Literotica. (Teacher/Student) (Mature Content - 18+)

By Ahabscribe© on Literotica. As I sit on the edge of the bed, stark naked, staring at the full length mirror before me, I know that many would see me as simply a child-like waif, a fey nymph of legend without the requisite womanly attributes necessary to accomplish my goal. I am eighteen, but look much younger, some, I am sure, would say that I look obscenely young -- far too innocent and wide-eyed to be considering the lewd thoughts that run constantly in my mind. Long brown hair hangs down almost to my hips, parting in the middle to frame a face that looks virginal and innocent with a pert nose, perfectly sized lips and gloriously big, blue eyes. My naked body does nothing to betray my age -- flawless porcelain skin on a slender, five foot frame, breasts like budding apples and coltish legs between which lies a hairless mound...my slick, glistening, aroused pink flesh the only note betraying me as an adult rather than a child. I run my hands slowly down the top of my thighs until I can grip my kneecaps and spread my legs wide, making my small, but thick labia spread to reveal that I am so wet. As I admire my nakedness in the mirror, I can feel my small n*****s harden into rocky pebbles and I shiver a bit as the need to caress them, to pinch myself is almost overwhelming. I stare at myself for what seems an eternity, measuring the sexuality of my body with its child-like dimensions, knowing, feeling the burning restless within me, pulsating in my tight, hairless cunt and throbbing in my blood gorged n*****s and yearning for that perfect moment...that perfect union with the mate of my dreams. I imagine myself in his arms, enveloped in his strength and his passion, confident in his ability to master me and teach me everything I do not yet comprehend in the art of love. Slowly, my fingers begin to trace a path backwards from my knees -- now tickling the velvety soft flesh of my inner thighs until the very tips of my fingertips brush across my nether lips, drawing the softest of moans from me as pleasure threatens to rise up and consume me like a fire gone wild. I gasp for air and stare at my image at my reflection, my great, pale blue eyes becoming hooded and my mouth gaping open as the need to orgasm makes my face go slack. I draw my legs up until I am squatting on the edge of my bed like a lewd fairy on a mushroom, my knees on either side of my face as my torso leans into my legs, affording my hands better access to the simmering wet flesh between my thighs. I wonder if he would find this attractive, erotic -- this image of a fairy tale Lolita, his very own woman child, putting herself on display...offering herself freely and obscenely to him. I think to myself that such a display would provoke an erection and I feel myself getting wetter imagining his c**k growing harder...longer....thicker because of me. I watch myself bite my lower lip, conscious that among the many things that make me pretty is the slight overbite I possess. I gasp as I slowly slip two fingers...my long and delicate fingers, inside me, curling them upwards to where my sweetest spot resides and I keen with carnal delight as fingertips gently brush the spots that seem to turn my insides into liquid ecstasy even as I brush my thumb over my swollen c******s which has emerged like a flower bud from it's bulb, throbbing with its own pulsating pleasure. I glance at my scandalous reflection through strands of hair hanging in front of my eyes. With one hand, I finger myself, the two fingers inside my wet p***y picking up speed even as they appear more covered in my own creams with each in and out motion of my arm. My other hand is busy, one second rubbing my palm over a hard n****e, trying to soothe the intense itch of desire and then the next second pinching the engorged nub tightly between forefinger and thumb as if to both extinguish and inflame the exploding sensations in front of me. I can feel and see my orgasm approaching and I call to him again and again, using his formal name -- not daring to speak so casual to him, knowing that it is our unique relationship that creates the maddening taboo that makes my desires for him all the more sinfully sweet. I can envision him standing before me -- naked and hard for me. I can envision him inside me, thick and long, making me..."OH GOD, I'M CUMMINGGGG!" I sob aloud, feeling the room spin around me as my world becomes centered around the eruption of pleasure radiating outward from my p***y to flood every cell of my body with s****l ecstasy. I fall back on the bed, my hair fanning