It was Friday afternoon very near the end of the sixth and final period of the school day. Jeannie Boyce sat at her desk in the classroom and watched the students gathering their books and papers and baggage and getting ready to dash out. The bell finally rang and she watched as the students scrambled and dashed for the door. She noticed that one of the students did not join the scramble. She saw him walk back to the rear of the classroom and open the door of the cloakroom and enter it. She waited at her desk for a few minutes, but the student did not come out of the cloakroom. She walked to the rear of the classroom, hesitated for a bit, and then opened the door and looked in the cloakroom. What she saw startled her to say the least. She saw the student standing there with his cock out stroking it. She couldn't help but see that he had a full erection; his dick stood out hard and thick and throbbing as he stroked it up and down. She stood there speechless as he turned toward her, pointing his rigid prick at her and looking straight at her face as he rubbed his cock. She was at a loss what to do; she finally broke away and walked out of the cloakroom...

Later that day she kicked off her shoes and laid back in an easy chair in her apartment and sipped a drink as she reflected on the week that was. She pursed her lips and nodded in satisfaction. All in all, it had been a good week—far better than she had expected; for she had completed her first week of teaching, and nothing catastrophic had happened; she had made no major foul-ups, and nothing really bad had occurred. Her students were for the most part "okay"; a few were rambunctious, but that was to be expected from ninth graders—most of them fourteen or fifteen years old. Yes, all in all, it went pretty good, she thought, all but the incident of seeing the student in the cloakroom. She smiled wryly. But even that was not a catastrophe or a foul-up. It's funny, she thought. I suppose I should have reported the boy, or admonished him, or something, but ... my goodness, he just stood there, looking at me, and stroking his ... Umm—his name is Calvin; fourteen, I guess ... he just kept stroking it ... thick and stiff for a fourteen-year-old boy—umm ... Should I report him? ... No, not for that ... gee, but his—his thing was so thick and stiff—throbbing, straining, and he kept stroking it and pointing it at me—and looking at me...

Her throat and mouth were dry; she gulped and licked her lips; her heart was absolutely thudding, and a fizzy tingling had begun in her pussy and had shot upward to her breasts...

She sighed and wagged her head. Ah—it's been too long, she thought; too long since I had a ... how long? Three months? It's just that—here I am, in this new position; I don't know anyone yet—at school or anywhere else—first week of school and teaching and all...

Periodically, through the weekend, she found herself thinking of the student, of his stroking his thick stiff throbbing prick, pointing it right at her, and looking at her as he stroked the cock...

The following Monday she was in the middle of her sixth period class; she had given her students problems to be solved, and they were to raise their hands if they needed help. She saw the boy raise his hand and she walked back to him. He sat in the last row in the rear, his desk behind all the others. She stood over him, and he pointed down on his workbook. "I don't understand how to do this," he said. As she looked down she saw that he had his hand on his crotch and was stroking it. She saw that he had a bulging hard-on.

Toward the end of the sixth period, she passed out graded papers to the students; she walked around the room handing the papers to them. When she walked back to his desk to give him his paper she saw that he had pulled his cock out and was stroking it. He looked straight at her as he rubbed his thick stiff throbbing cock.

The bell rang and the students scrambled and dashed for the door—all but Calvin. She noticed that he had made his way to the cloakroom.

Her throat and mouth were suddenly dry; her heart thumped. She got up and walked back to the cloakroom, hesitated, and then opened the door.

The boy stood there stroking his cock. Jeannie looked down at it, and gulped and licked her lips. He walked toward her and tugged his cock up. Jeannie gave out a little gasping sound, and then she went down on her knees, grasped his hips, opened her lips and took the prick in.

The boy clutched her head and drove his dick in her mouth, and she began sucking his cock.

The boy was no virgin; he knew what to do. He let her suck his prick for a few minutes, but he didn't want to shoot his wad in her mouth. He wanted to fuck her. In just a few minutes, he had her down on the floor and was pumping his cock in her pussy,

Jeannie had her arms and legs wrapped around him and was fucking back at him. She was so wrapped up in the fucking that she failed to hear the door of the cloakroom being opened or see the person who had opened it and had stood there for a few minutes watching. The door closed again...

The next day Jeannie was surprised and alarmed to receive a summons to the principle's office. She felt a sense of trepidation about it, and wondered what it could be. Maybe an evaluation, she thought.

She entered the office and looked nervously at the principle, Mr. Stone. He was a heavy-set man with a ruddy complexion and a flinty look. He didn't glare at her but he did fix her with a somber gaze. He stood up from his desk and moved around it and came to within three feet of her. He held a folder.

"Ms. Boyce, I've been reviewing your file," he said. "You've been teaching here for a week." He closed the folder and pitched it onto the desk.