Megan and Me: The SeductionbyHardtack©
Chapter 1: Meeting Megan
I should have hated and feared her from the moment she stepped into my classroom. To be honest, though, I didn't notice her- she was just another student who looked vaguely familiar. Oh certainly, she was very pretty, standing at 5'6'' with an athletic build, wavy brown hair that came down just past her shoulders and dark green eyes that had a subtle hint of mischief, of naughtiness. But, I knew better; I knew to keep my distance, to be professional, and to not get too close to any student.
Way back when I was a puppy just learning the ropes, my old friend and mentor, Mr. Castile, had taken me aside and said, "Jack, I'm going to tell you this because college professors are too embarrassed to admit it, but the fact of the matter is that you're going to face temptation. When a pretty girl with hormones running wild through her body listens to you quote Yeats from memory or read a line from Shakespeare with understanding, she's going to get a crush on you, and for your own protection, you're going to have to chase her off..."
"Bob," I objected, "that's not my thing. I know better, I-" But then Castile cut me off.
"Bullshit," he said. "The temptation is always there; on top of that, you're not horrible to look at, and you're pretty fuckin' good in the classroom, so it's going to happen." We argued in a friendly way, but I walked away from that discussion more wary and careful than what I had been as an intern. That had been nearly ten years before, and over time, I let my guard down- and that was a mistake, most especially with Megan.
About a week into the school year, Megan stayed after class briefly and waited for the regular gaggle of question-askers to disperse. "Mr. W." she said (my last name is Williams), "You don't remember me, do you?"
I was surprised by the question, and asked, "Should I?"
"Probably not," she answered, her cheeks blushing a little, "I was in your class when you taught at Brooker." Brooker was the public middle school on the other side of town, and had been where I cut my teeth as a young teacher before getting hired at prestigious St. Catherine's.
It took me a moment, but then the light clicked on: Megan had been in my class when she was in the 8th grade, but I hadn't seen much of her. She had turned wild doing God knows what (alcohol and drugs was the assumption) and had more or less disappeared by November of that year. There were rumors that she was doing time in juvenile hall or the psychiatric ward- depending on the source. "Megan," I said, "I am so sorry. I can't believe I didn't recognize you."
"Don't be," she said, "I was really bad back then, and I don't look the same." Both statements were true- I had disliked her for staring at me with bored eyes on those rare occasions when she had actually bothered to come to school. She had also been rail thin, with dark, sunken eyes and hair that covered most of her face. Now, however, she was absolutely beautiful and seemed to radiate confidence. There was just this spark that I could feel that both excited me and made me nervous. I caught myself staring for a second, before she quickly continued. "But anyway, I just wanted you to know that I'm different now. I got my life together and I want to be an English teacher like you."
It was my turn to blush as I smiled. "Well good," I said as our eyes locked. She gave a nervous little laugh, started to say something, but then thought better of it as my next class started to fill the room. And then she was gone.
Now, if you expected Megan and I to start having sex in my classroom the next day or week, then you were mistaken. Megan had certainly caught my attention; on "free dress" days when the students didn't have to wear their frumpy uniforms, she looked amazing- her legs were long and smooth, her tummy was flat, and her breasts- to say the least- were a distraction, since they were obviously at least Cs, and stood high and firm. But all things considered, it really wasn't that big of a deal. Yes, I noticed and surreptitiously peeked on those days, but I was good about keeping that professional distance.
The school year, then, progressed at its normal pace, with Homecoming in October, the cold air and Thanksgiving in November, followed by the snow of December. All in all, the first semester had gone quite well- the writing and analysis skills of my students was improving, with Megan easily becoming one of the stars. Unlike many of her peers who excelled, Megan was adventurous, and would sneak in humorous commentary or vigorously pursue tangents that demonstrated a keen understanding of the material. The longer I knew her, the more remarkable I thought that Megan was.
On the last day of class before Christmas break, Megan dropped by. The students had been dismissed, and most of the teachers were hurrying to submit their grades so that they could go home. I was inputting my grades as well, when I heard a clear voice say: "Hi Mr. W."
Inwardly I smiled. "Hi Megan," I said, glancing up from my paperwork. "Shouldn't you be off enjoying your break?"
"Yes- I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas before I left."