out all around me as I keep my knees spread wide and both my hands are rubbing furiously over my p***y, fingers vying with each other to spear between my labia and keep my lovely orgasm from fading. When finally, my hands fall away, trailing my juices across my belly and thighs with the smell of my aroused s*x hanging thick in my nostrils, I gasp for air until finally I can breath normally again and the sweat on my aroused skin begins to cool. I gaze up at the ceiling, wishing I had a mirror up there to allow me to witness the condition that imagining him making love to me produces. Finally, I struggle to sit up, again looking at my now disheveled appearance, feeling somewhat pleased and aroused at the wanton look of my body now cooling down from orgasm. I know he would find it pleasing...that even after being f****d by him -- that in the afterglow of my...our orgasm with his seed planted deep within me, my appearance would make him hard again and we could -- no, would begin our dance of love and lust once more. I lick my lips, almost tasting him on them as I say to my reflection, "Mr. Hamilton...I really want to f**k you." # I could feel the last of the other students' eyes on me as they shuffled out the door while I stood before Mr. Hamilton's desk. I had my eyes on my feet, unable to face my teacher's piercing gaze. He said not a word as the door snickered shut and we were finally alone. I felt my face burning as the noise of students moved down the hall, down the stairs towards the lockers and then out to the awaiting buses and into the student parking lot. Still, I was comforted by the fact that Mr. Hamilton was gazing at me and that I offered him a pleasing sight. I was skirting the limits of our school's dress code, wearing a white blouse and a green plaid skirt that ended at the extreme limit under school guidelines...the hem a full five inches above the knee. White bobby socks and saddle shoes completed my sexy little school girl look and I finally braved a glimpse at my teacher. Mr. Hamilton was indeed staring at me uncomfortably. I took a deep breath and said in a whispery soft voice, "Is there a problem, Mr. Hamilton? Why did you ask me to stay after class?" My teacher opened his mouth and then closed it. Finally, he sighed and opening up a side drawer of his desk, pulled out a blue folder and placed it in front of him. He looked down at it and then at me and sighing again, said, "Megan...the work you turned in...it..." His face was reddening and he said almost too soft to hear, "Megan, this is completely inappropriate and worse, it's dangerous. If anyone else read this, it would...I could be fired." I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "I don't see why. I wrote it, not you." "You handed me a description of yourself sitting naked in your bedroom and ended it with an expression of your desire to have...to make love with me." I grinned and rubbed my hands across my lower stomach. "On the contrary, I stated that I wanted to f**k you, Mr. Hamilton. Don't you just love that word? 'Fuck.' It sounds so nasty, so dirty, so...sexy." Mr. Hamilton made an odd noise and his face grew redder. "Megan...you...I am three times your age. I'm a teacher and you're a student. Even thinking of it is wrong!" His voice sounded strangled and he shifted nervously in his seat while tugging at his tie. I sauntered a little closer to his desk, feeling an incredible rush of desire and understanding that I was more or less in control of this situation. I leaned forward, the front of my blouse gaping open to let him see my smallish breasts enhanced by the special bra I'd picked up. "Again, I don't see why...I'm eighteen now...legally I'm an adult and I love the fact that you're older. You're a man, Mr. Hamilton...a mature man." I waved my hand dismissively. "There's no way I'd allow one of these immature boys to be my first lover. I want a man...a sexier, older man who will know how to please a woman and you know how to do that, Mr. Hamilton. I can see it in your eyes and in the way you look at us young ladies. I know that you f*****g me will be the greatest experience in my young life!" My teacher shook his head violently and said. "This is not going to happen. Doesn't matter if you're over the age of consent or not. Teachers are not supposed to fu...have s*x with students, no matter their age. Megan, I want you to never to turn something like this in again or I'll have to take this to the Principal." I giggled as I slowly strolled around the desk and hopped up on the corner of the old wooden desk, letting my legs dangle while the hem of my