Fornicating with my English Teacher
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Hot For Teacher - Part I free porn video
Christopher walked down the path from the school and by Ms. Palmer's house for the first time in what was almost 10 years. There she was, sitting on her back porch, smiling and enjoying her manicured yard filled with wild flowers and blossoming trees. Christopher passed the bushes that he once ducked between and instead opted for the side gate. She greeted him with her usual smile and a bottle of water.
There weren't many things Christopher cared to remember at the 10 year reunion, but Ms. Palmer and her house was the first place he wanted to visit. They remained in touch through the years, while he went away to college and then law school. This was the first time he made it back and she waited with great anticipation to see her most favorite student.
The story began several years ago, when Christopher was in 9th grade. His older brother, Patrick, was in Ms. Palmer's 12th grade class and Christopher would often meet his brother there at dismissal. One afternoon, Patrick went outside to play football with his friends and Christopher walked into the room to find Ms. Palmer facing a mirror in a supply closet. She had one hand inside her blouse and appeared to be adjusting her bra strap. She never saw Christopher there and while what he saw was entirely innocent, he felt like he invaded her privacy. It gave him a tingle he never felt before.
After that, Christopher would encourage Patrick to meet him outside. But Christopher would still stop by Ms. Palmer's classroom, just to see if he might catch her in more compromising situations. Usually she was at her desk filling out her ledger or milling about the room tidying up. Once in a while, however, he'd find her bent over a desk, with her rear end sticking up or he'd get a side view of her erasing the board, which, he quickly learned, caused her breasts to sway aggressively from side to side.
Sometimes she would see him and just smile and say hello. Christopher would blush and leave quickly. By the end of that year, however, he had developed the courage to make small talk. He kept up this routine in 10th and 11th grade, after Patrick moved on to college. In the winters, Christopher would notice her tight sweaters and how the chalk sometimes would rub off on her breast as she wrote on the board. In spring, he would grow to appreciate her long flowing skirts that, if she stood in front of the windows just right in the mid-afternoon sun, would reveal more than maybe she knew she was revealing.
In June, her sleeveless, v-neck dress teased him by dropping down low enough to suggest that if she wasn't wearing that strategically-placed halter top underneath, there would be several inches of cleavage inviting his eyes to enjoy.
It should also be noted that when Christopher was in 9th Grade, she wasn't Ms. Palmer. She was Mrs. Kawalski. But apparently Mr. Kawalski and her divorced and she opted to go back to her maiden name. So by the time Christopher walked into her classroom as a homeroom student and not a curiously friendly daily visitor, she was Ms. Palmer.
It was inevitable that Christopher would wind up in her homeroom. That August, when the school put together the homerooms, she made sure she had him in her room. She didn't really know why, but when it came time to prepare for the new year, that was a priority in her mind. When Christopher received his homeroom assignment before the year started, he smiled. Now he no longer needed a reason to visit her.
It was Labor Day weekend, right before the year began, when Christopher was working his final days for a landscaping company. It was a good summer job, work that helped him get a tan, build up his body and earn good money to buy a car. They had a clean up job at a small house near the high school and Christopher was sweaty and dirty well before 9 a.m. removing brush and building a retaining wall. That's when a familiar face appeared on the back porch.
She didn't see him. He was a bit of a distance away and quite dirty. She talked with the boss and then left in her car. The rest of the day, Christopher continually looked to see if she had returned. But she was gone until 4 p.m., when the crew was finished.
He rode back to the yard, got in his car and drove home. His mind was consumed by Ms. Palmer and her little house only a few blocks across the neighborhood from his. He knew the yard well, the back corner ran up against the school property. There was a walkway path between the fences to the street. The large bushes he helped trim back provided plenty of privacy. That back porch was nice, with plenty of afternoon sun. He wondered if she might lay out on the lounge chair he saw. Maybe she wore a bikini. Maybe topless?
No, not Ms. Palmer. Especially not in a yard adjacent to the school.
But Christopher's urges, his curiosity and years of infatuation were reaching a crescendo. After showering, he barely touched dinner. His father mentioned something about needing to go to the store and Christopher quickly offered. His parents were stunned. Christopher never offers to go to the store. But his mother made him a list and off he went.
