Chapter 4: Getting It At School With Both Barrels!

Mum's forecast about my frustration proved to be a little off the mark as I headed to my first class. Her attention to my little sexual problem only succeeded in waking me up to the many possibilities that existed. It also made me realise just what I was missing out on. After all what did I really have to show in the years since puberty? A few books, several magazines and free access to my parent's videos and DVDs, not to mention the exciting memories of late night and early morning masturbations. But I didn't even have a kiss from a girl my age, and that was where the real problem lay.

All of my parent's sexual teachings, radical views and their total belief in freedom of censorship counted for nothing. Indeed all of the by-laws, or ordinances as they preferred to call the changes that were the charter, didn't mean a thing against my one major problem. I was shy, as scared of girls as a man who couldn't swim was of diving in the deep end of a swimming pool! Years of rejections when I was fat and a fast-food junkie had set up a lack of belief that was hard to shake. Even with my new physique - and it had taken six months of a very strict diet and exercise plan to get this far - I couldn't get over my timid nature or the scornful comments and teasing laughter that came naturally from every girl I managed to work up the courage to approach.

In class - it was a school that had adopted a policy of allowing the older students freedom to dress as they wished, within reason - the girls, as if on cue, were a constant reminder of what I was missing out on. The tight fitting crop-tops seemed to accentuate their breasts and the skirts - if they chose to wear them instead of the hip-hugging designer jeans or pants that hung low enough to expose the top of the crack of their bottom and waistband of the thong panties they inevitably wore - were short enough to expose plenty of thigh, even to the point of showing the girl's panties, thong or otherwise. If indeed they were wearing any.

It was a uniform, or non-uniform in this case that was deliberately designed to frustrate me. Even the young lady teacher who took me for that first class was dressed in a similar fashion.

To me the one good thing about being in advance of the rest of the class, which I was, and about having a good grasp of the subject, which I did, was the freedom it allowed me to look around.

For most of that first lesson my eyes were focused under the desks of some of those girls instead of on my computer screen. And I didn't miss a thing; eagle-eyed that's me. Every crossing and uncrossing of legs, every flash of panties seemed to attract my eyes like magnets. And then there were the girl's breasts, and because some of the girls wore bras and some didn't, a guy like me had to know exactly where to look, and it had gotten so that I was quite the expert with the see all at a glance look.

I particularly enjoyed looking at Julie Morris despite, or maybe because of, the way she treated me. Her short skirts were always that little bit shorter than the rest, and it was always fun to see if she was wearing underwear. She practically never wore a bra, but sometimes she didn't wear panties either. Not that I was ever able to get a good look at her vagina, but I did see high enough up her thigh to know when she was and wasn't, unless of course they were of the very brief thong variety, and even that was often enough to fire my very wild and very virile imagination.

Then of course there was the teacher. I would call her over for the slightest reason even though there wasn't anything in the basic computer course that presented a problem. Usually it was for her to test out all of the little problems she'd set the class. That of course required her to sit on my chair in order to run the programs. Of course I had to kneel down beside her to pay close attention to what she was doing, and to enjoy the delights of her lovely legs.

After more of the same in the third lesson mathematics - the second period was devoted to P.E (physical education) - it was lunchtime and a chance to position myself at my favourite table in the canteen with two of the slower students in the class. The main topic among the three of us was always some of the problems associated with the various classes. Not that I minded, on the contrary it afforded me the chance to slyly gaze on some of the girls in the room. That was until Julie Morris, the aforementioned spunky looking scantily dressed blonde who had made that awful scene yesterday, decided that it was time for a little more fun at my expense.