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Pervert teacher

By:Laurie Chandler

CHAPTER ONE


There probably aren't a fucking lot of you who know what it's like to have been thrown out by your family and forced to live alone in a roach-ridden, rat-infested flea-bag hotel.

Oh, some of you may live alone. And some of you may live in rotten conditions, but to be forced to live this way, and by your own family, no less, is the ultimate in physical and emotional humiliation.

Actually, I lied to you. I am not alone. My friend John is with me. My old friend John. John Barleycorn. One hundred proof. Me and the night and the moonshine.

The two of us are having a grand old time, just lolling about on this lumpy bed, pretending that we are one big happy family.

I'm not an unattractive woman. In fact, for a woman of a mere thirty-five, or for any age, I'm downright pretty, if I do say so myself. And I do say so.

I have straight black hair and high cheekbones, for those of you who care. My mother once said that there was Indian in me. Perhaps she ought to know.

Anyway that's what first attracted Tom to me. Thomas Baker. My husband. May he rot in peace.

Actually, he's not dead yet. To me, yes, but to the Bureau of Statistics, no. So I suppose I would have to say he's still alive. Alive and well, probably enjoying himself now that he's run me out of town.

"The scandal," he said. "Think of the scandal." Sure, I think about it. I thought a lot about it. Fucking hypocrites! The whole lot of them. I bet every last member of the damn school board secretly jerks off thinking of what I did. Good for them.

I can't say I didn't enjoy it, though. The act, I mean. Ronnie Warren. Excuse me, Ronald Warren. He hated to be called Ronnie.

Whatever happened to the concept of the punishment fitting the crime? If I enjoyed committing the crime, why can't I at least enjoy the punishment?

No, I suppose society doesn't approve of what I've done. Not that I did anything that was so different from what I know other women have done. I just got caught.

Way back when – oh, about a month ago – I was teaching English at Parker City High School.

I was a pretty good teacher. Still am, as a matter of fact. You should have seen the expressions of joy on the kids' faces when they found out that they got me for English. "Wow! I'm in Mrs. Baker's class!" was not an uncommon refrain in the hallowed halls of Parker High.

Ronnie, Ronald, I mean, was just about my best student. He was bright and alert and a teacher's dream. He was also handsome, with a gorgeous body, but you'll hear about that in a moment.

I always was willing to stay late in school to help out my students with any problems they may have had. Not just English problems. They came to see me as their advisor, a sort of Dear Abby.

And I helped them. I really did. No one in the school but me knew that Arlene was pregnant, and I found a doctor to give her an abortion. Anyone else would have thrown her out on her ass, the way they did with me.

Ronald had a dual problem. He was having trouble writing his term paper, and he had just split with his girlfriend. Problem number two caused problem number one.

My office was located on the fourth floor, at the end of a rarely used corridor. The people who assigned offices were obviously jealous of my popularity.

I was busying myself with some papers that my students had just handed in. It was already past the deadline for the papers, and a few, Ronald included, had not completed their work.

There was a rather timid knock on the door. The fact that it was timid was only surprising in view of what I later found out about Ronald's strength.

"Come in," I answered. I looked up, and saw Ronald Warren enter. "Hi, Ronald," I said. "You've brought your term paper, I trust?"

"Uh, no, Mrs. Baker." He hung his head in shame.

"No? Really, Ronald, you surprise me. All term you've been doing excellent work. Is there something wrong?"

"Uh, well, yes, Mrs. Baker. You see, I can't write my term paper."

"Oh, why not?"

"Well, my girl Laurie took a look at what I was working on, and said that if I didn't put that book down immediately, she'd never speak to me again. Well, I didn't believe her, and kept on reading it, and now she won't ever see me."

"My goodness. A book can cuase all that trouble? What was the book?"

"Urn, er, it was Lady Chatterley's Lover, Mrs. Baker."

"Ah! I see. And she was offended by it?"

"I guess so. To tell the truth, I had no idea you'd assign a dirty book."

"Ronald Warren, that is not a dirty book. It's a beautiful book."

"But look at some of the words in it." He opened to a page in the middle. "Here, right there. This word."

"What? 'Cunt'? What's dirty about that?"