plaid skirt rose almost to my crotch -- my feet almost brushing his trousers. "Now, Mr. Hamilton, we both know you're not going to do that. Like you said, you would get fired. And, let's be totally honest, as much as I want to f**k you, Mr. Hamilton, you want to f**k me!" Mr. Hamilton scooted away from me as if to avoid even a hint of physical contact. "That's not true, Megan, not true! I would never take advantage of a student." I sighed and replied, "It's only taking advantage if it was something I didn't want to do, sir." I turned towards him, drawing my right leg up and setting it on top of his desk, causing my skirt to rise up and expose my light green cotton panties. "I want to f**k you, you wonderful man...I want to f**k you so much, just thinking about it makes me so incredibly wet!" I ran my hand over my partly exposed belly and then down over my panty covered mound, drawing his attention to the very dark stain there...a stain that glistened with wetness. I rubbed a finger over it and tried unsuccessfully to not shiver with carnal delight. As I rubbed my crotch, I said, "Tell me that you're not hard right now, Mr. Hamilton. Tell me that your c**k isn't stiff and long just thinking about sticking that big ol' thing in little ol' me!" Mr. Hamilton's hands dropped into his lap, trying to hide the bulge that was already there. His eyes dropped guiltily down to the floor between us, but I could see him struggling to not look up at least as far as my exposed crotch. I felt a happy thrill shoot through me as his eyes rose to rest on my now clearly outlined labia and it made me even wetter to know he was staring at my "camel toe." Finally, he lifted his gaze to my face, seeing the arousal there. "This is not going to happen, Megan. Never, do you understand me?" I shrugged my shoulders and hopped off the desk, my skirt falling into place and I was pleased by the look of disappointment on my teacher's face. "I'm a patient girl, Mr. Hamilton. I know it will take some convincing to get you to see things my way." I held up my fingers that gleamed faintly with my own juices and winked at him as I started to walk away, looking at him over my shoulder as I sucked my fingers clean. When I reached the door, I glanced back at him and said, "You'll come around to my way of thinking, Mr. Hamilton. I know you will. I think its encouraging that for all your protests, you never actually said the word 'no.'' I giggled at his panicked expression and slipped out of his classroom, pleased with how things were unfolding. # The dream always begins with me on my knees before you. Sometimes I'm wearing clothes, sometimes not and sometimes I am partly clothed. The only real constants are that your c**k is out and it is very, very hard. I try to imagine how your hard p***s will feel and taste on my tongue. I imagine it as an iron bar wrapped with silk, tasting of salt and pee and sweat and sperm. I want so badly to taste your spunk...to feel the heat and texture of semen....is it liquid or jelly? I don't worry about the taste, it is your baby-making seed and I know I will love it. I imagine you staring into my eyes, seeing the joy I feel as my soft lips slide over the head of your cock...wondering how I will get such a big and long thing all down my throat...not that I won't -- I will be happy to devote my life to being able to deep-throat my man...that's of course when you're not f*****g me silly. Mom always said that my eyes were my best feature and I guess in some ways, she is right. I know I have the most luminous blue eyes...huge like in those Japanese cartoons that I still watch. I love the thought of you staring into those eyes as I bob my face up and down on your c**k, sucking you, licking you, never taking my eyes off of you while I use your facial expressions to learn what you like when being sucked off. I start to drool just imagining my tongue rolling over your swollen flesh, lapping at you like the world's sweetest ice cream cone. I want to watch you reach climax while in my mouth, able to sense that moment when you lose control...the moment you gush semen into my mouth. I know I will live for feasting on your sperm. It takes me almost to orgasm just thinking about it. And I can't wait for the day that you shower my face with your semen, allowing me to rub it into my skin or scoop it off my face so I can suck it off my fingers. It makes me so wet just knowing that as soon as you c*m on my face, I'll start sucking you again to keep you hard so you can f**k me or hose me down with your hot semen again!" # "Megan, I'm begging you to stop this craziness. If