Copyright © 2002

Everybody in my family is a bit swifter than the average bear. My father is an English professor, my mother is a pediatrician. My older sister graduated from college at 19 and became a teacher, which brings us to my problem.

She's MY teacher!

Sally is about the cutest, hottest ex-cheerleader in the teaching biz. Last year, when she was still in college, she was the Homecoming Queen. I mean, for a school with 35,000 students and more girls than boys, that is really saying something.

Well, she got her degree and her teaching credential and immediately got a job teaching English at her old school, which is now my school. I've just turned 18 and she is now 20, so there isn't that much difference between our ages, but I'm still in high school and she's my teacher. It could be embarrassing if I let it, but I just laughed when anybody brought it up.

The principal asked me if I would have a problem with Sally being my teacher and I told him it would be a problem only if she flunked me. He was relieved to let me stay in her class because it eliminated some paperwork for him.

I had been lusting after my sister for who knows how long? As far back as I could remember, I had been trying to see up her skirt or down her blouse or through her bikini or whatever else she covered her fantastic body up with.

Some people think you shouldn't fuck your sister. Hell, I would have fucked her non-stop for the last bunch of Sundays if she would have ever let me get close enough to sniff her good stuff. As far as I'm concerned, incest taboos are for people who don't understand genetics and recessive genes.

Sally's body is one of those tight little packages that just seems to burst with sexuality. Her long, honey blonde hair is usually in a pony tail, unless she is dressing mature for her teaching job, then she puts it in a bun and wears a long wool skirt, to try to look older than twenty. As soon as she gets home, she's immediately in sweats or shorts or anything loose and casual. I keep hoping to catch her changing sometime, but so far it hasn't happened.

Not only am I nearly as old as Sally, but there is one kid in class who is older than she is. He got held back some and could just drop out, but his mother got him to promise on her deathbed that he would stick it out and go on to college. He's as dumb as a board, but he's big and any college will give him all the help he needs to make it to the pros, while dragging their football hopes with him.

When I say big, I mean this guy is like Man Mountain Magoo. The big English book we use just sort of disappears in his hand. He sits all the way at the back of the room so he can stretch out his long legs. In fact, that's not all he stretches out. Sometimes, I look back under my arm and it looks like he has a towel rolled up under his pants leg. The guy must be hung like a mule!

My sweet little innocent sister must have noticed the same thing, because sometimes her voice would squeak and she would look like she was sweating. It was a long time before I connected these symptoms with the timing of Big Jim's displays of affection for her, because that's what they were, I realized. Jim was in awe of her.

I pitied the poor son-of-a-bitch who would attempt any sort of harm to my sister if Jim was in the vicinity or heard about it. For her part, she welcomed his attention in a sisterly manner, but then the business with his trouser snake started.

Without too much difficulty, I maneuvered my chair so that I could watch them both almost simultaneously. Sally would get passionate about some Elizabethan sonnet or some such and Jim would get carried away with her. Only, she was carried away on some higher spiritual plane and Jim only had one plane. If it feels good, fuck it!

When Sally would wax passionate, Jim would get a tremendous boner that would sneak down his pants leg, threatening to burst the seams on his worn out jeans. Sally's eyes would lock on his condition and she would begin talking faster and faster, as if she could make it go back down if she finished before he got his gun.

I also noticed that she seemed to be squirming in her seat, and one hand was all I ever saw at any given time. I couldn't actually tell if she had the other one in her crotch, but the conditions didn't preclude the possibility.

There was only one thing to do. I stayed after class one day and removed the modesty panel in the front of her desk that hid her legs from the view of all of us horny guys trying desperately to sneak a peek at a little bit of lace. From my desk, her entire chair seat was visible.

Waiting has never been my strong suit, but somehow the next class period finally rolled around. None of the girls in the class appeared to notice the absence of the modesty panel, but some of the guys perked right up. They might not have been aware of the scenario I assumed had been going on, but they could still enjoy the prospect of catching a glimpse of Sally's legs--maybe all the way to the top.

