Goody The Reunion episode 12
- 2 years ago
- 39
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Ms. Ganelle free porn video
In my last story “Fornicating with my English Teacher” I explained how my relationship with Ms. Ganelle started.
Following our first sexual encounter, Ms. Ganelle couldn’t keep her hands off of me. When the class would go to the auditorium for assemblies, she’d make sure she sat next to me. As soon as the lights would dim, her hand would find its way into my pants where she would stroke my penis. She had such a firm grip on me that it would take just the sensation of her grabbing the veins along the sides to make it stiffen like a rock. If there was enough distraction, she’d cover her mouth, and let some saliva get on her hand and then reach back down to proceed to jerk me.
In empty classrooms, I’d get full service blow jobs. On multiple occasions, she’d jerk me completely off and swallow my ejaculates as per my demands. Cumming on her stereotypical “English teacher” eyeglasses was a turn on, but I much preferred the sensation of the head of my penis being surrounded by her gums, teeth and warm saliva. She closed her eyes and made “mmmm” sounds signaling her love of the taste of my semen. She was such a complete turn on, I had to struggle not to force her head down on my penis and make her gag. With my large hands entangled in her hair forcing her head to bob up and down, faster and faster, it took every ounce of self control not to penetrate her windpipe and pump sperm into her lungs.
It was the sneakiness of these acts that turned her on most of all. Whenever we got the chance, we’d go to the English office for more privacy. The routine was almost always the same. We’d walk in, lock the door, and make our way to the chairs or desk. The moment the door was locked and our belongings were placed down, my hands would find their way to her buttocks and my tongue into the back of her throat. The feeling of her underwear through her thin dresses was an immense aphrodisiac – something I normally (and legally) wouldn’t have been privy to. My young penis, was always ready to plunge into a vagina regardless the age. As long as it was wet, soft, clean and smelling vaguely of fragrance.
I definitely knew what I was doing and I definitely knew that there could be consequences if we were ever caught. I’d be treated like a “victim” and she’d lose her job and possibly do some jail time. I never saw myself as a “victim” because I wanted to the sensations of sex with her probably as much or more as she wanted to have the sensation of sex with me. After all, how could I be the victim? I was taller than her, stronger than her, more aggressive than her and at any time could have made it stop. I never told anyone what was happening – not mom, nor dad, nor friends nor acquaintances and if I had the chance to do it all over again I would.
I’d hike up Ms. Ganelle’s skirt and pull her cotton panties to the side before slipping my penis in that creamy, pussy of hers. I preferred to pull them sideways – not off – just in case we had to quickly cover up the fornication. She could simply pull her skirt down, take her seat and we’d pretend to be reading or working on conference notes. Fortunately it never came to actually having to hide since the main English offices attracted more traffic than her smaller office -which was a storage room turned into a mini-office for privacy when meeting parents. When Ms. Ganelle faced me, she’d wrap her leg around me and I’d lean her against the wall – whilst standing up – and constantly pump her vagina with vicious thrusts until I bursted hot semen inside her. There was a constant demon of sorts that possessed my sexual attitude. Pump her hard, pump her fast and pump her quietly. The room had thick cement walls, but moaning aloud might be heard through or under the locked wooden door. I had to sometimes clasp my hand around her mouth to keep her from giving our position away. Sometimes, my own ejaculations were so violent I had to tell her : “kiss me quick, I’m cumming hard” just so my male grunting wouldn’t give us away. I would actually “roar” into her mouth as my sperm cells entered between those warm thick thighs. The pressure building up in my dick was so great that if I tried to get her to get down and take the cumshot orally, the pulses of semen would shoot past her face and hit the wall – sometimes leaving beads of cum in her hair and glasses. Have you ever tried to clean dried semen off of eyeglasses? It dries quickly and leaves crust-like stains you need windex/glass cleaner to remove. I could never make up my mind whether or not I wanted to spray my ejaculate on her panties and stain them, or if I’d penetrate as deeply inside her as possible for a messy creampie. Decisions…decisions.
Four things were for certain: as much as Ms. Ganelle enjoyed me playing boyfriend, our relationship was starting to get out of control. The viciousness of our quick sex acts were starting to leave tell-tale signs. For example: her underwear were all torn up. Apparently bras were expensive to replace and constantly pulling her breasts out of them to manhandle was damaging the wire frames. Her panties were constantly stained with my semen and she remarked how much she needed to wash her clothes since I kept cumming inside her. There was also the smell of sex in the air after I’d finished jamming her up. We had to start leaving the window open to make it go away. Eventually she got a plug-in room freshener.