"Mrs. Baker!" He turned red. I couldn't help but smile. "I don't think you should have us read books like this."

"There's nothing wrong with the book, Ronald. None of the words are dirty. You know what the word 'cock' means. Is your cock dirty?"

"A-A-And this: 'erect phallus'. Mrs. Baker, what would my mother say?"

"Well, she must know what an erect phallus is. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here. Surely you know what an erect phallus is. In fact, if that were something to be ashamed of, you'd probably cover yourself right now and run out of my office."

Ronald looked down. His cock was bulging through his pants, and getting harder by the second. His face was as red as a vine-ripened tomato.

"So you see, Ronald, there's nothing wrong with sex. It's a perfectly natural thing."

Looking at that handsome eighteen-year-old blushing, with a raging hard-on, had started the juices in my cunt flowing.

"B-B-But Laurie won't speak to me now. She said books like this are evil."

"Then I take it she thinks sex is evil. Tell me, Ronald, have you ever fucked her?"

"What!?"

"Oh, come on, you know the meaning of the word. Have you ever fucked Laurie? You must want to. You have normal masculine reactions. I can tell that just by looking at your fly."

"Uh, um, er…"

"Don't be embarrassed. You know you've always been able to talk to me. You could really please her from the looks of that rather large chunk of meat between your legs. She's the up-tight one, Ronald. Not you, not me, and definitely not that book."

Ronald was beginning to get dizzy. Candid sexual talk had apparently made him feel faint, and he sank down on the sofa.

"You see, Ronald, the fact that talking about sex has given you a hard-on, has only proved that you're a normal healthy American boy. Sex is a real part of us, Ronald. It's not to be hidden. If your girlfriend had been more understanding, you two could have read the book together and made beautiful love."

"B-B-But we're not married."

"That doesn't matter. Sex is pleasurable. It's to be enjoyed. I'm sure you know how much pleasure your cock can give you. I, for one, know the pleasures of having a hard cock sliding into my cunt."

He looked shocked. It's amazing how many kids think their teachers have no sex lives at all.

"My most enjoyed experiences have been when a guy was fucking me. I like to be fucked, Ronald. It's normal. It's normal for both men and women. Tell me, Ronald, have you ever fucked a girl? With your equipment, I'm sure that you'd be a quite satisfying lover."

"Un, er, er uh…"

"That means 'no', I take it? That's a pity, Ronald, because you really do have a big cock down there. It's getting bigger by the second. Your prick looks like it's going to burst through your pants."

Ronald was silent. His dick was throbbing inside his pants, and he was getting all sweaty.

My pussy was leaking so much juice. I could feel it against my thigh. My panties were already sopping wet, and I'd just started to get excited.

I could feel the tension in my tits. My nipples were as hard as his cock was. I felt my whole body tingling with erotic excitement.

He got up. I was afraid he was going to bolt out the door and never return. I hadn't yet convinced him that the book was not dirty.

I blocked the door. "Ronald, please stay. You don't understand. That's a work of art, not dirt." His prick was so swollen, that he must have been in great pain.

In his attempt to get past me, he brushed against me, and his bulging fly pressed against my thigh.

He reeled back. He landed against the opposite wall, and stood there, his whole body convulsed.

I saw a dark spot beginning to appear where his cock-head pressed against the fabric. I realized that that instant contact with my body had made him shoot off, since he was so aroused just from talking about sex.

The spot became larger and larger. He must have shot an awful lot of sperm, because it seemed to be filling up his shorts.

In a while, his writhing stopped, and he sank down onto the sofa, feeling spent and exhausted.

"Are you all fight, Ronald?" I asked him, seeing his head lower and his eyes close.

"I-I-I'm okay," said a soft voice. How unlike Ronald! Such a well-built young man with such a tiny girl's voice.

"Just relax, Ronald. It's normal. It's natural."

"But I… but I got all wet!" he wailed.

"It's nothing. Cum stains can be removed in the wash. You can use my handkerchief and there's a wash basin in the corner over there."

"Thank you," he said. He got up and went to attempt to remove the stains from the front of his pants. I knew he wouldn't be able to get it out entirely – he had shot too much jism – but he could do it so that no one would know that there had been a stain there.

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