Christopher found himself veering off the usual path to the supermarket and instead turned down several streets. Then his car rolled up along the fence by the school. In the distance, he could see Ms. Palmer's new little house. A light was on inside. He watched for a while, but didn't have the courage to get out of the car. Instead, he drove away, went to the market and went home.
The next day, his last day at work, they returned to Ms. Palmer's house to finish the job. Some mulch, a few pieces of sod. The boss had other jobs to get to and asked who wanted to stay and finish up. Christopher quickly and excitedly offered. The other workers laughed at his enthusiasm. Christopher remained and the boss said he'd be back at 4 to pick up the tools. "When will Ms. Palmer be back?" he then asked.
"How do you know her name?" the boss quickly replied.
"Uh...I think you said it?"
There was an anxious moment, but the boss shrugged and said she didn't expect to be home until 6. He then said if you get thirsty, she left the back door unlocked and said we can help ourselves to the water in her fridge. He then repeated he would return at 4. Christopher had to be done by then.
He worked diligently, piecing in the last parcels of sod and raking out the mulch. Then he took a hose to the yard and watered everything down. The yard was neat and tidy. It was 3:15. Christopher had time to kill and was thirsty. He looked at the back porch.
He carefully took off his shoes and socks and entered the house. It smelled of potpourri. He opened the fridge and took a bottle of water. Off to the side of the porch was a mudroom. In it was a washer and dryer. Christopher felt his loins stir.
He wandered over and found the dryer with clothes. He washed his hands in the sink and returned and carefully rummaged through the dryer. There were mostly jean shorts, khaki shorts and linen blouses and t-shirts. There were panties. There were no bras, however.
Christopher checked his watch. 3:27. He slipped down the hall and found Ms. Palmer's bedroom. It was tastefully decorated, with scarfs on the bedposts and antique furniture. His heart started beating faster. Her perfume still lingered in the air. He spotted a hamper inside her closet, which wasn't completely shut. After moving a few items, he came up with two prized possessions: a white cotton bra and white panties. He held up the bra, it's large, padded cups dominating the space in front of him. He grabbed the tag. 40DD.
"Ms. Palmer, you have big tits," he murmured, pretending to talk to her.
He sniffed her panties on instinct. It was something he had never done before but often heard others talk about, mostly in jest. Only as he was inhaling her most personal scent did he realize what he was doing. His cock swelled in his sweaty underwear. Her panties had a strong odor, one that had a pheremonal effect on him. Christopher felt the urge to masterbate, but knew he couldn't.
But speaking of masterbate...
He went for her bedside table. He remembered his brother once telling him about finding a vibrator in the bedside table of his friend's mom's room and Christopher wondered if Ms. Palmer had one too. But no, the drawer did not reveal any devices. But just before he closed it, he spied a long, red tube. It was KY feminine moisture lotion.
Christopher heard a truck's air brakes hiss outside and he quickly closed the drawer. He tossed the bra back in the hamper but stuffed the panties into his pocket. He was in the kitchen, finishing his water when the boss arrived at the back door.
For weeks after that, Christopher masterbated sniffing those panties or wrapping them around his cock. He eventually licked the crust in the crotch to taste it. His obsession grew as he saw her each day in homeroom, smiling at him. He would occasionally take the lavatory key and masterbate in the bathroom just so he could concentrate on school.
It was late fall and Christopher finished football practice and got to his car to find it was out of gas. It wouldn't start. It was getting dark and he was too tired to wait for a ride, get gas, come back and drive home. So he opted to walk. He headed to the far gate off the school fields and walked down a path. There he was on the side of Ms. Palmer's house, her lights on and dusk falling quickly on the neighborhood.
He spotted her in the kitchen, talking on the phone. She walked into the living room, turned off her tv and headed down the hall. Christopher darted under the bushes he manicured earlier that year and moved to her bedroom window. She was still on the phone and stepped out of her shoes. She then reached to her side and unzipped her skirt.
Christopher positioned himself and watched.