Some of my friends asked me why I never hung out with them in the courtyard and why I was always being tutored when I was already averaging a 90 in English. I had to start making up complete bullshit: “we are looking through college books”. “I’m getting help with my portfolio”.
Back then I didn’t have a car (nor did she) and we both took the public bus in the same direction from school. I worked after school, so Ms. Ganelle would wait for me and leave work after my work day was over – when she could. This was when some suspicion started. I had a shift manager named Keisha – and that’s her real name because at this point it doesn’t matter (this was over 10 years ago). Keisha was about the same age as Ms. Ganelle. Keisha figured out that I was having some sort of inappropriate relation with Ms. Ganelle and she suggested I tell my parents about it if something was going on. I told her that “we were just friends” and it wasn’t a problem. However, what was a problem was that sometimes we’d ride the bus, sitting in the back and Ms. Ganelle would want to hold my hand – in public. That’s when the weight of the situation hit me. I was young and she’s my teacher. This could be a problem. Surely I can’t maintain a lasting relationship with her right? If people find out, there’d be big problems. I didn’t want to, but I had to let Ms. Ganelle know that we couldn’t hold hands in public because someone – especially someone from the school might notice. Instead of holding hands, we were forced to basically pretend we didn’t know each other.
We’d still sit next to each other on the bus, but we’d sit behind the wheel chair lift, out of the bus driver’s sight and she’d still spit in her hand and stroke my penis. If there was no one else in the back of the bus, she’d lean over, cover her head with her jacket and suck the head of my penis until I spunked in her face. Cumming in public took me fewer than 4 minutes the way Ms. Ganelle gobbled me up. She had to stimulate me as quickly as possible and I had to keep my mouth shut or else I’d grunt aloud with pleasure. Even without her lips, she was so good at jerking me off using just her spit soaked palm, I could never hold back for more than a few minutes. Once, there was no one back there and she jerked me off hard enough to make a glob of cum shoot from my penis to the next bench. We laughed about it and she quickly put her face down to lick and swallow me clean.
I started lying to my family about my work hours to give them the impression I was working later than usual on the weekdays I was secretly at Ms. Ganelle’s apartment with my dick inside her. Back then, no one really had cellphones – unless they were rich – so it was difficult to check up on me. So long as I was getting good grades, my parents didn’t bother me much and figured I was being “more responsible”.
I’d walk Ms. Ganelle to her apartment, carrying her books. Every now and then I’d see her neighbors and just say hello in a passing manner. If a student frequented a teacher’s apartment as much as I did this day in age, it would draw immediate attention due to the programming by the media frenzy that loves reporting the dirty news for ratings. We made a pact to simply tell anyone who asked that Ms. Ganelle was “helping me prepare my college portfolio”. All the students had a college portfolio to go along with our entrance paperwork, but only my “portfolio” required me to actually spend hours at Ms. Ganelle’s apartment!!!
On those nights where she couldn’t resist seeing me, we’d enter her apartment and I’d sit down to relax while she got herself more comfortable. She’d strip down to her shredded underwear and sometimes take a shower. On more than one occasion, I’d strip down too and follow her into the shower. We definitely got messier than clean in the short run. I’d take the bar of soap and start lathering her breasts and vagina. She’d turn towards me, wrap her arms around me and tongue kiss me while my hands firmly grasped her hips and my pinky made its way near her ass hole. I was never into anal sex, but I’m sure if I’d wanted it, she’d let me do it. Because I was so much bigger than her opening, her vagina was sufficiently tight enough for my enjoyment. The soapy suds made her breasts even more sensational and appealing to my eyes as I watched the lather run down her dark areolas. I couldn’t help sucking them as if I was being breast fed. She preferred I suck the right breast, to which she’d tilt her head back and force my head. She loved it when I was rough with them. The harder I sucked and squeezed – the more she loved me.
