Every Schoolboy's Fantasy

      Melissa had been advised by the old codger at the personnel office
that young teachers who were fresh out of college were better off starting
out at the junior high level instead of high school, but as long as she
could remember she'd had her heart set on being a high school English
teacher.  She had heard horror stories of new teachers accepting
undesirable teaching assignments with the hope that they would in turn be
rewarded for "doing their time" by soon being given cushy schedules, only
to be trapped for years.   With that knowledge in mind, Melissa held out
until she was finally offered a job teaching senior English.
      Ty was a new teacher's worst nightmare.  His "stage presence" at
least equaled  hers and probably surpassed it.  He had been held back a
year somewhere along the line, so his eighteen-year-old classmates looked
to him as a leader.  His varsity football star physique didn't hurt
either.  When he entered the room, all were very conscious of him;  some
were impressed, but most were intimidated.  His cocksure attitude didn't
really make Ty unlikable, rather it served more to put others in awe of
him.
      The one card Melissa had up her sleeve was a piece of advice from an
experienced colleague:  "If an athlete gives you any trouble, just call
the coach."  She kept these words of wisdom in the back of her mind for
several months, determined not to call for back-up support until she had
exhausted all the discipline management strategies she had learned in
college.
      Ty challenged her authority at every opportunity.  Some days were
better than others, but Melissa had gotten to the point that she
altogether dreaded fifth period and dealing with Ty.  She was quite
disillusioned that even though most of her students were enthusiastic
learners, disruptions from students like Ty had begun to hinder the
learning process.  A few of her students who did not possess Ty's
leadership abilities were falling under his spell and attempting to mimic
his uncooperative behavior.  Melissa knew it was time to take a stance,
time to let the entire class know that she would not tolerate such
disrespect.
      The activity was an important one.  Each student would choose a
sentence from his or her composition, write it on the chalkboard, and
diagram it.  Melissa never let anyone squirm in front of the class; that
is, if someone was struggling with the task, she would do as much
prompting as necessary for him or her to feel successful.  To get things
started, she printed a compound sentence on the board, discussed how to
separate the subject from the predicate, and showed the various symbols
for adjectives, direct objects, and indirect objects.
      The class went smoothly as volunteers shared their sentences and
diagrams.  A few had to be talked through the activity and some
corrections were suggested, but overall the activity turned out to be a
worthwhile one.  At the end of the hour, there were a few stragglers
though who had not yet participated.  Melissa made a last call for
volunteers and announced that there was time for one more student to take
his or her turn.  Those who had not yet shared their sentences would be
called on in alphabetical order.
      "Let's see who will finish up for us today," Melissa wondered aloud
as she examined her grade book.
      She swallowed hard when she glanced down and discovered that it was
Ty who should be called upon.
      "Ty," she stated, "You're next.  Please go to the board and share
your sentence and its diagram."
     He stared her down before replying, "No.  I'm not doing it."
      Melissa hoped that maybe she could coax him into following her
instructions by reminding him that she'd help him if he got stuck, but the
expression on his face made it pretty clear that he had no intention of
doing as she asked.  If she allowed him to pass on his turn, the remainder
of the stragglers were bound to follow his lead, and Melissa just wasn't
willing to let them miss out on an important learning opportunity.
      The bell to dismiss class relieved her of having to make a scene
over Ty's failure to cooperate, but before she could even ask him to stay
after class for a moment, he had bolted out the room.  It was frustrating
that he didn't even give her a chance to speak with him.  The words echoed
in her mind:  "If an athlete gives you any trouble, just call the coach."
      The conversation was short and to the point.  Melissa told him that
Ty's conduct and grade were deteriorating, and he told her that he would
take care of the problem.  He didn't say how he planned to handle it, but
she imagined that running extra laps would let Ty know that he'd better
get his act together.  Melissa's heart seemed to skip a beat when she
thought of how Ty would act when he came to class the next day.  She felt
a little smug.  Mostly she was glad that it would be almost twenty-four
hours before she'd see him again.
      After school that day Melissa followed her usual routine of going to
the health  club to work out and stopping by the park to run a few miles
on her way home.  Upon returning to her apartment located across the
street from the high school, Melissa hopped in the shower to clean up and
cool off.  As she stood nude in front of the mirror drying her hair,
Melissa thought she heard someone knocking at her door.  She put down her
brush and blow dryer and went to the door, still naked.
      "Who is it?" she asked loudly enough to be heard through the closed
door.
      A deep, muffled voice replied, "It's Ty."
      "Ty?   What are you doing here?" Melissa asked as her mind and heart
raced.
      "I want to talk to you.  Can I come in?"
      "Hold on," Melissa called as she backed away from the door.
