Quinn's Senior Year Ch. 1bySoftPeaches©
Quinn’s Senior Year:
Mr. McPhee and European History
“Is that something you’d like to share with the class, Quinn?”
My head snapped forward toward the front of the class, the note plunged into my backpack, and my heart jumped into my throat.
“Ughm, no, I’m cool, Mr. McPhee,” I replied in the most nonchalant manner possible. Nevertheless, he was walking right toward me, down the front of the row, and into the aisle I was sitting in. I squirmed nervously in my seat, trying to swallow my heart and calm my pulse. Next to me, Kristen stared at the developing situation in wide-eyed horror and pity. Her face mirrored what I already understood. I was so incredibly busted.
“Let’s see it,” he demanded.
“See what?” I implored shakily. “Here’s my homework. I did it.”
“I’m not talking about the homework, and you know it. Give me the note.”
His incredible brown eyes did not waver. In fact, they were the same eyes I was gushing over, to Kristen in the note that never reached it’s final destination. Mr. McPhee was the most gorgeous man I had ever laid eyes on; he was five years out of college, with short dark brown hair, a mustache and goatee, and those killer soft brown eyes. His button down oxford shirts covered strong shoulders and a muscular torso and arms. His slacks clung to his ass, which was rounded and looked to be the result of a life of athleticism. He was what I thought about in the bottom bunk of my bed, while my little sister slept above me, the face I fantasized about kissing as my hormones raged before bed; I had analyzed every aspect of my lust for him in the folded piece of notebook paper clutched in my now sweaty palm. His eyes were still glued upon me, hard and unyielding. Almost as if in slow motion, I reluctantly pressed the note into his outstretched hand.
The entire class leaned forward in their seats.
Slowly, he unfolded the paper, and to my absolute horror he dropped his eyes to the page and began to read it to himself. Everyone in the class smirked or sympathized with my situation silently. Kristen and I were the only ones hoping the note would not be read aloud. As Mr. McPhee folded the note and slipped it in his pocket, his eyes regarded me with no emotion, and the entire class vocalized their disappointment with a universal “awwww.”
“Quinn, I’m going to have to see you after school in the Social Studies office,” he stated.
“But I have dance team practice, I can’t,” I replied.
“I’ll write you a pass,” he responded coolly.
“Fine,” I retorted, looking away.
My face was already flushed, and burned from embarrassment; now not only was I going to have to face this teacher later this afternoon, but everyday in class and my extra-curricular life for my entire Senior year. I was going to be late for practice today, too, and we had check-offs for our first football performance. Mrs. Wallace, our coach, was such an incredible tyrant to top it all off. I couldn’t imagine how many laps she would assign for a senior being tardy to the first check-offs of a season.
Mr. McPhee returned to the board for five more minutes, detailing the importance of the Concordat of Bologna. I dared not even look at Kristen, until the bell rang. I quickly shoved my notebook and pencil into my backpack, slung it over both my shoulders, and bolted for the door. Kristen was in hot pursuit.
“Oh, my God, that sucked hardcore!” She blurted out as we weaved in and out of our peers in the hall.
I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. “Yeah, no shit.”
“I’d help you if I could,” she offered, “but it’s not like Mrs. Wallace ever listens to me,” she said. I knew she was right. Mrs. Wallace never listened to any of the captains. All Kristen was good for to her was coming up with routines.
“Maybe it will help that I’ll have that pass,” I suggested halfheartedly.
“Maybe,” she replied doubtfully, as we turned into our English class.
I spent the rest of the school day trying in vain to come up with a reasonable excuse or explanation for that note. My head was starting to hurt.
By the last bell of the day, I was feeling slightly nauseous at the thought of having to face Mr. McPhee. It wasn’t as if I didn’t really know him as a teacher or mentor, either. Not only was I a tutor at the History Center, but I had him for study hall twice in my high school career. I held the position of Secretary in the National Honors Society, and he was the advisor. I had fostered a crush on him since the first day I had seen him. It was so painful to think of it all culminating into a final moment of humiliation lasting for the next nine months.
