Paul needs inspiration

"Ma'am?" Paul asked, moving over to the corner of the room, but facing the Phys. Ed. teacher.

"Yes, Paul?" Mrs. Jones asked, trying to sound exasperated as she looked over to him, but secretly enjoying the opportunity to eyeball that big bat of a cock once again.

"When I.. uh.. pleasure myself, I usually have something to look at to make it go quickly," the student admitted, embarrassed.

"And.." she said, looking up from her desk, tapping her pencil on the desk repeatedly. She was enjoying torturing the boy so.

"I was wondering if I could look at you."

"You're looking at me now, Paul."

"I mean, uh," Paul looked down, unable to complete another sentence.

Mrs. Jones was beginning to enjoy this. She pushed back her desk chair with a screech on the linoleum tile and got up and walked around to the other side of the desk.

The noise got Paul's attention. He looked back up to see his teacher poised against the front edge of her desk. She leaned back expectantly, even sexily. His mouth watered as he followed her spandex-clad, aerobicized contours.

"You mean in a sexual way, Paul?" Jones asked, knowing full well what he meant.

He meekly nodded back to her.

"That would be highly irregular, Paul. after all, I am your teacher!" she husked to him.