

The following story is a work of fiction.  Its contents are of a
graphically sexual nature and may involve non-consensual sexual acts
between underage partners. Any resemblance to persons either alive or
dead is purely coincidental. This story is intended for ADULTS only.
If you are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction,
or if you are easily offended, kindly STOP READING NOW.

The Obligation - by - The StoryMaster

"Gawp!" she croaked as her hands reflexively shot to the fronts of his
thighs.  Pushing herself away, she turned her head to one side and
gagged silently for several seconds.  Melissa hated it when Mr.
Johnson pushed it in too far.  And if the taste wasn't enough, it
always made her feel like she was going to throw up when it touched
the back of her throat.

"Take your hands away, Melissa," the older man said in a patient tone
of voice.  "Now straighten up and open your mouth," he instructed the
unhappy teenager who squatted on the floor in front of him.

Reluctantly Melissa obeyed.  She had no choice.  Melissa Carpenter had
an obligation, you see.  

The expression on her face was truly priceless to behold and would
have melted the hearts of most men, but not so Benjamin Johnson.  Her
big blue eyes pleaded with him while he massaged the back of her neck
with his left hand as encouragement.  "No stalling, now," he murmured.
"You wouldn't want to be late for your next class, my dear," he added,
after which he began to rub the blunt head of his penis across her
pink lips.

Melissa made a face but did not try to turn away.  She recognized the
familiar musky odor as her history teacher smeared his clear, sticky
pre-ejaculate over her lips and nose.

"Be a good girl now and open that pretty mouth, Melissa.  I promise I
won't push this time," the man coaxed.

The pretty fifteen year old slowly rose up onto her knees.  She made
no attempt to conceal her disgust as she stared at the heavily veined
instrument of her displeasure jutting out from its sweaty nest of
coarse, dark pubic hair below the older man's pale distended belly.
Melissa opened her mouth.

"That's my girl," Mr. Johnson whispered his approval.  "Hands at your
sides, now," he coached.  He liked to put it into her mouth the first
time, and then let her take over.  Gazing down at his target, the
parted white teeth and small pink tongue, he grasped his semi-erect
member with his free hand and milked himself until another large drop
of viscous fluid formed at its tip.  Then with a smile, he pulled the
young girl forward and placed the head of his manhood onto the warm,
wet surface of her tongue, allowing the drop of pre-ejaculate to
mingle with her saliva.

"Cawlk!"  Melissa's shoulders heaved as she barely suppressed another
gag.  It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from balking again,
but she was somehow able to maintain control.  She knew he liked for
her to keep her mouth open wide until he told her to close her lips
around him.  So Melissa obediently knelt before her history teacher,
allowing the wicked man to place the head of his penis into her mouth
then slowly move it from side to side across her tongue.  Another gag
wracked her body, but she remained steadfast and didn't pull away.

"Mmm..." Mr. Johnson signed.  "You have such a pretty mouth, Melissa,"
he cooed as he gazed down into her clear blue eyes.  He was about to
give the lovely teen permission to being sucking him, when quite
unexpectedly he climaxed.

It caught Melissa by surprise too when his first salvo caromed off the
back of her soft pallet and slid unimpeded down her throat.  She was
in the habit of allowing Mr. Johnson to "spurt" into her mouth.
Actually, he insisted upon it, but she'd learned to anticipate him,
closing off her throat and taking the vile substance only into her
mouth so she could spit it out afterward.  Melissa thought surely she
would be sick, but surprisingly it stayed down, and she was in the
process of puzzling over that, in fact, when Mr. Johnson broke his
promise.  

Without warning her history teacher pulled her head forward while he
pushed himself farther into her mouth.  He was reasonably strong for a
man of his stature, and instantly Melissa's hands flew to the fronts
of his hairy thighs where they scrabbled ineffectually as she felt the
tip of his filthy penis touch the back of her throat.  Unable to
breathe, she dug her short fingernails into his flesh when the second
viscous projectile exploded from him like a rifle bullet directly into
her esophagus.  Melissa remember hearing his lewd groans, before she
choked on his next installment.  Because her mouth was blocked by the
source of her torment, a spray of heavy semen escaped through her
nostrils when she coughed.  It was a thoroughly demoralizing
experience for the pretty teenager and one she would never forget, in
part because she was immediately chastised by her teacher as soon as
she stopped choking.

"Look at the mess you've made, young lady," he scolded, indicating the
drooling lines of ejaculate on the fronts of his thighs and the
dripping mass on his testicles.  "I hope you didn't get anything on my
trousers," he added scornfully.

While Melissa lapped at one side of her history teacher's constricted
scrotum with her tongue, cleaning him like he'd taught her to do, she
let her mind wander back to a saner time in her life, a time several
months earlier, before the dreadful circumstances in which she was
currently embroiled, began.  While she struggled to keep from
vomiting, Melissa wondered if this nightmare would ever end.

Melissa Carpenter was charming, talented in many ways and
exceptionally pleasing to the eye, but she was a terrible student.
Her teachers attributed her lack of scholastic aptitude to a minor
attention disorder, but most of her peers thought she was just plain
spoiled.  In any case, because of her poor grades the pretty blond
found herself in the unenviable position of having to either pass her
mid-term exams with very high marks or face the prospect of summer
school.  For Melissa, who was quite the little socialite, summer
school was simply out of the question, but the mid-terms loomed over
her like an unscalable cliff.  Melissa definitely needed help.

Although she chose not to apply herself to her schoolwork, she was not
a stupid girl.  To the contrary, Melissa was crafty and imaginative,
and more often than not she got what she wanted.  

At the age of twelve she'd begun to shed her baby fat and develop
those enticing contours and curves that would inevitably make her very
popular with the boys in her life.  By age thirteen Melissa had
amassed a regular entourage of interested young men, and a few of them
not so young.  By the eighth grade she, Melissa was the most popular
girl in school, and had her pick of any young man she wished to allow
to associate with her.  

Melissa naturally went for the most popular boy in school.  His name
was Trevor Williams.  The two young people were first introduced by
Melissa's best old ex-friend, Madison Lewis, at a cookout.  Madison, a
rather fetching young lady in her own right, was dating Trevor at the
time, but that would soon change.  Melissa had just turned fourteen.
Trevor Lewis was sixteen, and the two attractive teenagers hit it off
right away.  It seemed at the time that Madison was the only one not
to see the obvious chemistry between Melissa and Trevor.  In less than
two weeks, Melissa managed to woo the handsome sixteen year old away
from Madison, ending their friendship for the foreseeable future.

Trevor was not only a charming and attractive young man, he was also a
talented athlete and an exceptional student.  His grade point average
never once fell below 3.8, and by the time he reached his junior year
in high school, he was being actively scouted by the wrestling
departments of several well known universities.  There was little
doubt in anyone's mind that Trevor Williams would secure a scholarship
with at least one of these prestigious schools.  

This was indeed fortunate for Trevor, because as fate would have it,
the bright young man had not been born into a life of plenty.  To the
contrary, unlike the "fairy princess" he dated, Trevor had been forced
to work his way through school.  There was no envy or resentment on
his part, however.  Trevor simply applied himself to the task at hand.
He was a confident young man, yet modest and humble as well.  In
short, Trevor Williams was the son that every man desires, honorable
and hard working.

It was this honorable side of her beau that Melissa was currently
having difficulty with.  "Please Trev," the engaging fifteen year old
beauty pleaded.  "I thought you said that you'd do anything for me,"
she cooed and gave Trevor her most beguiling smile.  

The two young people had been seeing each other pretty steadily for
almost two years now, and Melissa could usually convince Trevor to see
things her way, but this particular request involved going against his
strong moral conviction and sense of what is right and what is not.

"You know I would, Mel," the young man replied in a pained voice.  She
was obviously making it very hard for him.  "But what you're asking me
to do is wrong.  You know that."  He paused for a second then offered,
"Why don't you study really hard all weekend.  I'll help you.  We can
do it together.  You'll see."

"Ohhhh," the pretty blond whined.  "There's just no way, Trev.  I've
got to make a B+ on this exam or I'm dead," she added ruefully.  Then
with surprising vehemence, "I hate history!  It's so stupid!  All
those dates to memorize and names of people who've been dead for a
hundred years.  Who cares!" she declared emphatically.  

Trevor remained silent while his pretty girlfriend vented her anger
and frustration.  He wanted to help Melissa, but she was really
putting him on the spot.  He really did care deeply for her and
obviously wanted to see her succeed, but there were limits.  Trevor
was indeed an upstanding young man.

"Johnson will fail me for sure," Melissa went on, interrupting her
boyfriend's thoughts.  "He hates me.  I know he does.  And besides,
he's so weird," she said.  "He's always staring at me.  He gives me
the creeps, Trev," she added imploringly.  "Please, Trevor, please.  I
know you know how to get the test answers.  I'll never ask again.  I
promise.  Please, just this once," Melissa pleaded.

Her beau didn't respond, but rather he stood with his arms folded
across his chest.  He was obviously troubled, and it probably wouldn't
take much more wheedling to tip him over the edge.  Melissa Carpenter
decided that it was time to play her trump card.

Although the two young people had been dating for quite sometime by
today's standards, their relationship had remained about as Platonic
as a teenage relationship could be.  Mostly it had been Trevor who'd
been unwilling to move beyond simple kissing and the occasional
awkward petting and on to the next higher level.  He claimed that he
wouldn't be able to respect himself were he to take advantage of
Melissa.  But, Trevor was after all, a healthy American lad, and by
the age of seventeen those urges were becoming harder and harder to
ignore.  Lately he'd started to lose control of himself more and more
often when he and Melissa were together.  On one occasion he'd
actually touched her breast.  Through her sweater, of course.  That
had been a week ago, and his hand still burned.

That time it had been Melissa who'd put the brakes on, and none to
gently either.  Trevor had been terribly embarrassed when she'd
slapped his hand away.  Melissa had feigned a pouting spell and then
let her young beau apologize to her over and over again.  The incident
ended only after Melissa allowed Trevor to thoroughly emasculate
himself before her, and then it wasn't mentioned again.  What neither
would admit, however, was that secretly, they both hoped that
something like that would happen again, soon.

Melissa had come to enjoy the power she held over Trevor, learning at
a very young age that what boys wanted, she had, and that those
desires could be used  to influence their behavior.  Melissa somehow
instinctively knew that she would lose some of that power should she
give in to Trevor.  But unfortunately she felt she had no choice.  It
was time for Melissa to cash in her chips.

Dialing her charm up to "10", Melissa placed her hands onto Trevor's
broad shoulders and gazed into his eyes.  Then with all the allure of
a jaguar she purred, "If you'll help me, Trev, we can maybe go out
and... you know."  There was absolutely no mistaking what she meant as
she blushed hotly and averted her gaze, but when she looked back up at
the young man, the she-cat was back.  "Come on, Trev, you know you
want to."  Then she added in a husky voice, dripping with unveiled
seductiveness, "I want you to, Trevor."  

The young man had never heard that particular throaty quality to her
voice before, and there was something in the way she looked at him and
the manner in which she spoke that caused his juices to free-flow.
Trevor Williams caved in seconds later.

Trevor's part of the bargain was to supply Melissa with the answers to
her mid-term history exam, and for his services he was promised heaven
and earth.  Being an honor roll student, Trevor enjoyed certain
privileges not available to the majority of the student body.
Frequently he found himself alone in areas and offices that were off
limits to most, and it was because of this privilege that Trevor was
able to secure a copy of the American History Mid-term examination
with surprisingly little difficulty.  

Benjamin Johnson had also been his American History teacher in the
tenth grade, and in looking over the answers to the ten page multiple
choice test, Trevor recognized most of them.  "Funny," he thought,
that Melissa would think badly of the middle-age man.  Trevor
remembered Mr. Johnson as being a "pretty good guy" and a good
teacher.  From time to time, he would even share an off-color joke
which tended to endear him to the boys in his class.  Trevor never
bothered to consider how the girls felt about it.  "They were just
jokes after all," he rationalized.

Monday morning came at last.  All day long, Trevor was distracted,
wondering how his girlfriend would fare on her history exam, but when
at last the final bell rang and the two young people met in the hall,
Melissa's expression told the whole story.  Trevor couldn't remember
ever having seen her so elated.