By the time I was able to go to my locker, grab my dance bag, letter jacket, and books, and make it downstairs to the bottom floor where the history office was located, barely anyone remained in the school. If anyone was around they were in the main office two floors above or the gym area on the other side of the school. It was eerie to be in the halls while they were so quiet. All that could be heard was the soft sound my clunky black shoes made with the swishing of my blue and white plaid uniform skirt and backpack. Turning the corner, I faced the history office with an incredible amount of apprehension. I had no idea how he planned on punishing me, but the embarrassment was more than enough for me.
I pulled the large handle of the windowless door marked “History Offices” and slipped inside. I went straight forward and found the office that he shared with Mrs. Wilson, an eighty year old Economics teacher. She apparently had left during eighth period, as she often did on Wednesdays. His desk was on the right hand side of the room, neatly organized with several books stacked on his left, and a manila folder filled with ungraded tests awaiting his red pen.
He was leaning back in his chair, holding my note in his hand. His eyes lifted from the paper and he studied me closely. His eyes were strangely warm now, and the way he regarded me sent shivers up my spine. I shifted my weight slightly from one foot to the other, and looked down. His eyes were focused on me so intently, and so silently, I felt instantly self-conscious. It was as if he was trying to memorize how I looked in that moment. My crisp white blouse, which I buttoned lower than was generally permitted in a private school, my pleated navy blue and white skirt which I hemmed short over the summer after I took Home Ec, the white socks, and the clunky black shoes that were technically not permitted for uniform. My hair was a soft brown of mid-back length at that time, held back by a low ponytail that always ended up over my shoulder, with a white ribbon tied in a bow around the hair band. My hazel eyes were downcast as he studied me, and I felt ashamed.
I didn’t even feel I was much to study anyway. While most of the white girls in school that were considered pretty were busty, with hips that matched those of young teenage boys, my body was the exact opposite. I was a 34B with a tiny little waist and a whole lot of ass. I always joked, telling the girls on the dance team that song by Sir Mixalot, “Baby Got Back,” was my anthem. I really wasn’t all that confident about my body, though. I just faked the confidence in order to feel confident most of the time. It wasn’t working now.
Mr. McPhee broke the silence.
“You’re missing practice entirely today. I’m not at all tolerant of people ignoring me, especially in class. I thought you were more respectful than that.”
“I can’t miss practice today!” I protested. “Being late is bad enough, but if I miss all of it, I won’t get to do check-offs, and I won’t be aloud to perform tomorrow!” “I spoke with Mrs. Wallace, and she said to go to a captain’s house tonight and show her that you know the routines. You’ll be fine.”
I stared at him in disbelief. First of all, why would he have called Mrs. Wallace about this, and second, why would she be so lenient?
“That doesn’t sound like her at all,” I stated.
“No,” he agreed, “She wasn’t very pleasant about it at first, but I reminded her of the student handbook, which says that no student will be aloud to participate in extra curricular activities if they are punished for more than one indiscretion in one week.”
I looked up sharply. “What other indiscretions am I being punished for?”
“It is what you can be punished for, Quinn,” he said softly as he pulled out a small hand mirror. He held it up a few feet away for me to see part of my reflection in.
“If you were to look in the mirror, you would see several dress code violations that have not escaped my notice. In addition to the fact that you have gum in your mouth,” he stated. He set the creased paper on his desk and leaned back further. This man that I had looked up to, respected, and thought about as my hands explored my body at night was seeming to enjoy the power he had over me at this point.
“Fine, whatever, so what do you want me to do? A report? Grade papers? What?” I shot back, trying to maintain some measure of control.
“Come closer, and take this mirror. Look into it and tell me what you see.” I took the mirror and held it to my face.
“I, uhm, I see myself,” I replied, not quite sure where he was going with this.
“Would you like to know what I see, Quinn?”
“What?” I inquired nervously.
“I see a pair of the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.”
