| The Real Thing Note: This story is fantasy, for the entertainment of mature adults only. No real people were involved in the making of this fiction, except the author and that's debatable. --- She never liked masturbating at home. Not on her own. It wasn't that she couldn't cum (and living on her own there was no one to object to her lying in bed and jilling furiously or looking at porn on the 'net and raking her slit with her long fingers as she gazed at the screen) but nothing could compare to what she called the 'real thing.' But at school... Ah yes. That was entirely different. That was the 'real thing' as far as the woman was concerned. Brenda Forest, 37 years old, long coppery-chestnut hair and a round face with large, grey-green eyes, would simply enjoy the gut-wrenching, belly-burning, cunt-sopping moment when it came the moment when she came because she was so patient. She had to be careful, of course. No self respecting teacher would be caught doing what she did, but the need to cum while she secretly observed a small girl from her class was just heavenly. Brenda would choose the child carefully she had her favourites and her 'regulars' as she called them from the fourteen eight year-olds in her care but her choice was almost random. As indeed was the day she would climax. If there was one thing she believed would protect her it was the randomness of her choices and the varied day she would cum while secretly staring at the child. Sometimes it was as much as two weeks between climaxes. Occasionally it was twice in three days. But when she fought down the urge to cum as she looked and made herself wait, she would almost be weeping with frustration. But she had to do it this way. Brenda had to be irregular with her regulars, as she told herself. It was hard waiting, but the cum would be so much more delicious having made herself wait. Denying that pure, wonderful moment when her whole being was both drained and infused with a dreamy, fiery and glorious climax. She would wait, quietly desperate, until she could take no more waiting and welcome the moment when she would finally allow herself to get the little girl of her choice into the stock room at the back of the classroom. Brenda had congratulated herself on her careful planning. The stock room she inherited as part of her classroom was odd. It had two rooms separated by an internal door as well as the door to the classroom itself. It was to the small outer stock room that the teacher would bring one child and make the pupil stand with their back to the door. The light was good in that small room, not least because of the small high up window that guaranteed privacy. "Wait there," Brenda would tell the little girl she had chosen (so as not to arouse suspicion, she sometimes chose one of the boys to "help her in the stock room", but there was no masturbation for her there) "Wait while I get the things from the small stock room. I will only be a minute so please wait here and stay quiet, Kelly or Olivia or Leanne or Sarah or... ah yes, Sophia." Sophia, the favourite of the favourites. A stunningly lovely little blonde, cherub faced with appealing blue eyes and a flashing smile. And the sweetest little dresses she wore, so short that frequently she flashed her knickers so innocently that Brenda had all to do to stop herself wanting to cum then and there in front of everyone. Now it was Sophie in the outer room, standing so coyly and so patiently with hands behind her while Mrs Forest disappeared to get the things she said she needed a helping hand with. And so often, looking at Sophie Wilde and not having cum for a week made Brenda's whole body tingle with anticipation. In the inner room, Brenda left the light off; so much better to see the waiting girl through the crack at the side of the door. Swiftly the teacher pushed a handkerchief between her own teeth to suppress her moans, dropped to a squat and pressed her eye to the crack so she could see the child. Sophie, as always, stood patiently and waited. In full, clear view. Brenda had her skirt up round her waist in an instant and her hand inside her pants. That was how she most liked to cum, feeling the pressure of the thin cotton and lace on the back of her hand; just a little struggle to reach into her damp-already underwear. In there her fingers would spread her shaved pussy lips wide, opening the way to her engorged clit. But that hand was the 'spreader' as she called it. The real work was done with the 'teaser.' That was her other hand, which would trace rapid but exquisite little circles and loops on the thin, taut crotch of her pants, caressing her cunt lips and teasing the hard focus of her sex through the delicate, soft and increasingly wet fabric of her panties. Most days the teacher would, often having been self-denied for so long, cum in a minute. She wished it was longer, more drawn out. But she knew the child would wait for that time, not moving. Brenda thus had the perfect, secret view and with a stifled gasp she would climax and squatting there, biting on the handkerchief, would feel the climax sweep over her. Racing and pulsing through her, burning and flowing and making her almost weep with joy. And she never took her eye off the child as she came. Today Sophie looked even more divine. A short yellow dress with pink flowers and pretty white lace hem and collar. And underneath, Brenda had seen already there was a pair of powder blue knickers with small white hearts on them. It was almost as if Mrs Wilde knew what the teacher was like and dressed her little one for school just to please Ms Forest. Make the teacher cum harder. The climax was already boiling up among the fires in Brenda's belly and she was shaking as she diddled and teased and made those sweet, perfect little loops of pleasure on her really wet crotch. God, she could even smell herself: this would be one hell of a climax. And then... then the door to the classroom opened and in came Sarah Adah. A girl of African origin with smooth dark-coloured skin which always seemed to glow with health, a girl whose short black hair suited her big brown eyes and full lips. A girl who almost always wore tight white tops and bright little skirts. Brenda gave a small gasp: she had told all the children to get on with drawing their pictures and be quiet and she would be right back. What was Sarah doing out of her desk? For a second Brenda started to extract her hand, angry that her long-awaited pleasure was being denied by this silly girl. Yet this girl had never done that before... and when she was there in Sophie's place, standing and waiting while the teacher came behind the door, she had been as good as gold. "Where's Miss?" Asked Sarah in a whisper. "In there," said Sophie quietly , nodding towards the small, dark room with the slightly open door. They weren't allowed to go in there they knew, so they all waited for the woman to emerge with her flushed face. "Quick, then," breathed