I never thought this would happen to me, but . . .
My teacher, a widow with a chest enormously too big for her blouse, cascading blonde hair that partially covered her eyes, and pouting lips and demeanor, asked me to stay after class was dismissed, to discuss my writing assignment.
Well, naturally I was intrigued and aroused. She tossed her hair and tossed out some compliments on my writing, as she fingered the top button on her blouse. It was half out — I remember that detail very clearly.
She fiddled with the collar of her blouse — which was also loose — linen on snow-white flesh — crossing and uncrossing her legs, even though this was considerably difficult in a pencil-thin skirt. Her high heels, like her fingernails, were fire-engine red, and in constant motion.
We discussed the assignment, and she sent me home. Reality really bites the big one.
She told me to take off her blouse, which I did.
Then she told me to take off her skirt, which I did.
She then ordered me to take off her shoes, nylons,bra and panties. I quickly complied.
“Is that all?” I breathlessly asked.
“No, there’s one more thing!” she said in a throaty voice. “If you EVER wear my clothes again I’ll have you expelled!”
… Covered in the teacher’s lipstick, I promised to meet her at her house that night. A night I would not forget….
I found out later “she” was a guy wearing falsies…
Dude! You’re harshing my buzz!
… With her gentle, feminine grip, she massaged my thighs, up and down, working ever upwards . . . until her kisses took over from her insatiable fingers.
… Later that night, she called her hotter step-sister to invite her for one glass of wine. Little did I know . . .
When I was in college, girls invited me over to study on two different occasions. One of those times it was two girls.
Imagine my endless disappointment when I discovered that on both of those occasions the real intention of those lovely ladies was to study.
Ah.
Here I was in college. The very busty, hot friend of my girlfriend (long, luxurious hair, tight t-shirt, tight jeans, luxurious eyelashes) — in a secluded, private room — said “We share everything” with her hand on my chest.
Nothing came of it. I still wonder what she meant. Maybe it was a test. I passed.
I hope she rewarded your loyalty.
Yes, in her sweet naivete and innocence, she apparently knew nothing about it, and thus did reward it more than if she had known about the incident. Love is so much stronger than lust.
2023 OPPO…you have to mention its chest hair… or protesters will show up and I am worried that the IMAO stronghold security is not up to snuff