Sure is looking that way ...

It is noteworthy that as Paul left the class, there were none of the usual snickers that came with getting called to see the Principal. That was because this particular Principle, one Mrs. Hunter, was the walking breathing stuff of MILF fantasies, and there was not a male in the school who did not feverishly fantasize about a chance of being alone with her. So when Paul left, his classmates felt some curiosity, as well as envy.

Paul arrived at the main office and found Mrs. Hunter waiting there. Rumor had it that she had once briefly been a model, and with her striking face that was easy to imagine. She was tall, athletic but lean, with long silky legs occasionally flashing through the twin slits in her long skirt. Her ensemble was prim can conservatively cut, all crisp straight lines, yet her boldly curvaceous body quietly rebelled. There was simply no hing her flared hips, her wasp waist, and in particular her out thrust balcony of bosom which **** her to keep her jacket flapping freely and unbuttoned, as it could not possibly fit over her blatantly big bust.

"Ah, there you are, Paul." Her voice was low, dark, soft. "Let's talk in my office."

Paul was impressed by Mrs. Hunter's private office, which looked neat and cozy with a nice large couch, although it did seem a bit dark. He felt a bit curious when he noticed Mrs. Hunter shutting and locking the door behind them.

"I don't want us to be disturbed," she explained. "Please, sit." She indicated the couch, then sat directly beside Paul and placed a reassuring arm around Paul's shoulders. "Paul, we need to talk. I just saw Mrs. Jones. I've been wondering what grade she's going to give you, and she told me you'll pass."

"I will pass, won't I, Mrs. Hunter?"

"That all depends. It so happens that I regularly check out the phys ed classes."

Paul gulped and nodded. That was certainly true, there was barely any class he attended that Mrs. Hunter didn't "just happen to stop by." Rumor had it that over the years she would pick out the prize jock stud of the school and have a discreet fling with him; nothing was ever proven, but it certainly enhanced Mrs. Hunter's sexual mystique, and it was one explanation for her constantly hanging out with the male athletes.

"Paul ... I've noticed you. You've always been a bench-warmer. So I had to ask Mrs. Jones about that, and she said you had ... special needs. I needed something for her to base her claim on ... so she showed me this."

Paul recognized the Polaroid. "She said she would save that for school business!"

"But this is school business, Paul. We're trying to determine what grade you deserve, so that you can graduate. The problem is ... " Mrs. Hunter gazed at the photo, then shook her head and set it on a table. "I see it, but I can't believe it. I'm worried that Mrs. Jones may be impressionable, and that you're faking her out."

"But I'm not."

"Paul, I'm sorry, but ... " Mrs. Hunter took a deep breath and licked her lips, brushing back her long lustrous hair. "I really need to see your penis for myself."

"Now?"

"Yes, Paul. Now." Her hand slid over his thigh. "Right now."