"I know I passed.  I just know it.  Oh thank you, Trevor," she cried,
throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.  Right then
and there Trevor began to hope and dream.

The next day when the exam  were announced, it became official, and
Melissa Carpenter surprised everyone in her American History Class by
racking up an A- on her history mid-term.  The tests were passed out
and the answers gone over one by one.  History class that day seemed
like it would never end.  

Melissa didn't remember much of what was said, because the entire time
she was thinking about the bargain she'd made with Trevor.  "Was she
going to do it?  Was she going to let him go all the way?"  Thoughts
and images raced through her mind, both exciting and frightening her.
"Was she ready to give him heaven and earth like she'd promised?"
Melissa was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't  hear the
bell ring, signaling the end of class.  Then at last, her daydreams
were interrupted by a familiar voice calling her name.

"Miss Carpenter?  Miss Carpenter?" her history teacher spoke from
behind his desk at the front of the room.  

Melissa looked up at him blankly as she tried to collect her wits.
Most of her classmates had already left the room, and only a few
stragglers still crowded through the door to the hallway, chattering
vociferously as they went.

"Miss Carpenter, may I see you for a moment, please" Benjamin Johnson
spoke unemotionally to the pretty blond teenager seated in the third
row, giving her no indication as to what he wanted with her.  

Melissa presumed that he'd called her up to congratulate her on
passing the mid-term.  "Little does he know," she thought smugly as
she gathered her books and walked to the front of the classroom.

"Yes, Mr. Johnson," she said sweetly when at last she stood before his
desk.

"Aren't you the little charmer," Benjamin Johnson thought to himself,
and for several moments he remained silent as he gazed upon the young
girl.  She was nothing short of elegant, as she stood before him, not
realizing that her fate was in his hands.  He'd had his eyes on
Melissa Carpenter for quite some time, hoping that some day an
opportunity might present itself where he might come to know her
better.  

Melissa always dressed neatly, and Benjamin appreciated that.  So many
of the young ladies in the school chose to dress like ragamuffins
these days.  It was refreshing to find one so young who recognized her
good looks and dressed accordingly.  

Today, for example, Melissa wore a black velvet skirt which broke just
above the knee.  For a top she'd chosen a charming hot pink sleeveless
blouse which clung to her nubile curves snugly enough to allow her
small breasts to make an impression in the soft fabric, but not so
tight as to appear cheep or tawdry.  On her small feet she wore pretty
white strap sandals.  A pale pink beaded necklace finished off the
ensemble.

Usually the lovely fifteen year old wore her thick blond hair up or
tied back in a short pony tail, but today she'd opted to wear it loose
and flowing like a warm golden mantle.  She was magnificent.

Several minutes passed while neither of them spoke.  Then gradually
her smile began to fade and was replaced by a questioning look, which
tended to enhance her naturally pouty mouth.  Melissa cocked her head
to one side, and her blue eyes flashed an unspoken challenge.  She was
about to ask her history teacher what exactly it was that he wanted to
see her about, when Benjamin Johnson broke the silence.

"I'm curious, Miss Carpenter," the middle age man began, staring at
Melissa over the top of his reading glasses.  "How is it that you can
go for an entire semester, turning in barely passing grades, and then
make an almost perfect score on the mid-term examination?  Doesn't
that strike you as odd?" he asked.

Melissa was caught completely off guard.  She'd been expecting praise,
not suspicion.  Panic snapped at the periphery of her conscious mind
like emotional pirana as she tried desperately to calm her racing
heart and collect her thoughts.  She paled visibly, and her mouth went
dry as the Mojave.  

"I asked you a simple question, Miss Carpenter," her history teacher
said.  "I'd appreciate an answer, and perhaps a plausible
explanation."  He waited.

Melissa was so stunned that she just couldn't think.  In her head the
words, "He knows!  He knows!" screamed over and over again.  She
licked her lips, but words still eluded her.

"You must have spent every waking moment over the entire weekend
studying," her teacher suggested, baiting her.  "Is that what
happened, Miss Carpenter?"

It was as though he'd thrown a life ring to a drowning person, so
quickly did she grasp at what she perceived to be an avenue to safety.
Nodding her pretty head enthusiastically, Melissa finally found her
voice.  "Y... yeah.  I mean, yes, sir, Mr. Johnson.  That's what
happened, really," she lied.  "My boyfriend came over and helped me
study.  Heck, we were up all night on Saturday, practically."  She
embellished her tale with a nervous little laugh, then fell silent.

Mr. Johnson stared at the young teen for several long, uncomfortable
minutes, so long in fact, that by the time he spoke again, Melissa was
squirming guiltily.  "I see," he said at last.  He had to suppress a
smile when he noticed her sigh with relief.  Benjamin allowed another
few minutes to tick by while he continued to watch her closely.  After
a few moments she started to glance around the room in an effort to
appear calm and in control.  Then when she'd regained at least a part
of her composure, she faced him and asked rather boldly, "Can I go
now?"  

Johnson didn't answer her right away, then quite unexpectedly he
asked, "Mr. Williams is your boyfriend.  Is he not, Miss Carpenter?"
He phrased the question casually, but still she looked at him
suspiciously.

"Y.. Yes, sir," she answered timidly.  "Do you know, Trevor?" she
asked then instantly regretted having done so.  "Of course he knew
Trevor.  Everyone knew Trevor," she silently admonished herself.

"Why naturally I know Mr. Williams," Mr. Johnson replied with a smile.
"Besides his enviable reputation both scholastically and athletically,
Mr. Williams was once a student of mine," the man explained.  "Also
since he's a member of the Student Government, we faculty members see
a good bit of him.  In fact, I'm told he was in my office just last
week.  Funny... I must have missed him."

The way he said that suddenly made Melissa's blood run cold.  She only
discovered that she was holding her breath when her history teacher
asked her another seemingly innocuous question, defusing the tenseness
in the air, and  causing her to exhale with an audible sigh.

"How long have you and Mr. Williams been seeing each other, Melissa?
You don't mind if I call you by your first name, do you, my dear?"
Johnson asked warmly.

For some reason the hairs on the back of Melissa's neck stood on end,
but she chose to ignore the premonition.  "He seemed so sincere, and
besides," she reasoned.  "What's he gonna do anyway?  He might send me
to summer school, I suppose, that is if he really knows something."

"Two years," she answered, more at ease.  "Trevor will be going to
college next year," she added proudly.

"That's what I understand," Mr. Johnson said, rising from his chair.
"Word has it your young man stands a good chance to secure a
scholarship to help to defer the costs of higher education," he went
on in a conversational tone of voice as he moved around his desk,
stopping directly in front of Melissa.  He leaned back on the edge of
the desk and smiled down at the darling young girl.  This was as close
as he'd ever come to her.  He was so close, in fact, that he could
smell her delicate perfume.

"I expect the two of you will miss each other for awhile after Trevor
leaves for college?"  He phrased his supposition as a question, rather
than a statement of fact.

Melissa looked up at him questioningly.  "Funny he should ask
something like that," she thought.  "I... I guess so," she responded
after a minute.

"Come now, Miss Carpenter," her teacher exclaimed in mock surprise.
"The two of you are together constantly.  Unless, of course, you have
another beau in the wings for after Mr. Williams leaves town?"  He
smiled craftily.

Melissa was becoming increasingly incensed by the rather personal turn
their conversation was taking.

Mr. Johnson, on the other hand, had other plans.  "Tell me. Miss
Carpenter," he went on as though he were passing the time of day.
"Are you and Mr. Williams having sex?" 

The question came out of nowhere, causing the classroom to fall into a
heavy silence.

Melissa refused to believe what she'd just heard.  "Maybe this was one
of his sick jokes," she rationalized.  In any case, the pretty
teenager was speechless and stood gaping at her history teacher with
her mouth ajar. 

A full minute passed while Melissa stared in slack jawed disbelief at
Mr. Johnson.  Her thoughts, on the other hand screamed quite loudly in
her head.  "He's my American History Teacher for Christ's sake!  How
dare he ask me such a thing!  This is outrageous!"  And what was even
more infuriating was that all the while he stood there leaning on his
desk with this totally smug look on his chubby face.  "He does have a
chubby face," Melissa decided.  "He looks like a fat little frog!"  

When at last, the outraged teenager found her voice, the only sounds
that issued from her lips were a series of unintelligible sputters.
"How da... Who the hel... What do y... How could y... I... d...!" and
then she fell silent again, red faced and breathing hard.  

Melissa couldn't remember ever having been so furious.  All along
she'd suspected that Mr. Johnson was some kind of weirdo.  Now she was
certain of it.  And, since Melissa was a rather attractive young
woman, she'd had her share of incidents where she'd been approached in
what she considered to be inappropriate ways by an assortment of scum
bags and lechers.  But she knew how to handle herself.  "Yes, sir.
She'd show him!" Melissa Carpenter thought to herself as she balled up
her fists and prepared to give her history teacher the verbal
equivalent of a naval broadside.  Whatever fear or apprehension she'd
been feeling over her exam results was instantly eclipsed by white hot
rage.  Nothing disgusted her more than a pervert.

Drawing herself up to her full five foot, five inch height, Melissa
faced her foe, bristling like a terrier.  "I think that kind of
question is totally inappropriate, Mr. Johnson," she half spoke, half
hissed.  She struggled to keep herself at least partly under control,
but it was difficult, for she was shaking mad.  "And furthermore, I
don't think it's any of your damn business!"  She glared icily at the
older man.  "In fact, I don't think we have anything further to say to
each other," she said with finality and bent to retrieve her books
that she'd set on the classroom desk near where she stood.  Then as
she was turning to make her exit, she looked back at her troll-like
history teacher who hadn't said a word or moved a muscle since she'd
laid into him.  "When Mr. Gillmore, [the school principal], hears
about this, you're going to be looking for another job, Mr. Johnson,
sir," Melissa said mockingly.  She gave the man a haughty smirk and
turned to leave.

Johnson let her get half way to the door before he cleared his throat
and spoke.  "I think you cheated on your exam, Miss Carpenter," he
said.  "Furthermore, I believe that you had an accomplice."

Melissa froze in her tracks.  Slowly she turned to face her American
History teacher who stood leaning against his desk still.  "What do
you mean?" the teenager feigned innocense.  From across the room,
Melissa could feel the man's eyes boring into her, searching out her
secrets and bearing her soul. 

"Why don't you come back over here for a minute, Miss Carpenter," Mr.
Johnson suggested politely.

"But... I... I'll be late for my next class," Melissa whined, grasping
at straws.  She hated it when she whined.

"I'll write you a note," her history teacher replied with a wry smile.
"I think you and I had better talk a few things over right now."  His
smile quickly faded. 

Melissa knew the game was over.  She tried to gather her courage as
she reluctantly crossed the short distance to where Mr. Johnson stood
waiting for her. She feared the worse.  "Summer school is such a
drag!" Melissa muttered under her breath.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Carpenter?" her history teacher said.

She stood in front of him now.  Gathering what remained of her
composure, Melissa squared her shoulders and looked the man in the
eyes.  "Let's get it over with.  I know you're going to make me go to
summer school, so let's just be done with it, OK!" she said rather
arrogantly.

Melissa was angry with herself for getting caught and even angrier
with the rotund little man for catching her.  She was prepared to face
the music, but she was in no mood to take a lot of crap from Johnson.
"God, he's such a troll!" Melissa thought silently.

Benjamin Johnson remained silent for a good while.  For such an
attractive girl, Melissa Carpenter had to be one of the rudest young
women he'd ever met.  "We're going to put an end to that," Benjamin
thought as he returned Melissa's insolent glare cooly and calmly.  "I
could have you expelled, you know," he threatened. 

Melissa hadn't expected that.  "Summer school was one thing.  Sure it
would be a drag," she thought to herself.  "But dismissal!  God, her
parents would kill her!"  Melissa's mind raced as she tried
desperately to think of what to say or do next.  She knew she had to
be very careful.  Mr. Johnson had mentioned the possibility that she
might have gotten help with her mid-terms, and he'd asked her about
Trevor.  Melissa was still mad about the sex question , but so far he
hadn't put two and two together.  One slip of the tongue, though, and
Trevor's dreams of college were history.