Ms. Palmer continued her conversation with her friend, Terry, and the two exchanged their gripes about the direction of the school under the new principal. Terry was a year from retirement and Ms. Palmer encouraged her to just get through it and get out. Ms. Palmer still had a few years to go and wondered to herself if she could deal with it. The stress of her divorce, her two k**s being away at college and very independent and her job had her neck sore. She peeled down her pantyhose as she sat on her bed and ended her call with Terry. She then pulled on a pair of frumpy sweatpants and some socks. She then lifted her sweater vest over her head and began to unbutton her blouse.
Christopher reached into his sweatpants and fondled his bobbing cock. His eyes never left her body.
Just as her blouse was fully unbuttoned, she walked, with her back to the window, to her bathroom and closed the door. Christopher waited a few minutes, hoping she would return, topless and maybe search for her KY. But instead she came out in a zip-up hoodie and padded to her kitchen. Christopher ducked out of the bushes and back to the path and headed home. He found the panties and jerked off once again inhaling her scent and reliving the images he saw.
At school he was completely obsessed. His eyes would follow her form around the room, he would inspect the clothing she wore and wonder if she ever realized she was missing a pair of panties. When she would meet his eyes, she would always smile. She often greeted him with a happy, "Morning Christopher." She would ask about football every Monday. All Christopher could do was return the small talk and try not to glance.
In December, Christopher met a guy online who was into his mother. Christopher thought it was a little weird, but found the guy's stories of how he seduced her so compelling, he began to talk to the guy on a daily basis. The guy told of how he discovered his mother masterbated often when he found KY lotion in her bedside table. That caught Christopher's attention. He told the guy about Ms. Palmer and what he discovered. The guy immediately began encouraging Christopher to pursue Ms. Palmer.
Christopher began to make it routine for him to walk home, going through the pathway along side Ms. Palmer's house. He'd wait until dusk and watch her talk on the phone, prepare her supper and undress from her day. She followed the same routine. Bottoms off in her bedroom, top off in the bathroom. Christopher was desperate to see her tits, but every time she would emerge from the bathroom in that same zip-up hoodie.
Christopher would report his experiences to the guy online, who would advise him to break in the house and try to steal the zip-up hoodie. But that was out of the question. Next idea was to call her phone just as she was walking to the bathroom. The thinking was she would turn around before she got there or she would come out before she put on the hoodie.
So Christopher tried that. An chilly evening in January, just as Ms. Palmer headed for the bathroom lifting hear turtleneck sweater over her head, Christopher's cell phone called her house phone. She paused, turned back to the phone and picked it up from the bed.
"Hello?" she said sweetly as she slipped her free arm from the sweater.
Christopher watched. He could see a red satin bra peeking out underneath the turtleneck sweater as she fumbled switching the phone from one hand to the other.
"Hello?" she said again.
No, Christopher thought, she can't hang up now!
"Hi," he said.
"Who's this?" she then asked. He saw her tilt her head sideways as she pulled her other arm from the sweater. More glimpses of red bra.
"Um, it's me," he stumbled. "Um, Christopher."
"Christopher?" Ms. Palmer looked at the phone and crinkled her brow. "Christopher Selby?"
"Um, yeah. Sorry, is this a bad time?"
Ms. Palmer stood still a moment and looked toward the window. Christopher froze and panicked.
She then turned to the bathroom and lifted the turtleneck sweater over her head as she disappeared into the door. All he could see was the red strap across her back and black panties that covered her ass before the door closed.
"No," she then replied. "Not at all. What do you need?"
She was topless, in a bra at least, talking to him. Christopher felt himself ejaculate against her siding in the cold air.
"Oh uh, um...nothing."
He darted from the bush and to the path. She heard a rustle against her window and quickly looked out. She saw him running to his car in the school lot.
She went outside and looked toward him. She always knew there was something curious about this boy, that his interest in her was probably more than just being polite. She felt flattered, but also concerned. What was he doing by my window? She pulled back the bush and saw something glistening on the siding. The cold night air smelled of musk. She felt a chill and quickly hopped back up the steps to the porch and into her kitchen.
He sat in his car, breathing heavily. Creating clouds of gasps in the air. He looked back at the house.
