(This went from a story into a short novel! TLDR: we fucked)
Ever since I can remember, the thought of getting intimate with a teacher has always done something to me. It didn’t really matter if he was handsome, it was that feeling of being preyed on by an authority figure that I craved.
I was the type of student who tried to impress my teachers nonchalantly. As in, I put in some effort but wanted to seem like I didn’t. In my final year of high school (a couple years ago), I was blessed to have Mr. Martin as my English teacher. Mr. Martin was known around school to be the tough yet considerate type. He really cared about his students, but was ready to lay down the law if need be. I was immediately attracted to him. His business-casual dress highlighted his toned physique, with a tucked-in shirt that featured a nice man butt. Mr. Martin was caucasian with brown hair and about six feet tall. He towered over my small 5’5″ figure. It wasn’t difficult to focus in class, as Mr. Martin was actually a decent teacher. Of course, whenever I zoned out, I imagined him bending me over his small office desk after school (how cliche).