I try to keep a close relationship with my students, portraying myself more that just an adult role model, but as an adult friend. In being a young teacher, students sometimes find it easier when someone of authority is close to their age and will listens to them, especially with all their relationship problems. Take Tiffany for example, she’s blonde, beautiful, and the goal of many of these high school boys is to get into her cotton white panty she flashes while cheer leading. But she’s not a stereotype. In our many talks, I have found that Tiffany is very intelligent and not at all a stereotypical blonde bimbo. I don’t know if any of the boys have been successful in their goals with her, but there were certainly rumors going around about her being the “blonde cheerleader slut who only sleeps with college boys.” I assume those rumors surfaced because the boys were unsuccessful. One day, these rumors got to her and she came into my classroom after school to talk about it.
Tiffany peeked through my classroom door and asked, “Mr. Reynolds? Can I talk to you about something?” “Yes, of course Tiffany.” I said, placing my pen down. “I’m hoping to keep it private, is it okay if we lock the door?” “Well, I’m not allowed to do that, unfortunately. But I assure you, most of the faculty is gone now, except the after school advisors. When does cheerleading practice start?” “In about half an hour. Ok, Mr. Reynolds, I’ll try and make this quick then and hopefully no one will interrupt us.” Tiffany walked in, her blonde hair in pigtails and her cheerleading skirt swaying with each step towards my desk. “You know about the rumors spreading around about me?” “Yes, it’s unfortunate. I caught one of the boys talking about you in the halls, I had a talk with him about it.” “Was it… Brad?” “Yeah, how did you know?” Tiffany began tearing up, “I knew it. He’s so immature. If there’s one thing true about the rumors is that I do hate high school boys. They all need to grow up.” “Well, Tiffany, most girls do mature faster than boys. Brad and the boys will learn; I sure have. Here you go.” I handed her a tissue. She touched my hand and pulled me towards her. I sensed she needed a hug and I hugged her. “It’ll be okay Tiffany. There are plenty of smart, mature boys at this school… somewhere.” Her head was on my shoulder, with her arms wrapped around my neck. She smelled wonderful and I shamefully began to harden. Her mouth was close to my ear and she whispered, “Possibly. They are hard to find, you, however, are right next to me. I wish Brad was more like you.” Then she pressed harder between us, and she may have felt that I was getting a little aroused. “Tiffany, I don’t think we should…” but before I can finish, she continued to whisper , “You don’t believe all rumors do you? Do you think I’ve slept with a bunch of college boys?” “ Well, I know girls and boys your age tend to act upon your hormones. It’s really your choice, and I know you are bright and intelligent, and if you’ve had sex, you would’ve made sure it was the right choice for you. Still no, I don’t believe the rumors.” “I’m a virgin. I mean, I do have urges, but I’ve only acted upon them alone, at home, in my bedroom.” “Tiffany… that was too much … information.” “But you want to hear about it, don’t you? You’ve always been such a good teacher and friend to me. When I need someone, you make me feel better. Besides, this part of you really wants to hear about it.” She starts to rub my hard cock over my pants, and I can’t help but succumb to her hands. “Sit down at your desk and let me tell you about how I give in to my urges.” I sit, with hesitance, half knowing if someone walks in, I’d be fired, but half knowing that girls of Tiffany’s beauty and intelligence is a rarity. She kneels before me and says, “I’ve got a wild imagination when I masturbate. I’ve been with these boys who want me, but while I do feel the urge to let them have me, they usually say something stupid and immature and I tend to ease my urges with my vibrator instead. But the cold hard plastic doesn’t feel like a real cock, does it?” “I don’t know, I don’t have any experience with that,” I manage to reply. “Well, it certainly doesn’t feel like it over your pants. Can I hold yours under your pants, Mr. Reynolds? Can I compare it and tell you the differences?” She asks in question, but she moves like I’ve already answered and she undoes my belt, button, and zipper. She reaches in and with her hand under my boxers, she begins to stroke me. “Mmmm, this is much warmer than my vibrator. You’re so hard, Mr. Reynolds… I bet this feels good to you. I bet it feels good in my hands. I like that I’m pleasing you. Sometimes I imagine that I have a warm cock in my mouth when I suck on my vibrator, but I bet it’s not the same. Yours is leaking from the tip,” she says, “My vibrator doesn’t do that. Is that pre-cum? Can I taste it?” She asks again, knowing full well my answer and all I can do is moan in affirmation. I watch as her lips, heavy with bright lip-gloss, kisses against the tip of my cock. She pulls back and a string of the pre-cum follows her and lands on her chin and a little on her cheerleading top.
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