Before long, there were no girls at all sitting on the line down the center of the room, with a view through the modesty panel. All those desks had been taken by guys wanting a glimpse of the good stuff. The tension in the room rose and so did the temperature, with all those hot, horny guys sweating so expectantly.

The first half of the class passed uneventfully. Sally stood for nearly all of it, and when she sat, it was with a very modest slide into the chair, her long skirt wrapped way down her legs. I fancied I could hear a rumble of discontent coming from all the clearly disappointed voyeurs-in-waiting.

During the second half of the period, Sally got into one of Shakespeare's more bawdy selections and began to heat up. She loosened her blouse at the throat and took a drink of water before beginning to read out loud to us.

Never before had I heard her put so much feeling and passion into Shakespeare. His words came alive, as did the true meaning of his words. Funny how I had never realized what a horny old fart he was. Once she put it to us this way, we understood exactly what he was saying and boy was it hot!

Even Jim seemed to pick up on it, although he may have simply been grooving on Sally's body language.

She must have sensed all the sexual vibes emanating from the voyeurs' club, although she should have been somewhat accustomed to it by now. For whatever reason, she seemed to hit a higher note that day than any other so far.

For a long time, she was too excited to sit, but she kept bending further and further forward, as if she were trying to get her belly to rub against her clit, or something, to relieve the distress she appeared to be in.

I snuck a glance back at Jim and my jaw dropped. It looked as if he had two legs down one side, and one of them swelled with his heartbeat. Then I saw his hand begin to rub it, slowly and tenderly, in time to the cadence of Sally's voice.

Sally couldn't take any more and almost flung herself down in her chair. Her skirt caught on her heel or whatever, and pulled up completely around her waist, exposing her legs all the way to heaven. Her panty-covered pussy was winking at 20 of the horniest guys on the face of the earth, through the panel of her saturated panties.

In my wildest fantasies, I had never, ever, ever hoped for anything as extreme as this. My dick joined every other one in the room in leaping to instant Code Red (but I have a feeling mine was closer to purple than red, if the pain in my plum was any indication). Regardless of the color, there was no way I could keep my hands out of my lap. If I had, we would not have achieved 100% participation, which we accomplished with ease.

Every guy in class had his hand in his lap and his eyes glued to the teacher's crotch.

Teacher's eyes were glued to Big Jim's "Big Jim", and appeared to be completely oblivious to the incredulous stares of the beneficiaries of my work on her desk. Thinking that anything she did under her desk was shielded from our prying eyes, Sally surreptitiously stole a finger slowly down her belly to her seat of passion.

The girls in the class probably interpreted her sigh of passion as her response to the passage she was reading to us. After all, it was pretty racy and Sally was reading it with raw emotion.

The boys could see why she was sighing. Her middle finger was buried in her juicy cunt, behind the sloppy mess of her lace panties, and was busily stroking herself to a climax, which she appeared to be trying to time so that she and Big Jim could come together, so to speak. Little did she know that we were about to set a record Guinness could have used for marketing purposes.

TWENTY MEN AND A WOMAN ACHIEVE SIMULTANEOUS ORGASM. I could just see the headline now. Ok, so most of us weren't exactly men, but what the hell.

Oh well, if I were about to have greatness thrust upon me, why not relax and enjoy it?

We might have missed it slightly, or failed to time ourselves exactly simultaneously, but we were so engrossed in Sally's voice and the movement of her fingers in her swampy pussy, that our normal tendency to shoot our load within seconds of getting hard was delayed a bit.

The ringing of the bell did it! I guess it was the jangle of an unexpected alarm that added just the right touch of adrenaline to kick us all off. My pants leg was dripping cum and so were the legs of everybody I could see. Sally was leaning back in her chair, looking exhausted while continuing to idly toy with her cunt. The girls in the class filed out of the room, mumbling congratulations to Sally for the amazingly interesting insight into Shakespeare, but she seemed to not be able to hear them. She simply smiled toward the back of the room, where Jim sat.