Carl Burton - Sex teaching teacher

While sitting on the john, with her panties down around her knees and her skirt hiked up, Susan tremblingly reached for the wad of toilet tissue which blocked the peephole between the boys' and girls' rest rooms.

Some naughty youth had cut the hole long ago – before Susan had taken the teaching job in Poplar Gap. The girls kept stuffing it with paper, and the boys kept pulling the paper out. Today Susan was going to do the pulling. She had done it before.

Her heart pounded as she plucked the small paper wad from the hole. She bent and brought a wide brown eye in line with the aperture.

The giddy hope, which had drawn her to the rest room after she had observed Tommy Lanson entering the boys' room, was thrillingly fulfilled. From just inches away, Susan stared with one near-to-popping eye at Tommy's adorable, pink-headed cock which he held between his thumb and forefinger after having urinated. A final drop fell from the little slit at the end of his penis. He shook the 13-year-old appendage and seemed about to place it back into his pants.

Oh, no! Susan thought, for she wanted to admire it awhile longer. It was such a beautiful little prick!

The pricks of young boys obsessed Susan. She frequently thought about them, dreamed about them, and visualized them in her mind's eye. She rarely had an opportunity to see one in the flesh, and she wanted to make the most of it.

To make the experience even more delightful, Tommy was her favorite among all the pupils in her eighth grade class. He had blond hair and a fresh, baby-smooth face which glowed with innocence. How Susan would have loved to cuddle him… to tenderly take his clothes off… to press her vibrant nakedness against him and to…

She dared not think of the rest.

Tommy looked down at his pubescent cock. His shaking of it had caused the cleanly circumcised organ to expand a bit and lengthen perceptibly. He shook it some more.

With her heart hammering in her throat and her eye aching from the strain of staring through the peephole, Susan thrilled as the young lad's prick stiffened to truly formidable size. The proud head rose, swelling and growing red as a tomato.

Oh, my God! Susan said behind a throat that was dry with tension. Her gleaming pink lips gaped sensuously.

The lad on the other side of the partition, unmindful that he was being spied upon, lovingly stroked his hard, up thrust pecker.

Susan squirmed on the toilet seat. Suddenly she had acquired a raging inferno between her thighs. Actually, however, her tight, velvet-lipped pussy with its thick and wispy black hairs was not between her thighs at the moment but was more or less hanging down in the toilet hole. She glided a delicate hand across the smooth, cream-toned skin above her right stocking top. Susan never wore pantyhose, because she had too much respect for her lovely legs and hips to encase them, sausage-like, in that ugly, suffocating garment. Her pink-tipped fingers reached the hair and soft lips of her budding cunt. She parted the delicate labia, finding them already moist, and tickled her throbbing love-bud.

A hot breath escaped her mouth, and she writhed ecstatically. Tommy, meanwhile, released his prick and watched it spring so high that it nearly touched the front of his pants. He gave a pleased chuckle.

Susan rubbed her clit. The voluptuous waves of emotion that surged through her battered down the wall of her prudishness, and she imagined taking Tommy's strong, boyish prick in her mouth. She could almost literally feel it there, the hot head bulging against her tongue, the shaft, like iron covered by velvet, holding her lips apart and stroking between them.

She gasped as she pinched her wildly palpitating clitty.

Then Tommy turned away from the urinal and started, whistling, to the mirror. Alone in the restroom after school, the other boys having all gone home, he seemed to be enjoying the parading about of his hard prick. He took out a comb and tidied his hair, pausing once to give his hard-on a twang, causing the springy-taut began to bounce up and down.

From her angle of vision, Susan was able only to glimpse the head of his organ at the bottom of the mirror. Then Tommy shifted his hips slightly, and even this limited view was denied the lustful young teacher.

"Shit!" Susan said softly.

She would never have used that word where anyone could hear it. She murmured it to herself only in the most trying of circumstances, when no lesser expletive would suffice.

Tommy's hard-on having subsided as quickly as it had sprung, the lad stuffed his penis back into his clothes and left the john.

With a sigh, Susan stood. She drew up her pink, silken panties, which lovingly embraced her trim belly and pouting, firm buttocks. She ran her fingers along the creases below her lovely rear cheeks, tucking the panty elastics nearly into the grooves. This drew the sheer nylon tautly across her ass. She let her skirt drop. No slip had been called for on that warm spring day.

Susan inwardly trembled with frustrated passion as she strode from the outdoor restroom. Each brushing caress of her silken thighs against each other, made moist by the girlish nectar that was seeping through the screen of her panties, further inflamed her desire. Her fair cheeks were pink, her brown eyes intense. Her loose-fitting skirt, which extended nearly to her knees, whipped about her thighs as she walked, her high heels tapping briskly on the blacktop that surrounded the small-town schoolhouse.

Susan had some test papers to grade, but was in no frame of mind to think about math while her blood raced and her private parts tingled. She wanted only to lock up her room and hurry the four blocks along Second Street to the sedate old Malcolm house where she rented a room. There she would sink into a soothing bath and calm herself so that she could face the Malcolms at dinner without feeling like a slut.

Gathering up the examination papers and the books she would need for her evening's "homework", Susan left her classroom for the night. She no sooner had emerged from the old brick schoolhouse and clicked down the stone steps before a rattly pickup came chugging to a stop in front of the school.

One might have suspected that red-haired Rusty Lanson had scented Susan's desire, like a male dog scents a bitch that is due, but an altogether different purpose had brought him to the school. Susan glanced and recognized him from her first PTA meeting at Poplar Gap. He and Tommy lived alone together, their parents having died in an auto accident several years ago.

"Thought maybe that kid brother of mine would be just coming out," he called, "and I could give him a ride. But I guess the rascal has already taken off for home."

"I'm afraid he has," Susan replied, and turned to walk up the street.

"Want a lift?" Rusty invited, his white teeth flashing in a broad grin as he took in the beauty of the teacher's flashing legs and lustrous black hair. He was a tall, rugged 24-year-old, just a year older than Susan.

She glanced his way, startled.

"Well, don't look as if I'm the big, bad wolf come to eat you up," Rusty said, though a bit of eating was not the furthest thing from his mind. "Save those pretty legs, why don't you?"

Susan was mildly vexed by his forwardness. She disliked men like Rusty. Brash, arrogant studs, she regarded them. But her legs were shaky, as a result of her abortive self-dalliance in the restroom, and she needed to sit down.

She climbed into Rusty's pickup.

"Thank you," she said demurely, looking straight ahead.

She felt the man's eyes caress the rounded thrust of her breasts beneath her summery blouse as the pickup eased forward.

"Well, how are you gettin' along with all the kiddies?" he asked, making conversation. "Have you settled into the routine yet?"