It was the last day of summer and the new school year started on Monday. John looked out the kitchen window and thought to himself that it was going to be another year of boring school with boring kids and even more boring teachers. He hated school except for the fact that he had a couple of close friends and it would be cool to see them again. John had been exiled to an out-of-state summer camp his Dad and Mom had insisted he attend, but now he was back in town and ready to have some fun with his friends.

His name was John Blair and he was going to be a senior at Windham High School this year. His goal was to get through the year, graduate and then join the Navy. He was looking forward to "Seeing the World" with the Navy and this year couldn't go fast enough. All he wanted was out of high school and out of this hick town as soon as possible. John wasn't anybody special at school or around town. His Mother was a stay-at-home Mom and his Father worked at the local hospital in the medical records department. John himself stood 6-4 and weighed 152 pounds, kind of the typical string-bean kid. He had light brown hair and blue eyes and didn't have a steady girl friend and, in fact, didn't even have any special girls he liked. Oh, there were a lot of good-looking girls at his school, but mostly they ran around with the jocks and John certainly wasn't a jock. He had the normal raging teenage hormones, but, in fact, was still a virgin and took out his sexual frustrations by jacking off while looking at pictures on the Internet. Truth be told, John had never even had a girl friend and had no sexual experiences at all.

He arrived at school at eight Monday morning, went to the main school office and picked up his class schedule. He then went down to the "Quad" where he hoped to meet a couple of the guys and to review the classes he had been assigned. John sat at one of the many outdoor tables and grabbed a can of Coke from the vending machine and looked at his schedule; First Period - Home Room; Second Period, Algebra with Ms. Johnson; Third Period. American History with Mr. Woolfe; Fourth Period, lunch break; Fifth Period, English with... Jesus Christ he thought, not Ms. Raguso! He just sat there in shock. Ms. Rona Raguso was known to be one of the hardest and strictest teachers in the school. Last year the students had secretly voted her "The Bitch Teacher of the Year" award. She was also known as "Rona Rags" which was partly a play on her last name and partly because she always dressed in clothes that looked as if she shopped at the Salvation Army. John suddenly felt ill. English wasn't his best nor his favorite subject and now he was stuck with Ms. Raguso. He had to get through this year and to accomplish that he had to pass senior English, so it looked like he either had to buckle down and start a serious study program, not one of his strong suits, or maybe get some help from another student.

As Monday progressed John ate lunch with a couple of friends and then headed down the hall to Ms. Raguso's room. He entered, took a seat all the way in the back of the room and just watched as the other student trailed into class. Ms. Raguso stood in the front of the room writing her name and the assignments for the coming week on the chalkboard. As she wrote, John was watching her and thinking that she wasn't a bad looking woman, at least not from the perspective that she was at least old enough to be his mother. God, she must be at least 40 he thought. She was tall, around 5-7 he guessed, and she had to have some tits, but you really couldn't tell by the clothes she wore - a skirt that came almost to the floor, some type of blouse but you could only see the collar because it was hidden by an old raggedy pullover sweater. As the other students took their seats Ms. Raguso got their everyone's attention and started in with that day's lesson. After about a half-hour of listening to her talk about writing, essays and their assignments John started to tune her out. She just seemed to drone on and on and John really wasn't interested in listening, so he quit paying attention, that is until he heard, "Earth to Mr. Blair, Earth to Mr. Blair." John looked up from his desk and Ms. Raguso was smiling and asked him, "Mr. Blair, did you understand the assigned writing assignment? You looked like you were lost in your thoughts." Uh, no ma'am, I didn't. Well then, see me after class and I'll try and explain once gain what I just said. John noted that she looked perturbed and he didn't look forward to her explanation of assignments.

He could hear some of the other students around him snickering at his faux pas and was thinking; this is just a great start to the school year. I've got Rona Rags for English and now I can't even pay attention in class. Great, just fucking great. As the class ended he went up to the front of the room and waited for Ms. Raguso to finish talking with another student. When she finished and looked at him.

Well Mr. Blair, you're going to have to pay more attention in class if you're going to pass Senior English. Am I clear Mr. Blair?

Yes ma'am.

OK then, I was telling the class about writing assignment. This year will be devoted to writing essays on topics you, the student, finds interesting. I think that my student can benefit from developing essays based on topics they like. Does this make sense to you?

Ah, yes ma'am, it does.

Good then, your first assignment is due on Friday, five pages, double spaced, and completed on a word processor. Thank you Mr. Blair. And with that pronouncement she spun and left the classroom.

