I am a very suspicious and unemotional woman.

Yes, I am fully aware that the other teachers in my school call me "The tight-assed bitch". I can't help that. It is just the way that I am. I would like to be open and bubbling with enthusiasm but I always get bogged down in analyzing the consequences.

Here I am almost 25 years old and I am still a virgin. It is not because I am unattractive. I don't want to brag or seem like an egomaniac but I am what guys call "stacked".

Ever since I was about 21 and out on my own, I have relied on my toys to keep me satisfied physically. When I have used them vigorously, I am able to fall into a relaxing sleep. Admittedly it is an act of completion that I would refer to as the "dirty deed".

I don't know when I started to think of sex as being dirty or for that matter to think of sex at all until shortly after my sixteenth birthday. Late one night I was very restless in my bed and my daddy caught me with my hand up there in that nice spot between my legs. I think the sweet smile on my face made him very angry and he pulled me over his knee. It was the worst spanking I had ever gotten. I can still remember the way he yelled at me,

"You dirty filthy little girl. You are going to be a slut just like your mum. You are nothing but a silly, stupid little bitch and will probably spread your legs at the first opportunity."

My tender little bottom was so sore I was unable to sit on it for two days. I vowed right then and there to be a good little girl and not to spread my legs for anyone except my anticipated soul-mate. That was almost 10 years ago and I have not seen anyone even vaguely resembling a true soul-mate in all that time. My only soul-mate was my 8 inch black dildo which I had affectionately christened "James".

I didn't know any guy called James other than "007". My James was well acquainted with my pussy and on those special occasions when I wanted something a little different, my tight little pucker hole. When I used it like that I felt so dirty I always had to take a shower and repeat to myself in the mirror,

"I am a good girl. A very good girl. I don't ever do that sort of thing. I am not that kind of girl."

It is not that I have not had a number of dates with attractive, interesting men. Only last week I had a dinner at an upscale restaurant with a recently divorced Pediatrician. He was only in his mid-thirties and his only drawback seemed to be a bad case of dandruff. He kissed me several times in the car and was upset when I pushed his hand out of my lap before he could start an exam of my pelvis. I told him I liked him but was not ready to grant him carnal knowledge of my private places just yet. I was not surprised when he did not call back as promised. It was typical of all my relationships that never seemed to go anywhere at all.

I am pretty sure I am not a lesbian.

I mean, I like women a lot. I love to look at nude women. I love the pretty nipples and the pert breasts so nicely outstanding. I even like to look at older women. I think breasts and bottoms that sag a bit and laugh crinkles around the eyes and mouth are really sexy. Almost every attractive mature woman I have met makes me feel sexier. I think of what it would be like to wrap my arms and legs around her and cover her face with kisses. But I don't think I am a lesbian because I have such a desire to have a big long fat cock stuffed inside me and pounding me into complete submission.

I knew that one of my students had a crush on me. I have absolutely no idea for what reason. Her name is Alice. Alice is a lovely girl. She was particularly well developed for her age of 17 and has the sweetest disposition with a smile for everyone.

She was my teacher's assistant in the sixth period and usually helped me to grade the endless papers and tests that always piled up at the end of each and every day.

I noticed one afternoon that she was keeping her head down on the work in front of her and did not look at me. I walked down and asked her,

"What is the matter, Alice? Are you not feeling well?"

When she looked up at me, I could see two perfectly formed teardrops forming in the corners of her lovely blue eyes and a little sob escaped her lips.

"Oh, Miss! I can't stand it any longer. I just have to put my hand up your skirt and pet you with my finger. Please, Miss, just a little touch and I will be a good girl, I promise."

I was a little taken aback that the pretty young thing would voice her hidden desires so openly and looked about to make certain we were quite alone. I knew they had been discussing cams in the classroom but decided not to institute them because of the high cost of the project.

My heart went out to this young girl. She reminded me of me when I was younger. I knew she would be astonished to know I was a virgin because nowadays most of the 17 and 18 year old females had lost their cherries in all three orifices as a rite of passage fully accepted.

I stood over Alice and wrapped my arms around her head and shoulders. I stroked her hair to comfort her in her excited state of mind. Somehow, her face got buried into my pubic mound and I could feel the outline of her chin, her mouth, her nose thru the thin cotton material of my short skirt. The proximity of her mouth to my slit made my pussy juices start to leak and I could feel the wetness seeping thru my frilly silk panties.

The simple truth is I was really enjoying her attentions to my pussy and I made no move to stop her hands from grasping my ass cheeks and squeezing them with her strong fingers. Alice was quite the soccer player and was probably the fittest young lady in the senior class. Her head was now firmly pushed deep in between my legs and I am ashamed to say I spread my knees to let her get in nice and deep. The emotions that I felt were overwhelming. I really wished she were a man and could be my proper soul-mate, but I was happy she was a lovely, pretty young girl with her own feminine form to inspire my passion.

I was so enthused with her ministrations that I pulled up my skirt in front and could feel the touch of her smooth skin and lips against my fuzzy little slit. She must have liked it because her tongue was working overtime to lick up my leaking pussy juice before it ran down the inside of my legs.

"Miss, I have to get my tongue inside. Open your legs wider please, Miss."

I complied without thought or reason. The flutter of that wet pointed tongue inside my pussy brought me to an instantaneous orgasm that made me convulse with utter lack of control. I remember yelling at the poor girl,