Ms. Palmer tried to calm herself but she was trembling a bit. At first she thought it was just a chill from outside, but more and more it was obvious she couldn't stop thinking about the boy who was watching her in the window. The boy with the trembling, desperate voice who had the audacity to call her. Who did what he did against the side of her house.
She never once thought to call the police. She never once considered calling his parents. She only felt the need to get warm and take the chill off her skin. She poured herself a glass of merlot, locked all doors and ran a hot bath in her soaker tub. She unzipped the hoodie and dropped it to the floor and slipped out of the baggy fleece sweatpants with the panties as well. The bra straps came down and peeled off her late 40s busom and she spun the strap around to unclasp. She looked down at her breasts, one of the last places on her body where the skin hasn't started to wrinkle. They hung heavy, full and had a slight jiggle with every movement she made. Her nipples perked.
Deep in her personal thought, in a voice that only talks to her, she said to herself, "This is what he wanted to see."
She took another swig of the wine and stepped into the tub. She felt her body warm and tingle and her breasts float in the warm water. Her head rested on a folded towel and her eyes closed. Her skin was extra sensitive. Her mind wandered.
Christopher was angry with himself. He blew it. She's probably calling his parents as we speak. She's probably calling the police. I'll probably be expelled, he thought.
It was time to fess up. Time to admit guilt and be up front about it. He dialed her number again and waited for her to answer. He prepared his statement. But after four rings, it went to her machine. Christopher's heart sank. She's afraid of me now, he thought.
So he left a heart-felt message:
"Ms. Palmer, it's Christopher again. I want to apologize if I startled you before. I really did run out of gas and I wasn't sure if anyone was home and so I looked in the window and that's when I saw it was you. But I...I didn't see nothing. I just got scared and I guess it looks really bad. I'm really sorry. Please don't expel me."
Ms. Palmer listened from the bathtub. He sounded so scared. The poor boy. Maybe he wasn't trying to see anything. Who was she to think herself so desirable? It was just a misunderstanding...oh Janice....
She sat up and grabbed a towel and wrapped herself with it.
Christopher ended the call and dropped his phone in the passenger seat. He was freezing, it was time to go home and face the music. When he arrived, however, neither one of his parents said anything more than hello. He went to bed, feeling he escaped serious trouble. Ms. Palmer didn't report him. He went online and told the guy all about it. The guy came to the conclusion that Ms. Palmer clearly enjoyed his attention. She might even want more.
Christopher dismissed the notion. He logged off swearing that would be the end of his crazy obsession. It went too far.
Ms. Palmer put on flannel pajamas and climbed into bed. She watched TV, then read some of her book, then graded some papers. Her mind kept coming back to Christopher. What was he doing there?
She took the phone and looked at the number. She then took her cell phone and copied it. Her body began to tremble again.
She texted, "Got your message. Appreciate your honesty. No harm done. See you tomorrow."
His phone beeped. He woke from the sound and grabbed the phone to see the message.
She...replied.
He reached under his bed for her panties and sniffed them. He took off his sock, stuffed his erection into it and began to stroke.
She put her cell phone down and continued to shiver. Her body trembled and she felt an unfamiliar anxiety. Her body yearned for warmth, for touch. The flannel chafed her nipples.
She sat up and reached to her bedside table for her jar of cocoa butter. She put a scoop in her hand and rubbed her palms together, she then unbuttoned her flannel top and reached inside and caressed her sensitive nipples with the cocoa butter. Her body immediately reacted. She lay against her headboard, top open and slowly caressing her breasts. She raised her knee and slid her foot along the mattress. Her hand glided down her stomach and to her muff, over her pajama pants.
She lifted her breast to her mouth and licked it. The touch of her tongue caused her vagina to pulse. She ran her hand under her pajama bottoms and her fingers grazed her hairy muff. Her lips swelled and begged for a touch.
Ms. Palmer turned again to her bedside table and reached into the drawer. She took out the tube of KY and opened it. She squeezed a small dollop onto her fingers and returned that hand to her spasming clit.
She coated her folds and felt the lotion warm her and lubricate her so that her fingers could glide so smoothly inside her long neglected pussy. She closed her eyes and slipped her fingers in and out of herself until her vagina clenched and a rush of arousal flowed through her body. She let out a gasp, squeezed her tit firmly and exhaled.