someone were to find out what you're writing...what if your mother discovers this on your computer?" Mr. Hamilton was sweating, although whether from the stress of the moment or the fact that I was rubbing my breasts through the thin blouse I was wearing today after shedding my school sweater, revealing that before I'd showed up for the last class of the day, I'd removed my bra...not that I really needed it with my little peach sized breasts. My n*****s were hard and made little pencil eraser sized nubs against the white, almost transparent cotton cloth. "My mother doesn't really care what I do, so long as I don't keep her from cruising the bar scene for her latest pick-up. All that matters is you and me, Mr. Hamilton. You always have taught us to write the truth and the truth is that I want to suck your c**k so badly, it makes my mouth water with anticipation." "You've got to stop writing this stuff and saying it. Megan, I'm too old for you. I'm old enough to be your father...even your grandfather!" I crooned with pleasure as I pinched both my erect n*****s hard, closing my eyes for a moment and then opening them, imagining that they were shiny with excitement. "Oh, god...that would be so nasty hot! If you were my father, we could f**k 24/7, Mr. Hamilton! I would love that...begging my teacher-daddy to f**k me with his big d**k!" Mr. Hamilton put his head in his hands and groaned. "Megan, you're just a damn kid. Why would you want some old fart like me as your lover?" "Now, that's a good question, Mr. Hamilton. The answer is that you're the best man I've ever known and that you're the only person -- man or woman who's ever treated me like an adult." I strolled around the table, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. Teasing this lovely man was one thing as was steering him towards our inevitable union, but now I was opening myself up emotionally. As I approached him, my teacher reflexively pushed himself away in his office chair until he bumped up against the wall. I continued forward until I was almost touching his knees. Looking steadily into his eyes, I said as I began to slowly run my hands up and down my petite body, "I long ago accepted that until I'm old and gray, I'm going to pretty much look like a girl just entering puberty." My hands slipped up to cover my smallish breasts as I continued, "I know I'll never had big and bouncy t**s to show off like Josie or miles and miles of leg like Tonya, but this is a woman's body...with all the needs of a woman...all the desires of a woman." I continued to caress myself, "accidentally" tugging my skirt up momentarily to reveal that I was sans panties as well this afternoon. "Mr. Hamilton, you were the first man to treat me like an adult...you are still in the minority of folks that consider me an adult. My mother doesn't, my father in Oregon doesn't, and the rest of my teachers don't." "Megan, maybe there is some truth in that, but you are still a very young woman and if you have needs and um...desires, you should be experiencing them with someone close to your own age." "No! Age doesn't matter when love is involved!" I stepped closer, leaning in and placing my hands on the armrests of his chair, my legs pressing against his, hoping that my blouse gaped open enough to see my small breasts with their pointed n*****s. "And I love you, Mr. Hamilton -- I have since I was a freshman." I moved a little closer, forcing my knees between his legs while my hands slid up the armrest to grip his wrists. "And I know you have feelings for me too! I'm young, but I know how you look at me...the way you look at me...I can hear how you feel about me when you're talking to me. You can't deny how you feel and you know it!" I could my teacher trembling under my grip and my nervousness slipped away as I smiled triumphantly at him. A flickering glance downward told me that he was aroused and I ached to reach down and caress him. Mr. Hamilton licked his lips and said hoarsely, "Megan...I...can't deny that I have feelings for you -- that I care for you, but not this way. I...um, just...Megan, if I love...if I have feelings for you, it's the way a father feels about his daughter." "HAH!" I cried even as I jumped into his lap, my mound landing against the large bulge in his pants. "If you have fatherly feelings for me, Mr. Hamilton, they're really naughty fatherly feelings. I know what I'm feeling right now..." I rolled my hips for emphasis -- my bare p***y rubbing wetly against his khaki covered erection. I leaned in close till our mouths were almost touching. "I know how you watch me everyday, watching