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A Change In Perspective (MF)
by Ann Douglas (ann_douglas@hotmail.com)
 

***



	Alan Yeager sat at the hotel bar nursing
his beer as most of the men around him watched
the ball game on the overhead television. The
twenty-six year old really had no interest in the
game, but had come to the bar with a few new
friends in order to be sociable.
	The dark haired young man was a history
teacher from East Bedford. Five nine with a slim,
muscular build; this was his first time at the State
Teacher's Convention. It was an experience he
had enjoyed immensely.
	The funny thing was, it was only because
of a unforeseeable series of events that he found
himself here at all. Normally, only the most senior
teacher at Dwight Eisenhower High got to attend
the annual convention. Roger Parks, who was
originally scheduled to go, had come down with
appendicitis the day before he was to leave.
Elizabeth Young, who was the runner up in
seniority had already left with her family for a
Disneyworld Vacation. After a frantic search by
the school administration, there seemed to be very
few people who hadn't already made plans for the
three-day holiday weekend. It finally came down
to Alan and Diane Yee, both of whom had started
on the same day. A toss of the coin decided the
issue, with Alan racing home to quickly pack a
bag to catch the eight o'clock shuttle flight.
	The three-day event had been quite
interesting Alan had to say. Every school seemed
to have a different way of picking delegates to the
conference. Some went by seniority like his own
school. Others used it as a merit award. Some
even just held a raffle. Overall, the different
systems made for an interesting mix and a chance
to meet fellow educators from across the state and
sort of compare notes. There was also the
prospect of some really fine dining and the nightly
parties that made attendance so highly coveted.
Tonight was the last night of the conclave with
nearly a third of the participants having already
left for home.
	Alan glanced down at his watch and
decided that five more minutes and he was out of
here. He really hadn't been that hungry when
most of the delegates had gone to dinner, but
he was starting to feel otherwise now. The hotel
dinning room was still open for another hour so he
should have no problem getting a table.
	"Excuse me," a woman's voice said from
behind Alan, "but by any chance would you
happen to know the three major causes of the
Civil War?"
	The question took Alan by surprise. Even
for a Teacher's Convention, that was a strange
thing for someone to ask. Not so strange,
however, that he didn't immediately know
the answer. Back in high school, he had written
his senior history paper on just that subject.
	"That would've been..." he started to say
as he turned around on the barstool. "Oh my
God!" he suddenly said, cutting off his answer as
he saw who had asked the question.
	The owner of the question stood just a
fraction of an inch shorter than Alan. She was
wearing a modest blue dress that enhanced rather
than concealed a still respectable figure.
	"Hello Alan," the middle aged woman
standing behind him smiled.
	"Mrs. Clarke," an excited Alan said,
unsure if he should hug the woman, shake her
hand or something else. "What are you doing
here?"
	"Well, I am still a teacher," the white
haired woman smiled, "at least until the end of the
month."
	"You're quitting?" he asked, the tone of
his question making it one of disbelief.
	"Retiring actually," she smiled.
	"No, you can't be retiring," Alan said,
"you're only..."
	"Fifty-two years old last month," Mrs.
Clarke said, finishing his question for him.
	"No," Alan replied, unable to believe that
she was that old.
	"I was forty-four when I had you in my
honors class in history," she said. "And that was
eight years ago."
	Alan took a hard look at his former
teacher. In his mind, Mrs. Clarke didn't look that
much older than she did on his last day of class.
There were a few more subtle lines in her face, but
that seemed to be all. Even back then, except for
her hair, she really hadn't looked her age. Her hair
had turned prematurely white in her mid-thirties.
Rather than dye it back to its original shade, she
had decided to keep it natural.
 	In fact, Alan remembered quite well a
discussion he and a number and his friends had
one night after they'd misappropriated two six
packs of beer from Jimmy Smith's garage cooler.
The discussion had started off familiarly enough, a
comparison of all the girls in school they knew.
Who was the best looking; who had the best tits,
which they most wanted to fuck, that sort of
thing. Eventually, and Alan never really decided if
it was the beer or they were all feeling a little bit
daring, the discussion had grown to include
teachers as well.
	That aspect of their talk hadn't gone as far,
but it had been almost universally agreed that Mrs.
Clarke was the third best looking teacher in
school. For an older woman, a few of his friends
had quickly added. In Alan's case, he hadn't
needed to add that condition to his opinion. The
number one and two choices were all new
teachers in their early twenties.
	"This wasn't a pop quiz, Alan," his former
teacher laughed. "You're not going to fail if you
don't remember the answer."
	Alan realized that his face had become
flustered at the memory and was glad that she
took it to be because he hadn't remembered the
answer.
	"Mrs. Clarke, I've totally forgotten my
manners," Alan said, changing the subject and
feeling like he was back in third period history.
"Please have a seat."
	"First of all, I think you're a little old to
still be calling me Mrs. Clarke," she said. "My
name is Maureen as I'm sure you remember. We
are, after all, colleagues now."
	It seemed strange to Alan to think of
himself and Mrs. Clarke, no make that Maureen,
as equals. Yet, that was exactly what they were.
He might have moved away after college and was
teaching in another town, but they were both
doing the same thing.
	"Can I get you a drink," Alan asked, still
thinking it strange to be asking her a question like
that.
	"It's tempting," she replied, "but I was
actually on my way for a late dinner. I'd gotten
involved in an interesting panel discussion and lost
all track of time."
	"That's funny but I was just about to go in
to eat myself. I'd be honored if you joined me."
	"That would be nice," Maureen smiled.
"It'll give us a chance to catch up."