      She sprinted back to the bathroom to grab her robe.  She wished then
that she had a floor length robe that would cover her from head to toe,
but she didn't and realized that her knee length cotton robe would have to
do.  She'd probably just open the door wide enough to have eye contact
with him and long enough for him to apologize for being such a jerk.  The
coach must have a had a little talk with him.
      "Hi, Ty.  What's up?" she asked as she partially opened the door.
      "Well," he stated as his eyes confidently scanned her body, " I need
to talk to you.  Can I come in?"
      "I guess so.  For a few minutes."
      She closed the door behind him as he casually flung his canvas
athletic bag aside.  Ty sat on the love seat and Melissa perched on the
cushion of the adjacent wicker rocking chair.   He was such an enigma to
her.  He was bold enough to show up at her apartment uninvited, yet he
seemed anxious, nervous, awkward.
      "What's this all about, Ty?"
      "I've been wanting to talk to you about this for a long time."
      "Is it about what happened in class today?" she prompted.
      "Sort of.  It's about everything.  You see," he offered hesitantly,
"I don't think you realize what you do to me."
      She realized then that this surprise visit was not going to be a
simple apology.
      "What do you mean, Ty?"
      He laughed nervously.  "You're such a tease.  You expect me to watch
you prance up to the board and jiggle your ass while you write some stupid
sentence.  Then you turn around and cross your arms in front of you,
pressing your tits up and out.  You walk up and down the rows of desks
spreading the smell of your perfume everywhere.  And you act like you're
so good, like you don't know that you're driving all the guys crazy!  Did
you really want me to walk to the front of the room with a hard-on that
had your name written all over it?"
      Melissa was drop-jawed.  "Ty!  I can't believe you're saying this to
me!"
      The tension between them was incredible.
      "I really don't mean to make you mad all the time, but I can't stop
thinking about the things I'd like to do to you and with you.  And when
you keep calling on me it just pisses me off.  I want us to be more than
just teacher and student.  I want us to be more than friends."
      Ty had caught her totally off-guard.  Perhaps she was naive, but it
had never occurred to Melissa before that the reason she and Ty
antagonized each other so much was sexual tension.  The electricity
between them practically crackled.

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      "I don't know what to say, Ty," Melissa stammered.
      "Don't say anything," he replied as he reached out to take her hand,
guiding her from the rocking chair to the love seat.  She turned sideways
so she could face him, her bare knee pressing against his hard thigh.  She
trembled as he stared at her unblinkingly.  She was a bundle of confusion,
losing herself in the brooding eyes of Ty.
      Melissa was rather overwhelmed by the turn of events.  The chemistry
between them had already made her nipples hard.  Ty leaned forward, placed
one hand on her breast and used the other to to pull her toward him by the
back of her neck.  Before she had a chance to even mutter a sound, his
mouth was on hers, his tongue making itself at home in her mouth.  Ty
nonchalantly switched the attention of his fingers from one breast to the
other, slipping his palm beneath the fabric, roughly pinching and twisting
her hard, pink nipple.  Soon his hand deserted her neck and damp hair to
untie her robe and provide easier access to the rest of her body.  He was
a little on the rough side, but that was just how she liked it.
      She tried to reposition herself as he bit and sucked her nipples and
realized then that "love seat" was a misnomer for this uncomfortable piece
of furniture.  There simply wasn't room for them both.  She rolled off the
love seat onto the floor.  She knelt before him, maintaining constant eye
contact with him as she untied his Nikes and pulled off both his shoes and
socks.  He lifted his ass off the cushion as she lowered his sweat pants
to his ankles.  Apparently he had not bothered to wear boxers, briefs, or
even a jock strap.  She kissed the head of his cock teasingly before
tugging his pants all the way off and tossing them into the growing heap
of garments on the carpet.  She stripped out of her disheveled robe at the
same time that Ty pulled off his T-shirt.
      He started to join her on the floor, but Melissa said, "Wait."
      She rubbed her hands on both of his thighs before reaching between
them to cradle his balls in her palm.  She ran her tongue from the base of
his cock to the head, pausing there to suck for awhile.  She didn't want
to neglect any part of his cock, so occasionally she would forego the
sucking that she loved so dearly to lick and kiss the rest of his dick.
He scooted forward to the edge of the seat so she could lick and suck him
and massage that sweet spot between his balls and his asshole.
      They were both in ecstasy, doing what each loved best.  She loved to
give head and he loved to get it, so their encounter was a match made in
heaven.
      "I want to fuck you so bad," Ty stated while she gave her undivided
attention to his cock.
      "I want you too, Ty, but you've got to wear a condom. "
      "Shit!  I don't have one with me."
      "Go in my bedroom and look in the top drawer of the nightstand.