my tight little ass as I walk away from you or appreciating my bare legs when you're lecturing and I sit in the front row. You look into my eyes and study my nose and my lips and wonder how it would feel to rub your c**k over my skin and c*m in my face." "Megan..." he began to reply, his hands suddenly on my waist, sending a thrill through my body as he touched me for the first time. I leaned in closer, my lips brushing his as I stared him in the eye while saying, "And it's more than s*x. I can see how much you love me...I see how much you just flat out care for me every day!" I gave him a quick kiss on the lips, my mouth open and flicking my tongue on his mouth. "I know you love me, Mr. Hamilton!" Suddenly I was in motion, almost flying through the air. Mr. Hamilton stood up, picking me up effortlessly like I was a child as he did so -- both surprising me and pissing me off. I was suddenly on my feet, Mr. Hamilton holding me at arms length. In a voice that was torn between anger and frustration, he said, "This just can't happen, Megan! It's not right! He spun me around and I squealed more in surprise than in pain as he slapped me on the ass! "Go home and get this nonsense out of your head!" I took a few steps forward and then looked over my head at him while lifting my skirt up to expose my naked butt cheeks which I rubbed. It stung, but in a good way that made my p***y almost glow with heat. "Ohhh, Mr. Hamilton, I didn't realize I much I'd like to be spanked by you." I spun around and walked backwards away from him as I brought my hand around to my front, lifting my skirt up to reveal my naked s*x. I rubbed my fingers over my labia, spreading them slightly to show off my glistening pink flesh. "See how wet you make me, my naughty daddy-teacher." I grabbed my backpack off my student desk and slung it over my shoulder. "I can't wait for you to f**k me, Mr. Hamilton." My teacher moaned and dropped his head as if suddenly unable to look at me. "Go home, Megan," he sighed. I laughed and clapped my hands. "See -- that's progress, Mr. Hamilton. You didn't say 'no,' did you?" I shot him wink and blew him a kiss as I slipped out the door, feeling as if I was several steps closer to my goal. My last glimpse of him was staring down at the bulge in his pants, fingers hovering over it, but hesitant as he examined the wet spots I'd left there moments before. # Oh, I feel as if you are an eternal muse for me as I find myself constantly writing of the day we become lovers. My fingers fly across the keyboard as I imagining you taking me in so many wonderful ways. I can barely restrain myself from m**********g as I envision you taking me in the missionary position, my slender, but short legs spread wide, trying unsuccessfully to wrap around your waist as you plunge your long, thick d**k into my wet and willing p***y. My cunt is like flame itself when I imagine myself kneeling submissively, my little butt in the air, cheeks spread by your strong hands as you take me roughly from behind. My leg muscles tremble with anticipation as I see myself squatting atop you, slowly impaling myself on your hard p***s until I've taken as much of you as possible and then crying out in glorious orgasm as somehow you thrust upwards and bury yourself inside me. I imagine you standing with me astride your c**k, my arms and legs hanging limp and only your massive hard-on holding me up, making me c*m with each step you take. I can see us in every possible position and you in every one of my openings and I dream of you being triplets -- each one feeding me cock...in my mouth, in my p***y and in my asshole, almost tearing me apart, but instead wreaking nothing but wonderful, carnal ecstasy on my behalf. I long for the day that will come that will find us not bothering to rise from our bed of passion, your c**k never leaving me...making me c*m over and over again -- your lovely, hot semen filling my womb, my bowels and my belly...each climax declaring that I belong to you...each cry I make in orgasm being my confession to being yours body and soul. Your resolve to resist me for my own good does nothing more than inflame my desire for you, making me kneel naked before God in supplication, praying that my destiny to be your lover...your mate...your wife, be fulfilled. I want you inside of me. I need you inside me. I must have you inside me. I will have you inside me. My writings have moved you...each week, I can see your love and desire for me grow. I have painted portraits in words of how I feel...what I have to offer. Now, I will offer you more. I will etch who and what I am on your