Johnson could see that the "wheels were turning" from the troubled
expression on her face, and elected to let her stew for awhile longer.
Then at last he broke the uncomfortable silence.  "Perhaps expulsion
is a bit harsh," Mr. Johnson said thoughtfully.  "And since you
mentioned it, maybe summer school would be in order." 

Melissa relaxed noticeably.  She found it hard to believe that she
could actually be relieved to find out she had to go to summer school,
but under the circumstances...

"Consider this, Miss Carpenter," Johnson began again.  "Suppose
instead of regular summer school, you and I spend a few days each week
together for some private tutoring.  That way you won't have to ruin
your entire summer, and you and I can get to know each other a little
better," he calmly suggested.

At first Melissa didn't catch the true meaning of the man's offer and
began to consider dates and times in her head.  Then suddenly it stuck
her.  It wasn't what he'd said.  It was more the way in which he'd
said it that caused the subconscious alarm bells to sound.  Looking at
the middle aged man with thinly veiled contempt Melissa asked, "You
don't mean...?" she let the question go unfinished when she saw him
smile suggestively.

Melissa began to worry a little for her safety, but maintained a bold
front.  "I think it's time for me to go, Mr. Johnson," she said flatly
as she clutched her books to her chest and glanced toward the door.
She intended to have no further conversation with the warped little
man.  Melissa couldn't wait to get out of that classroom and make a
bee-line for the school office where if she had her way, Mr. Benjamin
Johnson would soon be under arrest for making lewd and lascivious
advances to a student.

"I think you'd better stay, my dear," the man said unexpectedly.
Melissa looked at him in disbelief as he went on.  "What do you think
Mr. Williams' chances of securing a scholarship would be were it to
become common knowledge that he helped you to cheat on your history
exam, Miss Carpenter?"  

And there it was.  For a very long time no one uttered a sound.  The
atmosphere in the classroom became heavy and oppressive again, and
Melissa found it increasingly difficult to catch her breath as the
full ramifications of her situation became clearer by the minute.
Melissa's heart began to race, and she felt suddenly weak.

"Well, Miss Carpenter?" Johnson pressed as he watched the blood drain
from her face.  "I expect an answer, young lady!"

"But... but..." Melissa stammered.  "How..? How did..?" but she was
simply too flustered at the moment to go on.

"How did I find out?" Mr. Johnson asked, completing her thought.  She
looked up at him with a panicky expression on her lovely face.  "I
don't think that matters, Miss Carpenter.  Do you?  The fact is, I did
find out, and now it seems to me that you and I have to decide just
exactly what we're going to do about this, shall we say, delicate
situation."  He stared unflinchingly at the uncomfortable teenager
until she started to squirm.

"But why pick on Trevor?" Melissa asked in a pitiful little voice
after a minute or two.  "I mean, he wouldn't have done anything like
this if I hadn't asked him to.  Please don't report him, Mr. Johnson."
She was pleading now and bordering on desperation.  "I'd just die if I
was the cause of Trevor not getting into college," she added
miserably.

"Hold on, hold on, my dear," Mr. Johnson said in a slightly softer
tone of voice.  "Let's not jump to conclusions," he went on as he took
a step toward the unhappy girl.  "I don't wish to see Mr. Williams get
into trouble.  Heavens no!" he exclaimed.  "I happen to like young
Trevor very much, as a matter of fact, and desire only the best for
him, as I'm sure you do too, my dear."  

Benjamin reached out and placed his hand on Melissa's shoulder.  It
was the first time he'd ever touched her, and even now he imagined he
could feel an electrical current leap from the magical creature
standing dejectedly before him and flow up his arm like something
alive, exhilarating and invigorating him.  "Get hold of yourself,
man," Johnson silently admonished himself.  There was no need to rush
into this.  If he played his cards right, he knew that he could have
this precious gem for his very own, to have and to hold at his
leisure.

Melissa's thoughts were so black that she didn't notice when her
history teacher put his hands on her, and when she detected a note of
sympathy in his voice, she looked up at him timidly.  The haughty,
arrogant teenager had fled the scene and was temporarily replaced by a
frightened little girl.  "You... you mean you won't... you won't turn
him in?" she asked haltingly.

"Well, that depends, my child, but I feel certain we can work
something out," Mr. Johnson replied, squeezing her shoulder
affectionately.

Finally Melissa noticed his hand on her shoulder, but decided to allow
it for the time being.  Then she gave him a healthy sample of her
sweetest smile that had served in the past as the key to every man's
heart.  She even placed her small hand over his on her shoulder
briefly, and began to believe that maybe she could get out of this
mess with minimal damage.  "Thank you, Mr. Johnson," Melissa said
sincerely.  Trevor and I will always be grateful to you."

"My pleasure, Melissa," her history teacher said, calling her by her
first name again.  "Always willing to help out a friend."  He smiled
reassuringly at the pretty teenager.  

Melissa took his smile to mean that their discussion was over, and
that she could leave now.  However, as she turned once more toward the
door, Mr. Johnson cleared his throat and said, "Speaking of friends,
Melissa.  I think it's only appropriate that since you and I now share
a mutual investment in Mr. Williams' future, if you will, that we get
to know each other a little better.  Don't you agree?"  

It was a rhetorical question, of course, and caught Melissa totally by
surprise.  She stopped abruptly and turned, feeling that old familiar
icy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Seeing expressions of suspicion and apprehension begin to cloud her
lovely face, Mr. Johnson tried to make light of the situation.  "Oh
come now, my dear girl," he began.  "Surely it won't hurt for you to
be just a little bit nicer to me, after everything I've done for you
and Trevor."

Melissa remained silent for a time while she eyed the older man
dubiously.  "What did you have in mind, Mr. Johnson?" she asked in a
quiet voice, purposely using the formal salutation in hopes that the
man's sense of responsibility would keep him from suggesting anything
really crazy.

"Now Melissa, let's not go getting testy again." Mr. Johnson spoke in
a calm voice, and although his tone was not exactly threatening in
nature, Melissa had little doubt that he meant business.  "Obviously
our time is limited at the moment, but perhaps after school today we
might get together and discuss this matter further.  Unless, of
course, you have other plans?"

Melissa didn't care for the direction things were going and quickly
fabricated an excuse.  "Well, I...  I'm supposed to meet Trevor after
school and go over to his house for dinner and maybe study some."  She
glanced sheepishly at her history teacher.  Then when she saw the
smile spread across his face, Melissa instantly realized the corner
she'd painted herself into.  "Well, actually..." she started on a new
tack, but her teacher interrupted her.

"Splendid, my dear!" Mr. Johnson said.  "So your parents won't be
expecting you home until later."  He thought for a moment then went
on.  "Why don't you tell Mr. Williams that you've had a change of
plans for this evening, Melissa" her teacher suggested with a smile.
"You don't have to go into detail or anything right now, but I think
that considering what the two of us have done for him today, young
Trevor souldn't mind terribly were he to discover that you and I are
friends.  You can see Trevor tomorrow, if you like.  Oh, and I
wouldn't bother saying anything to your parents about this.  We'll
have you home plenty early."  Although Mr. Johnson's plan was phrased
as a request, it was abundantly clear to Melissa that indeed , it was
a demand.

"But Mr. Johnson, I... I mean, I really... We really shouldn't, be
talking about stuff like this."  Melissa realized that her voice came
across as pathetic and whiney, and she hated herself for it.  But as
she felt the loop of the older man's snare close tighter around her,
the determined, headstrong debutante who'd walked into her American
History Class just over an hour ago was nowhere to be found.  "I
mean.. I'm one of your students, and... and besides, I'm only
fifteen."  God, how she'd hated to say that!

Ben Johnson was really enjoying toying with the girl, but time was
wasting.  He did, after all have another class to teach that afternoon
before he could begin Melissa's "tutoring".  So, in a sterner tone of
voice he said to her, "I'm not exactly sure what you're talking about,
my dear, but I will say this.  At fifteen years of age, young lady,
it's high time you learn that we must all take responsibility for our
actions.  You chose to cheat on your mid-term examination, and Mr.
Williams chose to assist you in your transgressions."  He paused to
allow the weightiness of her wrongdoings to sink in.  "You may now
choose whether or not you wish to risk summer school and possibly
expulsion for yourself as well as certain dismissal for Mr. Williams
and the guarantee that he will have no chance at acquiring scholarship
funds, or, Miss Carpenter," Johnson paused for effect, staring cooly
at the girl.  "Or, Miss Carpenter, you can meet me here this afternoon
after classes, and perhaps the two of us can reach an understanding
about why I shouldn't report both you and Mr. Williams to the school
office, in addition to beginning your tutoring, naturally.  Think of
it this way," he went on before Melissa could open her mouth to argue.
"You'll be helping Mr. Williams, uh... Trevor," he said in a milder
tone.  "You'll be helping Trevor to realize his dreams, with my help,
of course.  Just a couple of good friends helping another friend.
Some day, Trevor might even thank us," Mr. Johnson finished with his
familiar smile.

Melissa was simply to confused to think clearly at that moment.  She
had the uncomfortable feeling that her troubles were far from over,
but for the life of her she couldn't come up with a plausible argument
with which to refute her history teacher right then.  "Maybe later,
when I've had some time to think," she told herself, but to Mr.
Johnson Melissa simply nodded her head somewhat dejectedly.  

"Splendid!" the older man said.  "Remember, my dear, that young
Trevor's future rests in your hands," Johnson reminded the pretty
teenager as she gathered her books to leave.  She responded with a
resigned though slightly contemptuous look.  "Oh, and don't forget to
call off your date with Trevor for this evening," he added with a wry
smile.  "I'll see you after three-thirty, my dear."  Benjamin was very
tempted to elicit a kiss out of the lovely girl, but decided that he
could wait until later.

The time seemed to crawl by, and for the rest of the day all Melissa
could think about was what she was going to do about the situation
she'd found herself in with her history teacher.  At one point she
tried to convince herself that maybe, if she were to offer to work
very hard and make straight "A's" for the rest of the semester, maybe
Mr. Johnson would reconsider.  Actually, when she thought about it, he
really never did say just exactly what he wanted to with her after
school.  Perhaps she was getting all worked up over nothing, falling
prey to her imagination.  She was so used to having men make passes at
her, especially the last couple of years.  "All the man suggested was
tutoring," Melissa reminded herself.  

"But he can be so creepy," that little voice in her head pointed out.

"He's just a lonely little man who likes to tell off-color jokes,
probably harmless," Melissa decided, putting an end to her mental
debate with herself.  "She'd go the see Mr. Johnson right after
school.  They'd set up a schedule for him to tutor her in American
History, and that would be that."  

Melissa felt greatly relieved once she came to the conclusion that
she'd obviously misunderstood her history teacher's intentions.
Interestingly enough, however, when she ran into Trevor at around
three o'clock, she managed to tactfully cancel their evening together
without ever divulging to him the real reason why.  She simply told
the somewhat gullible young man that she had "stuff to do", and that
was apparently enough for Trevor.  After all, he was the trusting
sort.

The corridors were dark and eerily silent where only minutes earlier,
it seemed, they were filled with a cacophony of excited voices and
slamming locker doors as the throngs of Melissa's fellow students beat
a hasty retreat.  It was Friday and school was OUT!

 From the window of the ladies bathroom on the second floor Melissa
could see Trevor waiting outside for her in their usual meeting place.
More than likely he wanted to say goodbye to her and maybe find out
what she was doing tomorrow, but Melissa didn't want to run the risk
of having him ask her any questions.  As a matter of fact, she didn't
want anyone she knew asking questions, which is why she'd been hiding
out in the ladies room for the last twenty minutes. Melissa had pretty
much convinced herself that her history teacher meant her no harm.
Still there was the fact that she had been caught cheating, and
Melissa wanted to keep that matter very confidential.  The fewer
people who knew about her tutoring arrangement, the less chance there
was that awkward questions might be asked.  She watched as Trevor
became impatient and started looking at his watch.  Finally he glanced
around one more time, threw his letter jacket over his shoulder and
headed for the parking lot.

"See you tomorrow, Trev," Melissa whispered from her place of
concealment.  "Everything's gonna be alright," she assured herself.

Melissa waited another ten minutes just to be safe.  Then when she
figured that everyone except for maybe the janitor would be long gone,
she opened the bathroom door ever so quietly and peeked out into the
hall.  It appeared deserted, but just as Melissa was about to step out
into the darkened corridor a door slammed somewhere in the building.
The sound reverberated down the empty hallways and scared the immortal
hell out of her.

