Driving (into) Miss Mathersbycreamcicle©
When I was attending college to attain my certification to teach high school, the one basic rule that my instructors said should always be followed was to "Never, ever have intimate physical relationships with your students, even when they turn eighteen years old." At the time, my classmates and I thought such a notion, although conceivable, resided in the realm of the absurd. After all, who in their right mind would risk a rewarding career for which they worked so hard just because they were so morally bankrupt that they could not keep dressed in front of their students?
Although my instructors in college never explicitly made us perform direct, formal coursework on this topic, there were several tangentially related lesson plans and lectures that emphasized the importance and fragility of the teacher/student relationship. There were lectures on the physiological changes that teenagers undergo and how this influences their behavior. There were lectures on the importance of being a mentor to your students. There were lectures on how to deal with students who may be adults physically, but psychologically are still children who require a dynamic approach to teaching to engage and motivate them. I listened to such lectures haphazardly out of mere formality; in retrospect, perhaps I should have listened to such advice more closely.
I was relieved when I finally became a certified high school teacher. I had been going to college for eight years, and it took its toll on me personally and financially. I seemingly had turned an archaic thirty-five years old; I racked up a staggering forty thousand dollars in educational debt; and I had lost my boyfriend of five years. Although I was an attractive brunette with a fairly nice figure (36D breasts, 5'8", 130 pounds), I sometimes wondered what my life would have been like had I not pursued my selfish desire to have a career in education.
Luckily, I was able to get a job teaching history in high school almost immediately. Since I had an MA degree in addition to my teaching license, I was able to start at a little higher pay scale than instructors with only BA degrees. During my first year of teaching, I was confronted with pretty much everything I had expected: students who did not turn in their work, students who disrupted class, students who spent more time thinking about sports than their homework, and so on. It was an exhausting year, but I felt that I had done a superlative job at keeping control of the classroom while enabling the students to progress academically. After spring term was over, I looked forward to my part-time job at the school teaching drivers' education. It would allow me time to relax and do something that was easy and a little different, yet still provide me with a regular paycheck.
The drivers' education job was pretty easy and I enjoyed being around students who actually cared to be there. Two students of whom I grew particularly fond were Jason and Ricky. They were mediocre students in my history class during the previous year, but they certainly worked much harder to learn how to drive automobiles that summer. I guess it is just a matter of where kids place their priorities; for these two eighteen-year-old boys, they really, really wanted to be mobile. It was nice to relate to them in the drivers' education program, because it was a less formal environment than the one I fostered in my history class. I was able to learn more about their dreams and aspirations than I ever would have known had I just been their history teacher. Occasionally we would take breaks and go out to lunch before returning to school, and eventually I got them to call me by my first name Jill instead of "Miss Mathers"--at least most of the time.
Jason was an extremely bright kid who just lacked a little focus in the classroom. Maybe it was because the girls in the school were too busy chasing him: he was 6'2", had blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a lean, muscular frame that must have weighed 185 pounds. Although it would have been inappropriate to say so out loud, I would have needed to have been blind not to notice that the kid was absolutely gorgeous. His friend Ricky was very attractive too. Ricky was black, 5'11", 170 pounds, and was chiseled as though he had been cut from stone. He worked out incessantly in the weight room so that he could excel as a running back for the high school football team. He was most certainly going to be playing football in college soon, and the scouts were already monitoring his progress.
As the summer went on, I enjoyed their company and friendship, and one fateful morning when they were at the school working out, I even volunteered to help them with learning to drive the old Mustang that Jason was restoring in his spare time.
"Have you ever driven a stick before, Jason?" I asked casually, peering into his young, icy blue eyes.
"Well, only a little, Miss Mathers . . . I mean Jill," he replied somewhat nervously, with a tinge of embarrassment, "But I'd love to practice with you riding shotgun, so you could give me some tips."
"Well, okay then," I added, pausing to think whether or not this was something I wanted to do. "After our regular driving lesson at the school with the student cars, let's swing by your place with Ricky and pick up your Mustang. We'll practice driving the stick shift, if you want."
Jason beamed brightly at the prospect of getting to drive his "real" car, a '67 Mustang, which was so much nicer than the Japanese import cars that we regularly used in our drivers' education program. "That is awesome, Miss Mathers. I can't wait," he replied, filled with anticipation.
"Call me Jill, remember? Well, I'll see you two in a few hours," I concluded, enjoying the enthusiasm that the postures of Ricky and Jason clearly expressed.
That morning, before our regularly scheduled driving lesson, I called my good friend Jenna, who lives next door to my place. She is a pleasantly plump redhead whom I had known since my earliest days in college. Although she is a tad overweight (she is five foot six and 135 pounds), she is the personification of cute. However, like me, she too cannot seem to keep a steady boyfriend. We had known each other for some time, because we were sorority sisters in college. Together we also shared a rented storage unit. That afternoon Jenna was going to bring a few boxes to my house, because she was eager to get a few things out of it. Since I was going to be out driving with Jason and Ricky, I wanted to let her know that we would have a couple extra helping hands to move things, if needed. I figured that it would be easy to get them to provide me with a return favor for teaching them how to drive a stick. I knew we would be finishing our drive in the Mustang by 4:00 PM, so I let Jenna know that she could come by anytime after that to drop off my boxes.
Later that day, the regularly scheduled driving lesson with Jason and Ricky went well. However, it was clear that they both really wanted to pick up the Mustang and practice driving it instead of the Toyota we had to use in the school's driving program. Once we returned to school, we dropped off the Toyota, piled into my car, and headed to Jason's house to retrieve his Mustang. They were so pumped up about it that it was almost bizarre. Although I made my living teaching history and drivers education to teenagers, I had never closely experienced the sheer ebullience of young men who were obsessed with muscle cars. As a professional woman in my thirties, it was quite charming to be around this vibe, I must admit. In fact, I found it to be downright cute.