I stood up straight and my heart began to pound. My thong was instantly moist. He saw my reaction, and the corner of his mouth nudged upward into a sexy smile.
“I see a beautiful face with soft skin, a cute little nose, and silky brown hair. Do you know what my favorite feature on your face is, Quinn?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer, and I don’t think I could have.
“I love your mouth. You have the most perfect lips for sucking cock.”
He paused to take in my reaction, still rocking back slightly in his chair. My eyes were as wide as saucers, my heart was racing, and beneath the white lace of my thong, I was aching, along with my nipples, which were pushing against the matching underwire demi bra covering my perky bosom. I gulped involuntarily, and watched with incredible embarrassment as he unzipped his gray slacks and pulled from a pair of black cotton boxers the most amazing dick I had ever seen. His eyes met mine.
“Come here,” he commanded.
The backpack slipped off of my shoulders and onto the floor as I placed my letter jacket and books on a chair. Mesmerized by the shameless exposure of his sex, to me, his student, I slowly walked toward him, my head bowed slightly, but my eyes still on him.
“Have you ever had a dick before, Quinn?”
“Um, well, last spring, after Prom, I went down on my date, but he passed out while I was doing it. I really haven’t done anything with a guy since then.”
He laughed softly. I was standing about two feet from the side of his chair, when he turned so that he was facing me. Grabbing my hand he sat me on his leg, his warm cock brushing on my thigh. I could barely breathe.
“You’re eighteen, right?” He inquired suddenly.
“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice almost cracking. “I just turned in August. I can vote now.”
He laughed, letting his torso shake and his head fall back slightly. He always encouraged his students to register and vote as soon as they turned eighteen.
As he stopped laughing, his hand brushed the side of my face, index finger tracing my lips. My hormones and blood were raging now, and as my eyes closed, my mouth opened slightly and sucked softly on the tip of his finger. He took a breath sharply, and leaned back in his chair more. Slowly I licked the length of his finger and began sucking and pulling up and down on it. His eyes were on my face as he pulled his finger out, gently guided me off of his lap, and stood. His cock, thick, and proud, stood taller than I had ever seen one. I had seen boys. This was a man.
He commanded me to pull one of the smaller chairs students used for their desks in class to sit in front of him as he sat on the edge of his desk. As I sat down, I couldn’t help but notice that his dick was hard as a rock, and right in my face.
“Give me head.”
My mouth watered, my nipples and pussy ached, and my head began to spin with the reality of what was happening. For four years I had sat in a desk, gorging my eyes on his body, practically swooning at the sound of his voice, looking at the crotch of his pants when I knew he was busy with something else. Now his spicy, earthy smell was in my nostrils, the heat of his erection inches from my face. Closing my eyes, I licked the head of his dick from the bottom, swirled it around, and then slid my strawberry-glossed lips over the length of his shaft. He groaned.
I gripped slightly with the inside of my lips as my head pulled back on his dick, and ran the tip of my tongue along the bottom of his shaft as I plunged it back toward my throat. Holding it there, I sucked and bobbed up and down on it, my fingers resting on the inside of his thighs. He was breathing hard when he lifted my head from between his legs, pulled me to my feet, and slid off the edge of the desk. Reaching behind him, he grabbed my note off of the desktop and began to read a part of it.
“I get so horny just thinking about him, how about you? If I ever got the chance, I’m sure I would fuck him. I love his ass. I wonder how big his dick is, too! I think I saw him hard once in class, it looked pretty big.”
He smiled once more, eyes devouring me. “I’m going to have you now.”
My pussy ached and rubbed against the soaking wet lace of my thong. The moisture was now beginning to rub on the inside of my thighs. I wanted to touch him, to be covered by him. He sensed my urgency.
“Take off your shirt. Leave everything else on.”
Slowly I began to unbutton my shirt, my fingers fumbling, and my body on fire with that hormonal high associated with unfulfilled teenage sexuality. His dick quivered slightly as I let the blouse slip to the ground.