"What are you so jumpy about?" Melissa asked herself once she caught
her breath.  "It's not like you're robbing the place or anything!"
Still, her heart was pounding in her chest as she stole quietly down
the second floor hall toward Mr. Johnson's room.  

On the frosted glass pane in the upper half of the door, "Room 207 -
History" was printed in large black letters.  The door was cracked
open a bit, which resolved one problem for Melissa.  She'd been
wondering whether or not she should knock.  Its hinges groaned loudly
when she pushed the door open just enough to poke her head inside.
Mr. Johnson was seated at his desk and looked up immediately.

"Ah, Miss Carpenter, splendid.  Do come right in," he said with an
inviting smile.  He glanced up at the clock on the far wall.  It was
five minutes to four.  He watched the attractive young lady enter
quietly and close the door behind herself.  "Set the lock, please,
Miss Carpenter.  You never know who might be wandering around after
hours, and we can't be too careful, can we?"  She turned and gazed at
him pensively, then shook her head in response.  "God almighty, she's
stunning," Benjamin said to himself.  

A litany of rationalizations played in her head as Melissa walked
slowly to the front of the classroom.  Although she'd told herself
repeatedly that she had nothing to fear, and that everything was going
to be just fine, Melissa was very apprehensive.  Her body language
must have given her true feelings away, because as she approached Mr.
Johnson rose from his seat, moved around to the front of the desk and
leaned against it.

"Why the long face?" he said, feigning sympathy.  "It's so unbecoming
on such a lovely young woman, Melissa."  Then after a brief pause he
asked again, "You don't mind if I call you by your first name do you?"
He smiled warmly at the charming teenager who'd stopped just out of
reach a few feet away from him.

She looked up at him with those deep blue eyes of hers and shook her
head.  Then she tried to smile.

"That's better," her history teacher said, looking her up and down.  

Melissa thought she could feel him touching her with his eyes.  It
made her shiver inside, and suddenly she had a powerful urge to get
the hell out of there.  "Take it easy, Melissa," she told herself.
"Just relax.  Think about Trevor."

"Come closer, Melissa," Mr. Johnson said affectionately and held out
his hand to her.  "I don't bite," he chuckled.  

Melissa stood gazing at the man for a full minute while she tried to
decide whether or not to stay or run.  He was pudgy and balding and
old enough to be her dad.  Everything about Mr. Johnson, in fact, was
repugnant to Melissa, but deep down inside, past all of the optimistic
justification and sunny good time feelings, Melissa knew what she was
going to have to do.  She knew that it was the only way that Trevor
would stand a chance to go on to college.  But in spite of her strong
feelings for the lad, she simply didn't know if she was ready to admit
it to herself or to go through with it.  With a resigned sigh, Melissa
Carpenter placed her small hand in his.

Her subtle perfume permeated his senses as Benjamin Johnson pulled her
closer, and it was all he could do not to take her right then and
there. "Patience, Ben, old man," he chided himself. 

"You are indeed a beautiful child, Melissa," Mr. Johnson said huskily.
"Trevor is a lucky young man."  She was less that two feet away now,
blushing hotly.  "So self-conscious," he thought to himself.
"Speaking of Trevor, my dear, were you able to postpone your date
without too much difficulty?"

"Uh huh," Melissa answered meekly, staring at the floor.

Mr. Johnson dropped her hand then placed two fingers beneath her chin
and raised her face up to his.  "Let's see that pretty smile again,
Melissa," he coaxed, and reluctantly she complied.  "That's my girl.
You're so much prettier when you smile for me."  He paused for a
minute while he drank in her beauty.  "I'm glad you've decided to be
nice, Melissa," he told her then moved his hand from her chin to her
cheek.  Her skin was like satin, but abruptly she recoiled and turned
away.  "Don't be shy, Melissa.  You're not shy around Trevor, are
you?"

That got her attention, and she looked up at him impetuously.  Her
expression was no longer docile.  Here eyes were the color of arctic
ice, blue and cold, and just beneath the surface of those frigid pools
danced the blistering flames of enmity.  

"I'll bet you can fight like a tiger when aroused, or fuck like one,"
Benjamin silently mused.

Melissa made a withdrawal on her spiritual reserves and faced her
history teacher.  "Do what you think is right with me, Mr. Johnson,
but let's leave Trevor out of this, OK," she said scornfully.  

"To the contrary," Johnson countered.  "Mr. Williams is the main
reason we're here."  His crafty smile was back.  "If you recall, my
dear, we agreed to meet to discuss the pact we made with each another.
Then we can get on with your tutoring," the older man explained
patiently.

"What pact?" Melissa asked contemptuously.

"You know very well what pact, Melissa.  The arrangement we made to
keep Mr. Williams' larcenous activities a secret," Mr. Johnson
expounded.  "We decided earlier today that you were going to come here
this afternoon and help to convince me that I should ignore my duty as
an educator in order to help our a friend."

"But you made me come here," Melissa said, bristling for a fight.
"You don't care about Trevor.  All you want is... is..."  She fell
silent, unable to complete the sentence, but they both knew what she
meant.  She'd voiced her suspicions.  Now the ball was in his court.

"I didn't make you come here, young lady," Mr. Johnson said.  His
harsh tone of voice caused Melissa to take a step back.  

"Good," he thought.  "She can be intimidated fairly easily, anyway."

"I asked you to come here, Miss Carpenter.  I asked you to come here
and help me to help Trevor," he lectured sternly, causing her to avert
her gaze.  "Like I told you earlier today, I think the world of Trevor
Williams.  He's an honest, hard working boy who deserves a break, but
because of your selfishness, Miss Carpenter, Trevor is in some very
hot water."  He paused to let his words sink in.  "Do you understand
me, young lady?" he asked closing the gap between them in one step.
The pretty teenager started to move away from him, but he grabbed her
rather roughly by the shoulders, cutting off her retreat.  "I asked
you a question, Miss Carpenter."  

Melissa looked up at the man.  Her expression was a mixture of fear
and loathing.  "OK...OK... I understand," she said bitterly.

Abruptly Mr. Johnson softened.  "Hey, let's not start off like this.
I want us to be friends."  She looked away again.  "So help me,
Melissa," he said, shaking her lightly.  "Help me to help Trevor."  He
waited, staring down at the top of her head until at last she looked
up at him.

"What do you want me to do?" Melissa asked in a small voice.

Those were the words that Benjamin Johnson was waiting to hear.  Soon
the lovely Melissa Carpenter would be his.

"To begin with," he said, releasing her and leaning casually back
against the edge of his desk.  "We need to start being honest with
each other, if we're going to be friends, Melissa."

Melissa stood staring at her history teacher rather blankly.  She had
no idea what to expect next from the man.  "What do you mean?" she
asked naively.

"Why don't you start by telling me honestly what you offered Mr.
Williams in return for his pilfering the answers to the exam for you."

Melissa was caught completely by surprise.  She flushed beet red and
didn't know whether to be embarrassed or angry.  "I... I..." she
croaked.

"Come now, Melissa.  You and I both know that Trevor is an excellent
student and an impeccably honest young man.  You must have made him a
very attractive offer for him to compromise his moral principles in
such a manner."  He smiled as he watched the girl squirm.  

"I... I..., but!" she said, still totally flustered.

"I'll bet I know what you promised our forthright young man," Mr.
Johnson said with a sly smile.  Then he winked at her.

Slowly Melissa regained at least a part of her composure.  She knew
the moment of truth was at hand, so steeling herself, she faced her
American History teacher.  "What exactly are you saying, Mr. Johnson?"
Melissa asked, being purposely vague.

Johnson smiled at her little game of cat and mouse.  He could play
along for a little while longer.  "I have a lot of respect for Mr.
Williams, my dear, but he is very young," he pointed out.  "I suspect
that quite possibly he was swayed by the promise of maybe indulging in
your charms, causing him to ignore his better judgement and end up in
trouble."

Melissa found that his purring banter was becoming extremely
aggravating, and she wondered if he would ever get to the point.  

"I, on the other hand, am quite a bit more experienced, and am not so
easily persuaded," Johnson maintained.  "I think you should make me
the same offer that you made Trevor, Miss Carpenter.  Yes, indeed," he
said.  "If it's good enough to motivate Trevor Williams to steal for
you, then it will probably be adequate to assure my continued
cooperation and confidentiality.  Let's find out, shall we?" Johnson
said.  His wicked smile seemed to be permanently embossed on his face
now.  "But..," he said, holding up his hand.  "Like I told you before.
I won't be as easy to convince as Mr. Williams was.  You two have been
seeing each other for two years, you said.  Mr. Williams has a big
head start, so you and I have a lot of catching up to do, my dear.
I'd like to check out what I'm getting for my cooperation, young lady.
Then I'll decide if I think you're worth me turning my back on my
professional ethics."

Melissa was utterly flabbergasted.  The man was insane.  He made her
feel like a piece of raw material that he wished to test before he
used it.  "Professional ethics!" she spat.  "Professional ethics!  Who
do you think you're kidding," she said in disgust.

`Now let's not be rude, young lady," her history teacher said, cutting
short her tirade.  

Then quite unexpectedly he pushed himself forward, walked around his
desk and sat down in his seat.  Melissa stood gaping at the man, not
knowing what to expect next, but whatever is was, she was pretty sure
she wouldn't be too wild about it.  She didn't have to wait very long.

"Come around here, Melissa," Mr. Johnson said tersely.  

She hesitated. 

"Remember, with one telephone call," he threatened, producing a small
cellular phone from his jacket pocket. " I can ensure that Trevor
Williams' future is a bleak one indeed."

"But, Mr. Johnson," Melissa said miserably as she moved slowly around
the big desk toward the rotund little history teacher.

"Oh, stop your whining, young lady.  Why you'd think you were six
years old," he scolded.

As soon as she was within reach, Mr. Johnson took Melissa by the hips,
spun her around so that she faced away from him, and then pulled her
back until the backs of her legs almost touched his knees.

Leaning back in his seat, Mr. Johnson took a good look at his
perspective prize before commenting, "You have a lovely figure, Miss
Carpenter.  I'll bet you get a lot of exercise, don't you my dear."

Melissa could hardly have anticipated what occurred next.  Mr. Johnson
hadn't even finished his compliment, when his right hand moved up
under her skirt like lightning.  Before Melissa knew what was
happening her history teacher was sawing his hand back and forth
between her legs, and allowing his fingertips to trail over some
rather private areas of her anatomy.  "Very nice, my dear.  Very
nice," he murmured.  

"Nnnnn...," Melissa gasped between clenched teeth as soon as her mind
caught up and commanded her body to react.  She raised up on her tip
toes and tried to pull away, but her teacher easily restrained her by
gripping her inner thigh with the one trespassing hand and holding her
tightly by her left hip with the other.  Even while he held her thus,
effectively preventing her from escaping, his right hand remained
quite busy.  Reveling in the moist feminine heat he found between her
supple thighs, Mr. Johnson pressed upward against her with his thumb
and first two fingers.

"Sttoppppp," she cried out of both fear and frustration, and a bit too
loudly for her teacher's liking.

"Hush, Melissa!" Mr. Johnson admonished her from behind.  "We wouldn't
want anyone to hear us, not when we're just starting to get
acquainted."  He chuckled at his witticism.  "Now hold still.  Christ,
you'd think you've never been touched by a man before."

"But it, I mean, I..." she whimpered woefully, but failed to finish
expressing her grievance.

"That's not like her," Benjamin reflected.  He hadn't known Melissa
for very long other than on an academic level, but one thing was for
certain about this little debutante.  She didn't take personal
criticism well at all.  "Why didn't she refute me on that one?" he
wondered.

Acting purely on a hunch, he removed his hand from between Melissa's
legs, and turned her around to face him.  She was beet red from
embarrassment, "and what else?" Johnson pondered.  Keeping his hands
on her hips, he studied the lovely teenager for a moment.  He kept
trying to catch her eye, but each time he did, she would quickly look
away.  Finally he was forced to order her to look at him.

Ever so reluctantly she faced him.  Her eyes clearly expressed her
uneasiness and confusion.  "Such dichotomy of character," Benjamin
mused.  "One minute she's the scrapper, head strong and confident, and
the next the timid little girl.  I guess I never will understand what
goes on in the mind of a young lady in her teens," he concluded.  In
any case, it wasn't her mind that he was after.

