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College

Everyone says that your high school years are the best years of your life. For me, that’s only half true. High school sucked on so many levels. People either loved you, or they hated you, usually for the most pathetic reasons that most often came from a spark of jealousy, therefore causing rumours to spread. There was the fear of busting your ass; only to walk away with a mark that would honestly get you nowhere in life, and finally, teacher’s found any excuse to be on your ass. For me, this happened on a number of occasions… In more way than one. And that’s no rumour. My reputation in school was always “the crazy party chick who managed to get honour roll every year.” Friends envied me, but would soon discover me useful whenever exams were drawing near. I was the study aid they never knew they needed, though teachers despised me for the fact that I would skip their classes about three times a week, and still manage to grade well on their tests. There was only one class I don’t think I ever skipped, and that was my grade eleven English class – making me 17 at the time – with Mr. Newman. See, I’m sort of a nerd in that way. English has always been my forte, with Shakespeare my hero and Poe my weakness, I found that class interesting each and every day no matter how small the lesson I learned. It also didn’t hurt that Mr. Newman was always a welcome sight. With dark, somewhat curly hair, blue eyes, and a slight dusting of facial hair, his face was kind and soft, while his body resembled that of a man who worked outdoors doing heavy lifting each day. This meant he had a constant tan, and a hard upper body. Even through the soft, blue fabric of his shirt I could see the way his muscles moved and tensed as he handed out the outlines for our final novel studies. I leaned forward on my desk; my eyes on the paper beneath my chin while my mind was free to play with the idea of what Mr. Newman really had hiding beneath his shirt… his zipper. I bit my lower lip and quivered slightly as a rush of warmth overcame me, suddenly craving a certain man’s touch between my legs. I decided to cross them instead; after all, I was still in class. The final bell rang, causing me to jump ever so slightly in my chair. Like everyone else, I began packing up my bag, eager to get home and be lazy for the night, but before I could make it out the door, someone called my name. I turned, not really knowing who I was supposed to be looking for, until I noticed Mr. Newman smiling at me from behind his desk. “Could you come here for a moment, Samantha?” “It’s Sam,” almanbahis I corrected him for about the hundredth time. He either didn’t hear me, or didn’t care as he motioned for me to sit down in the chair on the other side of the table. “I have a favour to ask of you. Now, I know it’s a little last minute and all, but I’m a little stuck…” This didn’t surprise me. Mr. Newman asked me for certain favours at least once a month, and I was always happy to do them. But they weren’t the favours I would have preferred to be doing. “You need me to babysit again, don’t you,” I sighed, slumping slightly as I took a seat. “Are you asking me, or telling me?” He laughed, leaning back ever so slightly in his chair. My eyes fell down to between his legs, which were parted slightly. The fabric of his pants was now tight over what I knew I would be craving for the next few hours if not more. “Telling. I knew you would need me soon,” I said flatly, my eyes still caught between my teacher’s legs. He cleared his throat, alerting me to the possibility that I should advert my gaze. With what felt like a great amount of difficulty, I managed to look him in the eyes. “You have no idea. You know I hate having a student – one of my students nonetheless – help me out like this… But you’re the only sitter Cassie will listen to, let alone go to sleep for.” “I always tell you, you don’t need to pay me, Mr. Newman,” I murmured softly, leaning forward in the chair, to place my elbows upon his desk. It was now his turn to ogle as I watched his gaze fall from my face, to my chest, where I knew my breasts were pushed to the point of almost escaping my bra, let alone the thin white tank top I had on. I grinned, and wiggled ever so slightly, wanting a reaction. Unfortunately, this snapped him out of it immediately. Not even close to the reaction I wanted. “I told you, Samantha… That would probably make things look worse. I know some of the kids here say things about you doing this for me.” That was true, but I didn’t care. If those creeps thought I was fucking Mr. Newman, let them think it! I know I liked thinking about it every now and then, why wouldn’t they? Instead, I nodded, and gathered my bag, knowing I was nearly excused. “It’s Sam. And usual time, Mr. Newman?” I asked with a sigh. “Please.” I was surprised as I made my way to the door that he didn’t choose to follow me out. Mr. Newman always had this thing about opening the door once I was about to leave, but today, he stayed put in his chair. Just as I was reaching for the door knob, I stole almanbahis yeni giriş a glance over my shoulder. Concealed beneath Mr. Newman’s tight