	As they ate, Alan quickly covered the eight
years since he'd sat in Maureen Clarke's class.
He'd gone, as she knew , to Fall River College on
a full academic scholarship. It had been largely
due to her recommendation to the scholarship
board that he had managed to go to college at all.
Alan was from a family that barely made ends
meet and money for higher education was not to
be found. It would be a terrible waste, she had
written to the board, to let a mind so perfectly
suited for teaching to lay fallow because of a lack
of funds. The condition of the grant he had been
awarded was that he spend at least ten years after
getting his degree in the public school sytem
somewhere in the state. It was a condition Alan
had been more than happy to agree to.
	Maureen Clarke had spent the last decade
pretty much as she had the previous one, teaching
honors history at Alexander Hamilton High
School in Woodbridge. The only major change in
her life had been the death of her husband,
George, two years before. That was one of the
reasons she had decided to take the early
retirement that had been offered her. Her heart,
she said, was no longer really in it.
	"My mom had mentioned that the last time
I was home for a visit," Alan offered. "I'm really
sorry. I only met him a few times but I remember
Mr. Clarke being a really nice guy."
	"Thank you," Maureen said, then changed
the subject as not to dwell too much on her
greatly missed husband. "But what about you? Is
there a Mrs. Yeager, or someone in your life?"
	"I'm afraid not," Alan replied, "at least
not right now. I did fall in love with someone in
college. Her name was Yvonne and I really
thought she was the one. But things didn't work
out and we wound up going our separate ways. I
date occasionally but there's no one really special.
I guess I get so wrapped up in the kids sometimes
that I forget to have much of a life."
	"I can understand that," Maureen said,
thinking of all the unimaginable hours she had
devoted to her own kids.
	"Sometimes, it is all worth it," Maureen
assured her younger counterpart. "Every once in a
while, there's one or two students who really
capture your heart. It means so much to watch
them strive to learn, and when they do, it gives
your life a validation that few people get to have."
	She paused a moment then added, "That's
the feeling I got when I saw in the alumni notes
that you had gotten your teaching certificate. I
was so very proud when I read that."
	"I think your class was the reason I first
thought about becoming a teacher," Alan
volunteered. "You made learning such an
adventure. I'm not sure I should mention this or
not, but I had such a crush on you as well."
	Maureen smiled. She knew that many of
her students over the years had developed similar
infatuations. It wasn't something she would ever
admit to anyone but her husband, but she
sometimes got a secret thrill thinking that some of
those good looking young men might be jerking
off to a mental image of her.
	"Well as I'm sure as you've learned by
now, teachers aren't supposed to even admit that
they might have a crush on one of their students,"
Maureen said. "But I'm sure you knew how
special I thought you were."
	"I knew," Alan simply said. Then, thinking
about some of the quite improper thoughts he'd
had about a few of his own female students, Alan
wondered if Maureen had ever had such thoughts
about the boys in her classes. It wasn't exactly a
question he could just come out and ask.