For three days John tried to piece together some sort of essay, but he couldn't find a topic he really liked. The only thing that was on his mind most of the time was sex and he didn't figure that would fly as an initial story for an English assignment. Although John was a virgin, he had read a lot about sex and love on the "net" and had seen tons of pictures of women in various poses. He was drawn to women giving blowjobs, women with other women, and older women with younger males. I guess, he thought, it would be nice to have a girl friend and to be able to experiment with sex. Finally, in desperation, John decided to try and write a story about "love" and leave out the sex references. He sat down at his computer and looked up several "love" stories on some web sites that he frequented. He printed out those he felt might be helpful and decided to try and make these work for his project.

On Friday, during Fifth Period English he listened to other students discuss what they had written, and there themes seemed so mature and well thought out that John became hesitant to even turn in his essay, but then he realized he didn't have any other choice. On his way out of class he laid the paper on Ms. Ragusa's desk and quickly left the room.

On the following Monday Ms. Ragusa informed the students that she had finished grading their papers and that they could pick them up on her desk after class. When the bell finally rang John was the last out of his seat, dreading the grade he would receive from Rona Rags. He picked up his paper without even looking at the grade and headed out the door and down to the Quad. He grabbed a Coke and sat down at a table. He finally found the courage to open the paper and look at his grade. Oh Yea, it was a C+. OK! There were a lot of notations throughout the paper, spelling, punctuation, etc., but when he got to the end of his essay he notice Ms. Ragusa had written a personal message. It read:

John - This is an interesting paper. I think you might have some hidden talent here that could be further developed. I would like to discuss this paper with you when you get a chance. Please stop by after school and let's see if we can find a time that fits into both our schedules. Ms. Ragusa.

Well he thought. May be this wouldn't be such a bad class after all. May be Ms. Ragusa would help him with his writing and he could get through the year with a passing grade. At four o'clock John walked up to Ms. Ragusa's room, knocked on the door and went in.

Oh, Hi Mr. Blair.

Hi Ms. Ragusa.

Have a seat and I'll be right with you.

John settled in a front row chair and waited for his teacher to finish what she was doing. While she looked through several papers John was watching her. Today she wore another of her infamous long skirts, this one with a pleat about every inch and a top that was a combination of a blouse with a large scarf around knotted around her neck. He saw that that she had some fairly large breasts as they seemed to push out her blouse, but it was hard to tell exactly how big they were with the way the scarf fell down the front of her blouse and covering up most of the front of her body.

Rona glanced over her reading glassed at the student sitting in front of her. He was tall, lanky and had great blue eyes. The way his brown hair fell down over his brow made his seem so sexy and yet so young. Shit she thought, he is so fucking young. She also noted that he was watching her too, that was always a good sign. I wonder what he is thinking about me right now. I wonder if he has ever made love to a woman, or girl for that matter. She didn't think he had any experience because of the way he wrote his essay showed that he knew very little about making love in general, but she was impressed that he was willing to try to describe a subject with which he wasn't familiar.

She looked up from her papers and caught him staring at her breasts. John? John, I was impressed by your essay but I think it needs some work on the story line. OK?

John's face reddened at being caught staring and he lowered his eyes to desk level. Ah, s0ure Ms. Ragusa.

Well Mr. Blair, I would like to sit down with you for a couple of hours and discuss some ways to, ah, help you improve your writing. I think I can help you, but I would need some dedicated time. I know most students just want to get out of school and certainly don't want to spend time after school, but I was thinking that may be we could get together on Saturday afternoon for a couple of hours. What do you think?

John wasn't sure how to answer her. She was right, he didn't want to spend any of his own time with schoolwork or with a teacher, but if he was going to pass the class maybe that was the best option. Oh, sure Ms. Ragusa. Saturday would be fine. What time?

Well two in the afternoon would be great, how about for you?

Ah, OK Two it is. How do I get to your place?

Rona jotted down the address and gave John the paper.