pants was a definite hard-on. I rushed home faster than usual that night, a grin on my face, with my car barely put into park before I jumped out and ran up to my room, throwing my clothes off as I went. As I closed my bedroom door behind me, the only item I had on was a pair of thin lace panties, which were soon stripped as well as I threw myself down on my bed, my fingers immediately exploring the wetness that had grown between my thighs. I rubbed at my pussy furiously, circling my clit with one finger while I pushed deep inside with another. Within minutes I brought myself to a shuddering orgasm, Mr. Newman’s name on my lips. The rest of the afternoon went by slowly. I cleaned myself up before moving onto my homework like a good girl. I then shoved a quick dinner down my throat, showered, and started getting ready for my drive to my English teacher’s house. By ‘usual time’, we had meant the normal 6:30 at which Mr. Newman’s daughter, Cassie would be fed and happy, and he would be ready to go out and do… whatever it was he did. I never bothered asking, and still don’t know what he had been up to to this day. I dressed in something that was quite usual for me; a pair of short jean cut-offs, and a thin black t-shirt with a sloping v-neck. Some may call it skimpy; I simply say that I’m comfortable with how I look. After dabbing a little perfume along my neck and collarbone, and an attempt to pull a brush through my still damp hair, I was ready to go. “Bye mom! I’m babysitting again tonight,” I called, walking down the stairs. My mother had no clue that this “Mr. Newman,” was my English teacher. In fact, she thought that he was a kind, little man who was married to a sweet, little woman and the two of them were parents to an angelic young girl by the name of Cassandra. She had no clue that in reality, her daughter was looking after a child who quite often acted as though she was possessed, all the while hoping that her sexy teacher would one day throw her in bed and ravish her in the ways she pictured while rubbing her pussy into oblivion nearly every day after getting home from school. “Have a good night, Sam,” she called in response, just as I grabbed my keys from the hook, and skipped out the door. I think I sped that night, on my way to Mr. Newman’s place. I really don’t care, I just wanted to possibly speak with him before he had to run out and do… whatever it was he almanbahis giriş was doing. I pulled in the driveway, parked beside his truck, and made my way to the front door, where that beautiful man was waiting for me. “I never said thank-you for your coming on such short notice, Samantha.” His voice was like silk, and it sent small goose bumps over my arms. “No worries,” I chirped, refusing to correct him yet again. I shot a smile towards the little, blonde, porcelain doll that was peeking around her father’s leg. “Hey, Cassie. Ready to have some fun tonight?” The little girl nodded, and grinned, her blue eyes shining brightly. Damn this kid was evil, but she was fucking cute, alright? She looked almost nothing like her father, aside from those piercing eyes. I bent at the waist, and cupped her cheek; a quick jolt of electricity slid down my spine as I felt eyes fall upon my backside, as I knew the bottom of my ass was definitely visible as of now. “That’s a good girl,” I purred, glancing over my shoulder to catch him in the act. “Bye Daddy!” Cassie exclaimed, grabbing my arm to pull me inside. I followed her happily, knowing “daddy” was the man watching the extra wiggle I added to my walk. I spent that night playing monopoly, and watching Barbie movies whilst Cassie brushed and played with my hair. I truly believed that Cassie was a total brat when she was with the other sitters, but they just didn’t know how to handle a spoiled little girl. Give her what she wants, and she’s putty in your hands. Unless she wants ice cream before bed… There was no talking her out of that temper tantrum. After some calm convincing, a glass of water, and a bedtime story, she was sound asleep under her covers, with her lights off, and her door closed. It was at this time I did what I usually did when Cassie fell asleep: Explore Mr. Newman’s house. I had left off at the kitchen last time, had already done nearly every room… except his bedroom. Now, I know, you would think that his bedroom would be the first spot I would look, but no. I wished to save the best for last. My entire body shivered in anticipation as I walked down the hall, and turned the brass knob I knew would open to reveal where it was Mr. Newman- my handsome English teacher – slept at night. His room was simple, if not totally boring at first glance. Light beige walls, royal blue covers tucked tightly atop a spongy mattress, and a single window with the shutters wide open were the only décor attempts I noticed off the start. I still didn’t know where to begin, so I walked around his room, picking up things at random and brushing my fingers along the walls. I opened his closet, flipped through the hangers, and looked at his clothing. I almost considered picking out his outfit for the next day, but dismissed it as strange.

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