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French Class
French Class (mF, fdom, voy, exhib, teen, mast)
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By: Rascal (write_to_rascal@hotmail.com)
Adult fiction with sexual content. Read only if permitted.
(c) by the author, no reproduction or reposting without permission!
Posted at ASSTR Nov. 2002.
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This has its roots in some true events from way back (won't say
how far) when I was a teenager. Just to set the stage properly: back then
sexual awakening had a little bit more of a mystery to it than today, this
was the time when sexual education had become standard, but the actual
experience did lag behind. Everybody knew everything, but had not done
much. As a consequence, every little sexual revelation and adventure was
met with great excitement.
I am trying to capture some of this spirit in the story. As mentioned,
actual events in the beginning, but then it will take off into some crazy
fantasies.
Part 1:
To be honest, I hated French. The only thing which kept me interested
in going to class was actually our teacher, Mrs. Cotton. Not only was she
quite pretty, but she also tended to dress a little more ... ehm -
adventurous than the other teachers. In other words, a refreshing
difference from the rest of the crowd.
As an additional incentive, my desk was located at the front right side
of the classroom, which gave me several significant advantages. Being in
the front gave me a closer look of her. This was especially valuable since
she had the tendency to wear blouses of a very thin material, which often
showed the contours of her and nipples or the faint image of her
bra. However, I got the biggest kick out of one particular blouse she wore
from time to time, which tended to stand open between buttons, giving
somebody located off to the side - like me - a straight view onto the onset
of her and the lace trim of her bra.
I was also positioned at the same level as her desk, and when she sat
down I could see her skirt ride up her thighs, exposing her
almost all the way up. Needless to say, this was all very exciting to me.
As an additional upside, this whole experience elevated my status among my
peers. Even those who were considered the most experienced among my
friends treated me with a certain respect and wanted to hear my latest
story.
For example, there was Harold. He was the one who impressed everybody
one Monday when he told us that he had played strip poker with a in
his neighborhood. All the way down to the underwear! And Tom, who had
taken pretty on a canoe trip, and while fooling around in the middle
of the lake, had splashed her with the paddle. He claimed that she did not
mind, even splashed back at him. By the time they got back to shore her
t-shirt was entirely soaked and see-through, and Tom claimed that she was
not wearing a bra at all!
Well, those were the days back then and I certainly enjoyed my fame.
After every French class the crowds gathered around me to hear the latest.
What color was her bra? Was it a lace-trimmed one again? Did it help
having the windows open on this winter day in between classes so that it
was cold in the room - did that make her nipples show?
As everybody can imagine, my French class voyeurism experience did get
me totally worked up, granted, it does not take much to get a 15 year old's
hormones pumping. But, alas, it also did have a negative effect on my
grades. Recently, I had become an object of her attention, but not in a
way I wanted to. Matters took their course and finally I totally blew a
test. She ordered me to stay after class, repeat the entire lesson and
retake the test the next day.
Part 2:
There I was, all alone at my desk, my favorite vantage point, and her
sitting at the teacher's desk correcting homework. I really did try to
work on the assignment; after all, I did want to please her. But with her
in the same room it was really difficult to concentrate. She was sitting
there with her arms crossed in front of her and resting on the desk. This
way, her chest was tucked in with her resting on her lower arms.
This opened up the window in her blouse wider than ever before, and to my
dismay I saw that she was wearing no bra at all ... I was looking straight
at her breasts!
This was very confusing, indeed. Especially since I had noticed that
she was wearing a bra during class earlier that day. I am sure I had
remembered correctly - I had even started to draw the pattern of the lace
trim into my notebook. And now, no bra - what was going on here?
I am not sure if she knew what she was doing to me. I tried not to
stare too obvious, tried to look at my book and take some notes from time
to time. I was suffering; her exposed in clear view turned me on
so badly as I had never been before. And nothing I could do about it. The
erection in my pants was starting to become painful. I could not control
it any more. With my right hand on top of the desk, still pretending to
take notes, my left hand nestled open my zipper and let 'him' spring to
freedom.
Slowly stroking myself I peeked over at her, trying not to be too
obvious. When I looked up again, she was looking at me with a broad smile
at her face. Did she know what I was doing? Maybe she could see
underneath my desk, or she could tell just plainly by the look in my face.
Pretending to study hard, I brought both hands up on the table, flipped
some pages, taking some notes.
I heard her footsteps approaching my desk. I did not dare to look up. I
saw her hands appear in my peripheral vision as she leaned forward onto my
desk. "I think I finally figured out what your problem is," she said with
a sarcastic undertone, "and I think I know just what to do about it."
She was talking to me, now I had to look at her. But my eyes did not
make it all the way up to meet hers; I could not believe what I saw. She
had unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, and the way she was leaning on
my desk, it fell open and gave me a clear view of her cleavage. Right in
from of me.
"You seem to like what you see, don't you?" she smirked. "No ma'm," I
stuttered, "I was just so concentrated on my lesson ... " She laughed:
"Really? And you think I don't know what you have been looking at all the
time? And what are you starring at right now?" Oh shit, I realized I was
still starring. I looked up into her face, but it was not a smiling face
anymore, it was very stern.