Ms. Palmer then looked to the window, out toward the school.
The car was there again. She sat up, holding her blankets to her chest and suddenly heard a rustle of the bushes.
END OF PART I
There weren't many things Christopher cared to remember at the 10 year reunion, but Ms. Palmer and her house was the first place he wanted to visit. They remained in touch through the years, while he went away to college and then law school. This was the first time he made it back and she waited with great anticipation to see her most favorite student.
The story began several years ago, when Christopher was in 9th grade. His older brother, Patrick, was in Ms. Palmer's 12th grade class and Christopher would often meet his brother there at dismissal. One afternoon, Patrick went outside to play football with his friends and Christopher walked into the room to find Ms. Palmer facing a mirror in a supply closet. She had one hand inside her blouse and appeared to be adjusting her bra strap. She never saw Christopher there and while what he saw was entirely innocent, he felt like he invaded her privacy. It gave him a tingle he never felt before.
After that, Christopher would encourage Patrick to meet him outside. But Christopher would still stop by Ms. Palmer's classroom, just to see if he might catch her in more compromising situations. Usually she was at her desk filling out her ledger or milling about the room tidying up. Once in a while, however, he'd find her bent over a desk, with her rear end sticking up or he'd get a side view of her erasing the board, which, he quickly learned, caused her breasts to sway aggressively from side to side.
Sometimes she would see him and just smile and say hello. Christopher would blush and leave quickly. By the end of that year, however, he had developed the courage to make small talk. He kept up this routine in 10th and 11th grade, after Patrick moved on to college. In the winters, Christopher would notice her tight sweaters and how the chalk sometimes would rub off on her breast as she wrote on the board. In spring, he would grow to appreciate her long flowing skirts that, if she stood in front of the windows just right in the mid-afternoon sun, would reveal more than maybe she knew she was revealing.
In June, her sleeveless, v-neck dress teased him by dropping down low enough to suggest that if she wasn't wearing that strategically-placed halter top underneath, there would be several inches of cleavage inviting his eyes to enjoy.
It should also be noted that when Christopher was in 9th Grade, she wasn't Ms. Palmer. She was Mrs. Kawalski. But apparently Mr. Kawalski and her divorced and she opted to go back to her maiden name. So by the time Christopher walked into her classroom as a homeroom student and not a curiously friendly daily visitor, she was Ms. Palmer.
It was inevitable that Christopher would wind up in her homeroom. That August, when the school put together the homerooms, she made sure she had him in her room. She didn't really know why, but when it came time to prepare for the new year, that was a priority in her mind. When Christopher received his homeroom assignment before the year started, he smiled. Now he no longer needed a reason to visit her.
It was Labor Day weekend, right before the year began, when Christopher was working his final days for a landscaping company. It was a good summer job, work that helped him get a tan, build up his body and earn good money to buy a car. They had a clean up job at a small house near the high school and Christopher was sweaty and dirty well before 9 a.m. removing brush and building a retaining wall. That's when a familiar face appeared on the back porch.
She didn't see him. He was a bit of a distance away and quite dirty. She talked with the boss and then left in her car. The rest of the day, Christopher continually looked to see if she had returned. But she was gone until 4 p.m., when the crew was finished.
He rode back to the yard, got in his car and drove home. His mind was consumed by Ms. Palmer and her little house only a few blocks across the neighborhood from his. He knew the yard well, the back corner ran up against the school property. There was a walkway path between the fences to the street. The large bushes he helped trim back provided plenty of privacy. That back porch was nice, with plenty of afternoon sun. He wondered if she might lay out on the lounge chair he saw. Maybe she wore a bikini. Maybe topless?
No, not Ms. Palmer. Especially not in a yard adjacent to the school.
But Christopher's urges, his curiosity and years of infatuation were reaching a crescendo. After showering, he barely touched dinner. His father mentioned something about needing to go to the store and Christopher quickly offered. His parents were stunned. Christopher never offers to go to the store. But his mother made him a list and off he went.
Christopher found himself veering off the usual path to the supermarket and instead turned down several streets. Then his car rolled up along the fence by the school. In the distance, he could see Ms. Palmer's new little house. A light was on inside. He watched for a while, but didn't have the courage to get out of the car. Instead, he drove away, went to the market and went home.
