A Teacher Tumbled
By Balmaceda (thebalmaceda@gmail.com)
Meredith played with the hem of her skirt. It was a simple trick. Movement draws the eye. Meredith was carefully stalking Mr. Whittlemore’s attention. So far it was working perfectly. Mr. Whittlemore’s eyes were resting on Meredith’s thighs a beat longer than necessary. They were returning far more often. It was time to raise the stakes.
Meredith slowly drew her hand up her body and undid the top buttons of her blouse. Mr. Whittlemore’s eyes followed the whole trip. They were now peering over the top of his glasses. He continued his lecture, but she knew that neither one of them was conscious of the words. Nonetheless, Mr. Whittlemore changed his focus.
When Meredith figured that his eyes were slipping back to her, she dipped her index finger between her breasts, then traced the path up her neck and rested it on her lower lip. Mr. Whittlemore’s eyes were now riveted. Meredith dipped her chin slightly, locked eyes with him, and began a quiet chant.
The charm would only work if she maintained eye contact. While her other hand rested in her bookbag and moved her wand in an intricate pattern, Meredith willed her eyes to burn. The ancient syllables flowed off her tongue. It was working. It had to be working. She could feel the rush of the mystical energies coming together. Then they released. Meredith smiled and leaned back.
The whole event had taken less than half a minute.
On her way out of class, Meredith made sure to sway her hips. The pleats on her skirt swirled like wind chimes. She cast a glace over her shoulder to see if Mr. Whittlemore had noticed. He had. This part wasn’t necessary for the charm. It just made her day a little better.
And her days had been much better recently. With her college acceptance letter in hand, Meredith was allowing herself to experiment with living. No more practicing and repracticing the standardized exams. No more nights in the local college library polishing her assignments. No more hustling to string along yet another extracurricular activity. Truth was, years of putting together the perfect college application had left her exhausted. It was time to relax before getting back on the treadmill in the fall.
Changing her outlook had changed even the way that Meredith walked down the hall. Previously, halls had been little more than tunnels between classes. She never stopped to talk unless it was school related. Now she was really seeing the people. Meredith noticed the colors and cuts of the clothes, she noticed who was talking with whom, she noticed who was happy and who was sad—even if they weren’t in the top ten of her class’s rankings. Letting herself acknowledge all the activity was, surprisingly, much more restful than forcing herself to constantly ignore it.
And sometimes, watching people approach was a real pleasure. Like right now. Meredith’s boyfriend Chris was striding towards her full of his usual power and confidence.
“Hey Meredith. How was your morning?”
“It was ok. Ten more weeks.”
“Ten more weeks. Then the best summer ever. ”
Chris slipped a hand under her hair and pulled her closer. Brushing his lips against her ear, he whispered.
“Want to rehearse it Friday night?”
He kissed her cheek and let go, laughing at Meredith’s deep blush.
“May your afternoon be better. Talk to you night.”
Watching Chris walk away, Meredith wished once again that they shared a lunch period. Or that his team didn’t practice after school. Or that she could just sleep at his house. Or anything that didn’t have him walking away right then. Her morning performance for Mr. Whittlemore had her keyed up. At least it held the promise paying off after school.
Once the final bell rang, Meredith joined the throng of seniors rushing to leave campus. Her first stop was home. She exchanged her book bag for a messenger bag filled with a new slate of supplies. Meredith also changed into a different outfit. For the next part of her day, she did not want to draw more attention than necessary. Her pleated skirt and buttoned blouse went into her bag and a fresh pair of jeans with a t-shirt went onto her body.
Then she drove over to Mr. Whittlemore’s house. Meredith parked a couple houses away and walked as normally as she could. No one seemed to be watching, but she hadn’t risked looking either. She walked up to the front door and rang the bell. This part was just a formality. She waited a bit. Rang the bell again. Tried to look impatient, which wasn’t hard. She was impatient. Then she walked around to the back of the house.
Last summer, Mr. Whittlemore had thrown an end of the year barbeque for some of the advanced students. Naturally, Meredith had attended. It’s important to develop good relationships that can be used as the basis for even better letters of recommendation. But it is irresistible to spend time with someone you’ve been crushing on for years. While there she had formed a general impression of Mr. Whittlemore’s house. Important today was her memory of a sliding glass door leading to the backyard.