"You need to relax, my dear," Mr. Johnson began by speaking
soothingly.  Meanwhile, he allowed his hands to travel gently down the
flanks of her thighs, stopping at her knees.  "You're so tense, child,
and your muscles are all in knots," he commented as he started to
massage the backs of her thighs, kneading their firm muscles as he
moved his hands slowly upward over the soft velvet of her skirt.  All
the while he kept his eyes fixed on hers.  "Are you always this
nervous and up-tight when you're around boys, Melissa?"  His hands
moved back downward, rubbing, squeezing.  "Are you this skittish when
you're with Trevor?" he asked, staring pointedly into her big blue
eyes.

"Well, no, but..." she replied softly.


His hands started back up, then stopped just below the hem of her
skirt.  Everything was progressing famously, albeit a little slowly.
Mr. Johnson glanced quickly at the clock on the far wall.  Four
forty-two, it read.  He had plenty of time, and his comforting tone of
voice and concerned questions were serving to distract the girl, quite
successfully.

"Do you and Trevor," he stopped to make sure she was listening to him.
"Do you and Trevor get intimate with each other often, Melissa?"  He
slid his hands under her skirt then slowly up the backs of her thighs.

Melissa stared at him for a few seconds then looked away, but before
she did, Benjamin distinctly saw a tiny glint of... "gilt, maybe?  I
wonder," he speculated.  Then again, it could quite possibly have been
a reaction to the fact that his hands were up under her skirt again.
The flesh of her thighs was wonderfully firm and resilient beneath
skin like satin.  Johnson waited to see how she would respond.

"Mr. Johnson, I," she started then hesitated, blushing hotly and
averting her gaze.

"You what, Melissa?" he prompted immediately.  "And please look at me
when you speak to me, Melissa.  It's the only polite thing to do," he
pointed out to her.  He waited, sensing that she was about to divulge
something rather personal in nature.  "With the right motivation," he
reminded himself.

His hands rested just below her hips now, and he could feel the soft
fabric of her little panties beneath his palms.

"What did you want to tell me, Melissa?" he coaxed in a  more earnest
tone of voice.  She began to squirm in his hands.  "You and Mr.
Williams have been intimate with each other, haven't you?" Benjamin
then asked a bit incredulously.  "I mean now-a-days, many young ladies
start a lot younger than you are," he added.

He felt the thin elastic waist band of her panties beneath his
fingertips.

"Answer me, Miss Carpenter," he requested rather brusquely.  "You're
not a virgin still, are you?"

"No...I mean, well but...." Melissa responded right away.

She looked highly agitated.  Benjamin had her right where he wanted
her.  She was confused and embarrassed, yet at the same time she would
wish to maintain an air of maturity.  He knew that being considered
mature meant everything to a girl Melissa's age.

"But what, Miss Carpenter?  Either you are or you aren't.  There's no
in between," Mr. Johnson said patronizingly.  He studied her lovely
face, but again she refused to look him in the eye.

The timing couldn't have been any more perfect.  

"I think we need to get to the bottom of this little mystery right
now, Miss Carpenter," Mr. Johnson declared, and with that, he hooked
his thumbs over the little elastic band.  "Let's just take these
down," he muttered and swiftly drew her panties down to her ankles.

It all happened so quickly that Melissa didn't realize she'd been
stripped of her underwear until she heard her history teacher tell her
from his bent over position to pick her left foot up.  Even then it
was like a dream, or nightmare rather.  "Now the other foot. That's
it." she heard the man speak as if from a great distance.  Melissa
didn't recall losing her balance and catching herself with a hand on
Mr. Johnson's shoulder as she obediently stepped out of her panties
for him.  She was so very flustered and bewildered by his earlier
barrage of very personal questions, some of which had triggered
feelings and memories she'd wanted to forget, that in fact, Melissa
didn't remember much about the episode at all.  It wasn't until she
felt her history teacher's fingers start to fumble with the single
button on the front of her black velvet skirt, that Melissa returned
to the present, but by then it was too late.

"Wha..?" she exclaimed dumbly then glanced down when she felt the
skirt fall around her feet.  A second later she looked back up at her
teacher, but this time it was he who refused to look her in the eye.
Benjamin's attention was directed elsewhere, you see.

Melissa Carpenter stood before him dressed only in her little pink
sleeveless pullover, the tail of which ended just below her navel.
Below that line of hot pink cotton curved the softness of her lower
abdomen, and below that...  Well let's just say that Benjamin Johnson
was left breathless at the sight.

"Oh, my dear, sweet, child," he managed to get out at last.  His eyes
were riveted to the enchanting golden triangle between the young
girl's thighs.  Melissa's wispy soft blond curls were surprisingly
sparse, and allowed him to clearly see her wide, heavy labia majora
beneath.  Johnson wanted more than anything to reach out and stroke
that soft coat, but managed to control himself for the time being.

"Please don't, Mr. Johnson," Melissa pleaded and then covered herself
with both hands when she couldn't stand having the man stare at her
down there for another second.  She pressed her knees together and
turned away.

Benjamin let her turn.  He wanted to get a better look at her back
side anyway, and oh, what a treat that turned out to be.  Fearing that
she might try to get away from him, although he didn't know where she
would go, dressed as she was, Johnson placed a hand on Melissa's left
side above her hip, his finger tips reaching nearly half way around
her slim waist.

"Don't be shy, my dear," he cooed to her as he placed his other hand
onto one exquisitely shaped orb of her plump little butt.  "Like I
told you before, you have a lovely figure.  You should be proud of
your body, not ashamed or afraid of it, Melissa," Mr. Johnson said
softly as he rubbed her back side almost reverently.  She flinched
slightly when he let his fingers delve ever so slightly into the
mysterious, dark valley between rolling hills of milk white, warm and
supple flesh.  

"Don't hide yourself from me, Melissa," her teacher said as he
unexpectedly peaked around her left side.  She tried to rotate her
hips farther in order to escape his probing eyes, but this time he
restrained her. "Take your hands away, Melissa" he instructed her, and
gently grabbed the forearm of one offending hand.  

Turning quickly, Melissa looked over her shoulder at him with big
puppy dog eyes.  "But Mr. Johnson," she whimpered.  "Please, Mr.
Johnson.  I... I just can't." She was close to tears now, and started
to struggle with him weakly as he tried to coax her to uncover
herself.

"What can't you do, sweetheart?" Mr. Johnson cooed in mock sympathy.
He pulled her left hand around behind her back.

"I can't... Noooo," she cried louder as her history teacher turned her
gently yet inexorably around until she faced him once again.  She
crouched slightly, knees held tightly together with her right hand
still jammed into her crotch.

"Now we'll have no more of this behavior, Miss Carpenter," the older
man said more forcefully.  "You're a beautiful young woman, and I for
one would like to see more of you.  Take your hand away this instant,
Melissa!" he ordered the stunned little beauty. 

Reaching behind her left thigh, he grabbed her just below her buttock
and yanked her closer and none to gently.  Melissa dropped her hand as
she stumble forward, granting Mr. Johnson an unobstructed, close up
view of her treasures.

Positioning her between his knees, Johnson said a slightly softer tone
of voice,  "There, now.  That's much better.  Let's you and I not
start off our relationship fighting, my dear," he murmured
affectionately.  "Remember we have Mr. Williams to think about."

Melissa stiffened at the mention of Trevor's name.   She couldn't
remember ever having been in a more dreadful situation.  She couldn't
believe this was really happening, yet there she stood, in front of
her American History Teacher, naked from the waist down.  Melissa
imagined she could feel his eyes caressing her, probing into her
secret places.  Not even Trevor had seen her like this before.
Melissa was thoroughly mortified.

"Now, back to my question," Mr. Johnson said in a conversational tone.
To his credit, he managed to tear his eyes away from the girl's
enticing plumpness, and gaze up at her from his seat with a look of
genuine curiosity on his pudgy face.  Then after waiting a minute for
her to respond, he prompted, "Well, Melissa, which is it?"

With a perplexed look, the pretty teenager asked him, "W.. What do you
mean?"

"Are you a virgin or not?" Mr. Johnson replied in mock surprise.

At first Melissa stared at him with a look of utter torment on her
face.  She opened her mouth to speak once or twice but couldn't make a
sound.  Finally she looked away in shame.  

Benjamin asked her again, and again she was either unable or unwilling
to answer him.  After a minute, he said to her, "It hurts my feelings,
Melissa, that you choose to keep secrets from me.  Do you keep secrets
from Mr. Williams too?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

No response.

With a sigh, Mr. Johnson said, "Very well, then, have it your way, my
dear, but I wish you'd be more forthright with me.  I mean we're going
to find out sooner or later."  Slowly, Melissa turned to face him.
Her deep blue eyes were distant and troubled.  Benjamin sensed just
from looking at her that she was hiding something about which she was
deeply chagrined, something that troubled her even more than standing
half naked in front of her history teacher.  Eventually it would have
to come out, but he could be patient, and besides, Benjamin figured he
could find far better ways amuse himself for the time being.

"I'm going to put my hand on you, now, Melissa," he said flatly.  "I
expect for you to hold very still, and I promise I won't hurt you," he
added sincerely as he placed his free hand on her tummy, effectively
preventing her from escaping from between his knees.  Then with no
further comment, he slipped his hand downward and cupped her
fabulously resilient flesh.

"No don't, Mr. Johnson!" Melissa cried out in dismay.  Then she jammed
her hands between her thighs, pushing her teacher's hand aside.

For a brief moment in time, Benjamin Johnson had touched heaven.
Never in his life had he felt such immaculate softness, and yet she
was so very plump and firm at the same time.

"Take your hands away, young lady," Mr. Johnson ordered the distressed
teenager.  He looked up at her sternly from his seated position.  Her
face was flushed a rosy shade of pink both from embarrassment and
anxiety.  "I said remove your hands right now, Melissa."  Then
abruptly he removed his hands from her and sat back in his chair.
"Unless, of course, you've decided to call off our arrangement.  In
which case, I'll be stopping by Mr. Gillmore's house on my way home to
discuss the future of your Mr. Trevor Williams.  Is that what you
would like for me to do, Miss Carpenter?  Do you wish to reconsider,
or do you want me to stop?" he asked the unhappy blond beauty.

"Yes!  I mean, no, Mr. Johnson, " she whined.  "I don't want Trevor to
suffer because of me, but I just don't know if I can do this," she
whined despondently.

Mr. Johnson sat for several moments, gazing at the young blond before
he spoke.  She was so adorable.  "And why is that, my dear?" he
queried the girl, trying a new tack.

"Why is what?" Melissa asked.

"Why is it you feel that you can't go on?"  Johnson said.  "It's all
perfectly natural.  I'm a man.  You're a woman.  I mean look at you,
standing here next to me with no pants on and all.  Tell me, have you
ever gone this far before, Melissa?"

She obviously had to think about that one.  "No, not really.  Well....
kind of," she said and started to squirm.  

"It was that `virgin/no virgin' thing again," Benjamin told himself.
"I realize this is a little awkward for you, Melissa, but if you'd
just relax a little, I think you might learn to enjoy it," he said
sincerely.  Then he sighed and fell silent for a moment.  

"At the risk of being indelicate, I feel like we need to come to an
understanding, Melissa." He began again in a businesslike tone of
voice.  Once again he reached toward her, and once again she tried to
recoil from his touch.  Mr. Johnson didn't utter a sound, but there
was no mistaking the look on his face.  Melissa instantly reconsidered
and allowed him to place his hand onto her left hip.  Then he scooted
up to the edge of his chair and put his other hand on her right hip.
Looking Melissa straight in the eye, Mr. Johnson turned her so that
she faced him directly, then he said in no uncertain terms, "I am
going to make love to you this afternoon, Miss Carpenter.  I think you
know that."  He watched her blue eyes grow wide with concern, and her
mouth practically fell open.  Johnson continued.  "Whether or not you
choose to enjoy it, is entirely up to you, my dear, but you will
accommodate me.  I don't think we need to rehash the consequences
should you fail to cooperate.  Do I make myself clear, young lady?" he
asked her directly.