mind forever, where no paper shredder or delete button can erase my declaration of my love and lust for you. It takes hours to accomplish, but with a modern digital camera, the sky is the limit in the options one has once one has figured out the mechanical details of operation and posing. First, a portfolio of pictures...dozens of pictures of me wearing everything from jeans and T-shirts to negligees to only my birthday suit. One of my favorites was a head shot of me, my hair hanging down below naked shoulders, my lips puckered and gently sucking on my forefinger while my eyes gaze upon you -- the love of my life. My absolute favorite is, I think, very erotic. I am sitting on a wooden kitchen chair, completely naked save for a pair of three inch black high heels and sheer black thigh-high hose. My legs are spread wide with my hands on my knees. My long, brown hair has been brushed until it nearly glows and hangs down forward, framing my face and my small breasts ending as it brackets my p***y which is blossomed in arousal from imagining the erection my pose will no doubt inspire in you. My cunt glistens with wetness between my parted labia. I personally think it is very erotic...almost obscene in its intensity. It conveys my love and lust for you perfectly. Second, I set the camera to record video and then as I sit in that same kitchen chair, with my legs spread wide and back, I masturbate with my fingers as I tell you how much I love you and how much I lust for you and how good it will feel to have your big c**k wedged inside my hot, wet and very tight p***y. I tell you nothing I haven't said before, but now you see the complete me...the me who bravely confesses her love for you while fingering herself into orgasm, imagining that it is your big, bad, daddy-teacher c**k that makes me cry and scream with pleasure...pleasure that I want to make forever...a lovely dance of just us two. # Weeks have truly passed and I could see Mr. Hamilton's resolve crumble with each new naughty assault. September had passed into October and the Fall Break was upon us. I stood behind my teacher as he gazed in awe at the images my zip drive was conveying through his lap top. He murmurs over and over, "This has to stop, Megan. It's never going to happen." Still his fingers keep flickering over the controls, moving to each image as he gasps at some new lurid or lewd photograph of me. I'm not sure that he's even aware that I'm massaging his tense shoulders as he watches the nearly thirty minutes of video of me declaring my love and lust for him while plunging up to three fingers up and inside my cunt. Looking over his shoulder, I have an excellent view to observe his p***s harden, rising up steadily in his pants. As my last moans of ecstasy fade and my video image straightens up in the chair -- my long hair now a bit unkempt, I hear Mr. Hamilton moan as I begin to lick my wet fingers of my juices and then stare at him through the scene. My lips move as my digital image speaks, silently echoing my own words. "Mr. Hamilton. The time for fantasy is coming to an end. You cannot deny me...us, forever. After this Friday, we're on two weeks of Fall Break. On Sunday, at one o'clock sharp, you must drive out to Shyler's Falls out at the end of Shyler Mill Road -- you grew up here -- I know you know where it is. Nobody ever goes out there anymore except me. I go a lot to think and write and dream. Thirty feet above the falls on the hill there is a stand of trees including an ancient and massive oak. I will be waiting for you there. I'll pack a picnic lunch and a large blanket and all this terrible waiting and longing can come to an end." My video image licked her fingers one last time, obscenely sucking her middle finger slowly between her tightly puckered lips. She stared out at Mr. Hamilton. "I love you and you love me. It's time we quit denying ourselves all the love and pleasure we have to offer each other. I'll be waiting, Mr. Hamilton, my love!" My teacher sat there silently staring into the now frozen image of myself naked on the screen, a sexy, yet beatific smile on my face. My fingers slipped from Mr. Hamilton's shoulders and around his upper body. He finally started as I kissed his earlobe and whispered, "I'll be waiting, Mr. Hamilton, my love!" I sauntered away from him, swinging my plaid skirt covered ass saucily, halting only when I heard his strained voice rasp, "It will never happen. I will not be there, Megan!" I turned and smiled gently at my soon to be lover. Feeling totally in control, I replied softly, "Yes you will, Mr. Hamilton." I pointed to the laptop