When I was in high school in California, I had a "home room" teacher: a teacher whose classroom I would visit for twenty minutes each day along with twenty five other kids in my class year. There we would read the school bulletin, plan our class schedules, and talk about our dreams for college. Her name was Janet, and she was our home room teacher for all four years.
Janet was also my English teacher during my freshman year. At the time I thought that reading great poets like William Blake and Carl Sandburg would be boring as all get out, but Janet managed to spark my interest with her passion. Indeed, these many years later I still remember her classes with great fondness, although I may be biased.
Janet was about 5'5" tall, maybe 130 lbs. She was in her early 30’s. She was pretty but not gorgeous, confident but not conceited. She had an athletic body with B-cup breasts, and a ready smile.
She also enjoyed playing tennis, as did I. I had taken several years' worth of lessons as a child. We were talking about Wimbledon one day, and agreed that we would play together after school later that week. Thus started a friendship that was respectable in every way for those four years: we saw each other every day at school, and once a month or so we would get together and play tennis. We maintained this ritual all the way up to graduation.
There was a small blip on the radar towards the end of high school. When I went to my senior prom, Janet was one of the teachers who was there as a chaperon. She hadn't seen me yet, and as I walked behind her I squeezed her ass. She turned her head abruptly to see who it was, and I was still glancing out of the corner of my eye with a mischievous grin. I wanted to get caught. She smiled back, most likely thinking it was a prank.
Even though I was at the prom with my girlfriend, I asked Janet to dance with me later that evening. If there was a line between propriety and temptation, then we were flirting with it. We weren't grinding, but there was less than a hand's breadth of separation between us. It was tantalizing: one of those moments frozen in time where the tension was mutual and welcome. The dance finally ended, and I returned to my girlfriend.
Next came graduation, and then I was off to one of the U.S. service academies. When I came home over Christmas break, I donned my uniform and headed over to my high school to strut my stuff. I stopped by Janet's room, and she was floored. I was 5'10" tall, 160 lbs., and my uniform was inspection-ready: pressed with razor creases, shoes polished until they were mirrors. We exchanged pleasantries and compliments, and agreed to play tennis later that week. Janet gave me her address.
A couple of days later, I picked her up at her condo. Every time we played tennis together, we played hard. We were both competitive, even if we weren't the most skilled players on the courts. That day in late December was no exception. I ended up winning both sets narrowly, and we were both soaked in sweat. I drove Janet back to her condo, where she invited me inside for some lemonade. I gladly accepted.
We were in her kitchen, thinking that we might want to go get something to eat. Janet said that she wanted to get cleaned up first, and that she was going to go take a shower. She left me in the kitchen, walked through her living room and into her bedroom, leaving the bedroom door ajar.
Ajar. I noticed. That got my mind spinning.
As an 18 year-old male, I got all wound up thinking about what that might mean. Should I go into her bedroom and see if the bathroom door was also open? Should I join her in the shower? Should I wait for her in her bed? Was it simply an accident, and this was all just in my head? As I mulled these options over, the shower ran and ran. Finally, it stopped. I knocked on the bedroom door. I heard her voice clearly from the bathroom inside; that door had also been left slightly open. Damn!
"Yes?" she replied.
"I was wondering if I could grab a quick shower as well," I asked. If we were going somewhere, then I needed to clean up too, right?
"Sure, come on in."
My heart was beating strongly. I pushed the door open to her bedroom, then walked over to the bathroom door and pushed it open as well. Janet was wrapped in a white terry cloth bathrobe, one of those short ones that come to mid-thigh, and had a towel wrapped around her head.
"Let me get you your own towel." She brushed past me, went through her bedroom and I presume out to a linen closet somewhere, returning with a towel. "Don't take too long," she said. "I need to finish getting ready." She left the bathroom, and I closed the door behind her — but left it a little bit ajar, as she had done.
Time dilated. I washed up quickly, and then stood there for several minutes letting the water run over me, wondering if she was going to come in. My dick started to swell and got tingly from the anticipation and the water hitting it. She never came in. Eventually I turned off the water, dried off, and then secured the towel around my waist. I opened the door all the way, and saw Janet sitting on the edge of her bed in her robe.
"Took you long enough!" she said with that ready smile. I smiled sheepishly back. I couldn't really say that I had been waiting for some company, could I? She walked over to me and peered into the bathroom, leaning into me as she did so. This caused me to take a step back into the bathroom.
"The mirror is all fogged up," she observed. She grabbed a hand towel and started wiping the condensation off of the mirror. This action did a couple of things. First, it made the front of her bathrobe open a bit, allowing me to see some of her cleavage. My mind imagined that I could see the curve of her breast, but definitely not any nipple. The other thing it did was cause her bathrobe to ride up a little, so that I could almost see her ass. The tight little ass that I had grabbed six months ago. My dick was swelling again.
I walked up next to her and asked, "Can I help you with that?" I wasn't standing right next to her, more like behind her right shoulder. I was reaching for the hand towel with my right hand, which meant my left hand was free to rest on her left hip, sliding down nonchalantly so that my fingertips grazed her bare thigh below the bathrobe. I was looking in her eyes through her reflection in the mirror.
"Sure!" she smiled, letting go of the hand towel and turning into me. And here, dear friends, is where Fate decided to intervene.