	By the time they finished dinner and had a
small dessert, Alan was very surprised at how
easily the flow of conversation had become. It no
longer felt awkward talking to Maureen about
anything. For the first time since they'd run into
each other in the bar, he actually felt that they
really were equals. It came as a surprise to the
younger teacher that he and Maureen had rooms
on the same floor. A surprise because it made it
seem even funnier that they hadn't run into each
other before tonight.
	"Alan, would you like to stop by my room
for a nightcap?" Maureen asked as they stepped
off the elevator.
	"Don't you have a roommate?" Alan
asked, knowing that most of the delegates, himself
included, shared a room.
	"She went home this afternoon," Maureen
replied. "She came up by car and didn't want to
get caught up in all the post holiday traffic."
	"A nightcap sounds fine then," Alan
finally answered.

	Over drinks, they talked for what seemed
like the longest time. It seemed to the former
student that it was the first time in a long time that
his old teacher had opened up to anyone. Finally,
Alan took note of the late hour and suggested that
perhaps he should call it a night and let Maureen
get some sleep.
	He had just started to get up when
Maureen motioned for him to wait. Uncertain,
Alan sat there in silence for a few moments.
	"Alan," the fifty-two year old said, a
hesitation in her voice, "I was wondering if ... I
mean to say this isn't something I normally do.
But I was wondering if you wanted to spend the
night here ... with me?"
	Alan was too stunned to say a word. A
silence Maureen quickly took to be a cold
disapproval of what she had suggested. "Alan, I'm
sorry," she quickly said. "I shouldn't have even
thought of such a thing. I hope you won't let a
moment's weakness change the way you
remember me."
	Alan looked into the face of the woman
sitting across from him. He didn't see a woman
twice his age, or even his former teacher. All he
saw was a friend who once cared enough about
him to take the time and effort to change his life.
A friend who also a woman, a woman he still
found desirable.
	"There is nothing, that you could ever say
or do, that would change the way I feel about
you," Alan said as he took her hand in his own.
"If you want me to stay, then of course I'll stay. If
you just want me to hold you, then that's fine. If
you want more than that, well that would be fine
too."
	This time, Alan had no hesitation about
what he should do. Putting his arms around her,
he embraced his friend with all of the love he
carried for her in his heart.

	Neither was really sure who made the first
move after that. All they knew was that they were
soon kissing each other. Their lips met with a
fiery passion, their tongues darting in and out of
the other's mouth. Even through layers of
clothing, Alan could feel the crush of Maureen's
breasts against his chest. He reached up and
cupped one of her mounds, producing a soft cry
of pleasure from Maureen as his fingers softly
squeezed her flesh.
	Maureen in turn reached down and
pressed her own hand between Alan's legs. She
smiled as her fingers found him already hard.
Alan's reaction was no less than hers had been.
	"Help me with my dress," Maureen said as
she stood up and turned around so that Alan could
reach her zipper. Alan pulled the zipper all the
way down and started to slide her dress off.
Maureen placed a hand on his and stopped him.
She stepped a few feet away and turned around.
It became obvious to Alan that she wanted to strip
for him.

	Completing what the younger man had
started, the white haired woman slid her dress to
the floor, leaving her clad in bra, panties and
stockings. It was a source of pride to her that
despite a small weight gain in her later years, she
still never wore a girdle. No one was ever going
to ask her to pose for a magazine, but she was in
much better shape than most of her friends.
	"Tell me the truth, Alan," she said as
reached behind and undid the clasp of her bra.
"When you were in my class, did you ever
think about something like this, I mean seeing me
without my clothes."
	Knowing that it was exactly what she
wanted to hear right now, Alan told her of the
informal poll he and his friends once took.
He could tell she was impressed on where she had
ranked on the survey.
	"If I had taken my own survey," she said
as her bra came off, "you would've been on the
top. I guess it can't hurt for me to say it now, but
more than a few times I thought of you when I
was in bed with my husband. Imagining that it
was you inside of me instead of him."
	That answered Alan's earlier curiosity. He
wondered what was more frequent that year he'd
been in her class. The times she imagined her
husband was him, or the times he'd jerked off
imagining it was her mouth wrapped around his
cock instead of his fingers.