There's a box of them there."
      Melissa gasped as Ty strode across the room.
      "Ty!  What happened?!" she exclaimed as she stared at the bands of
red across his butt.
      "Don't worry about that now.  I'll tell you all about it later."
      She tried to ask him about it again when he rejoined her, but he
insisted that she put it out of her mind.  It was pretty easy to distract
her by fingering her juicy pussy and rubbing her clit.
      He started out on top of her, but Melissa's favorite way to fuck was
doggie style, so it was practically inevitable that she would end up that
way.  She was impressed that such a young guy could go for so long; he was
really fucking her brains out.  She had already reached two orgasms when
she felt Ty speed up his rhythm, heard him start to grunt, and felt his
hot convulsions inside her.  For a long time they didn't say anything at
all.  He snuggled up behind her with his top leg thrown both casually and
possessively over her.
      "So, when are you going to tell me how you got those marks across
your rear?"
      "They really belong to you.  I got them because of your call to the
coach this afternoon."
      "Oh, Ty, I never would have called him if I had known he would give
you swats for it!  I thought he'd make you run extra laps or something.
I'm so sorry!"
      "Well, the way I figure it, you're going to be," he said with a
smile spreading across his face.
      "What are you talking about?"
      "I think you need to learn a few lessons.  First, you need to be
punished for teasing me all year and being such a bitch about it.  Then,
you're going to get it for getting me in trouble with my coach.  You
didn't have to get him involved.  From now on I want us to work out our
problems just between the two of us."
      He disentangled himself from her, stood up, and walked over to
retrieve his athletic bag.  He brought it back over to the love seat and
unzipped it.
      "Stand up," he ordered her.
      As she got to her feet, he reached into his bag and pulled out a
paddle.
      "I snuck this out of Coach's office.  Now we're going to see if you
can take what you dish out."
      "You're not serious!" she said as she backed away from him.
     "Oh, yes I am.  I got five pops on my bare ass and that's what you're
going to get too, unless you make me chase you, and in that case I'm going
to double it.  Get over here.  Just take your punishment now and we'll
call it even.  Don't worry, I'll make you feel better afterwards."
      There was no point in fighting it.  She realized that she was at his
mercy.  She stared at the narrow wooden paddle he so freely wielded.  It
was about two and a half inches wide, and beyond the handle it was about
ten inches long.  It must have been between a third and half an inch
thick.  Most of it was painted red, but specks of gray showed through
where the paint had chipped off.  An old shoestring made a loop through
the hole in the handle.
      "I said I was sorry, Ty," Melissa pleaded.
      He reached out his hand to her, palm up.  She reluctantly placed her
hand in his to feel his vise-like grip.  He quickly reeled her in,
twisting her arm beyond her back like a criminal being hauled off to jail.
      He thought about making her grab her ankles like the coach had made
him, but instead opted to lean her over the arm of the love seat so she
could clutch a pillow to her face to stifle her cries.  His pace was fast.
 He took a full swing and landed the paddle across her left cheek.  It was
a good thing he had given her a pillow, because Melissa let loose a shriek
of agony.  Her legs flailed as he kept going, alternating spanks from one
cheek to the other.  She was sobbing hysterically by the time he
administered the final blow right in the middle of both cheeks just above
her thighs, which seemed to multiply the pain instead of divide it.
      He released her arm then, freeing her to writhe at the pain which Ty
had inflicted upon her.  He left her alone to cry while he went to the
kitchen to get some ice.  When he came back to the living room, Melissa
was in a fetal-like position on the love seat.  Her crying had subsided,
and she was trying desperately to relieve the sting by rubbing her cheeks.
      Ty lifted her up and placed her across his lap.  She wasn't making
any noise, but he could still feel occasional silent, convulsive sobs.
Very tenderly he rubbed a piece of ice all over her bottom.  As the ice
melted to a size too small for soothing her pain, he placed it on her
crack so it would run down to her pussy.  He repeated this procedure until
the whole glass of ice was gone, and then he just blew on the stripes that
were still red and wet from the ice, kissing them every once in awhile.
      "I let you off easy," he told her. "Nobody  kissed my ass after I
got paddled."
      "Oh, Ty!" Melissa laughed as she rolled over to recline in his arms.
 "I really am sorry I got you into trouble.  You know, maybe I should feel
guilty about corrupting you, but I get the very distinct impression that
you've done this before, Ty."
      "I hardly think you've corrupted me.  Besides, I've wanted to spank
you for jiggling that ass up at the chalkboard for a long time now."
      Melissa made a mental note to herself about writing on the board and
the possible ramifications.  She had definitely learned a lesson about
schoolboy fantasies.

THE END
 

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