To this day, I cannot tell you if she pulled at my towel while she was turning, if her leg bumped it somehow, or if it simply came loose of its own accord. What I can say is that it did come loose. My right hand was holding the hand towel up to the mirror, and my left hand was reveling in the light touch of her ass as it turned, so there was no way for me to catch my towel as it fell.
With my hands at least. The towel got hung up on my dick.
"Uh…" she said, trying not to laugh. Failing.
My reaction was different. My face felt like it was 200 degrees. Plus, I didn't think I was going to be able to get either of my hands to the towel before it fell off — I was only at half mast, after all — so I did the next most natural thing: I pulled her closer to me to pin the towel in between us. I was looking directly into her eyes, which were still creased by her smile. Then I kissed her.
Soft. Tentative. Tongues tracing lips, flicking over teeth. Small kisses which started, ended, and immediately started again. Bolder kisses, tongues exploring each other. Inhaling each others' breaths. Somewhere in there I dropped the hand towel.
My dick was getting harder, straining against the weight of the bath towel and her body close to mine. Janet reached down and dropped the towel to the floor, allowing my cock to spring free. Pressed against me with her sex through the bathrobe. I pulled her in harder with my left hand, and reached up to touch her face with my right hand. My fingertips got caught up under the towel she had wrapped around her hair.
She stepped back so that she could reach up with both of her arms to undo it, and I seized the opportunity to undo the belt on her robe. Dropping the towel, she then shrugged out of her robe and we merged together again, skin on skin.
This was amazing. When I was in high school, undressing a girl took some time. Lots of kissing, slowly escalating, hands roaming, eventually removing a single piece of clothing, and repeating until (hopefully) we were both naked. Here I was with this incredibly sexy woman, and we were naked together in what felt like seconds. Janet's areolae were small, but the nipples themselves were like pencil erasers. She had a bikini wax and her bush was trimmed, but it would be considered lush by today's standards; it was more than a landing strip. Now we were grinding against each other. I wanted to feel every inch of her, running my hands down her back, around her ass, coming back up her sides, over her ribs, feeling the sides of her breasts before cupping them completely. Her hands were clasped behind my neck as we kissed some more.
Eventually we broke free. She took me by the hand and led me to her bed. Pushed me so that I sat down on the edge, leaning back and resting on my elbows. She kneeled between my legs, and then let her hands travel up my abs, to my chest, and then back down again. Caressed my dick. Stroked it a couple of times, then leaned over and kissed the tip. Swirled her tongue around the head, and then took more of it into her mouth. It was the best blowjob I had ever received.
I'd like to tell you that I was a champ, that I could keep myself from cumming by sheer will. The reality is that I popped under two minutes. Janet kept sucking the entire time and swallowed it all, setting the bar pretty high for all of my lovers to come. She climbed up on the bed next to me and snuggled in. We kissed some more. No, I don't remember tasting my cum on her breath, but even so I wasn't weirded out by it. I wanted to return the favor. I began kissing her neck, her chest, her breasts. Biting on her nipples. Then sliding off the bed, kneeling between her legs as she had just done for me. I began to lick her pussy, with all the finesse that an 18 year-old can muster.
Which isn't a lot, as it turns out. Oh sure, I had read Penthouse Forum and learned about drawing the alphabet with my tongue. I had shoved my tongue as far as I could inside of my previous girlfriends. But really, I didn't know what worked. Janet guided me, and once again I was her eager student: use your tongue at the top. Alternate between the tip of your tongue and the flat of it. Do circles. More circles. Suck a little bit. Put a finger inside of me. That's it. Before long she let out a gasp, and I felt her pussy clench my finger several times. God, that was hot, and I was as hard as a diamond again.
I stood up, and Janet scooched up on the bed. I laid down on top of her, and slid my cock inside. She moaned appreciatively, her hips rising to meet mine with every thrust, her gasps and cries urging me on. Sex with Janet was mind-bending. My previous girlfriends didn't move their hips like she did, if they moved them at all. And most of the time we had to be quiet so we wouldn't wake anyone up. Here, Janet was in her own home and could let loose. This experience would fixate me on older women, a preference which remains to this day.
Once more dear friends, I'd like to tell you that I was a gold medalist at Olympic Sportfucking and that we went at it for hours, but that wouldn't be the truth. After about five minutes, I was ready to cum again. The only thing holding me back was fear: if I got a woman pregnant, then I would be kicked out of the Academy. I asked Janet if she was on the pill, and she responded that she couldn't get pregnant. "I want you to cum inside of me," she said. I had already started before she finished that sentence, arching my back as if I had just transitioned from plank to cobra (Bhujangasana) in yoga, and letting out a triumphant roar of my own.
We laid in each others' arms for a while afterwards, maybe snoozed for a bit. Then we got cleaned up by taking a shower together. There, I learned about shower sex as Janet faced the shower head and I entered her from behind. She rubbed her clit to orgasm while I fucked her, which was another first for me. A third pop wasn't in the cards, so we finished up, got dressed, and finally went out to eat.
We got together a couple more times over that break, and then again two years later. She wasn't lying about not being able to get pregnant: she never had any children. Whether she was born that way or it was due to a medical procedure I still don’t know. I ended up marrying an older woman I met in college, and we’re still together. Janet eventually retired from teaching and moved away. We still stay in touch via Facebook.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/33nsw9/how_i_slept_with_my_hs_teacher_m18_f35