**

	Alan watched fascinated as Maureen
rubbed her breasts, her fingers pressing against the
hard nipples that just a glimpse of through her
blouse was enough to give teenage boys an
erection. A lifetime of trying to stay in reasonable
shape had left the fifty-two year old with a bust
only slightly affected by time and gravity.
	Maureen's hands continued downward and
she lifted her leg onto the seat of the nearby desk
chair. Undoing the clasps of her garter belt, she
slowly slipped her stocking down the length of her
leg. An action she then repeated on her other leg.
Her husband had always preferred stockings to
pantyhose and she never saw any reason to change
after he was gone. From the way Alan's eyes
were following her every motion, it was obvious
to her that he was glad she hadn't.
	Finally it was her panties turn and once
they were gone, Alan could see that the hair
between Maureen's legs was a mixture of the
original brown, white and gray. What there was
of it had been carefully trimmed into a small, soft
mound.
	"I hope that wasn't too disappointing,"
Maureen said as she stuck a pose to finish her
erotic ballet.
	"Hardly," Alan replied, thinking that he'd
found Maureen's little performace more enticing
than any his last girlfriend had done. If Maureen
had any doubt as to the sincerity of his answer, the
straining bulge in his pants added to its validity.
	The tentpole between his legs hadn't gone
unnoticed. Now totally nude, Maureen quickly
crossed the room and knelt down in front of a still
sitting Alan. With a frantic eagerness, she worked
the belt of his pants, then its clasp and zipper.
	In less time that it took for Alan to think
about it, Maureen had his bare cock cradled in her
hands. In her life, Maureen Clarke had held just
five other cocks as she now held Alan's. One had
been her husband's of course. Before him there
had been three others with whom she'd been that
intimate, one had been in high school and one in
college. The third had been the man she was
dating when she met her husband to be.
	The last had belonged to a man she had
met in a local bar when she was forty-five. It had
been her first, and previous to this, only sexual
adventure. She and George had been having
problems with their marriage during that time, the
result of an indiscretion on his part during an
office Christmas party. In her anger, she had felt
that evening the score would make her feel better.
It had hardly done that, leaving her with an empty
and guilty feeling. Thankfully, they later worked
things out, sharing happier days until the end.
	No sense of guilt filled her now as she ran
her fingers up and down Alan's shaft. It was an
average cock as cocks go, she thought, about six
inches and just thick enough for her to close her
fingers around it. Not that Maureen took a great
deal of time to ponder how it looked before she
tilted her head forward and slipped it between her
lips.
	The mere thought that the stuff of teenage
masturbation fantasies had just become hard
reality was almost enough to cause Alan to shoot
his load the moment he felt Maureen's mouth
around his cock. It took all of his self-control not
to let that happen, but within half a minute he
knew it was a losing battle. Maureen could've
been the worst cocksucker in the world, which she
certainly wasn't, and still bring the younger
man to the brink within minutes.
	With both her hands wrapped tightly
around the base of his cock, Maureen's head
bobbed up and down with lust driven intensity.
Alan was sure that each downward thrust was
going to cause him to explode. Finally he did just
that, sending a week's worth of come into his old
teacher's mouth.
	"Oh shit!" Alan gasped as he felt himself
draining. He wasn't sure what was more exciting.
The feeling of release spreading through his body
or the image of Maureen Clarke still sliding his
pulsating cock in and out of her mouth, sucking
down his whiteness as fast as it shot into her.

	Finally he had no more to give and
Maureen released her lockjaw hold on his
manhood, letting it slip from her mouth. She
rose and sat on the bed next to Alan, a broad grin
filling her face.
	"You have a little ... er smudge on the
corner of your mouth," Alan said as he illustrated
on his own face where a spot of white still
remained on hers.
	Maureen wiped it clean with a sweep of
her index finger. She looked at the shiny residue
for a brief second, then stuck her finger in her
mouth, sucking it clean as well.
	"It's been a while since I've done that,"
Maureen said. "I hope it was good enough."
	"You won't get any complaint from me,"
Alan grinned, still basking in the euphoria of a
fantasy come true.
	"When I was married, I was never really
sure if I did that well, or if my husband was too
much of a gentlemen to tell me I sucked," she
said. "No pun intended there," she added with a
laugh.
	"Well I don't know how much of a
gentlemen I consider myself," Alan answered, "but
you definitely don't suck. Unless its to say that
you suck great!"
	"I do seem to have killed it, haven't I?"
Maureen said as she looked down on his now
totally deflated manhood.
	"Don't worry, it usually doesn't stay dead
for long," Alan said reassuringly.
	"That's good to know," said the white
haired teacher, "because giving it mouth to mouth
is what caused the problem in the first place."
	Alan laughed again, remembering that
Mrs. Clarke always had a sharp sense of humor.
Of course back in school he never would've
imagined her making jokes about something like
this.
	"Still, it does seem determined to rest a
while," she went on. "Any suggestions what we
can do to pass the time until it wants to get up and
play again?"
	"Oh I'm sure I can come up with an idea or
two," he retorted. "I used to have a teacher back
in high school who felt that I was a pretty
imaginative kind of guy."
	"Really now," she laughed. "Well I've
never been impressed by old references. I guess
you'll have to show me and let me make my own
evaluation."