I thought that was very nice and said, "Thank you. Merry Christmas to you as well."
I then paused and looked at her directly for a very long moment. She was wearing skinny jeans and a tight, purple button down dress shirt that was tautly drawn across her chest. To my surprise and annoyance, I could feel my cock begin to harden. Not good, I thought.
"Oh, and it's my birthday," Megan added. "I think I deserve a birthday hug." I felt my cock get a little harder, and I squirmed. I absolutely wanted to hug her, but searched my mind for an excuse not to. There was none, so instead, I played for time: "Oh, do you now? How old are you?" I then made a couple of ridiculous guesses that elicited a well-practiced, teenage eye roll.
"Shut up," she said shyly laughing. "I'm 19. I got held back in the 8th grade since I'd missed too many days." I hadn't known and felt bad for a moment- thinking that I had embarrassed her. "Just don't bring it up around the other students. I like feeling normal."
"Of course," I said, standing. My cock had gone down a little, so unless she grinded herself into me, she wouldn't notice and everything would be as innocent as it was supposed to be. "Happy Birthday," I said as I opened my arms. She fell into my embrace, and to my dismay, squeezed me hard. Her pelvis and mine made contact, and I knew that she could feel my half-hard cock. Fuck, I thought. When I loosened my grip though, she held me for about two more heartbeats before letting go.
When she stepped back, Megan's face was a little flush and I could see the hint of her nipples trying to strain through the blouse. "I think we both enjoyed that a little too much," she whispered- almost to herself. I didn't know what to say.
After a moment, I stammered, "I should get this done," and moved towards my desk, which caused Megan to laugh. In nervousness and relief, I started to laugh as well. It was at that moment when my Principal stuck her head in the door.
"Megan," she said gruffly (but not unkindly), "you need to let Mr. Williams finish his work."
"Sorry Mrs. C.," Megan said. "Merry Christmas!" And then she was gone.
Chapter 2: Megan
The few weeks off we had were good for me. It gave me time to think and to get my bearings. Yes, when I got home, I fantasized about Megan- about taking her and making love to her over and over again. But that was wrong and I knew it. I even briefly fantasized about dating her after she graduated, but that was just stupid. Rumors alone were enough to destroy a teacher's career. Rightfully, the parents, administration and parish would have turned on me, and I'd be lucky to find another teaching gig within a thousand miles once it came out. So, I did the right thing: I kept my fantasies to myself, and spent a nice, quiet Christmas with my parents, sister and her little family.
When we returned in January, then, I was both disheartened and relieved when I saw Megan walking down the hallway with a boy, holding hands. Over the break, it seems, she had gotten a boyfriend. To my great annoyance, a rush of jealousy swept through me. Grow the fuck up, I thought to myself. This was good though, I knew. I could feel a wall going up; I was pulling away emotionally even though that wasn't what I wanted.
At the end of January, Megan stopped by my class after school. Though she was still beautiful, I had forced myself to stop seeing her that way; Megan was a student- a very good and smart student- but a student, sacrosanct and inviolable. She looked around the classroom, and then asked, "Mr. W., can I ask you something?"
"Sure Megan. What's up?" I stopped erasing the board and turned to look at her.
"Are you mad at me?" She asked as she took a seat in the front row. Her voice quavered slightly; I could hear the nervous sadness in her tone.
"No," I said quickly, a little surprised. "Why would you think that?"
"You just seem different," Megan said. "You don't look at me the same way you used to." The alarms bells started to go off in my head. I started to protest, but Megan pressed on. "I don't know what I'm asking for; I just know that I don't like the way things are." And with that, she stood and hurried out the door. For a moment, I became dizzy, and leaned against my desk. Don't do anything stupid, I thought, but it was too late.
Despite my good intentions, Megan and I began to spend more time together and the line between student and teacher became blurry. I told myself it was fine: she had a boyfriend, and the time we spent together was innocent. Megan liked to help out, and would drop by after school or during study hall. She'd quietly study or help me by grading quizzes as I read through the student's essays or prepared lectures for the next day.
At those times, we tended to talk more informally than what was appropriate- if she cursed and said something like "fuck," I wouldn't correct her. However, if anyone else was around, then Megan would instantly straighten up and become prim and proper. Once, after another teacher had stopped by to visit, I laughed a little, but Megan said, "It's not funny. I don't want you to get in trouble."