Meredith had planned to break into the house. She had even brought a drill to drill the lock. This proved unnecessary. The door was unlocked.
Once inside, Meredith took a quick tour of the house. While the house was a little on the small side, it was very clean and had an open feel that was marred only by the number of books and bookcases that occupied nearly every room. Meredith ran her finger along some of their spines. She was here as much for what these books said about the man as she was for his body. Too bad that she didn’t have time to really get to know these books.
She returned to the TV room and changed back into her outfit from school, except that she left the panties in the bag. They did not figure into her plans for the near future.
Knowing that she would have a little time to wait, Meredith pulled out the book of spells she had found during one late night in the library. The book itself was unremarkable. What had caught her eye was the lack of a call number on the spine. She had wondered what type of book a person might try to sneak into a library collection like a secret message between book lovers. It had not been anything at all like she had expected. Slowly, the book was helping her change her life. But using it effectively required extensive memorization, so she spent part of every day practicing complete nonsense until it felt natural.
The sound of an automatic garage door interrupted her. The sound quickly changed as the door began to close. Meredith hid her book, smoothed her skirt, and opened the door from the house to the garage. She gripped her wand tightly as she held it behind the door.
Mr. Whittlemore was shuffling through the garage, but stopped short once he saw Meredith at the door.
“You shouldn’t be here Miss Johnson.”
“Weren’t you expecting me?”
“Definitely not.”
“I think you were.”
Mr. Whittlemore stepped forward with growing irritation. Meredith made eye contact. She recited a misdirection spell and moved her wand with her hidden hand. She could feel Mr. Whittlemore’s anger fading. In its place was a growing excitement. He wanted to believe. He wanted to believe that sexy young woman in front of him was the new chemistry teacher, Ms. Wyga. Just as he spent the day wanting to believe that it was Ms. Wyga who wanted to meet with him after school. Meredith kept steadily performing the spell.
Mr. Whittlemore softened. Meredith smiled. She stepped back and opened the door further. He followed her in, grabbed her close, and kissed her. The first kiss caught Meredith a bit by surprise. It took a moment to soften her lips and respond. The door closed loudly as their lips pushed and pulled gently, firmly, urgently. The rasp of Mr. Whittlemore’s five o’clock shadow contrasted with the smoothness of his lips. The salty with the sweet.
As they kissed, their hands marked the outlines of each other’s bodies. Meredith could feel Mr. Whittlemore’s muscles ripple across his toned back. She put a hand on his chest, registering how much bigger his chest was than her little hand. Mostly, though, she reveled in the feel of his lips.
When she felt his hands slide up her lower back and begin work on her bra clasp, Meredith sank to her knees and looked up at Mr. Whittlemore. Looking into his eyes. Holding his eyes. Sharing their lust. She clasped her hands behind her back and arched her chest forward. She knew that men loved that view. She leaned forward and grabbed his zipper with her teeth. For effect. And slowly, slowly pulled it down keeping as much eye contact as she could. When she started to bring her hands forward, Mr. Whittlemore just shook his head. His hands were already undoing his belt. Soon his pants and underwear were pooled at his feet.
Meredith took in the sight of his half-mast cock. So this is what it looked like, she thought. It will definitely do. She leaned forward and closed her mouth on the soft skin. She bobbed her head gently and brought a hand forward to cup his balls. Mostly, Meredith focused on feeling it grow and grow in her mouth.
Mr. Whittlemore’s hips were beginning to move in short, urgent thrusts. Meredith began nipping the ridge of his cock with the faintest edge of her teeth. She was rewarded by shallow groaning sounds. Meredith noted with pride that his eyes were closed and that his hip movements were becoming much less controlled. Unexpectedly, he pulled back.
“Go sit so I can return the favor.”
Meredith shook her head. She wasn’t ready to have someone’s face there just yet. Instead she went and leaned onto the back of the couch, flipped up her skirt, and looked back at Mr. Whittlemore.
“Come fuck me.”
Mr. Whittlemore kicked off his pants. He walked over to the couch slowly. A draft blew across Meredith’s pussy. She shuddered. She had never felt so exposed. Mr. Whittlemore’s cock waved a little as he walked. Its stiffness taunting her.
“Have you been naughty?”