	Alan wasted no time is making his case.
What remained of his clothes came off with a
dizzying speed, winding up scattered across the
room wherever his toss carried them. Now as
naked as Maureen, he climbed on top of her and
pressed their bodies together. He kissed her hard
enough to sample the aftertaste of his ejaculation
in her mouth. Alan knew that some of his friends
grossed out if something like that happened, but
he had never understood the fuss. After all, it
wasn't like it was some other guy you were
getting a taste of. It would be a fine thing if a
woman would give you a blowjob but you
wouldn't kiss her afterwards.
	Alan kissed Maureen on the mouth a few
more times as his hands explored her body. As his
kisses moved down to her breasts, one hand
reached between her legs and came to rest on her
now wet mound. His fingers made their way
within her and as his mouth closed on her nipples,
his nimble fingers began to slide in and out.
	"Oh yes," Maureen moaned loudly as the
dual pleasures spread across her body. "It feels so
good. I've missed this so very much."
	With one of her nipples buried deep in his
mouth, Alan redoubled his penetrations of her
pussy, quickly adding a third finger to his effort.
He could feel the effect on the body beneath him
as it began to gyrate in time to his manipulations.
Her breasts tasted sweet in his mouth, a treat long
imagined.
	In the back of his mind, Alan could see
himself as a seventeen year old again, his sheets
pulled up across his chest to conceal his cock
play. The image that filled his mind on many of
those nights had been the body that now lay nude
and open beneath him.
	Reluctantly abandoning her soft breasts,
Alan continued to kiss his way down her body.
Reaching the moist spot that shielded her
womanhood, he pulled out his fingers and
replaced them with his tongue. The effect on
Maureen was instantaneous and loud as she
responded to the wet assault on her clit with a
loud passionate wail.
	As pleasing as Alan's skill at cunnilingus
quickly proved itself to be, it had not been part of
those youthful fantasies. Back in high school, the
thought of actually going down on a woman
seemed the most repugnant of prospects. It took
his great college love to show Alan the error of
that belief. A lesson he'd taken to heart as greatly
as any he'd learned in Mrs. Clarke's history course.
	"Oh yes, oh God yes!" Maureen called out
as Alan buried his face deep between her legs,
putting all he had into the rising fever consuming
her body. "More, please don't stop!"
	Then, to Maureen's dismay a short time
later, Alan did just that. It took a long moment
for that fact to register on her, so lost was she in
the throes of passion. She lifted her head and
looked down at her lover. He was no longer
between her legs, but rather now standing up
alongside the bed. Her gaze shifted from the silly
smile on his face to a spot between his own legs.
What she saw there made her disappointment fade
like morning dew. The dead had risen yet again.

	Climbing back on to the bed, Alan lifted
and spread Maureen's legs. He reached down
with his left hand and took hold of his resurgent
manhood, guiding it to the now saturated entrance
to Maureen's delights. With a loving caution, he
eased himself inside of her, gently rocking back
and forth as he did.
	Maureen reached up and put her hands on
his back, pulling him deeper within her. Once he
was as far inside as was humanly possible, she
brought her legs around as well, wrapping them
around his ass. Holding him tightly, she also
began to rock, adding her own motions to their
joining.
	The clock on the wall ticked on as their
cascading motions grew both in force and
repetition. In no time at all, their bodies became
one as each drew satisfaction from the other. A
sense of deep gratification that was driven more
by a desire to please the other than to be pleased
in turn. Of course in doing so they accomplished
both objectives.
	Words quickly became impossible, giving
way to muffled grunts as both damp and sweat
covered bodies crashed against each other time
and again. The level of energy generated between
the them grew and grew until it was no longer
possible to physically contain. At that point, both
bodies simply exploded in an orgasmic burst that
shuddered through each of them. As tightly
intertwined as they were, it was impossible for
them not to experience the shattering climax of
the other. A sharing that resounded back upon
itself, producing ever-increasing tides of ecstasy.
	They held each other tight until there was
no more strength in either of them to do so.
Reluctantly, they released the other as the ripples
of passion finally began to subside.
	Too tired to even think about moving for a
while, they lay next to each other. The softness
and warmth of sticky flesh still binding them in the
aftermath of their joining.