One morning in early February, though, our relationship took an interesting turn. Megan had come by during study hall, and asked if I needed her to do anything. "No," I said. "I'm all caught up for once."
"Ok- well do you mind if I do my homework here?"
"No, feel free," I said. And so, she settled down in the front row and started doing her work. After a few minutes though, she stopped.
"It's hot as balls in here. Can I open a window?" She asked.
She was right- the heater had been going full blast. "No, it's freezing outside. I'll turn the thermostat down, though."
"Fine," she said, with a hint of grumpiness. After a bit of time, she asked, "Can I go to the bathroom for a minute?" I nodded, thinking nothing of it. When she came back, she had a naughty look on her face and said quietly, "I feel so much better."
"Oh?" I asked. She nodded, looking more mischievous than ever. "What?" I asked.
She laughed a little and said, "You don't want to know..." Megan knew full well, however, that I did. I narrowed my eyes and just looked at her. "Ok, but don't say I didn't warn you..." Her voice trailed off, soft, and seductive.
"Tell me," I whispered. I could feel my cock beginning to stiffen. I didn't know what it was, but her manner was turning me on.
She beckoned me with her finger, and I obeyed. I leaned over, and she whispered, "I was having trouble getting comfortable, so I took my panties off, and I feel so much better..." Her voice was purring. My eyes went wide, and I pulled back, like it was an electric shock. Instantly, my cock was rock hard and straining against my pants. She looked straight at my crotch, and whispered, "Somebody likes that."
I retreated to my desk and quickly sat down. "You're not serious," I said, knowing full well that she was. She was in the standard school uniform for Fridays: a white, starched shirt and a khaki skirt that was supposed to go down to her ankles- but like every Catholic school girl in the history of humanity, she had folded it under so much that it only went down to her knees. In answer to my question, she just smiled.
The alarm bells in my head were going off, but I couldn't resist. "Prove it," I whispered. Her mouth opened and her eyes got wide in surprise. Megan then looked over her shoulder at the open door to make sure nobody was coming. She then spread her legs a little and pulled her skirt up, inch by inch. The white, thigh high stockings then gave way to her smooth, soft skin, and then I saw her bare, naked pussy. I saw it only for a second, but I saw enough to know that there was a thin strip of neatly groomed pubic hair and that indeed: she was not wearing panties. "Oh my God..." I said, my voice low and surprised. "I don't believe it."
"Oh really?" Megan quietly asked. "Do you want another peek to make sure?"
My face blushed, and I said, "No." But then I quickly told the truth and said, "Yes." Her eyes locked on to me, and she pulled her skirt up again and held it for a few moments longer, letting me drink her in. I then looked up at her as she slowly let the skirt slide back down. "Are you wet?" I managed to hoarsely croak out. She nodded slowly, yet emphatically.
"I am so fucking horny," Megan whispered. She started to say something else, but the bell rang. "Time for class!" She said cheerfully, popping up. And then, she was gone.
Over the weekend, I couldn't get Megan out of my mind. It had gone too far, but I couldn't stop and thought, fuck it. Let's see what happens. For the most part, though, I kind of thought that that was the high water mark, particularly when I saw her hugging her boyfriend before the start of school on Monday. Certainly, pangs of jealousy were there, but it made me feel better knowing that our little secret was safe and that we had some clear limits. Looking, I justified, was not that big of a deal.
Megan, though, didn't come by that day or the next, and I started to worry. I began to imagine that she was spooked by the whole thing and would be uncomfortable talking to me. On Wednesday, she hurried into my room after school, hurried up to me and threw her arms around me in a tight embrace. I started to say something, but she interrupted and said, "I can't stay," and left me standing there a little aroused and very confused. From then on, I only saw her in class. Megan stopped coming by, and after about a week, I stopped expectantly looking for her.
In early March, one of the teachers in my department arranged to take the juniors and seniors on a field trip to go see a production of Hamlet in the city. I wasn't particularly excited about it- mostly because I had already seen the play a half dozens times, had finished the lesson on Shakespeare back in October, and to make matters worse, it was a two hour bus ride with the curtain not going up until 7pm; clearly, it was going to be a long, tedious day for everyone. I even tried to get out of it, but my department head, Ms. Lewis had growled, "Don't even think about it, Jack. You're going and you're going to like it."