"I guess I will need to teach you to pay attention to the lectures and
not to get distracted by things which are not appropriate for you," she
said frowning. "Why don't you go to the board and I will give you a few
vocabulary words." Confused as I was, I rose out of my seat, not until then
I realizing that I had 'him' still sticking out. But now it was too late,
she must have already seen it. But oddly enough, she did not say a word,
just nodded with her head towards the board.
There I stood, with my dick standing out straight right in front of me,
in clear view of the most desirable women I had ever encountered ... and
her reading vocabulary words to me. "By the way," she mentioned in between
words, "I am a strong believer in corporal punishment and you will receive
one strike for every mistake." By the time she was done dictating words, I
had three columns on the board, having to write them with my hard-on still
standing proud and me taking on the most awkward positions, especially when
writing the words at the bottom of the board.
Finally she came over to review my work. She stood next to me, her hand
around my shoulder, and pointing at the words for me to read them out
aloud. I was incredibly nervous, especially when she pointed at the ones at
the bottom, her pointer - and her glance - being awfully close to what was
sticking out of my pants. I was so embarrassed, yet feeling her arm around
me and her warm body pressed against mine, smelling her heavy perfume, this
all made me wish this moment would never end.
"Only 18 mistakes," she concluded, "I thought you would have done worse
than that, especially with your mind being in the state you are. But
nevertheless, lets proceed and hand out the deserved punishment. For fair
measure I would suggest 9 with the stick and 9 with the bare hand." With
that she pulled her chair over, sat down and motioned me to come closer.
"Drop your pants," she ordered. "Oh no, I can't, "I exclaimed in shock.
"Of course you will," she replied, stern and impatient, "especially after
that." With that she pointed towards my erection, which she just now
acknowledged for the first time. "Or do you want me to report you to the
principal? I am sure you don't want me to, so you better drop them." With
that she made a very impatient but determined sign with her hand.
I knew I had no choice; I had to get this over with. I unbuckled my
belt, unbuttoned my jeans and let them drop. "Good ... next," she
ordered. Dropping my boxers actually provided a feeling of relief, freedom
- it was done. "Pull up your shirt." I did so, too. Now I was standing in
front of her, naked and exposed, pants around my ankles and up under
my arms. I did not bring up the courage to look at her, but I could guess
what she was looking at.
"Now," she said, "this is a fair punishment for a little peeper like
you. How does it feel to be starred at? Well, looking at your condition
you seem to like it. But let's proceed with the spanking, come here, over
my lap." I had resigned to the fact that I would get a beating, but over
her lap, that was more humiliating than I had expected. But little could I
do.
She made me kneel next to her. "Now, little boy," she inquired, "you
have been looking at my all the time, haven't you?" I was too
shocked to speak. "Come on," she ordered with a very impatient look on her
face, "look at them now and tell me what you think of them." I looked at
her chest, the top buttons still open, her full roundness showing. I
stuttered, confused: "Yes, ma'm, I have been looking at them, and they are
very pretty."
"Good," she continued, "how about my legs?" I looked down at plenty of
her gorgeous thighs showing from underneath her short skirt. "They are
very sexy, too, and yes, I have been looking at them, too."
"Ok, good boy, you are learning well. Now, let's hand out the
spanking." With that she pulled me over her lap and locked my erect penis
in between her muscular legs. Shivers ran through my body as her cool skin
closed in on my hot rod. No way I could budge, she held me in place with
my buttocks sticking up high in the air.
The beating rained down hard on my behind. The stick was really painful
and stung like hell. After nine strokes she gave me a break and I could
feel my ass burn like fire. But I could also feel her legs clamped around
me and holding me tight in place. Compared to the stick, the spanking with
her hand was less painful, but since my rear was already sensitized every
contact of her hand send a rush of heat through my body. Plus, it was her
hand - she was actually touching me!
When she finally released me, I could not help but rub my behind and
jump up and down in a fugal attempt to numb the pain. She was watching me
with a certain glee and laughed out loud at the sight of me bobbing around.
When I had calmed down she said: "Now, let's continue the lesson. Go back
to you desk, but stay the way you are." With my pants holding my legs
together, I hobbled back to my chair. When I sat down, the cold wood of
the seat actually felt good, but there was not much I could do about the
heat in the front.
She sat down back at her desk, appearing as if nothing had happened.
Maybe the only difference to before was that she still had the top buttons
of her blouse open and that I could still see a lot of her beautiful
breasts. I could not help it, but started to play with myself again.
As if she would have known, just before I came she got up, stood up in
front of me again and said with a very husky undertone: "Ok, that will do
for now. And remember what you learned today ... I will not report you as
long as you follow my instructions. And as long as you follow my
instructions I will keep you in my class and you can keep that seat. And
next class we'll try something new. I will wear no - how's that?"
Then suddenly her voice changed: "Ok, why don't you finish up now." What
- she wanted me to finish up ... to right in front of her? Again she
spoke: "Hey, wake up, you gotta finish now." I shook my head, no, I could
not do that. Her determined voice again: "Hey, you, dreamer, time to go
home. Let's finish." With that last request I finally woke up, looked up
at her, noticed this impatient look on her face again, caught a glance of
her ... and squirted a huge load into my pants.