The next day, his last day at work, they returned to Ms. Palmer's house to finish the job. Some mulch, a few pieces of sod. The boss had other jobs to get to and asked who wanted to stay and finish up. Christopher quickly and excitedly offered. The other workers laughed at his enthusiasm. Christopher remained and the boss said he'd be back at 4 to pick up the tools. "When will Ms. Palmer be back?" he then asked.
"How do you know her name?" the boss quickly replied.
"Uh...I think you said it?"
There was an anxious moment, but the boss shrugged and said she didn't expect to be home until 6. He then said if you get thirsty, she left the back door unlocked and said we can help ourselves to the water in her fridge. He then repeated he would return at 4. Christopher had to be done by then.
He worked diligently, piecing in the last parcels of sod and raking out the mulch. Then he took a hose to the yard and watered everything down. The yard was neat and tidy. It was 3:15. Christopher had time to kill and was thirsty. He looked at the back porch.
He carefully took off his shoes and socks and entered the house. It smelled of potpourri. He opened the fridge and took a bottle of water. Off to the side of the porch was a mudroom. In it was a washer and dryer. Christopher felt his loins stir.
He wandered over and found the dryer with clothes. He washed his hands in the sink and returned and carefully rummaged through the dryer. There were mostly jean shorts, khaki shorts and linen blouses and t-shirts. There were panties. There were no bras, however.
Christopher checked his watch. 3:27. He slipped down the hall and found Ms. Palmer's bedroom. It was tastefully decorated, with scarfs on the bedposts and antique furniture. His heart started beating faster. Her perfume still lingered in the air. He spotted a hamper inside her closet, which wasn't completely shut. After moving a few items, he came up with two prized possessions: a white cotton bra and white panties. He held up the bra, it's large, padded cups dominating the space in front of him. He grabbed the tag. 40DD.
"Ms. Palmer, you have big tits," he murmured, pretending to talk to her.
He sniffed her panties on instinct. It was something he had never done before but often heard others talk about, mostly in jest. Only as he was inhaling her most personal scent did he realize what he was doing. His cock swelled in his sweaty underwear. Her panties had a strong odor, one that had a pheremonal effect on him. Christopher felt the urge to masterbate, but knew he couldn't.
But speaking of masterbate...
He went for her bedside table. He remembered his brother once telling him about finding a vibrator in the bedside table of his friend's mom's room and Christopher wondered if Ms. Palmer had one too. But no, the drawer did not reveal any devices. But just before he closed it, he spied a long, red tube. It was KY feminine moisture lotion.
Christopher heard a truck's air brakes hiss outside and he quickly closed the drawer. He tossed the bra back in the hamper but stuffed the panties into his pocket. He was in the kitchen, finishing his water when the boss arrived at the back door.
For weeks after that, Christopher masterbated sniffing those panties or wrapping them around his cock. He eventually licked the crust in the crotch to taste it. His obsession grew as he saw her each day in homeroom, smiling at him. He would occasionally take the lavatory key and masterbate in the bathroom just so he could concentrate on school.
It was late fall and Christopher finished football practice and got to his car to find it was out of gas. It wouldn't start. It was getting dark and he was too tired to wait for a ride, get gas, come back and drive home. So he opted to walk. He headed to the far gate off the school fields and walked down a path. There he was on the side of Ms. Palmer's house, her lights on and dusk falling quickly on the neighborhood.
He spotted her in the kitchen, talking on the phone. She walked into the living room, turned off her tv and headed down the hall. Christopher darted under the bushes he manicured earlier that year and moved to her bedroom window. She was still on the phone and stepped out of her shoes. She then reached to her side and unzipped her skirt.
Christopher positioned himself and watched.
Ms. Palmer continued her conversation with her friend, Terry, and the two exchanged their gripes about the direction of the school under the new principal. Terry was a year from retirement and Ms. Palmer encouraged her to just get through it and get out. Ms. Palmer still had a few years to go and wondered to herself if she could deal with it. The stress of her divorce, her two k**s being away at college and very independent and her job had her neck sore. She peeled down her pantyhose as she sat on her bed and ended her call with Terry. She then pulled on a pair of frumpy sweatpants and some socks. She then lifted her sweater vest over her head and began to unbutton her blouse.
