Mrs. K. was my favorite teacher in this last year in College. She was a cute brunette in her forties with curves to die for and a smile that could brighten your whole day. That was when she was smiling to me, because I wasn’t the brightest lightbulb on the chandelier. My interest was more directed towards her body than her teachings. She was a regular fantasy material of mine.
Her class was the last of the day, pushing late into 7 p.m. to compensate for a missed day. She was as gorgeous as ever, wearing heels over black stockings, a tight skirt just short enough and a blouse turned nearly transluscent by the bright neon lights. At some point, she came next to me to answer a question and by lowering herself offered me a dizzying sight into her cleavage. Her perfume was sweetly tingling my nose and I couldn’t take my eyes off the curve of her breasts, peeking at the lace of her bra.
– Are you listening?