My penis would get hard fast when I fondled her in the shower. I usually proceeded to turn her back to me and enter her from behind. I specifically loved standing up in the shower and pounding her because both she and I seemed to have orgasms fast that way. She’d moan and groan letting me know how well I was doing and each little noise or shudder she’d let out only made my thrusting more malicious and the grip on her more deliberately firm. I had complete control over her body due to my superior strength and she was completely restrained as I forced more and more of my semen into her. Without her birth control, surely she’d have been impregnated. After a shower session, we’d both rinse the evidence of sperm off and then retire to her bed where I was so exhausted I’d have to take micro naps. I’d reach my arm around her and pass out into a dreamless c*** for a good hour or two – wake up, grab my things and leave for the bus to take me the rest of the way home.
Other times we’d have our “study sessions” without the help of the shower. We’d either copulate on her sofa chair or her bed. I preferred the bed because it was so much easier to have sex on the mattress than the chair. I enjoyed experimenting with positions. Every now and then I’d want to doggystyle her so I could pull her close to me whilst squeezing her breasts, fingering her lightly hairy pubic mound and thrusting in her cunt. Missionary was a great joy too. She’d spread her legs to accept me, I’d slip my penis in and I’d pump into her. The viciousness of my thrusting during the missionary position was a little too much for her for some reason. Her head pressed deeper into the pillow and she couldn’t concentrate on me despite I’d try to stare her in the eyes. Her hands would always leave my body and grab the pillow or the bed sheets as I pounded her vulva deeper into the mattress. When her hands returned to my body, shed rub against my stomach in a manner which felt like she was trying to push me away and out. I wouldn’t let her. I POUNDED HARDER. And would whisper into her ear very improper things:
“don’t push me away cause it’s gonna make me fuck that pussy even more”
“close your fuckin’ mouth and just take it”
“You know you love it…You can’t get away from this dick… I’m gonna’ fuck you into this mattress”
“I love you so much, I’m gonna cum for you”
Whatever came to mind, I’d just say. Ms. Ganelle couldn’t get enough of me and she’d coax my ejaculations with her frantic reply’s.
“oh my god you feel so fuckin’ good”.
“ don’t fuck me too good cause I don’t want my neighbors to hear us”.
“oh please, oh please, oh my God, oh my God, I can’t take it, it’s so fucking stiff”.
By the time I’d cum inside her, the bed sheets had been sucked so far up her butt that she had to literally yank them back out again. The sheets were soaked with sweat and greasy beads of semen could be seen staining them.
Friday’s were especially nice. Sometimes she’d wait for me and we’d go see a movie at the nearby theater. To ensure no one noticed us together, she’d get the tickets, hand one to me and we’d enter separately – only to sit with each other inside the theater. We’d spend most of the film fondling each other. I preferred not to get blown in the theater only so I could save my energy for the inevitable visit to her apartment where I could take out my aggression on her whole body. The sounds of her orgasms from me manhandling her hips and penetrating her writhing vaginal hole were often more exciting than simply receiving a blow job. Although either would suffice.
Ms. Ganelle’s bed didn’t squeak too much, but the rhythmic motion of my thrusting caused the headboard to bang against the wall with a frequency anyone on the opposite side of the wall would only connect with sexual activity. Coupled with the knowledge that she’s in here with a male student, and the conclusion would be obvious. “She’s fucking her student!” Therefore, our “love-making” got even more secretive, and quiet, which caused my aggression to be displayed even more aggressively. Sometimes I’d squeeze her ankles and other times I’d press her arms or legs down so she couldn’t move whilst I inseminated her. Later still, the sex got so rough I’d either have to deep kiss her or wrap my hands around her throat/mouth to keep her orgasmic moans muffled. From the moment I inserted my penis, the franticness of the sex usually was over in just 8 to 10 minutes.
The thoughts in my mind as I continued my penetrations of Ms. Ganelle were purely mechanical: “I’m going to fuck you out and there’s nothing you’re going to be able to do about it”. Clearly, I was no “male victim” of this “female teacher”. My feelings of admiration for her deepened despite my using her vagina like a pin cushion. What made me happiest was that she loved every single inch of me and that when she’d mention that I was “the best lover she’d ever had” (to this day), I could believe her. Our attraction became a****listic and the moistness of her insides was a signal that I was doing something right.
My relationship with Ms. Ganelle continues to this day at a respectable distance. She and I are Facebook friends and she doesn’t live far away. The attraction between us has dissipated now that she is almost 40, has married (a man her age) and has conceived. I constantly spy on her Facebook page, send her messages, like her comments/posts and say little things to remind her of all the time we shared together.