His hand slid up her ass. Smack. Meredith nearly jumped. It wasn’t that the blow had hurt. It had just caught her by surprise. Smack. Meredith closed her eyes and focused on the sensations. Smack. Every blow was stoking the fire in her cunt. For this, she could play along.
“Do you need to be spanked?”
“Please headmaster. I didn’t know it was wrong.”
Smack.
“That is a poor excuse for giving a man blue balls.”
Smack.
“I’ll let you off light this time if you promise to make it right.”
“Anything, headmaster.”
In the work of a moment, Mr. Whittlemore’s hands were grabbing Meredith’s hips and his cock was plunging into her. Meredith let out a small cry of pleasure. She grasped the couch more firmly, her nails pushing into the cushions. Mr. Whittlemore thrust his cock into her again and again. Each thrust filled her deliciously.
Too soon, he was speeding up. Deep and regular. Meredith wanted him to cum, but not yet. Not yet.
“Stop. Stop headmaster. I need to be on top. Hurry.”
Meredith felt that parting which is such sweet sorrow. Mr. Whittlemore sat down on the couch and looked at Meredith with an urgent lust. Meredith wasted no time in joining him. Straddling his lap, she pulled off her blouse and bra releasing her tits into Mr. Whittlemore’s face. It felt so good to be unbound. Then she grasped his firmness and stroked it fondly before capturing it again with her cunt.
She savored the control. She loved searching for that perfect angle. Meredith slowly ground herself in little circles using Mr. Whittlemore’s cock explore the many spots within her. Meredith stuck her chest forward. Mr. Whittlemore took the invitation and began playing with her breasts just as she found an excellent angle.
Meredith was losing herself. She felt so in control as she exploited that perfect angle with short thrusts. She felt so out of control as the feelings from her cunt met the sensations of Mr. Whittlemore’s expert hands on her breasts and finally collided with the surrealness of finally, finally having her favorite teacher right where she wanted him.
Mr. Whittlemore’s hands moved from Meredith’s breasts to her hips. He pulled at her hips with every downbeat. He was pulling more and more urgently. The next time Meredith rose on her knees, Mr. Whittlemore flipped her onto her back and began fucking her missionary style on the couch.
“Oh God!”
Mr. Whittlemore thrust again and again and ground his pelvis against Meredith’s. Meredith moaned at that perfect friction on her clit. She grabbed his ass and pulled Mr. Whittlemore even closer. Meredith felt Mr. Whittlemore’s cock pulse. She relished that feeling. The feeling of being that much fuller, of a man giving her body the ultimate compliment. They held close for a couple beats and collapsed, entwined.
Meredith snuggled into Mr. Whittlemore’s chest. He held her close, absently caressing her ass. She listened as his racing heart and ragged breath settled back into a steady rhythm. Glow was such a perfect word for these moments. She felt so warm, so comfortable, she was sure that she glowed.
But part of her mind was preparing for her next steps. The problem she had found with the spells is that they wore off not long after the target orgasamed. She wanted to lay with Mr. Whittlemore for hours savoring the contact. The best she could hope for, however, would be a half-hour and that would be risking too much.
Slowly, shakily Meredith stood up. She smiled over her shoulder at Mr. Whittlemore and headed to the bathroom.
“I love to watch it run down your legs.”
“I’d let it, but I don’t have time for a shower this evening.”
“Sure we do.”
Mr. Whittlemore stood up and started to follow Meredith into the bathroom. She met him at the door and blocked his progress.
“Perhaps it would be faster if we showered together?”
That moment was everything that Meredith had hoped it might be. Mr. Whittlemore standing confidently naked, smiling playfully. It saddened her to end it there. Using the door, once again, to hide her wand, Meredith began to cast a light sleep spell. Mr. Whittlemore yawned.
“Maybe a little nap first. We should have time after.”
“You look tired. Go back to bed, I’ll be right there.”
He nodded and retired and Meredith was as good as her word. She went back to him and stayed curled up against him until she heard the steady breathing of slumber. Then she gently moved his arm. Quietly changed into her bland clothes, gathered her things, and closed the door behind her with the softest of clicks.
When he awoke Mr. Whittlemore would have a pleasant memory of an afternoon slipping into evening with Ms. Wyga. Ms. Wyga, for her part, had gone home after school and had a wonderfully erotic dream about Mr. Whittlemore. Their memories wouldn’t quite match up, but life is full of mysteries, isn’t it?