Christopher reached into his sweatpants and fondled his bobbing cock. His eyes never left her body.
Just as her blouse was fully unbuttoned, she walked, with her back to the window, to her bathroom and closed the door. Christopher waited a few minutes, hoping she would return, topless and maybe search for her KY. But instead she came out in a zip-up hoodie and padded to her kitchen. Christopher ducked out of the bushes and back to the path and headed home. He found the panties and jerked off once again inhaling her scent and reliving the images he saw.
At school he was completely obsessed. His eyes would follow her form around the room, he would inspect the clothing she wore and wonder if she ever realized she was missing a pair of panties. When she would meet his eyes, she would always smile. She often greeted him with a happy, "Morning Christopher." She would ask about football every Monday. All Christopher could do was return the small talk and try not to glance.
In December, Christopher met a guy online who was into his mother. Christopher thought it was a little weird, but found the guy's stories of how he seduced her so compelling, he began to talk to the guy on a daily basis. The guy told of how he discovered his mother masterbated often when he found KY lotion in her bedside table. That caught Christopher's attention. He told the guy about Ms. Palmer and what he discovered. The guy immediately began encouraging Christopher to pursue Ms. Palmer.
Christopher began to make it routine for him to walk home, going through the pathway along side Ms. Palmer's house. He'd wait until dusk and watch her talk on the phone, prepare her supper and undress from her day. She followed the same routine. Bottoms off in her bedroom, top off in the bathroom. Christopher was desperate to see her tits, but every time she would emerge from the bathroom in that same zip-up hoodie.
Christopher would report his experiences to the guy online, who would advise him to break in the house and try to steal the zip-up hoodie. But that was out of the question. Next idea was to call her phone just as she was walking to the bathroom. The thinking was she would turn around before she got there or she would come out before she put on the hoodie.
So Christopher tried that. An chilly evening in January, just as Ms. Palmer headed for the bathroom lifting hear turtleneck sweater over her head, Christopher's cell phone called her house phone. She paused, turned back to the phone and picked it up from the bed.
"Hello?" she said sweetly as she slipped her free arm from the sweater.
Christopher watched. He could see a red satin bra peeking out underneath the turtleneck sweater as she fumbled switching the phone from one hand to the other.
"Hello?" she said again.
No, Christopher thought, she can't hang up now!
"Hi," he said.
"Who's this?" she then asked. He saw her tilt her head sideways as she pulled her other arm from the sweater. More glimpses of red bra.
"Um, it's me," he stumbled. "Um, Christopher."
"Christopher?" Ms. Palmer looked at the phone and crinkled her brow. "Christopher Selby?"
"Um, yeah. Sorry, is this a bad time?"
Ms. Palmer stood still a moment and looked toward the window. Christopher froze and panicked.
She then turned to the bathroom and lifted the turtleneck sweater over her head as she disappeared into the door. All he could see was the red strap across her back and black panties that covered her ass before the door closed.
"No," she then replied. "Not at all. What do you need?"
She was topless, in a bra at least, talking to him. Christopher felt himself ejaculate against her siding in the cold air.
"Oh uh, um...nothing."
He darted from the bush and to the path. She heard a rustle against her window and quickly looked out. She saw him running to his car in the school lot.
She went outside and looked toward him. She always knew there was something curious about this boy, that his interest in her was probably more than just being polite. She felt flattered, but also concerned. What was he doing by my window? She pulled back the bush and saw something glistening on the siding. The cold night air smelled of musk. She felt a chill and quickly hopped back up the steps to the porch and into her kitchen.
He sat in his car, breathing heavily. Creating clouds of gasps in the air. He looked back at the house.
Ms. Palmer tried to calm herself but she was trembling a bit. At first she thought it was just a chill from outside, but more and more it was obvious she couldn't stop thinking about the boy who was watching her in the window. The boy with the trembling, desperate voice who had the audacity to call her. Who did what he did against the side of her house.