We’ve even remarked on the luck we had that we never got caught doing things which have landed so many female teachers in jail. She’s thanked me for keeping our secret and I’ve thanked her for the good times.
Following our first sexual encounter, Ms. Ganelle couldn’t keep her hands off of me. When the class would go to the auditorium for assemblies, she’d make sure she sat next to me. As soon as the lights would dim, her hand would find its way into my pants where she would stroke my penis. She had such a firm grip on me that it would take just the sensation of her grabbing the veins along the sides to make it stiffen like a rock. If there was enough distraction, she’d cover her mouth, and let some saliva get on her hand and then reach back down to proceed to jerk me.
In empty classrooms, I’d get full service blow jobs. On multiple occasions, she’d jerk me completely off and swallow my ejaculates as per my demands. Cumming on her stereotypical “English teacher” eyeglasses was a turn on, but I much preferred the sensation of the head of my penis being surrounded by her gums, teeth and warm saliva. She closed her eyes and made “mmmm” sounds signaling her love of the taste of my semen. She was such a complete turn on, I had to struggle not to force her head down on my penis and make her gag. With my large hands entangled in her hair forcing her head to bob up and down, faster and faster, it took every ounce of self control not to penetrate her windpipe and pump sperm into her lungs.
It was the sneakiness of these acts that turned her on most of all. Whenever we got the chance, we’d go to the English office for more privacy. The routine was almost always the same. We’d walk in, lock the door, and make our way to the chairs or desk. The moment the door was locked and our belongings were placed down, my hands would find their way to her buttocks and my tongue into the back of her throat. The feeling of her underwear through her thin dresses was an immense aphrodisiac – something I normally (and legally) wouldn’t have been privy to. My young penis, was always ready to plunge into a vagina regardless the age. As long as it was wet, soft, clean and smelling vaguely of fragrance.
I definitely knew what I was doing and I definitely knew that there could be consequences if we were ever caught. I’d be treated like a “victim” and she’d lose her job and possibly do some jail time. I never saw myself as a “victim” because I wanted to the sensations of sex with her probably as much or more as she wanted to have the sensation of sex with me. After all, how could I be the victim? I was taller than her, stronger than her, more aggressive than her and at any time could have made it stop. I never told anyone what was happening – not mom, nor dad, nor friends nor acquaintances and if I had the chance to do it all over again I would.
I’d hike up Ms. Ganelle’s skirt and pull her cotton panties to the side before slipping my penis in that creamy, pussy of hers. I preferred to pull them sideways – not off – just in case we had to quickly cover up the fornication. She could simply pull her skirt down, take her seat and we’d pretend to be reading or working on conference notes. Fortunately it never came to actually having to hide since the main English offices attracted more traffic than her smaller office -which was a storage room turned into a mini-office for privacy when meeting parents. When Ms. Ganelle faced me, she’d wrap her leg around me and I’d lean her against the wall – whilst standing up – and constantly pump her vagina with vicious thrusts until I bursted hot semen inside her. There was a constant demon of sorts that possessed my sexual attitude. Pump her hard, pump her fast and pump her quietly. The room had thick cement walls, but moaning aloud might be heard through or under the locked wooden door. I had to sometimes clasp my hand around her mouth to keep her from giving our position away. Sometimes, my own ejaculations were so violent I had to tell her : “kiss me quick, I’m cumming hard” just so my male grunting wouldn’t give us away. I would actually “roar” into her mouth as my sperm cells entered between those warm thick thighs. The pressure building up in my dick was so great that if I tried to get her to get down and take the cumshot orally, the pulses of semen would shoot past her face and hit the wall – sometimes leaving beads of cum in her hair and glasses. Have you ever tried to clean dried semen off of eyeglasses? It dries quickly and leaves crust-like stains you need windex/glass cleaner to remove. I could never make up my mind whether or not I wanted to spray my ejaculate on her panties and stain them, or if I’d penetrate as deeply inside her as possible for a messy creampie. Decisions…decisions.
Four things were for certain: as much as Ms. Ganelle enjoyed me playing boyfriend, our relationship was starting to get out of control. The viciousness of our quick sex acts were starting to leave tell-tale signs. For example: her underwear were all torn up. Apparently bras were expensive to replace and constantly pulling her breasts out of them to manhandle was damaging the wire frames. Her panties were constantly stained with my semen and she remarked how much she needed to wash her clothes since I kept cumming inside her. There was also the smell of sex in the air after I’d finished jamming her up. We had to start leaving the window open to make it go away. Eventually she got a plug-in room freshener.
