Mary Lewis: Teacher_s eager pets

Brenda Andrews completed the last lap of the Olympic sized swimming pool, pulled herself from the water, and ran toward the bathhouse, a long purple towel draped across one bronzed shoulder.

In the bathhouse, she stood before the full-length mirror, smiling at her reflection seductively; a small pool of water was forming at her feet.

"Not bad for an old gal of forty-one! What a pity that no man sees this body," she was thinking aloud. She blushed as she remembered that one, all-too-brief night on the beach in Jamaica. Her pulse throbbed as she remembered the moonlight, the hot sand on her bare body and the bronzed body of Ricky, whom she had never seen again.

She continued to stare at herself in the mirror, still absorbed in her daydream. Yes, Brenda was attractive in a subtle way. If she had only given herself half a chance she could have been downright sexy; but, she did not have the courage to try new kinds of makeup and she did not bother to dress in a daring manner or show off her voluptuous body to better advantage. If she had, most men would have looked her way, but unfortunately she dressed in a dowdy manner, in loose-fitting, baggy shirts, and skirts that were much too long.

In her one-piece bathing suit, Brenda was a knockout. Her long, thin legs were tanned by the Florida sun, and her full tits were high and firm. As she slipped her bathing suit off her shoulders, her lovely breasts fell free and swayed seductively. Brenda gasped aloud as she viewed her body from a different angle. She shivered as she traced the outline of her nipple with one finger, and then pulled her hand away quickly as she saw her startled expression in the mirror and realized what she had been doing.

The bathing suit was now down around her knees and her pubic area stood out in dark contrast to the soft white skin below her waist. Her stomach was flat and her tits stood taut even though she was large-busted.

Her body indeed, would have captured many a glance from an admiring male, but unfortunately Brenda was wasting away in a new jab at a boys' school and none of the male instructors had noticed her as yet – and probably never would.

Raised in New England, the second child of very strict parents, Brenda had led a very sheltered life. She had only a few friends, was a good student and class valedictorian, but had never had a date all through high school. In college she was too busy studying and working, and boys just never seemed to notice her. The only time she had actually been with a man was that one night in Jamaica when she had left the other teachers aboard the cruise ship and had wandered alone onto a beach. Ricky had found her there, sitting beneath a palm tree, crying, and he had confronted her in his soft-spoken Jamaican dialect.

Now as she thought about that night an the beach, her hand unconsciously went down her soft stomach and a finger caught in the curls of her triangle as she moved it quickly toward her waiting cunt.

Her body ached with passion as she quickly put a finger into her hot, wet slit.

"Damn them! Damn them all!" she cried aloud. Brenda was upset to think that her parents had caused her to be the way she was shy and fearful of the opposite sex. She couldn't even carry on a conversation with an adult male without getting flustered. She was always thinking: Take my body, take me! I wish you would stick your cock in me and fuck me! But naturally she did not have the nerve to say such a thing, and she got flustered and usually ended the conversation after a very brief time.

Basically, she was a very shy person and the few men she did meet got the impression that she was snobbish and soon lost interest in her.

Brenda did have a good relationship with the boys who were in her care, the boys from the wealthy families who were her charges at the exclusive boys' school in the Florida Keys.

It was these boys that Brenda hungered for with a desire that was burning out of control. I must pull myself together I must. I can't let Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone know what I'm thinking! They'll fire me for sure!

Keysville Academy was located on one of the larger Keys, halfway between Miami and Key West. The school was an old, established one and the boys who were sent there were from all over the United States.

Brenda had been selected by the Board of Directors and Brad Livingstone who was the headmaster. Her references from her previous principal at the high school in her hometown in Vermont had been the best. The Florida weather was heaven in comparison to the cold winters in her home state, and Brenda was trying her best to live up to the image that the Board expected from her.

I hope they don't find out what I'm thinking! I don't want to leave here!

Now, as she started to towel herself dry and put on her blouse and skirt, Brenda began to think of Paul, whom she was to tutor in French in fifteen minutes. She blushed as she thought about the good-looking boy. Paul was tall for his age and in recent days his shoulders had seemed to broaden, his voice deepened. Several times she caught herself thinking about him, day dreaming and wondering what it would be like for him to hold her in his arms. Stop it! she ordered herself. You are behaving like a depraved person.

She finished brushing her reddish hair from her eyes and hurried out of the bathhouse and across the quadrangle to her room. Paul would be there any minute now, and she wanted to be ready for him. Oh, how she wanted to be ready for him! But she knew she couldn't be ready in the way that she wanted to. Breathlessly she reached her cottage and turned the door handle. She went into the cool room and quickly gathered up the French lesson she had prepared for Paul. Trying to look very businesslike she sat down at the small table in her dining area, then jumped up to look in the refrigerator to make sure she had a Coke in case Paul was thirsty.

Several minutes later there was a knock at her door and she nervously called for Paul to come in. Her eyes were on his crotch as he stepped across the threshold, carrying his French book. She uttered an audible gasp as she viewed the obvious bulge in his too-tight jeans. His boyish face looked at her intently as she welcomed him.

"Hello, Paul," she managed to stammer. Her eyes again dropped to his crotch and she shuddered as she thought, I wonder if he has ever shoved his prick into a woman?

She tried to appear calm as she crossed the room to adjust the shade, but she flushed as she passed Paul and brushed against his arm. Tingles went through her as the electricity passed between them. Again, her eyes automatically dropped to his crotch and she hungrily followed the outline of his boyish prick as he crossed the room toward the table.

"S-sit here, Paul," she managed to stammer, and she held her hand out, gesturing toward the empty chair.

I've got to fuck him! I want Paul! The thought of his cock is driving me insane!

"Paul, now let's see where you are having difficulty," she leaned across him, her hair purposely brushing against his cheek.

Brenda momentarily swayed; she was losing her composure rapidly as she again glanced down at his crotch. She was losing all control. She felt weak with lust and desire and struggled to pull herself together long enough to continue talking to Paul.

She could feel her panties beginning to moisten with her pussy juices and she swayed again, precariously, as she thought, Get rid of him, get him out of here… then you can finger-fuck yourself. No, that's not what I want! she almost cried aloud, I want him.

Brenda was trembling. Apparently Paul had not noticed her discomfort or if he had, he had not understood fully what was happening to her.

"Paul," she managed to stammer, "this is rather difficult for me. Come over here and sit next tame on the couch and we can concentrate on your lesson together."