Sarah, and leant in to give the other girl a little kiss on the lips. Just a small peck, but it was redolent with desire. Even for an eight year old, it was a kiss full of sexual promise. Brenda gaped at the scene, at the kiss. The handkerchief fell silently from her mouth, her spreader hand poised half in and out of her panties, her teaser poised on the hot nubbin of her clit. She squatted and watched the kiss, and then saw Sarah's hand move up and her small fingers brush the small, almost invisible nipple bump on the other girl's chest. And the blonde returned the kiss, her small pink tongue flicking out seductively as she did so. Brenda recoiled in shock. Squatting as she was, the sight was too much for her to hold her balance. She had seen two eight year-old's kissing, wanting each other, and she toppled backwards in surprise. Worse, the woman couldn't get her hand out of her panties in time, couldn't get her skirt down. Couldn't regain her poise and dignity. The inner door opened and light flooded in. The two children stood and stared at her, seeing their teacher with legs apart and skirt up and her hand in wet pants with that astonished, flushed look on her face. "Oh," said Sophie and Sarah as one, and they giggled. But they held hands and smiled and didn't scream. --- "I am," said Mrs Dobbs quietly, "very surprised at you." The headmistress of Garden Road School was looking out of the window at the children streaming home at the end of the school day, going to meet family and friends at the gate. Behind her, Brenda sat nervously on the edge of her chair in front of the headmistress's desk. "I didn't mean" the teacher began, but stopped. There really was no excuse, the woman knew. "Whatever you meant you put the school and those children at risk," said the woman at the window, gravely. "Not to mention yourself." The woman ten years older than Brenda and well-built with greying hair and large round spectacles gave a long sigh. "But it was an accident," protested Brenda. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt them." "Perhaps not," said Mrs Dobbs briskly. "But it wouldn't look that way to anyone else. When Sarah and Sophie came to tell me about... well, you understand I have no choice." Brenda felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. A heavy stone plummeting down and taking her career her future prospects, her life with it. Yes, the headmistress indeed had no choice. This had to be bad news. "I will go quietly, of course," said Brenda. She wanted to cry but there was no point. It had, she understood, always been a risk doing what she did. The rewards were spectacular, but the dangers always would have that finality that could allow no escape route. "Go where?" The headmistress had turned away from the window. "Leave Garden Road," said Brenda, feeling even more miserable. The older woman was clearly out to extract every bit of humiliation from the soon-to-be former teacher, make her suffer more. "If I resign on health grounds the school and you and the children needn't suffer." Brenda paused and fought down a fresh wave of despair. "No one need know... you can say I fell ill. I won't work again as a teacher, of course and" "Leave?" Julia Dobbs stared at the seated female. "Who said anything about leaving?" For a second, Brenda thought: Oh God, this has to go all the way. I won't be allowed to slip quietly away. But she suddenly understood the older woman was looking at her and was smiling. "There's no need," said the woman with grey hair, "for you to leave when you are wanted here. We need good teachers." Brenda stared in confusion at Mrs Dobbs. Surely she wasn't thinking of keeping her at the school, was she? How could the head justify that? The girl's parents would demand the greatest penalty, the most exacting public shame... The older woman came and perched on the edge of her desk, her tight skirt sliding a little up her solid legs, her whole body language more of comfort and understanding. "No one wants you to leave, Brenda." "B-but you said I had damaged the school, those girls... my career." Julia Dobbs laughed gently. "Not quite that bad. Fortunately you got two of the girls we can rely on." "What do you mean?" Brenda's voice was barely above a whisper and she didn't even begin to dare to contemplate that she wasn't in trouble at all. "You said no choice." "You gave me no choice but to admit you into our very special school." The headmistress eased off the desk, tugged her skirt down and moved to the door. She opened it and said to the two small girls outside: "Come in you two." Sophie and Sarah ran into the office and threw their arms round Brenda. They were bright-eyed and smiling and wanting to kiss their teacher. It was Sophie first and then Sarah and their little tongues were more than eager to get in Brenda's open mouth, though perhaps to stop her saying too much about the little hands already worming their way into the woman's blouse and bra. "Our very special school," said Julia as she watched two small girls eagerly kissing and groping the seated woman, "for teaching little girls to be lesbians." --- Brenda didn't have to crouch behind the door to cum now. It was a simple matter of getting one of the several girls who were being taught to be lesbians and more importantly educated how to please a woman to go with her into the stock room and kiss them and have the child finger the teacher. "That's it," Brenda would say as Sophie or Sarah or even little Jasmine shy, quiet little Jasmine who loved to lick pussies would handle her and kiss her and play with her. Or sometimes two or all three of them, or perhaps Danielle from the year above or the twins Tracy and Stacy from the year below or even Collette who was almost eleven and loved fingering bottoms for some mysterious reason... but a desire that Brenda never wanted to deny the girl. "Do that again, but slower," the teacher would sigh. Or do it faster or more carefully or more gently; whatever the lesson she wanted to teach the little girls. And repetition was important, so they fully understood how to do it properly. "Can we watch you cum, please?" Asked Sophie one day, when she and the new Indian girl, Meera, were in the stock room with skirts already removed. "We can kiss and play with each other's pussies if you like while you finger yourself," said the blonde, happy girl. "Of course," said Brenda. "But it isn't really fingering is it? More spreading and slow, gentle teasing." "Oh yes," said Meera, remembering her homework. "It's doing the real thing, isn't it, Miss Forest?" "Correct. Good girl," smiled Brenda as she squatted and watched the eight year old white girl and the nine year old asian girl begin kissing with hands working smoothly and expertly inside each other's knickers. The real thing indeed, and it would take the teacher a good ten minutes to cum today as she watched and directed and taught her eager girl pupils the best way she knew how. |