Some of my friends asked me why I never hung out with them in the courtyard and why I was always being tutored when I was already averaging a 90 in English. I had to start making up complete bullshit: “we are looking through college books”. “I’m getting help with my portfolio”.
Back then I didn’t have a car (nor did she) and we both took the public bus in the same direction from school. I worked after school, so Ms. Ganelle would wait for me and leave work after my work day was over – when she could. This was when some suspicion started. I had a shift manager named Keisha – and that’s her real name because at this point it doesn’t matter (this was over 10 years ago). Keisha was about the same age as Ms. Ganelle. Keisha figured out that I was having some sort of inappropriate relation with Ms. Ganelle and she suggested I tell my parents about it if something was going on. I told her that “we were just friends” and it wasn’t a problem. However, what was a problem was that sometimes we’d ride the bus, sitting in the back and Ms. Ganelle would want to hold my hand – in public. That’s when the weight of the situation hit me. I was young and she’s my teacher. This could be a problem. Surely I can’t maintain a lasting relationship with her right? If people find out, there’d be big problems. I didn’t want to, but I had to let Ms. Ganelle know that we couldn’t hold hands in public because someone – especially someone from the school might notice. Instead of holding hands, we were forced to basically pretend we didn’t know each other.
We’d still sit next to each other on the bus, but we’d sit behind the wheel chair lift, out of the bus driver’s sight and she’d still spit in her hand and stroke my penis. If there was no one else in the back of the bus, she’d lean over, cover her head with her jacket and suck the head of my penis until I spunked in her face. Cumming in public took me fewer than 4 minutes the way Ms. Ganelle gobbled me up. She had to stimulate me as quickly as possible and I had to keep my mouth shut or else I’d grunt aloud with pleasure. Even without her lips, she was so good at jerking me off using just her spit soaked palm, I could never hold back for more than a few minutes. Once, there was no one back there and she jerked me off hard enough to make a glob of cum shoot from my penis to the next bench. We laughed about it and she quickly put her face down to lick and swallow me clean.
I started lying to my family about my work hours to give them the impression I was working later than usual on the weekdays I was secretly at Ms. Ganelle’s apartment with my dick inside her. Back then, no one really had cellphones – unless they were rich – so it was difficult to check up on me. So long as I was getting good grades, my parents didn’t bother me much and figured I was being “more responsible”.
I’d walk Ms. Ganelle to her apartment, carrying her books. Every now and then I’d see her neighbors and just say hello in a passing manner. If a student frequented a teacher’s apartment as much as I did this day in age, it would draw immediate attention due to the programming by the media frenzy that loves reporting the dirty news for ratings. We made a pact to simply tell anyone who asked that Ms. Ganelle was “helping me prepare my college portfolio”. All the students had a college portfolio to go along with our entrance paperwork, but only my “portfolio” required me to actually spend hours at Ms. Ganelle’s apartment!!!
On those nights where she couldn’t resist seeing me, we’d enter her apartment and I’d sit down to relax while she got herself more comfortable. She’d strip down to her shredded underwear and sometimes take a shower. On more than one occasion, I’d strip down too and follow her into the shower. We definitely got messier than clean in the short run. I’d take the bar of soap and start lathering her breasts and vagina. She’d turn towards me, wrap her arms around me and tongue kiss me while my hands firmly grasped her hips and my pinky made its way near her ass hole. I was never into anal sex, but I’m sure if I’d wanted it, she’d let me do it. Because I was so much bigger than her opening, her vagina was sufficiently tight enough for my enjoyment. The soapy suds made her breasts even more sensational and appealing to my eyes as I watched the lather run down her dark areolas. I couldn’t help sucking them as if I was being breast fed. She preferred I suck the right breast, to which she’d tilt her head back and force my head. She loved it when I was rough with them. The harder I sucked and squeezed – the more she loved me.
My penis would get hard fast when I fondled her in the shower. I usually proceeded to turn her back to me and enter her from behind. I specifically loved standing up in the shower and pounding her because both she and I seemed to have orgasms fast that way. She’d moan and groan letting me know how well I was doing and each little noise or shudder she’d let out only made my thrusting more malicious and the grip on her more deliberately firm. I had complete control over her body due to my superior strength and she was completely restrained as I forced more and more of my semen into her. Without her birth control, surely she’d have been impregnated. After a shower session, we’d both rinse the evidence of sperm off and then retire to her bed where I was so exhausted I’d have to take micro naps. I’d reach my arm around her and pass out into a dreamless c*** for a good hour or two – wake up, grab my things and leave for the bus to take me the rest of the way home.
