water too! The joke with us boys was that whenever Ms. Campbell went anywhere, her tits arrived five minutes before she got there!

English quickly became one of my favorite classes. I still struggled with the rules and technical aspects of writing in proper form, but at least the decor was nice to look at! I continued to ogle her, taking in every nuance of her delicious form, noticing every delightful curve until I got a good look at her hands. I noticed her left hand was curiously devoid of anything shiny and sparkly. I wondered for a minute how something so fine had escaped the clutches of marriage, but I quickly put the thought from my mind.

I had been attending her class for a couple of weeks, trying to pay attention to the work, but not having much luck at it. Ms. Campbell would call on one of the students occasionally to answer a question from the information we studied or what she had lectured on that day. Once in a while, she called on me but of course, the moment she called my name, my mind went blank!

One day, just as the bell rang, Ms. Campbell called out my name. “Jimmy, would you please stay after class for a minute, I need to talk with you,” she said.

“Um, okay,” I said, sitting back down in my seat. We waited until the rest of the class had filed out of the room and then she came over to sit in the seat next to mine.

“So, Jimmy, what is the problem with you and this class? Don’t you like it?” she asked.

“I-I don’t have a problem, Ms. Campbell,” I answered.

“You certainly do. You are doing poorly with your assignments ... you don’t seem to be following, day-to-day, what is going on here. I have had a look at your school records and you seem to have a lot of trouble in school. You have been held back twice and I want to see you succeed. This is your junior year and if you apply yourself, you can still pull off graduation. I want to see you up on that stage, Jimmy, and I know your parents want that, too. Why don’t you come over to my house tonight, or some night, and let’s talk about how we can get you up on that stage, okay?” she said. My heart felt like it was pounding right out of my chest when she said that.

“If you think that is necessary, Ms. Campbell. I guess I could,” I said.

“Yes, I do. I want to help you, Jimmy, to be successful in my class. And hopefully in the rest of your schoolwork as well. We need to find out why school is so hard for you,” she said. I don’t know why school was so hard for me, but I knew why her class was “hard” for me! “Here is my address. Can you come over tonight at about 8 o’clock?” she asked as she gave me the slip of paper.

“Y-yes,” I stammered. I saw a slight smile form on her perfect lips.

That afternoon I went home as usual, did my chores, then, at dinner I turned to Mom. “Ms. Campbell, my English teacher asked me to come by her house tonight. She wants to talk to me about my schoolwork. I think she wants to help me somehow so I can do better in her class. Can I borrow the car?” I asked. I had gotten my driver’s license and was able to drive, but we only had one car – hence my riding the bus to school.

I left the house, driving over to the address she had given me. I knew the town very well, having lived here most of my life. I found a convenient parking spot and parked the car. I walked to the front door and rang the buzzer. When the door opened, my cock immediately jumped to attention as she stood there, one luscious arm on the edge of the door, dressed in a skimpy tank top cropped to just below her amazing tits, and a pair of the tightest-fitting jeans I had ever seen. They hugged her curves so tightly I could almost make out her freckles if she had any!

“Please, Jimmy, come in,” she said, smiling at my slack-jawed reaction to her outfit.

I walked in her house, a mix of nervousness and boyish excitement. I was in the house of a goddess – this was the stuff wet dreams are made of!

“Go into the living room and make yourself comfortable, Jimmy. I’ll bring us a couple of sodas, then we can talk,” she said

I settled down into a soft cushion on the couch, looking around the room and noticing the big fireplace. She had some pics on the mantle; a couple of pics of her as a child and one of her parents, but lucky for me, none of them contained what I could assume were husbands or children. She had decorated the place in the same tasteful manner she decorated herself – this lady had class as well as sex appeal!

My thoughts were quickly interrupted when I heard her steps as she came into the living room. She was carrying a tray that had the sodas and some glasses with ice. She set the tray down on the coffee table and then took a seat on the couch, right next to me. I could feel beads of sweat starting to emerge on my forehead and my stomach was flopping around like a catfish in a wet sack!

“I didn’t know if you liked your soda in ice or just right out of the bottle,” she said as she handed me a soda. I took the bottle from her and the glass of ice she offered, pouring the soda into it and taking a sip to try to calm myself.

“Now, Jimmy, something is bothering you in class,” she said softly.

“Y-yes, I, I know,” I answered shakily. Her soft, sultry voice was like the sexiest James Brown music you ever heard and I felt my cock twitch as she spoke.

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s kinda hard...” I said, looking down.

“It’s okay, you can tell me,” she coaxed.

“Umm, well, it’s you!” I answered bashfully.

“Me?” she asked.

“Y-yes,” I said. “I, umm, you see, I have kinda have a thing about women who are...”

“What, Jimmy?” she asked with seemingly renewed interest.

“Umm, well ... well-endowed!” I abruptly said.

“Well-endowed? Oh, you must mean my chest,” she answered, blushing a bit.

“Yes,” I said, glad to finally get it out.

“So how did this obsession come to be?” she asked, interested.