She never once thought to call the police. She never once considered calling his parents. She only felt the need to get warm and take the chill off her skin. She poured herself a glass of merlot, locked all doors and ran a hot bath in her soaker tub. She unzipped the hoodie and dropped it to the floor and slipped out of the baggy fleece sweatpants with the panties as well. The bra straps came down and peeled off her late 40s busom and she spun the strap around to unclasp. She looked down at her breasts, one of the last places on her body where the skin hasn't started to wrinkle. They hung heavy, full and had a slight jiggle with every movement she made. Her nipples perked.
Deep in her personal thought, in a voice that only talks to her, she said to herself, "This is what he wanted to see."
She took another swig of the wine and stepped into the tub. She felt her body warm and tingle and her breasts float in the warm water. Her head rested on a folded towel and her eyes closed. Her skin was extra sensitive. Her mind wandered.
Christopher was angry with himself. He blew it. She's probably calling his parents as we speak. She's probably calling the police. I'll probably be expelled, he thought.
It was time to fess up. Time to admit guilt and be up front about it. He dialed her number again and waited for her to answer. He prepared his statement. But after four rings, it went to her machine. Christopher's heart sank. She's afraid of me now, he thought.
So he left a heart-felt message:
"Ms. Palmer, it's Christopher again. I want to apologize if I startled you before. I really did run out of gas and I wasn't sure if anyone was home and so I looked in the window and that's when I saw it was you. But I...I didn't see nothing. I just got scared and I guess it looks really bad. I'm really sorry. Please don't expel me."
Ms. Palmer listened from the bathtub. He sounded so scared. The poor boy. Maybe he wasn't trying to see anything. Who was she to think herself so desirable? It was just a misunderstanding...oh Janice....
She sat up and grabbed a towel and wrapped herself with it.
Christopher ended the call and dropped his phone in the passenger seat. He was freezing, it was time to go home and face the music. When he arrived, however, neither one of his parents said anything more than hello. He went to bed, feeling he escaped serious trouble. Ms. Palmer didn't report him. He went online and told the guy all about it. The guy came to the conclusion that Ms. Palmer clearly enjoyed his attention. She might even want more.
Christopher dismissed the notion. He logged off swearing that would be the end of his crazy obsession. It went too far.
Ms. Palmer put on flannel pajamas and climbed into bed. She watched TV, then read some of her book, then graded some papers. Her mind kept coming back to Christopher. What was he doing there?
She took the phone and looked at the number. She then took her cell phone and copied it. Her body began to tremble again.
She texted, "Got your message. Appreciate your honesty. No harm done. See you tomorrow."
His phone beeped. He woke from the sound and grabbed the phone to see the message.
She...replied.
He reached under his bed for her panties and sniffed them. He took off his sock, stuffed his erection into it and began to stroke.
She put her cell phone down and continued to shiver. Her body trembled and she felt an unfamiliar anxiety. Her body yearned for warmth, for touch. The flannel chafed her nipples.
She sat up and reached to her bedside table for her jar of cocoa butter. She put a scoop in her hand and rubbed her palms together, she then unbuttoned her flannel top and reached inside and caressed her sensitive nipples with the cocoa butter. Her body immediately reacted. She lay against her headboard, top open and slowly caressing her breasts. She raised her knee and slid her foot along the mattress. Her hand glided down her stomach and to her muff, over her pajama pants.
She lifted her breast to her mouth and licked it. The touch of her tongue caused her vagina to pulse. She ran her hand under her pajama bottoms and her fingers grazed her hairy muff. Her lips swelled and begged for a touch.
Ms. Palmer turned again to her bedside table and reached into the drawer. She took out the tube of KY and opened it. She squeezed a small dollop onto her fingers and returned that hand to her spasming clit.
She coated her folds and felt the lotion warm her and lubricate her so that her fingers could glide so smoothly inside her long neglected pussy. She closed her eyes and slipped her fingers in and out of herself until her vagina clenched and a rush of arousal flowed through her body. She let out a gasp, squeezed her tit firmly and exhaled.
Ms. Palmer then looked to the window, out toward the school.
The car was there again. She sat up, holding her blankets to her chest and suddenly heard a rustle of the bushes.
END OF PART I
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