The Lone Ranger
10-27-2008, 07:51 PM
Here’s a little story I dug up from my high school days, hope you all enjoy:
The Day I Learned What “Honors” Really Meant.
It’s been a couple days now, and I still can’t believe it happened, here I am in my advanced honors graphics class, slipping in and out of consciousness as the day winds down when Ms. Faye slips me a note to stay after school with her. Of course I was disgusted, figuring she was summoning me for a detention. I didn’t do anything wrong! This was so unfair.
I left the class in a boiling rage, even the sight of my worst enemy in the school getting decked in the face did nothing to improve my mood. I spent most of the next hour wondering if I should just tear the detention slip to shreds and ditch it into the nearest trashbin, but I decided against it, I liked Ms. Faye, even if she had gotten into the habit of slipping me unexplained punishments. I sighed and resigned myself to my fate, grumbling through the rest of the day and in generally a horrible mood.
When the end of the day came I slammed into her room and tossed my bookbag onto the floor, taking my place at one of the tables and staring at the whiteboard with a look that would have set a lesser wall ablaze.
The teacher entered the room after a few agonizing minutes and summoned me into a back room, a studio who’s existence had eluded me until just then, a time stretching over seven years in the same school. I rolled my eyes and followed her, stopping suddenly when she slapped a set of graphites into my hands, followed shortly by a used and abused sketchbook.
“I noticed you’re having some trouble sketching the human form,” Ms. Faye said to me, her voice had a tone in it that I couldn’t quite identify, but it was pleasant, putting me at ease. I looked down at the sketchbook and pulled out a pencil to begin drawing, my favorite, a 4H. When I looked up though, I nearly fell to the ground, my teacher stood in front of me, completely naked. Her back was turned to me as she adjusted a stack of pillows, arranging them to make her more comfortable.\
It was then that I finally looked in the sketchbook, they were all pictures of my teacher in various poses! The first few were of her fully clothed, but it soon became apparent to me that she had grown more adventurous as time went on. Here was one of here in just a black lacy bra and what looked to be a g-string, there she was again, in that same g-string, but this time with only an arm draped over her breasts. The last picture before the blank pages began was of Ms. Faye bent slightly over, drawn from behind as she spread her ass apart for the lucky artist.
I was brought back to reality when I heard a sharp gasp, I looked up from the collection of erotic sketches to see my teacher leaning back on a collection of cushions, one hand spreading her labia and gently stroking her clit while the other massaged a smallish but still very sexy breast. Ms. Faye looked up at me and scowled, snapping, “Are you going to draw me or just stare until I burst into flame Dave?” I nodded slowly and opened the book to a fresh page, pulled a chair over and sat down, beginning to draw my art teacher while she pleasured herself.
On a normal day Ms. Faye is somewhat plain to look at, she has very pale, almost white skin, and shoulder length red hair that looked just unnatural enough to convince me that she had it professionally colored. Her breasts were small, they couldn’t have been more than a moderate B cup, but they were perky and firm, with light pink areolas surrounding hard but petite nipples. A dark mole on her left breast simultaneously marred what might have been perfection, and made her that much more enticing. I sketched all of this with a feverish hand, and, if I may say so myself, did quite a good job.
Now came the part I was afraid of, I needed to draw her lower body, I sketched her stomach, slim, with just that right amount of form and substance to make my cock go absolutely rigid. Her thighs, milky white and taut as she let out a moan and rocked backward on her cushions. Her perfect calves and, I nearly came when I saw them, her perfect feet. I have a foot fetish, I’m not afraid to admit it, and these pure white soles beckoned to me. I spent some time lovingly drawing those, savoring every moment I was allowed to stare at them.
I had saved her bald pussy for last, and with good reason, her fingers pumped in and out of her slit so fast that it made it hard for me to capture a good image for my pencil to transfer onto the paper. I’m proud to say that what I was left with made my shaft want to tear its way out of my pants. I put the pencil down and looked over at Ms. Faye, she had three fingers buried in her cunt and she was completely oblivious of me.
Making my move, I stood and was out of my pants in a matter of seconds, stepping over to my teacher and kneeling just in front of her. I bent down and took hold of her left foot, casing her to jump and look down at me in surprise, as though she had forgotten I was here. After an awkward second she moved her foot over between my legs and began rubbing her toes over the head of my cock, spreading my precum over her toes and smiling, knowing it was killing me to not feel those feet stroking my shaft.
Finally, after what seemed like hours of torture, she brought her other foot over, and cupped my shaft between her soles, stroking me slowly at first, then faster and faster. I began to moan, and she bit her lower lip while watching me, stroking her clit slowly, her eyes never leaving my face. When it seemed like I was about to cum, the pleasure suddenly stopped, Ms. Faye grabbed me by the front of the shirt and pulled me to my feet and grabbed my shaft, getting up on her toes as, still standing, she slipped my manhood inside her.
This new experience made me completely forget the hurt I felt when she denied me my orgasm. I began to bounce my teacher up and down on my shaft, closing my eyes and moaning as her vagina milked me for all she was worth. Already close to cumming from the footjob I had received earlier, it didn’t take long for me to shoot my load into her waiting cunt. Feeling my seed enter her must have triggered Ms. Faye’s own orgasm because she began to shake and I felt her cum soak my cock, we both collapsed onto the pile of cusions, breathing hard.
After taking a moment to catch her breath, Ms. Faye stood and walked over to where I had sat earlier, picking up the sketch of her that I had so lovingly worked over. A faint hint of a leer graced her eyes as she said, “You’re getting better, but you need to come in next week, and we’ll work on it a little more.”