Other times we’d have our “study sessions” without the help of the shower. We’d either copulate on her sofa chair or her bed. I preferred the bed because it was so much easier to have sex on the mattress than the chair. I enjoyed experimenting with positions. Every now and then I’d want to doggystyle her so I could pull her close to me whilst squeezing her breasts, fingering her lightly hairy pubic mound and thrusting in her cunt. Missionary was a great joy too. She’d spread her legs to accept me, I’d slip my penis in and I’d pump into her. The viciousness of my thrusting during the missionary position was a little too much for her for some reason. Her head pressed deeper into the pillow and she couldn’t concentrate on me despite I’d try to stare her in the eyes. Her hands would always leave my body and grab the pillow or the bed sheets as I pounded her vulva deeper into the mattress. When her hands returned to my body, shed rub against my stomach in a manner which felt like she was trying to push me away and out. I wouldn’t let her. I POUNDED HARDER. And would whisper into her ear very improper things:
“don’t push me away cause it’s gonna make me fuck that pussy even more”
“close your fuckin’ mouth and just take it”
“You know you love it…You can’t get away from this dick… I’m gonna’ fuck you into this mattress”
“I love you so much, I’m gonna cum for you”
Whatever came to mind, I’d just say. Ms. Ganelle couldn’t get enough of me and she’d coax my ejaculations with her frantic reply’s.
“oh my god you feel so fuckin’ good”.
“ don’t fuck me too good cause I don’t want my neighbors to hear us”.
“oh please, oh please, oh my God, oh my God, I can’t take it, it’s so fucking stiff”.
By the time I’d cum inside her, the bed sheets had been sucked so far up her butt that she had to literally yank them back out again. The sheets were soaked with sweat and greasy beads of semen could be seen staining them.
Friday’s were especially nice. Sometimes she’d wait for me and we’d go see a movie at the nearby theater. To ensure no one noticed us together, she’d get the tickets, hand one to me and we’d enter separately – only to sit with each other inside the theater. We’d spend most of the film fondling each other. I preferred not to get blown in the theater only so I could save my energy for the inevitable visit to her apartment where I could take out my aggression on her whole body. The sounds of her orgasms from me manhandling her hips and penetrating her writhing vaginal hole were often more exciting than simply receiving a blow job. Although either would suffice.
Ms. Ganelle’s bed didn’t squeak too much, but the rhythmic motion of my thrusting caused the headboard to bang against the wall with a frequency anyone on the opposite side of the wall would only connect with sexual activity. Coupled with the knowledge that she’s in here with a male student, and the conclusion would be obvious. “She’s fucking her student!” Therefore, our “love-making” got even more secretive, and quiet, which caused my aggression to be displayed even more aggressively. Sometimes I’d squeeze her ankles and other times I’d press her arms or legs down so she couldn’t move whilst I inseminated her. Later still, the sex got so rough I’d either have to deep kiss her or wrap my hands around her throat/mouth to keep her orgasmic moans muffled. From the moment I inserted my penis, the franticness of the sex usually was over in just 8 to 10 minutes.
The thoughts in my mind as I continued my penetrations of Ms. Ganelle were purely mechanical: “I’m going to fuck you out and there’s nothing you’re going to be able to do about it”. Clearly, I was no “male victim” of this “female teacher”. My feelings of admiration for her deepened despite my using her vagina like a pin cushion. What made me happiest was that she loved every single inch of me and that when she’d mention that I was “the best lover she’d ever had” (to this day), I could believe her. Our attraction became a****listic and the moistness of her insides was a signal that I was doing something right.
My relationship with Ms. Ganelle continues to this day at a respectable distance. She and I are Facebook friends and she doesn’t live far away. The attraction between us has dissipated now that she is almost 40, has married (a man her age) and has conceived. I constantly spy on her Facebook page, send her messages, like her comments/posts and say little things to remind her of all the time we shared together.
We’ve even remarked on the luck we had that we never got caught doing things which have landed so many female teachers in jail. She’s thanked me for keeping our secret and I’ve thanked her for the good times.
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