Before I knew it, he had lifted me onto the edge of the desk. His mouth was on mine, tongue exploring mine, and moving to my neck, his left hand squeezing and kneading my tits, thumb rubbing my nipple, as the tip of his dick pressed into my shaved slit, gliding up and down the parted lips, but not pushing through.
“I’m a virgin,” I whispered.
“I know, I can tell. But not for long.”
He pulled the hair band out of my hair, as my hair fell all around me, and my head dropped back in ecstasy. His other hand began to rub my clit, as I had only fantasized about him doing in my bed. The head of his cock was pushing gently into my soaking wet opening as his mouth sucked and nibbled the soft flesh of my neck, and the hand on my tits began working each nipple in turn.
I was lost in the incredible sensations he was giving my body, when he began to push me back against the desktop. His fingers were still rubbing my clit, and I could feel the tingling in my body as my abdomen began to tighten for the impending orgasm.
Right as I was about to cum, he quickened the rubbing on my clit, and pushed his dick completely past my virginal barrier. My body exploded with pain and pleasure, my pussy contracting tightly on his rock hard cock, my body twisting in the strength of the orgasm he had brought me to. He continued pushing his thick cock into my freshly deflowered pussy, slowing to a sensual rhythm. I began to twist my nipples, and started to feel hot all over again. He saw me, and suddenly pulled out.
“Get off the desk and bed over it here.”
Doing as I was instructed, I slipped off the edge, my skirt covering me once more, turned around and bent over nervously, my elbows on the desk, my face looking back at him.
“W-What are you going to do, Mr. McPhee?”
“I’m going to take you from behind, doggy-style, so I can watch this fantastic ass of yours.”
Before I could ask another question, he already flipped my skirt up, bent me completely over, and positioned his dick just inside slick pussy lips again. He began to rub the head of his cock from my clit to my ass crack, to my surprise. I tensed up, but he slipped it back down and positioned it for entry again. With a gentle push, he shoved his length back into me, and began to rub and squeeze my ass cheeks. My pussy still hurt considerably from the loss of my maidenhead, but I found that I was quickly lost again in the pleasure of his thick, hot shaft sliding inside of me as I came again all over his dick. As I was practically yelling, lost in the explosion within my body, he began to tense up, and pound his sex into my pussy. He let out a few soft moans, and then his face grimaced with the intensity of his orgasm.
“Oh, God, oh, God,” he began moaning. He was still pushing himself into my tight pussy, and I slipped my fingers quickly down to my clit. I jerked my fingers up and down as hard and fast as I could on my swollen boatman, and came one more time as he let his seed erupt inside of me.
His body relaxed as he delicately pulled himself from inside of me. He pulled me up from the desk and turned me around. His lips met mine in a soft kiss as his hands cupped my face. Ending the embrace, he stood back, looked at me, smiled at my completely disheveled appearance, and suggested I straighten myself up before I go home. After I finished in the bathroom, I went back to his office to gather my things. I smiled shyly and he grinned back.
“I’m not going to say anything about this to anybody, so don’t worry,” I said.
He regarded me for a moment and glancing down at my note, he inquired, “Does your friend Kristen share your opinion of me?”
I blushed a little. “Most girls do,” I replied.
His face became thoughtful as he smiled.
“Are you going to her house to show her you know your little routines?” He asked.
“Um, yeah, she lives really close to me, and we’re pretty tight anyway.”
“Why don’t you tell her how things went this afternoon. I’d be interested in knowing her response, as well.”
There was an odd glint in his eye, but I didn’t know what to attribute it to. Getting up to take me to the door, he placed his hand under my skirt and grabbed my pussy.
“This is mine now. That means that if I see any of these idiot boys walking around with you, or hear about you with anyone else, there will be hell to pay. Understand?”
Looking into his eyes, my knees went weak and I simply nodded. He demanded that I verbally acknowledge him, so I did.
“Good, now go to see your friend, and study for the quiz tomorrow.”
After kissing my forehead, he softly slapped my ass, as I walked out the door a woman.