	"I can't believe we actually did this,"
Maureen said after what seemed an indeterminable
silence. "I can't believe I actually lived out a
fantasy like that."
	"It wasn't only your fantasy," Alan smiled
back at her.
	"No, I guess not," Maureen agreed as she
absentmindedly ran her fingers over Alan's spent
cock.
	"Do you regret it?" Alan asked.
	"I should feel otherwise, but no I don't,"
the older teacher laughed.
	"Not at all?" he asked.
	Her grin repeated her answer.
	"Well neither do I," Alan added.
	"Although," she said after a brief
moment's reflection, "I think it's probably a good
thing now that I'm retiring. Because after tonight,
I don't think I could ever look at my students in
quite the same way again."
	The laughter that followed was long and
hearty.

	"My roommate is probably wondering
what happened to me," Alan said as he thought
about how long the quick nightcap had lasted.
	"Don't worry," Maureen said as she
pressed her naked body against his. "The way
things sometimes go at these conventions,
he probably figured you just got lucky last night."
	Alan thought about that for a few
heartbeats, then said, "I think I got lucky eight
years ago. But it wasn't until last night that I
realized just how much."
	"Speaking of lucky," the veteran history
teacher said as she brought her mouth closer to
his, "how do you feel about pressing your luck
one more time?"
	As their lips met, they both that time had
finally made caught up with them and made them
equals. Whatever followed the dawn, they would
never think of each other in the same way again.

End

And now a word from the Author...

	Over the last few years, I've thrown open
the gates of caution and invited my readers to
participate in a story idea contest. A chance to
see one of your ideas take form. Looking at the
calendar on the wall, it looks like it's that time
again. So pick up your pencils, or if you're not
allowed sharp objects, your keyboards and lets see
what you can come up with.

	Now the rules are simple.

	Each entry must be accompanied by an
unmarked twenty dollar bill ... nah only kidding.
Actually each entry should be sent to my email
address with "Contest Entry" in the story line.
There is no set format for your suggestion, so it
can range from a few sentences, a short outline, or
even just the start of a story. Last years winner
was in the last format and intrigued me enough to
make me want to finish the story.
	Another rule of note is that the story idea
must be a subject that I normally write about. If
unsure, just check my web page for examples.
	Other than that, the skies the limit. It
could be a story about a subject that fascinates
you. It could be a parody of a movie or a
television show (hopefully one I'm familiar with
so that I could write about the characters). Or it
could even be about someone you know, or have
had a fantasy about. Maybe a retelling of
something that might have been but wasn't. What
I normally have done with stories like that in the
past was write it with the actual characters, and
then alter them just enough to be unrecognizable
before posting them online.
	Last years contest brought forth two
unexpected dividends, aside from the fun of the
contest. The winner, Mordmorgan, wound up
becoming my proofreader on subsequent works.
That we worked well together only became
apparent while we exchanged emails about the
story.
	The other bonus was the discovery of a
young woman whose story ideas so impressed me
that I encouraged her to write them as her own.
She did so and added a number of sequels to it in
the following months under the name Lotuseater.
	I look forward to seeing what this year
might be. Entries will be accepted up to and including
September 30th.


Ann Douglas Web Page

http://www.asstr.org/~Ann_Douglas/

ASSTR Donation Page

 http://www.asstr.org/donations.html

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    Comments are the life blood of any amateur writer,
the currency in which they are paid. It only takes a few
minutes to send off a few lines, which is little to ask for
in exchange for hours spent creating a story. So be sure to
take those few minutes, it can only result in more and
better stories in the future.

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