It was the day that started it all

The bell rang as the class shuffled in their seats, while a few stragglers, quickly - and one not so quickly - found their chairs. Hushed laughter and conversations slowly died down as I looked up and saw her.

Oh God damn.

I usually skipped meet the teacher night, but I regretted not meeting this one. She wasn’t stunning, or anything like that, but Jesus Christ, was she fucking cute.

Blonde, petite, and fucking firm in all the right places.

Her face beamed as she greeted us, her muffled voice in my ears as the blood flowed to other parts of my body while she laid out plans for what surely would be a great year.

Oh…I’m sure it will be.

“Hi guys!” She positively beamed. “As some of you know, my name is Miss Laura. I’m so looking forward to getting to know you all. We’re gonna have a super fun year.”

Yes she will get to know me, and yes we will have a super fun year. I smirked as a pleasant warmth spread to my crotch, and I watched her like a cat would watch a mouse he’s about to pounce on.

If I had to guess, I’d say 22 years old, fresh out of college. I guarantee this is her first teaching gig. A bunch of seniors, too. Poor girl. She never stood a chance.

Her voice was chipper, but I heard unease buried within it. She was nervous. She put on a good face of confidence and whatever authority a teacher can have in a roomful of punk kids who don’t give a shit, but I saw right through it…and it turned me on.

She scanned the faces of the class, mine included, no doubt encouraged by the rapt attention I was paying her and her no doubt well-rehearsed introduction speech.

She was adorable.

My hungry eyes took her in as she stiffly walked around the room, movements also probably rehearsed so as to give off an air of command of both the room and the class, of which she had neither.

The tan sport coat she wore over her white shirt came down a couple of inches past the waistband of a long black skirt. Slender ankles made me imagine what her legs looked like under that skirt, my eyes drifting up to her small, firm ass. I smirked again, wondering what color her panties were. If she had a tattoo. The necklace she wore ended in a cross that overlapped the collar of her shirt and the pale skin of her chest, centered over the cleavage of her small breasts. A cross. Great. Probably no tattoo.

It was time for roll call, and when she got to my name, I couldn’t help myself. Had to start the year off right, you know?

“Dylan Thompson?” her voice asked.

“It’s ‘Daddy’,” I replied. A few of my friends chuckled quietly. A few of the girls lightly gasped at my rude remark.

“I’m sorry?” She asked, looking up at me from her desk, a hesitant, nervous smile on her lips. As if she didn’t hear me correctly.

“You can call me ‘Daddy’,” I responded loudly and confidently, smiling as I looked her in the eyes. Most of the class was laughing now. The smile faded from her now pink face as she quickly looked down and subtly shook her head.

“Cute,” she uncomfortably muttered, her shoulders rising and falling as she shrugged off my rudeness. “I can call you ‘in danger of having me call your Mom’ if you’d like,” she said in an unconvincing confident tone.

“Good one,” I said flatly, staring at her with a slight smirk. Her face went pink again as she looked back down, unable to hold my gaze. A couple of chuckles came from random students, embarrassing her once more.

I smirked again, and when she finally looked up, she looked a bit shaken. She made momentary eye contact with me and looked away. Her whole demeanor changed. Like I’d ruined the first day of a career she’d probably been dreaming about since she was a kid. She had probably been looking forward to today for quite some time.

What can I say?

I already told you I was an asshole.

All that schooling, college, only to have to deal with some smart ass 18 year old kid on her first day. If I felt bad, it didn’t last. I’d said worse things to other teachers. Granted, not as cute as her, but still. Students and teachers were natural enemies, right? Everybody knew that. I had to set the tone for the year, and I had.

Man, she was cute.

She finished up roll call and started class, asking us to take our iPads out and blah blah blah. I pretended to take notes while I undressed her with my eyes. Only a couple of times did she glance in my direction, and both times she tried to make it seem as if it was casual. It was obvious to me I made her nervous.

Good.

I smiled at her each time her eyes fell on me.

I watched her with interest as she made her way around the classroom, stopping occasionally to help someone who either had a question or didn’t know how to navigate around the app on their ipad.

She strolled by the table 2 of us were sitting at, and a sudden urge struck me. The urge that started it all. It was bold, even for me. I played around a lot and talked a good game, but never really escalated things to the degree I was about to. Then, it happened. So quickly and so subtly, that anyone looking would think they simply imagined my right hand grazing Miss Laura’s ass, hugged by that snug, black skirt.

Nice and firm.

Her shocked reaction was immediate as she gasped, then she quickly covered it up by clearing her throat and spinning around. I kept my head down and pretended to be tapping along with the rest of the class, not even looking up at her. I could feel her eyes on me, yet I completely ignored her. She looked around her, as if there was a doubt suddenly that it wasn’t my hand that delicately cupped her.

She finally composed herself enough to step away and continue toward her desk, but the smell of her perfume made me want her close again.

“Miss Laura?” I asked as I raised my hand. She looked at me without raising her head, all that warmth and spunk at the start of class was like a distant memory now. I played dumb, although she knew it was my hand that was on her a few moments ago.

“Yes, Dylan,” she answered, the brightness having faded a bit from her voice. Her nerves were getting the better of her, sapping her confidence. Perfect. Just how I like them.

“Can you come help me out?” I responded. She exhaled, then took a moment to stand up. She fixed her skirt before she walked over, sliding sideways past a few of the tables of kids busy with their iPads. Her face was still pink with the thought of my hand on her ass.

“Sure,” she said, adopting a cheery voice once again. She stopped next to me and looked down at me, her face hopeful that she could help a student and prove she was meant to be a teacher. “What’s up?” She asked.

“I have a question I need help with,” I said as I pointed down at my ipad. She let out a breath and leaned down slightly to read the ipad screen, and the question I typed on it.

Spit or swallow?

“Ohhhkay.” The fed-up tone in her voice somehow made her even cuter. She let out a scoff and quickly looked at me, shaking her head in disgust and disappointment. I almost put my hand on her ass again, just for good measure.

“See me after class,” she could barely contain her disgust as she walked back to her desk.

I quickly deleted what I’d typed, and looked around, feigning confusion to the questioning looks I was getting from those around me.

I looked down blankly at my ipad screen and held in a smirk. I heard her exhale loudly. I’d clearly gotten under her skin. Charmed her, you could say. Well, she’d find out how charming I could be, as a weird plan formed in my mind. Mind you, I didnt expect my senior year to play out the way it was about to. This girl wasn’t even on my radar. Something about her was special, though. I couldn’t explain it very well if you asked me to. But I felt invigorated. Emboldened. I exhaled through my nose, amused, and felt that pleasant warmth make its way back to my crotch.

She was right about this year being fun, though.

For me, definitely.

For her? Not so much.