and continued. "You can say no, but it's Wednesday and between now and Sunday, you'll look at my pictures and video a hundred times. You'll reread my essays and letters and masturbate to them and my...visual aides and my love, come Sunday, you will come to me and then we can begin loving and cumming together." "You don't understand, Megan," Mr. Hamilton sighed. "You can't know that, Megan." "Of course I can," I replied. I raised my schoolgirl skirt to reveal my naked p***y, plunging a finger into my wet flesh as I said, "I've always known it would happen. I knew it here..." I plunged two fingers inside my wet cunt for emphasis. I pulled them out, dripping with my juices and pressed them against my chest...against my heart, the creamy c*m smearing on my white blouse. "And I know it here...in my heart where my love for you waits." I began walking backwards towards the door, never taking my eyes off my future love. "And you know it too, Mr. Hamilton. You know it from the way your c**k gets hard when you think of me...the way it is hard right now and you know it from how the thought of me makes you feel in your heart. You love me...once you say the words, it will get much easier. I opened the door to his classroom and looked back one last time. "I love you, Mr. Hamilton." I winked at him and added, "I'll see you, Sunday, my love," and was gone leaving him alone to make the only decision he could make. # Time seems to stretch to almost infinite terms as those few days pass. I replay every conversation Mr. Hamilton and I have had since my pursuit of him began in earnest. I hear his denials of any feelings of attraction or love, but never discern a word of truth in them. I examine my feelings for him -- both lust and love, but cannot find an iota of self-delusion. I believe in true love. I believe in destiny. I believe we were...are destined to fall in love. How could I not love him? He is the first human being to really open up the world to me -- speaking of literature and history and of the world as it actually is and has the potential to be. He has given me Shakespeare and Irving (both Washington and John), he gave me Mary Shelley and Walt Whitman and Alice Walker and Borges -- and the list goes on and on. Mr. Hamilton has shared his joy of the written word and the necessity to always stay true to oneself. He was the first to treat me as a thinking adult and I couldn't help but fall in love with him. Yes, there are years between us. I am just turned eighteen...I can't even legally buy an alcoholic drink. He is fifty-four years old, but his soul is young and I feel it reaching out to me...needing me to complete him. He is a good man. I did not have to stalk him to discover this. Being perceived as a child...and a shy and quiet one at that renders me invisible to most of the adult world. Since I was a freshman, I've heard others talk about him...both students and teachers. He is a private person with a sad life...married once to a terrible shrew who he suffered for nearly twenty years before she left him, leaving him in near financial ruin. He is a gentle and talented lover to hear Ms. Hemmings, our theater arts teacher talk about it. A vain and reckless woman, she found him not as she put it, "Enough of a bad boy to suit me." When I heard her confiding that to one of the newer teachers in their department, I wanted to run over and slap her for being so stupid. Mr. Hamilton is a beautiful man...still in great shape for a man in his fifties. His black hair gradually turning a lovely shade of gray, I know he runs to keep his weight steady, although his build is more along the lines of a wrestler -- stocky and muscular without being overly so. The first time I say him jogging near the city park, I nearly had an orgasm and had to pull my car over...the way his leg muscles flexed as he ran, sent incendiary bursts of pleasure racing out from between my legs. He has a reputation for being stern but fair, although I doubt that few students beyond myself know what a wonderful teacher he is...one that would be missed when he's gone. Yes, I know that thirty six years separate us, but that is not an insurmountable gap -- I envision decades of passion and lust and love being shared by us. I will be his lover. I will give him babies...sons to carry on his name and daughters for him to dote over -- it makes me shiver with excitement and more than a little arousal to think of our children growing to adulthood, instilled with his wonderful virtues. Yes, I believe in love. I believe in destiny. I believe that Mr. Hamilton and I will truly live 'happily ever after!'