The Day I Learned What “Honors” Really Meant.
It’s been a couple days now, and I still can’t believe it happened, here I am in my advanced honors graphics class, slipping in and out of consciousness as the day winds down when Ms. Faye slips me a note to stay after school with her. Of course I was disgusted, figuring she was summoning me for a detention. I didn’t do anything wrong! This was so unfair.
I left the class in a boiling rage, even the sight of my worst enemy in the school getting decked in the face did nothing to improve my mood. I spent most of the next hour wondering if I should just tear the detention slip to shreds and ditch it into the nearest trashbin, but I decided against it, I liked Ms. Faye, even if she had gotten into the habit of slipping me unexplained punishments. I sighed and resigned myself to my fate, grumbling through the rest of the day and in generally a horrible mood.
When the end of the day came I slammed into her room and tossed my bookbag onto the floor, taking my place at one of the tables and staring at the whiteboard with a look that would have set a lesser wall ablaze.
The teacher entered the room after a few agonizing minutes and summoned me into a back room, a studio who’s existence had eluded me until just then, a time stretching over seven years in the same school. I rolled my eyes and followed her, stopping suddenly when she slapped a set of graphites into my hands, followed shortly by a used and abused sketchbook.
“I noticed you’re having some trouble sketching the human form,” Ms. Faye said to me, her voice had a tone in it that I couldn’t quite identify, but it was pleasant, putting me at ease. I looked down at the sketchbook and pulled out a pencil to begin drawing, my favorite, a 4H. When I looked up though, I nearly fell to the ground, my teacher stood in front of me, completely naked. Her back was turned to me as she adjusted a stack of pillows, arranging them to make her more comfortable.\
It was then that I finally looked in the sketchbook, they were all pictures of my teacher in various poses! The first few were of her fully clothed, but it soon became apparent to me that she had grown more adventurous as time went on. Here was one of here in just a black lacy bra and what looked to be a g-string, there she was again, in that same g-string, but this time with only an arm draped over her breasts. The last picture before the blank pages began was of Ms. Faye bent slightly over, drawn from behind as she spread her ass apart for the lucky artist.
I was brought back to reality when I heard a sharp gasp, I looked up from the collection of erotic sketches to see my teacher leaning back on a collection of cushions, one hand spreading her labia and gently stroking her clit while the other massaged a smallish but still very sexy breast. Ms. Faye looked up at me and scowled, snapping, “Are you going to draw me or just stare until I burst into flame Dave?” I nodded slowly and opened the book to a fresh page, pulled a chair over and sat down, beginning to draw my art teacher while she pleasured herself.
On a normal day Ms. Faye is somewhat plain to look at, she has very pale, almost white skin, and shoulder length red hair that looked just unnatural enough to convince me that she had it professionally colored. Her breasts were small, they couldn’t have been more than a moderate B cup, but they were perky and firm, with light pink areolas surrounding hard but petite nipples. A dark mole on her left breast simultaneously marred what might have been perfection, and made her that much more enticing. I sketched all of this with a feverish hand, and, if I may say so myself, did quite a good job.
Now came the part I was afraid of, I needed to draw her lower body, I sketched her stomach, slim, with just that right amount of form and substance to make my cock go absolutely rigid. Her thighs, milky white and taut as she let out a moan and rocked backward on her cushions. Her perfect calves and, I nearly came when I saw them, her perfect feet. I have a foot fetish, I’m not afraid to admit it, and these pure white soles beckoned to me. I spent some time lovingly drawing those, savoring every moment I was allowed to stare at them.
I had saved her bald pussy for last, and with good reason, her fingers pumped in and out of her slit so fast that it made it hard for me to capture a good image for my pencil to transfer onto the paper. I’m proud to say that what I was left with made my shaft want to tear its way out of my pants. I put the pencil down and looked over at Ms. Faye, she had three fingers buried in her cunt and she was completely oblivious of me.
Making my move, I stood and was out of my pants in a matter of seconds, stepping over to my teacher and kneeling just in front of her. I bent down and took hold of her left foot, casing her to jump and look down at me in surprise, as though she had forgotten I was here. After an awkward second she moved her foot over between my legs and began rubbing her toes over the head of my cock, spreading my precum over her toes and smiling, knowing it was killing me to not feel those feet stroking my shaft.
Finally, after what seemed like hours of torture, she brought her other foot over, and cupped my shaft between her soles, stroking me slowly at first, then faster and faster. I began to moan, and she bit her lower lip while watching me, stroking her clit slowly, her eyes never leaving my face. When it seemed like I was about to cum, the pleasure suddenly stopped, Ms. Faye grabbed me by the front of the shirt and pulled me to my feet and grabbed my shaft, getting up on her toes as, still standing, she slipped my manhood inside her.
This new experience made me completely forget the hurt I felt when she denied me my orgasm. I began to bounce my teacher up and down on my shaft, closing my eyes and moaning as her vagina milked me for all she was worth. Already close to cumming from the footjob I had received earlier, it didn’t take long for me to shoot my load into her waiting cunt. Feeling my seed enter her must have triggered Ms. Faye’s own orgasm because she began to shake and I felt her cum soak my cock, we both collapsed onto the pile of cusions, breathing hard.
After taking a moment to catch her breath, Ms. Faye stood and walked over to where I had sat earlier, picking up the sketch of her that I had so lovingly worked over. A faint hint of a leer graced her eyes as she said, “You’re getting better, but you need to come in next week, and we’ll work on it a little more.”