I wonder what it would be like to be able to fuck one of my students and not be labeled a pervert.

            When I began teaching as a young man, my age wasn’t far off from the high school students I taught. At night I would often jack off fantasizing about their tight bodies, perky breasts, and youthful passion. I would rationalize my thoughts by thinking about how close we were in age.

            However, as I grew older, my desire for them did not subside…especially as they seemed to dress more and more provocatively. Every fall the administration and staff tried to quell the tide of inappropriate dress, but there were too many, too often, and we would forgo the battle of the dress code to focus on simply teaching.

            Thus, I would see some of my sophomores sitting at their desks, most of their breasts showing as they leaned over to write. Short skirts hiking up to reveal tanned thighs. Thong panties beneath their hipsters shown when they bent down to pick up a dropped pen or pencil. I didn’t try to avoid these sights…I relished them—trying to avoid being caught with my lustful glances or stares; I sought them out and captured them to use as fodder for masturbatory fantasies while my tired, older wife slept beside me.

            While being filled with these taboo yearnings, throughout the years of teaching, I never touched one of my students…not until I was 38…not until Tami.

            Tami was in my second period, sophomore English class. She was especially striking because she had shoulder-length, coal-black hair and bright, blue eyes. That combination alone was disconcerting, but she also had a wide, full ass that looked incredible when I stood behind her desk. She liked to show her round but medium-sized tits by violating the dress code as often as possible. She was the first student I had where I thought, “I would risk my job to fuck that girl.”