Melissa stood between his knees considering her limited options and
feeling totally defeated while her teacher's eyes bored into her.  She
knew that she had no choice.  There was no way out.  She'd wanted to
save herself for Trevor, but that simply wasn't going to be.  If she
was lucky, perhaps he'd never know.  Slowly Melissa looked up at the
older man.  Their eyes met.  She nodded her consent.

"That's better, Melissa.  That's my girl," Mr. Johnson said, warming
right away.  He squeezed the firm flesh above her hips affectionately.
"Now let's have a closer look at you," her teacher said, wasting no
time.  "Trevor is one lucky man to associate with such a dedicated
young woman.  You must care a great deal for him.  Don't you, my
dear?" he asked rhetorically.

Melissa nodded dumbly, then watched transfixed as her history teacher
leaned forward in his chair and studied her closely.  It was all she
could do not to turn away or cover herself with her hands.  Then for
the second time that afternoon, she felt his hand upon her.  "Oh...
gdddd!" Melissa groaned softly through clenched teeth, as his fingers
moved over her, touching... pushing... probing, until she thought she
would scream.  

"Spread your feet apart a bit more for me, Melissa," Mr. Johnson
instructed her.  His hand moved farther between her trembling thighs.

"Tell me, Melissa, sweetheart," Mr. Johnson asked, tugging playfully
at her wispy coat. "Do you shave yourself... for swimming, I mean?"

"Huh... wha...what?" she replied breathlessly.  

He cupped her firmly and began to palpate her private flesh slowly and
rhythmically, allowing her soft blond curls to slide between his
fingers.

"You know," he said in a perfectly calm voice.  "Many girls find it
desirable to shave themselves down here in order to wear those
fashionable new swim suits, but your pubic curls are so naturally
sparse and fair, I was just curious if you shave.  Just an innocent
question, my dear, one friend to another."  He smiled up at the
confused teenager.  

Meanwhile, Johnson pressed upward with his four fingers against
Melissa's meaty labia.  For a fifteen year old, she was remarkably
well endowed.  Resisting the temptation to slip a finger between those
marvelous lobes of flesh, Mr. Johnson, moving his fingers in pairs
apart then together, he in turn opened then closed Melissa again and
again.

"Hhhhooohhh!" the pretty teen exhaled, feeling the cool classroom air
against her moist intimate petals.

Mr. Johnson felt a powerful tremor pass through her slim figure.
"Does Mr. Williams touch you like this, my child?" her teacher asked
as he continued to rub and push and squeeze, slowly and firmly.  "Does
he, Melissa?"

Melissa glanced down first at his hand between her legs, then into his
eyes.  Her blue eyes were troubled but somehow remote and unfocused.
She shook her head distractedly.

Mr. Johnson smiled knowingly up at her.  "That's too bad, because I
think you like being touched like this.  Don't you, Melissa?  Don't
you, baby?" he cooed softly.  

"Nnnn!" Melissa groaned between clenched teeth, but his hand kept
rubbing and squeezing and...  It was driving her mad.  Again, a tremor
wracked her body.

"Now don't fib to me, Melissa," he said in a patronizing tone.  "I can
tell, you know," he added.

The expression on her face was marvelous to behold when felt her
teacher's finger slipped much too easily between the outer gates of
her citadel.  Melissa thought she heard him mention something about
her being very wet, but at that particular point in time, she found it
rather difficult to concentrate on anything other than the wonderment
of his inquiring digit as it stroked slowly back and forth, seeking
her out her deepest secrets.

"Nooo!" Melissa cried quite adamantly when his finger tip started to
tickle around her vaginal portal.  Suddenly she reached down with both
hands and grabbed Mr. Johnson's wrist.  At the same time she clamped
her thighs together tightly on his marauding hand.

Mr. Johnson didn't fight her, but neither did he remove his hand from
between Melissa's legs.  Instead he stared patiently up at her and
didn't speak for several seconds.  Melissa didn't know what to do and
was about to plead with her teacher not to make her go any farther,
when he spoke.

"Shall I call Mr. Gillmore, Melissa?" he asked her succinctly. 

Melissa was crushed, and felt like bursting into tears, but she
somehow knew that would accomplish nothing with Mr. Johnson other than
to make her look even more like a child.  Without his even having to
ask her, Melissa slowly relaxed the muscles behind the smooth skin of
her thighs.  Then finally she dropped her hands to her sides and stood
staring at her feet, feeling dispirited and hopeless.  

"That's better," Mr. Johnson said, giving her a playful squeeze on the
bottom with his free hand.  "I feel certain that Mr. Williams will
appreciate the fact that you've chosen to cooperate, Melissa.   Not
only will you be insuring his academic future, but think of the
experience you'll bring into your relationship with Trevor.  I'm sure
the work we do here today will be beneficial to you young people in
the long run."

Melissa wasn't really listening to her history teacher, rather her
attention was focused on his finger tip which once gain hovered near
her entrance, swirling over the moist folds of her labia minora.

Benjamin watched her expression carefully.  There was little doubt
that she was distressed by their arrangement, but there was no
mistaking the blush of color in her cheeks either.  On more than one
occasion, he felt her push against his hand, when he touched a
particularly sensitive spot, and whereas just a few minutes ago,
Melissa had been relatively dry, his finger tip now glided over supple
petals slippery with dew.  From time to time the two of them exchanged
poignant glances while he worked with her, and after a few more
minutes, he deemed her ready.

Melissa's eyes spoke volumes, and Benjamin was fortunate enough to
take in every nuance of expression as he slowly pushed his long middle
finger into the lovely teenager.  Besides the obvious consternation
involved with being handled contrary to her wishes, there was
something else in Melissa's expression.  Anxious anticipation could
best describe what he saw in her eyes, as though some long kept secret
was about to be discovered.

Johnson met with no resistance as he slowly worked his finger in past
the second knuckle.  Then he paused for a moment and asked, "You
mentioned that you and Mr. Williams aren't intimate with each other,
did you not, my dear?"

"Uh... uh..., Ohhh," Melissa groaned as his finger moved about inside
of her.  

"Answer me, Melissa," Mr. Johnson ordered.  "It's obvious that you've
been with someone at some point in time."  He waited.  "Who took your
virginity, Melissa?  Have you been playing around with someone behind
Trevor's back?  That's not very nice, Melissa," he glared up at the
distressed girl.  "Now tell me who your lover is, young lady."  He
pushed his finger in a little deeper, and felt her clamp down in an
effort to resist him.

"It's nobody!" she blurted out suddenly in anger and frustration.  It
was bad enough that her history teacher was blackmailing her into
having sex with him, but he also seemed to insist upon asking her some
very indelicate questions.

"Nobody?"  Mr. Johnson sounded dubious.  "How could nobody penetrate
your hymen, Melissa?" he asked sarcastically.  As he spoke, he pressed
his thumb to the top of Melissa's carnal rift and began to rub her
slowly in tight circles.

Melissa shuddered from the electrifying sensations that leapt from
under his thumb and coursed through her body.  It was becoming harder
and harder for her to concentrate.  "Ohhhh..." she moaned
unconsciously.

Mr. Johnson smiled, and after a few seconds he asked, "Are you
listening to me, my dear?"

"Uh.. Huh," she nodded distractedly.

"Then tell me who you had sex with, Melissa, and how old you were at
the time."

"W..why?" the pretty teen asked bitterly.

"Because, I want to know all about you, Melissa.  After all, in a very
few minutes, you and I are going to become much better friends," he
said with a wry chuckle.

Melissa shot him a cold look.

"Who's your secret boyfriend, Melissa?" her teacher asked again
unrelentingly.  As he watched her face, he saw her indignation rise
like mercury up a thermometer.

"It was an accident, OK!" she blurted out when she could contain
herself no longer.  "I don't have a secret boyfriend, OK!"

"I see," Mr. Johnson responded calmly.  "Tell me about this
`accident'," he said.  He began to move his middle finger slowly in
and out.  She was wonderfully tight and her vaginal muscles were
surprisingly athletic.

She looked down at his hand then into his eyes.  She hesitated then
asked in a small, uncomfortable voice, "Do you have to... do that, Mr.
Johnson?"

"Do what, my dear?" he asked with a smile.

Another hesitation.

"You know.  With your finger," she murmured, then she shivered all
over.

"Yes I do, Melissa," he replied and offered no further explanation.
"Now about that `accident'," he added.  He pushed his finger all the
way in, causing her to groan softly and her tummy muscles to flex.

Melissa gave him a perplexed look, then in a barely audible voice, she
said, "My friend, Cassidy did it."

"I beg your pardon, Melissa.  Speak up please," her teacher responded.

"I said, Cassidy Wilson did it, but it was by accident," she added
emphatically.  Then she hesitated, and only when Mr. Johnson raised
his eyebrows did she reluctantly disclose her tale.  "We found her
mother's vibrator thing," Melissa explained, blushing hotly.  "We both
tried it, Cassidy went first, and I held it for her.  Then it was my
turn," she said.  "It felt really weird."  Melissa squirmed a bit in
his grasp, remembering that day and those strange new sensations.
Johnson held his finger still for the moment, and let her continue
with her story without distraction.   

"Go on," he prompted.

"Cassidy was holding it for me.  You know, between my legs."
Melissa's face was beet red now as she recounted the events of that
momentous afternoon.   Cassidy kept pushing the thing against my...
my," she hesitated.  "My, you know, down there."  She nodded down at
his hand between her thighs.  "I guess I flinched.  I don't know.  It
felt so strange, and it made the muscles in my legs twitch."
Unconsciously Melissa squeezed her teacher's finger.  She looked
anxious and confused.

"Go on, Melissa.  Then what happened?" Mr. Johnson asked.

"I don't know, I...  I think maybe I must have accidently moved my
hips or something at the same time that Cassidy was pushing the thing
against me, and then...."  She hesitated again.  "Well..."  Then she
stopped and stared down at her teacher.  "This is really embarrassing,
you know," she whined.

"I know," Mr. Johnson replied flatly.  "Tell me what happened next,
Melissa."

Again she gave him that perplexed look of disbelief.  It was
priceless.  "There was some blood... not a lot.  Cassidy pulled it out
right away.  It didn't hurt much, but it scared both of us to death.
Neither of us really knew what Cassidy had done to me at the time, but
both of us promised we'd never tell anyone."

It was all Benjamin could do not to laugh.  In fact several moments
passed before he could speak in a composed manner.  "Miss Wilson must
know by now that she took your virginity that day.  Has she ever said
anything to you about it?"

The uncomfortable girl gazed at him curiously.  "Well yeah.  I guess
so.  I mean she said she was sorry and all," Melissa replied after a
second.  "What difference does it make, anyway?  It was an accident,
like I said," she said a little testily.

"Now don't get cross with me, my dear," her teacher replied calmly.
He started to move his finger again, probing about inside of Melissa
and making her shudder.  "I was just curious, that's all.  It's not
everyday that I meet a young lady who lost her virginity to a
girlfriend.  Perhaps I'll have a word with Miss Wilson about this at a
later date," he mused.

"No wait, Mr. Johnson.  You don't understand.  Cassidy didn't mean
to...." Melissa began with an alarmed expression on her pretty face,
but her history teacher interrupted her before she could finish.  

It was too late, anyway.  Benjamin Johnson had already made a mental
note to contact Miss Cassidy Wilson at his next opportunity for a
little heart to heart chat.

"So you're telling me that Miss Wilson took your virginity, and that
you've not been with a man since that day.  Is that correct, Melissa?"

She stared at him for a moment in silence, nodded her head then looked
away.

Benjamin gazed at her for several seconds, then he shook his head and
said, "I still find it difficult to imagine that such an attractive
young lady hasn't yet taken a lover.  Be that as it may," he went on.
"I must say that the prospect of helping you to discover the wonders
of physical love is very intriguing, my dear.  I believe we are both
in for a very pleasant experience."

Melissa stared at her history teacher with considerable displeasure ,
but before she could respond to his rather assuming remark, Mr.
Johnson said quite unexpectedly, "Squeeze my finger, Melissa."

"W..what?" the teenager asked, shocked.  "W..what did you say?"

"I said, squeeze my finger.  Don't play dumb with me, Melissa.  You
know what I want.  Use the same muscles you use when you want to stop
peeing."  He moved his finger in and out of her a couple of times
while he stared fixedly up at the stunned young girl.  "Squeeze my
finger, Melissa," he repeated.

