Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Student/Teacher Ratio--Part 1


Thursday, May 27, 2010

When Jamie Martin called last night, I happened to be wearing my (Rob Roy) tartan skirt--the one with the black petticoat underneath. He's a high school teacher like me, but in this scenario, I was his student. And he asked me to stay after class.

It's an all-girls school. As my classmates filed out, I felt how stuffy the air had become, over the course of the class period. Beads of sweat had formed beneath my blouse. They'd begun to trickle down, slowly, between my tits. I shifted in the seat nearest the teacher.

Mr. Martin pulled his chair out from behind his desk, up close to mine. "I wanted to talk to you, Diane, about the school play." He's in charge of the play this year. We're doing "Winterset." It's quite eery. So naturally I'd like to play a leading role.
"I'm considering you, Diane," Mr. Martin said, leaning toward me, "for the role of Miriamne."

That made me sit up as straight as I could. Which is good if I want to impress him with my posture, but not so great when it comes to sweating. New droplets of sweat that had beaded up on my chest, all at once streaked down my cleavage. It tickled like crazy. So I reached my right hand up and pressed on my blouse, to sop up the moisture.

That's when Mr. Martin said, "Here, allow me." He took a perfectly folded handkerchief from his jacket pocket and daubed at the space where the buttons---three of them---lay open.

It gave me a funny feeling, down there. And I started to think about all those times when I was home in bed, thinking about how cool it would be if Mr. Martin only knew. So I said, "Mr. Martin, I think I ought to tell you that my bra and panties match my skirt."

And that's when he said, "Prove it."

To Be Continued...

Best,

Diane

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