Rona spent most of the Saturday morning getting ready for Johns' visit. She took a long hot shower, dried off and went into her bedroom to select just the right clothes. She knew the kids called her Rona Rags because of the clothes she wore, but she didn't care. She was just an old "hippy" type who liked to dress like it was still the 60's. She walked nude to the front of the mirrored sliding closet doors and looked at her body. Not too bad for an old broad. 5-7, 123, 34C with a nice set of legs. Her breasts didn't sag, at least not yet and her ass was almost perfect. Yup, not to bad at all. She rummaged through her closet and selected a tight pair of khaki shorts and a pastel blue blouse, sheer, but not see-through. She opted not to wear a bra. She dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen where she prepared herself a small lunch. What no one in the world knew was that each year Rona selected one of her students to be her lover for that year. It was always a senior, but not always a male. Rona liked both sexes and her choice was dictated by the student who drew her attention the most. In this case she had decided it would be John.

She thought about her selection of John. He wouldn't have normally been her first choice, but after reading his essay on love, and looking at those deep blue eyes of his, she decided that John would be the perfect choice for her to develop into a lover. His ideas on sex were so naïve that Rona knew he would be perfect to teach the art of pleasure.

Just after two on a beautiful sunny Saturday John walked onto the porch of Ms. Ragusa's house and rang the bell. She lived in a nice neighborhood and the house appeared to be well cared for. When the door opened Johns' jaw almost hit his chest. There, in front of his eyes, was Ms. Ragusa, not in the much expected "rags," but dressed in a tight pair of khaki short and a blue blouse and he even thought she wasn't wearing a bra. At least he could see what he thought were nipples poking out the front of her blouse, so he guess she wasn't wearing a bra. Oh, hi Ms. Ragusa.

Good afternoon Mr. Blair, come on in.

Rona led him into the kitchen and asked him take a seat at the table. She offered a drink and when he asked for a Coke, she got one from the refer, popped some ice into a glass and poured his Coke. She handed John the glass and sat down across from him at the corner of the table. Rona had set out some pencils and legal pads before his arrival so they were ready to start. Rona began her discussion around essay sentence structures and whether to write a fictional story in the first person, how to punctuate and then led him into a discussion of story dialogues and structure.

Mr. Blair, do you mind if I call you John? Mr. Blair is a little formal in this setting.

OK Ms. Ragusa, that's fine.

OK. Now John, tell me about your story development. How you decide to select love as a topic for your paper.

Well, he hemmed, I wasn't real sure what to write about and I have always liked reading love stories, so I just tried to tell a story about what a man would feel like on a date with his girlfriend.

Ok she said. That seems to be fairly logical process. So how did you decide on the structure itself? You know, how did you develop the story line?

John looked down at his hands. Well. Well, I kind of looked up some stories on the Internet to get some ideas. Gosh, that's not like plagiarism is it, he asked?

No no John, that's OK. I guess I was just kind of curious because of some of the scenes your tried to create weren't as clear as they could have been. Do you know what I mean? She watched him mull that over. She knew he wasn't even close to her "real" meaning and she enjoyed teasing him even if he didn't know it yet.

No ma'am, I'm not sure I understand where you are going. John looker at her as she leaned over the corner of the table to be nearer to him. He noticed for the first time that the top button on her blouse had come undone and he could see down just far enough to see the top of her tits. God he thought, if she leans towards me just a bit more - then she did - he would know if she wasn't wearing a bra. Then he did know because he could see her left breast, her areola and her nipple. John was having a difficult time thinking about writing much less answering her questions and he was definitely getting a hard on.

Rona smiled to herself. She could see the bulge forming in his pants and she knew she was having the effect on him she wanted. Well John, she drawled, I guess it struck me mostly during your love scenes. You know the holding of hands, the kissing and so forth. It just seemed kind of, oh I don't know, a bit too made up I guess. Like you hadn't ever held a woman's hand or kissed her, or whatever. I am sure that a good-looking man such as yourself has had a lot of girls to practice on - you have, haven't you?

John was dumbstruck! First she had told him he was good looking, something he had never been told by anyone before. Then she called him a man, not a boy. And she actually thought he had a lot of experience. Not true, but she thought it was true. Ah, er, actually Ms. Ragusa, I haven't had a lot of experiences, at least not yet. But I did try and make it as real as I thought I could.

Oh, well that surprises me. I would have thought that you could have had any girl in the school you wanted. Well, Ok here is what we can do. Turn to page three in your essay. Start reading the part where the man is sitting on the couch and holding the woman's hand.

John turned to page three. Ok Ms Ragusa, what now.

Well... Shit John, this isn't going to work here at the table. We can't play-act here. Let's go out in the living room, OK?

Did she say shit? She did. Ah, sure Ms. Ragusa.

They both walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. John turned to his teacher and said, "Ms. Ragusa, what do you want me to do now?"