It had to be one of the most loathsome and dehumanizing things anyone
had ever asked of her, but Melissa knew by now that she had little
choice in the matter.  

Benjamin felt her slowly bear down.  "Good," he said.  "Again,
please."

Melissa couldn't remember ever having been more embarrassed.

"Harder," Mr. Johnson demanded.  Then he began to move his finger in
and out again.  "Relax when I push and squeeze when I pull out,
Melissa," he instructed the bewildered, indignant teenager.  "Good,"
he said when he felt her start to comply with his instructions.  "A
few more times, and I believe you'll be ready."

"Huh?" she looked at him obviously alarmed.

"Squeeze my finger, Melissa.  Concentrate," was his only reply.

After what seemed like hours, Mr. Johnson finally extracted his finger
from the girl, and the wooden chair legs groaned against the linoleum
as he stood.

"I want you to see something, my dear," her teacher said casually.  He
held his hand up in front of Melissa's face, and began to rub his
thumb and middle finger together slowly.  "You're a very wet young
lady, Melissa," he commented with a cynical smile.

Melissa thought she would simply die as she stared in horror at Mr.
Johnson's hand.  Not only was his middle finger, the one which had
done the majority of the trespassing, but his other fingers and his
thumb as well, were uniformly coated with a silky, clear fluid.
Gazing in stunned disbelief at her teacher's fingers, Melissa felt
mildly sick to her stomach.  She realized that in spite of the fact
that he was forcing her to accept his repugnant attentions, the
despicable little man had also somehow been able to arouse her.
Melissa had never felt more ashamed.

"Let's take your blouse off now, my dear," Mr. Johnson said to the
appalled teenager.  

Melissa was still so shocked, in fact, from the revelation concerning
her unanticipated sexual arousal, that she unconsciously raised her
hands over her head when he asked, making it easier for him to remove
her top.  He tossed the blouse onto his desk, then stooped, picked up
her velvet skirt and placed it on the desk as well.  

"You always wear such pretty things, Melissa," Mr. Johnson purred.
"That's one of the things that I find most attractive about you, my
dear."  

Melissa wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or not,
considering the circumstances.

"Turn for me, now, Melissa," her teacher said in a gentler tone.
Gripping her lightly by her shoulders, he helped her to turn, facing
away from him.  "I want to see your little titties, my dear," he added
gruffly, and before Melissa knew it, he'd unfastened the tiny catch at
the back and slipped the thin straps of her brassiere over her
shoulders, causing the small garment to slide down her arms and fall
to the floor.  "We'll pick that up in a minute," Mr. Johnson said as
without the slightest warning, he slipped his hands under Melissa's
arms and around her torso.  He then cupped her small breasts and
pulled her naked body back against his.  

Melissa was too surprised to resist, as he began to knead the firm
flesh of her two perfect breast cones.  Nobody had ever done that to
her before.  "Why Trevor had never even seen her breasts, let alone
touched them," the girl thought absently to herself.  Melissa shivered
when her teacher nuzzle his lips against her neck.

"Mmmm..." he murmured into her soft hair.  "You smell so fresh,
Melissa, sweetheart," Mr. Johnson whispered then began to kiss her
neck and the top of her shoulder.

"But, Mr. Johnson, I..." she began.

"Hush now, little one," he said as he nibbled behind her ear.  

"Ohhhh," Melissa moaned when he pressed her little breasts against her
chest, flattening the precious cones between her ribs and the palms of
his hands.  Next he pinched her tiny nipples and stretched her breasts
outward from her chest, before he finally released them, causing the
resilient flesh to snap back into its immaculate, original shape.  

Then as he began to repeat the procedure, Mr. Johnson made what
Melissa felt was a highly indecent proposal.  "Why don't you touch
yourself down there for a minute, Melissa, while I rub your pretty
little titties some more.  Would you do that for me, please?" he asked
gruffly from just behind her ear.

"What?"  Melissa responded somewhat breathlessly.  She couldn't
believe he'd ask her to do something like that.  "Mr. Johnson, I just
can't," she whined rather pitifully.

"And why not, my child?" her teacher murmured into her fragrant hair.
"You let your girlfriend touch you," he reminded her.  "You let me
touch you, Melissa."  He kneaded her shapely breasts with his hands,
feeling the denser mammary glands beneath the softer fatty tissues.

"Ohhh...ugghhhhhh," Melissa gasped.  She felt his hot breath against
the back of her neck.

"Touch yourself, Melissa," Johnson repeated.  "Rub yourself down
there, sweetheart.  Keep yourself nice and wet for me, Melissa."  

His hands never seemed to rest, and Melissa felt sparks fly between
her small erect nipples and his fingers as he fondled her.  She
shuddered all over.  Then suddenly he reached around her, took Melissa
by one of her wrists and guided her hand downward.  

"But Mr. Johnson, I..." she moaned softly as he slid his hand over the
back of hers and pressed it between her thighs. 

"Shhhhh.... That's my girl," Johnson murmured as he squeezed her hand
with his own, causing her to clasp her intimate flesh.  She pressed
her butt back against his, trying to escape his attentions.  "Make
yourself wet for me, Melissa," he whispered then began to kiss her
neck and shoulders repeatedly while he helped her to get acquainted
with herself.

"You just keep touching yourself, Melissa," Mr. Johnson said when he
unexpectedly removed his hands from her.  

Surprised, Melissa turned and looked back at him, but unconsciously,
she kept her hand between her legs.  

She made quite the exquisite site, standing naked before him.  Mr.
Johnson, resting one hand on her shoulder, quickly unbuckled his belt,
dropped his trousers and stepped out of them.  "Keep rubbing yourself,
Melissa," he instructed the confused girl as he placed his pants on
the desk.  She turned away in shame and embarrassment.  She was
definitely primed, for he could see that telltale flush of color in
her shoulders, face and neck, and surprisingly she began to move her
hand slowly up and down between her legs.  

Mr. Johnson bent down and retrieved Melissa's bra from the floor along
with her panties.  The bra he placed on top of the growing pile of
clothing on his desk top, but the panties he brought reverently up,
and nuzzled his face into the soft satin.  He nibbled at the smooth
fabric with his lips and inhaled heady drafts of her intoxicating
bouquet.  Intermingled with the subtle perfume she wore, was that
unmistakable, slightly unwashed scent that young ladies try so hard to
disguise, but which made Benjamin Johnson's senses reel with delight.

He could wait no longer.

After tossing her fragrant undergarment on top of the pile, Benjamin
reached out and took Melissa by her narrow waist.  She jumped in
surprise when he first touched her for she'd been distracted by the
odd sensations which were just beginning to make themselves known to
her from somewhere deep in the center of her womanhood.

"What?" Melissa asked rather distantly as her history teacher
maneuvered her.  Trading places with her, he turned her to face his
desk.

"Bend over, my dear, and put your hands on the desk," Johnson ordered
somewhat impatiently.

Even as she was following his instructions, it dawned upon Melissa
what was about to happen.  Somewhere in her subconscious a small voice
shouted for her to either fight or flee, but somehow it got lost in a
haze of confusion, perhaps brought on by the intoxicating mixture of
adrenalin and endorphin which flooded her system.  

Melissa had looked at a few "dirty magazines" with her girlfriends
before, and had seen people "doing it" from behind.  "Doggie style"
they called it.  She'd even seen a few pictures of couples "making
love" standing up, but Melissa had always envisioned her first time as
being in a big soft bed with satin sheets and lots of pillows.
Wrapped in the strong arms of her faceless "Prince Charming", she
would invite him atop her, and then....

"Spread your feet apart, Melissa," she heard her history teacher say,
snapping her back to the present.  He kicked lightly at her ankles
until she did as he requested.  Oddly, she still hadn't thought to
resist.  With one hand on her hip he guided her into position, and all
would have gone quite smoothly, except Melissa chose that moment to
glance back at him over her shoulder.

Perhaps it was that insistent "little voice" that finally got through
to her, or maybe it was simply curiosity, but whatever the reason, the
first thing Melissa saw when she turned was that which her history
teacher held tightly in his right fist.  

 From her angle pretty much all Melissa could see was its bulbous head.
It was dark purple in color and at least two inches in diameter.
Melissa was stunned as she stared at the blunt head of the meaty
battering ram, and while she looked on in growing horror, a drop of
clear, viscous liquid formed at the mouth of a fairly large hole near
its center.  Melissa couldn't really tell how long the thing was, for
most of it was obscured from sight  behind Mr. Johnson's fist and
forearm, but what she could see was covered with dark purple veins and
sprouted out of a mat of black hair between his pale, chubby thighs.

Melissa felt him tighten his grip on her waist as he took a step
toward her.  Pure fascination held her routed in place long enough for
him to move into position behind her, but when she felt the scalding
hot tip of the beast touch the insides of her shapely buttocks, the
alarm bells went off with a vengeance.  Unfortunately, or fortunately
as the case may be, her instinctive warning system reacted just a
little too late.

Since she was wholly inexperienced at the art of love making and
hadn't done to well in biology class either, Melissa didn't know that
the vulva, or external genitalia of the human female, is specifically
designed to facilitate the insertion its male counterpart.  Much like
a socket, the buttocks, inner thighs and labia all curve inward toward
the vaginal entrance, forming a foyer or vestibule which is damn hard
to miss. 

"W...wait, Mr. Johnson.  P..please," Melissa gasped.  It felt like a
boiling hot billiard ball as it moved downward slightly, parting the
heavy folds of her labia majora.  She tried to shift her hips in an
effort to move herself out of harm's way, but again, she acted too
late.  Her history teacher was already on the glide path.  "N...nnno,
wait, I..." she said breathlessly.  "I can't do this.  I can't!" she
cried, and was about to make one last valiant effort to escape when
suddenly she froze.

Melissa felt herself begin to dilate, and like most young ladies will
do at the exact time of entry, she became routed in place as her body
instinctively prepared to accept her lover.  
As if from a great distance, Melissa heard her history teacher coax
her.  "Sure you can, Melissa.  Just relax, sweetheart.  Don't fight
me, Melissa.  That's a good girl."  He felt her begin to open up for
him.

"No, donnn't.  Plea.... Ohhh...ohhh...uugnhh!"  Melissa's final plea
was cut short and ended in a rather unladylike expression of surprise.
As a throbbing fire ball swelled between her thighs.  Melissa felt
like she was being torn asunder as she heard her history teacher say
in a husky voice, "Sweetheart, I want you to meet the other `Mr.
Johnson'!"

It was a shame that he couldn't see her face, for her expression was
priceless.  Benjamin was beginning to have doubts about her carrying
capacity, when at last her gates fell.  As though her body decided to
switch sides, Melissa threw her head back and rolled her shoulders
forward.  Intuitively, she arched her back to better align her vaginal
passage, and with that, Miss Melissa Carpenter accepted her first
lover.  Not bad form for one so inexperienced.

"Everything alright in there?" a man's voice called from outside the
door of Room 207.  He knocked a second time.  It was the night
watchman, Fred.

Mr. Johnson cleared his throat and tried  to speak.  He stared into
the startled eyes of the lovely young girl before him as she looked
back at him over her right shoulder.  Then quickly he glanced down to
see about seven inches of his ten inch engine still protruding from
between the twine milky white globes of her perfect little rear end.
The first three inches of him was in nirvana.

"We're just fine, Fred," Mr. Johnson answered a bit hoarsely.  Melissa
shook her head imploringly and mouthed a silent, "Please".  Her eyes
gradually grew round and staring then finally closed as her teacher
slowly pulled her back onto himself, causing her to exhale loudly.

Meanwhile, back in nirvana, the convoluted walls of her vaginal
passage were thrust aside by the broad head of his manhood as he
traveled another few inches into her interior.  "Just helping a young
lady to get caught up," Mr. Johnson called to the night security
guard.  He pulled back with his hips, extracting a few inches of his
meaty engine from the girl.  She shuddered.  Inside, Melissa's
exceptionally elastic muscles closed down behind him.

"You sure you don't need any help?" the guard out in the hallway
inquired.  "I thought I heard a cry or something a minute ago."

"Oh, yes, that was Miss Carpenter here," Mr. Johnson answered
cheerfully.  "She insists that I'm moving too fast."  He winked at
Melissa when she turned and stared at him in disbelief.  Then without
warning, Johnson shot his hips forward much more forcefully than the
first time, and driving her down onto her elbows on top of the pile of
their clothing.