The trip there was uneventful- particularly since Megan and I were on different busses. And once we arrived, the performance was pretty good, though the actress who played Ophelia hammed it up just a bit too much for my tastes. At the end of the play, many of the parents who came to the show on their own, or went into the city to have dinner during the play, volunteered to load their SUVs and Minivans to get the students home as quickly as possible. It was a clear violation of school policy, but none of the teachers objected; it was the practical thing to do, liability be damned.
As a result, just about half the kids were gone and they were all exhausted. Many put on their earphones and cranked up the music, while others drifted off to sleep with their heads against the cold, wintery glass. Once we were moving, I found an empty seat in the back of my bus and did the same- I didn't sleep, but I did stare at the half melted, snow covered fields as we drove home. An hour later, we stopped for fuel and a bathroom break. I was fine, so I stayed on the bus, and after about 20 minutes, we were reloaded and moving again. I was lost in my own world, and was startled back to the present when Megan sat next to me. "Aren't you supposed to be on the other bus?" I quietly asked, elated, but nervous.
"Yes, but I got in a little trouble. Adam was getting a little too touchy with me, so Ms. Lewis made we switch," she explained in a low, hushed whisper in the darkness.
I was half hard already, and the bite of jealousy was starting to gnaw at me. "Well," I whispered evenly, "he should know better."
Megan's eyes locked on to mine. "I know. We were both being bad," she then paused, and said: "oh, by the way, I made myself more comfortable... like last time."
I didn't understand and said, "Pardon?"
"Remember the last time?" She asked, giving me a leading look. I glanced into her glowing green eyes, and then it dawned on me, and my mouth opened, but no words came out. "Yes. No panties. It feels so nice." She then openly looked down at my crotch. "Jesus- you love that, don't you?" I couldn't deny it. My cock was straining. She then brazenly whispered, "Do you fantasize about fucking my little pussy?"
I didn't know what to say, and was silent for a very long moment before answering. "You're just messing with me," I said, trying to readjust myself, but failing.
"I am not. Do you want me to prove it?" In the darkness, her green eyes seemed to be liquid and I couldn't pull my gaze away. "Well?" she asked, impatiently, and I nodded. Megan then took my hand and inched it up under her skirt, past the thigh high white stockings, and soon, my fingers were gently touching her bare skin. I slowed her down so that I could caress her inner thigh with my fingers. I was rewarded with a low, deep breath with the hint of a moan. My hand then continued, and my fingers were there, touching her bare, naked pussy.
"You're so wet," I whispered as I started to withdraw my hand.
"Don't," she hissed quietly. "Play with me; I've been imagining this all night," and so I did. I looked around to make sure we were alone, and then, with my middle and ring fingers, I slowly traced the length of her wet pussy, up and down. She was squirming a little and her legs opened wider. "Yessss...." She whispered. With my thumb, I found her clit and flitted over it, just barely making contact. Megan raised her hips a little trying to get a firmer touch. Another tiny whimper escaped and then her hand was rubbing my throbbing cock through my pants. "You're big," she whispered. "I want you inside me." I knew she meant my cock, but that wasn't possible, so instead, I slid my long middle finger into her wetness, and curled it upwards to rub her clit, as I slowly fucked her tight pussy. "God..." she whispered.
"You feel so good," I said. Her mouth was open, but no sound was coming out, and I knew what to do. I then glanced around again to make sure we weren't being watched, and then I reached for her with my free hand and pulled her to me, and we kissed- her tongue went into my mouth, and I sucked on it for just a moment- each of us hungry for the other.
In that instant, her legs squeezed tight around my hand as she quietly bucked. She broke the kiss, put her nose against my neck and whispered: "I'm cumming," as both of her hands reached up and clutched me. I could feel the spasms, and it took a second for it to pass. "Wow," Megan said. "That was amazing." I then pulled my hand away, and even in the darkness, I could see her glistening wetness. "How do I taste?" she asked. In answer, I licked my fingers and smiled. After a few minutes, Megan leaned over and gave me a short, but deep kiss and then changed seats. "I don't want to get you in trouble," she whispered.