"Huuuuuhhhh," Melissa responded as softly as she could, considering
the wind had just been knocked out of her. 

"I think we have everything well in hand," Mr. Johnson replied.

"Well, if everything's OK, I guess I'll be movin' along," the guard
said.

"We'll be just fine, won't we, Miss Carpenter?" Johnson said, and then
had to suppress a laugh when he saw the look that Melissa gave him.
"Tell him you're OK," he whispered to the distressed girl.

Holding her tightly by her waist, Mr. Johnson rocked his hips from
side to side and maneuvered another inch of himself into the lovely
girl.  Melissa shuddered as the broad head of his penis moved forward
into an area of her anatomy that had previousl remained unexplored for
almost sixteen years.  

"Answer him," Mr. Johnson snapped under his breath.  Then he jabbed
her lightly.

"Huhh..I'm f..fine," she called out, struggling to keep her voice from
faltering.

Melissa and her friends had often talked about what it might feel like
to be with a man, but none of their innocent musings could hold a
candle the all encompassing fullness and internal fire Melissa
experienced at the hands of her history teacher.  Slowly she lowered
her head to the desk top and hoped she would survive.

"Whack !!"

Melissa heard the impact of his palm against her right buttock even
before she felt the sting.  In an instant she was up on her hands.
Glaring back at Mr. Johnson she hissed, "He's gonna hear us!" then
nodded in the direction of the door.

Johnson smiled at the anxious teenager and said, "He's gone for now.
Anyway, Melissa, Fred's a good looking chap.  Who knows, you might
want to become better acquainted with him some day," he added
ominously.  Melissa stared at her teacher in shock and was about to
say something when he cut her off.  "Arch your back, Melissa, and pay
attention," he ordered.

"Whack !!"

"Oww," she protested, as a glowing red hand print formed on her butt.

"Arch your back!" Johnson growled.  "Head up, shoulders forward."

Melissa glared at him icily, but in the end, she did as she was told.
She stared across the room at the faces of presidents Washington,
Jefferson and Lincoln as she felt her history teacher's thick penis
start to pull out of her.

"Squeeze me, Melissa," Mr. Johnson said pausing his egress from her
momentarily.

"Huh?" she said, looking back at him again.

"You heard me.  I said, squeeze me.  Just like you did to my finger."
Melissa stared at him for several seconds, until he raised his hand.

"OK... OK..." she said hastily.  

While he gazed at her lovely face, her expression became distant.
Then he felt her embrace him.  She was like a steely soft vice.  "Keep
squeezing, just like that," Johnson instructed, as he began to inch
his way out of her.  Her strength was remarkable.  It was like she was
actually sucking on him.  "Until I'm almost all the way out."  He felt
her start to tremble from the effort.  When approximately one inch
remained inside of Melissa, Johnson told her to relax.  Then he
removed his hands from her waist and placed them on his hips.  

"Very good, Melissa.  Are you sure you haven't done this before?"
Johnson winked at her when she shot him a hateful look.  "OK. Now, my
dear, if you're relaxed and ready, I want you to push yourself back
onto me.  Would you do that for me, please, Melissa."

Again he was forced to suppress a guffaw at the look of incredulity
the teenager gave him.  Mr. Johnson gave her a couple of seconds to
think about it then raised his hand over her pretty butt once more.
"Do it, Melissa," he ordered.

Melissa's abject humiliation was painted plainly on her face as she
leaned back against her history teacher.  A violent shiver coursed
through her body as she slowly impaled herself on Mr. Johnson's "Mr.
Johnson".

Once she was fully on him, Mr. Johnson coached her through several
repetitions of alternately flexing then relaxing her vaginal muscles
around him.  "If this ever becomes and Olympic sport, I'll gladly
volunteer to be this little lady's trainer," Johnson mused silently.
"Again, Melissa," he snapped.  Five minutes flew by while he worked
with the wonderful girl, then at last Mr. Johnson patted her on the
rear and told her to take a break.  

"You're quite a talented young lady, Melissa," Mr. Johnson
complimented her.  "I just know we're going to work well together over
the next few months."

"Thanks a lot," she responded sarcastically then realized what he'd
said.  "Next few months?" she cried in shock.

"Why of course, my dear.  You don't think we can become close in just
one evening?  Think how long you've been dating Mr. Williams, Melissa.
At least I deserve a chance to catch up, don't you think?"

Melissa was speechless.  Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound
came out.  She stared at the man who's penis currently occupied a
goodly percentage of her available abdominal area and thought she
would be sick.

"I know... I know, Melissa.  I don't expect for you to warm up to me
overnight," Mr. Johnson cooed as he reached down and took her by her
hips.  "And I promise I won't make you rush into anything."  Once
again he rocked his hips from side to side, worming his way deeper
into the stunned young girl.  "We'll take it nice and slow.  You set
the pace, my dear."  

Melissa's tummy bulged outward as the broad head of his penis nestled
against her cervical os, and she felt the fronts of his hairy thighs
press against the soft skin of her buttocks.  Melissa was fully
involved.

"Like I said, we'll proceed at your pace, Melissa."  Her history
teacher removed his hands from her hips, and Melissa actually thought
her ordeal was over for the night when unexpectedly Mr. Johnson said,
"So, my sweet child.  At your own speed.  I want you to take your time
and make love to me.  Do it well, and we'll call it an evening.  If,
however, I think that you aren't concentrating or that you're not
being attentive, then we'll simply have to keep working."

After approximately twenty minutes Melissa's mind  went blank as she
rocked steadily back and forth, again and again on her history
teacher's, heavy penis.  Occasionally he reminded her to squeeze at
the appropriate times, and after a few minutes, he insisted that she
look back and maintain eye contact with him.  What truly sickened
Melissa, however, was his incessant commentary regarding her "vaginal
fitness" and "how well lubricated she was".  Worst of all, though,
were his constant references to Trevor, and how "the two of them were
doing him such a great service in so many ways".

Suddenly Mr. Johnson grabbed her by the hips and held her firmly onto
himself.  "Squeeze me, Melissa," he ordered a little breathlessly.
"Again," he said when she complied.  "Again," he gasped.  "Keep doing
that until I tell you to... Oh! Jesus!" Benjamin groaned loudly as he
dug his fingers into her supple hips.  

At first Melissa didn't know what was happening, when she felt
something "flick" at her, deep inside.  As she stared at Mr. Johnson's
flushed and contorted face.  She felt his dreadful penis twitch just
before she felt that odd "flick" a second time.  Then an unusual sort
of liquid heat began to spread deep in her belly as she felt a third
"flick". 

 "Wait a minute," Melissa's mind cried.  "That wasn't a `flick'.  It
was a spurt!"

"Nooo, Mr. Johnson," the unhappy teenager moaned pitifully when she
finally realized that she was being inseminated by the older man.
"Please, Mr. Johnson.  I'll get pregnant," she cried, trying to keep
her voice down in case the security guard was about.  She tried to
pull away from him, but he held her little bottom tightly against his
thighs.  "Ohhhhh..." she moaned when yet another pulse of viscous hot
semen "flicked" at her insides.  

Melissa was so distressed by the prospect of becoming pregnant by her
history teacher that she barely noticed when he slid his soft hands up
her flanks and under her torso.  Melissa groaned softly when he began
to knead her small breasts while he kissed her back and shoulders.  

Between kisses Mr. Johnson murmured what a good girl she was, and how
he thought the world of Trevor, and on, and on....  Melissa was
starting to think the night would never end.

At long last he stood up behind her.  He was still inside of her, but
Melissa could feel him beginning to shrink.  Then after a few seconds
Mr. Johnson pulled out of her with a disgustingly, wet sucking sound.
Even after he was gone, Melissa still felt an unpleasant fullness in
her abdomen.  Something inherently female in Melissa told her that she
was surely with child.  Her heart sank.

"You've done very well this evening, my dear," Mr. Johnson said to
her.  Both of them looked up at the clock.  It was now seven
thirty-five.  "You may get dressed now."  

Melissa didn't speak.  She had nothing to say to the man.  She turned,
picked up her panties from his desk and leaned over to step into them.

"Just a moment," Johnson said.  "Hold off on the underwear for a
moment.  I have a surprise for you," he said when she looked at him
questioningly.  He held out his hand for her panties.  Hesitantly
Melissa handed the small satin garment to him.

Mr. Johnson pulled on his trousers, and while Melissa was dressing as
best she could, he stepped behind his desk and opened the middle
drawer.  He removed something from the drawer, but Melissa didn't get
a good look at it.

"I'd like to see you again, tomorrow afternoon, Melissa," he said,
moving closer to her.

"But... It... It's Saturday," she complained.  "Trevor and I have
plans this weekend."

"That's fine, Melissa," her teacher told her.  "In fact, I hope that
you and Mr. Williams continue to enjoy each other's company often.  On
the other hand, you and I have an agreement.  Do we not?" he asked,
raising his eyebrows.

Melissa gazed into his dark eyes for a moment then dropped her eyes to
the floor, dejectedly.  "I guess so," she said softly.

"Good.  Then be a good girl and bend over for me, Melissa" Johnson
said with a smile.  "You can put your hands on my desk again if you
like."

"But... but I thought we were... you know... finished," the anxious
teenager whined.

Mr. Johnson smiled warmly and placed a hand on her cheek.  Just as she
was about to shrug away from him, Johnson dropped his hand to her
shoulder and turned her around.  "Bend over, my dear," he said,
offering no further explanation.  

"Wh... what's that?" Melissa gasped when she felt the cool plastic
touch her.

"Spread your feet apart and be still, Melissa," her teacher ordered.
Then she felt his hands on her, spreading her open down there from
behind.

"But..." she started.  "Hey wait!" she blurted out when he slipped the
hard rubber object effortlessly into her well lubricated vagina.
"What are you doing?" she asked miserably when the man began to twist
the object while sliding it in and out slowly.

"Just hold still, Melissa," he answered flatly.  "I'm getting your
surprise ready for you."  

Melissa relaxed visibly when he pulled the thing out of her.  Then
suddenly she felt it touch her again.  This time it was in the wrong
place.  "He must have gotten confused," she thought to herself.  Then
she said in an embarrassed tone of voice, "Mr. Johnson, I... I think
you missed."

A most unladylike grunt escaped Melissa's lips, and then she began to
protest quite spiritedly as the hard rubber object found its way into
her rectal passage.  "Mr. Johnson, what are you doing!?!" Melissa
cried out as he seated the wide plastic flange snugly against the
cheeks of her butt.

Melissa's "surprise" was a small phallic device, approximately three
inches in length and one half inch in diameter.  It was deliberately
shaped so that once fully inserted, her anal sphincter ring would hold
it in place.

"You may stand up now, my dear," Mr. Johnson said after patting her
affectionately on the rear.  Gingerly Melissa stood up and smoothed
her skirt down over her thighs.  She was afraid to move, because the
horrible thing in her rear end was poking at her from the inside.
Meanwhile Mr. Johnson explained.  "I won't be seeing you until late
tomorrow afternoon, Melissa, and I know that in the meantime, you'll
be with Mr. Williams.  I wanted to give you something to remember me
by."  

"But," she started to protest.

Ignoring her distress, Johnson continued.  "I expect for you to leave
it in place until we're together again.  Whenever you feel it in
there."  He placed a hand on her hip and squeezed gently.  "I want you
to think about our time together this afternoon.  Will you do that for
me, Melissa?" he spoke in a friendly manner.

"But, Mr. Johnson," Melissa said anxiously.  "Why do I have to leave
it there for so long?  What happens if I have to go to the bathroom?"

"You'll be just fine until tomorrow afternoon," he assured the
dejected teenager.  "Remember, Melissa.  You have an obligation to Mr.
Williams and to me."

Melissa turned to leave and winced as the hard rubber plug shifted
inside her tender interior.  Then she remembered her panties.  Turning
back she reached for them lying on the corner of the desk, but her
teacher snatched them away.

"I want something to remember you by as well, my child," he said
huskily.  Then he raised her panties to his nose and inhaled a deep
draft of her subtle fragrance.  Melissa blushed hotly.  "Until
tomorrow, then, my dear," Mr. Johnson said to her as she turned and
waddled toward the door.





Regards... StoryMaster

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