Once we arrived at Jason's house, he opened the garage, revealing a rather rough looking '67 Mustang that lacked a paint job and was definitely in need of some tender loving care. Even though the body looked a little rough, there was actually little rust and the wide tires and shiny, chrome wheels looked really nice on it.
"Well, guys, let's get this thing out of the garage and go for a spin," I said, hoping that the car would drive reasonably well, considering its rough looks. "Jason, I want to see what you already know about driving it, so I'll sit in the passenger's seat and guide you."
Jason got into the car and fired up the engine, which roared to life. I know very little about mechanics, so I'm not sure what kind of engine he put into that thing, but it definitely sounded strong. When he pulled it out into the driveway, I got into the passenger's seat while Ricky got into the back seat.
"Well, what do you think, Miss Mathers?" asked Ricky from the back seat, as the car warmed up in a deep rumble.
"Guys, again, call me Jill, especially when we are away from the school. I'm not sure if you know this," I replied, "But most women are not impressed by this stuff. However, this is a pretty nice car, I must admit."
"You just wait until I get a supercharger for this thing," Jason added, "This will be one bad ride."
As much as I found their "talking shop" to be endearing, I felt the need to get our little lesson underway. "Okay Jason, take off the parking brake, step on the clutch with your left foot, and put the stick shift in reverse with your right foot on the brake pedal." Jason did this pretty well, though I could tell that his inexperience as a driver required him to exert all of his concentration to do this smoothly. Once we were out of the driveway, he put the car into first gear, and let out the clutch clumsily as we lurched forward down the street.
"Try letting out the clutch easily," I advised, "You should be able to feel precisely when it is engaged or disengaged." As we continued down the road, Jason shifted the car roughly through the gears. "You don't need to yank on the stick shift, Jason," I said in a soft tone. "Shift slowly and smoothly. I'll put my hand on top of yours to guide you."
I put my left hand on top of his right hand to help guide his shifting. His hand was large, muscular, and smooth due to its young age. Almost shamefully, my mind began to wander a little as I held onto his hand. I wondered what it would be like to have his hands embraced around me, or holding my hips firmly. It also didn't help that my students smelled wonderful--both Jason and Ricky wore very nice colognes that made me tingle a little as their scent filled the old car. My pussy, which hadn't had a cock in months, involuntarily began to moisten, which made me feel a little shameful. Here I was, their teacher and almost twice their age, and all my body wanted to do was fuck both of them hard--really, really hard.
We continued to drive around town for the next hour, with me giving Jason tips on how to drive a stick shift proficiently. He did a pretty good job for not having much previous practice. As we were about to wrap up our driving session, I informed both Jason and Ricky that they were going to have to go to my place to help me move a few boxes that my friend Jenna was bringing over.
"Ah, I knew there would be a catch, Miss Mathers . . . I mean Jill," replied Ricky.
"Don't worry about it, Ricky," said Jason. "We totally owe Jill for cruising around with us today. Besides, driving to her house will just give me a little more practice."
As I directed them to my place, our collective demeanors seemed to relax in the late afternoon summer breeze. I no longer really felt like their superior, but rather just a good friend. Their company was such that I felt comfortable and secure in their presence, even though they were only eighteen. When we finally arrived at my place, Jenna was already in the driveway moving the boxes out of her van.
"Hey girlfriend," yelled Jenna upon seeing me, "How did the driving lesson go?"
"It went just great, I suppose," I replied. "Jenna, I'd like to introduce you to Jason and Ricky. They were students in my history class last year and now they are in my drivers' education class."
Jenna looked at the young men closely, her eyes sizing up their tight, masculine frames and boyish looks.
"My God, Jill, these are some really handsome young men you brought over," said Jenna. "Maybe I can be your teacher assistant when it comes to training these young lads. I'd love to teach them how to drive me with their 'sticks'."
"Oh, get your damn mind out of the gutter; they are only eighteen," I replied with a giggle, before turning to Jason and Ricky. "Don't mind Jenna, guys. It has been a long, long time since she has had any 'action,' if you know what I mean."
Jason and Ricky both stood there silently, as if embarrassed by Jenna's bold innuendo. Though they may have been a little shy, I knew they weren't offended, since pretty much every eighteen year-old mind is fixated exclusively on sex. Really, they were at the age when they probably enjoyed a good sexual innuendo, particularly if it came from an attractive older woman.
"Okay, Jenna and Jill, where should we move these boxes?" inquired Ricky, who bent over and effortlessly picked up a box in his black, muscular hands.
"Well, you can put most of them in the garage on the shelves toward the back, but the ones that are sealed with blue tape need to go inside the house in the bedroom," I replied.
Ricky and Jason proceeded to quickly grab the boxes and take them to their destinations. This allowed Jenna and I to sit back and take a little break while we watched them work. After a few minutes of working in the hot afternoon sun, beads of sweat began to form on the brows of Jason and Ricky, both of whom kept working efficiently. I could tell that Jenna, who always enjoyed looking at attractive black men, really fixated on Ricky in particular.
"Look at the sweat dripping off Ricky's arms and brow--my God that boy is fine," Jenna whispered to me. "I know you are their teacher, so you have to behave around them, but damn I don't know how you refrain from tearing off their pants and fucking them senseless. They are really nice, young, hard-bodied boys."
"Umm, Jenna, it is called 'responsibility,'" I replied. "Although I must admit that it is sometimes hard to be around them without having improper thoughts. They are just straddling that fine line between being kids and adults--and more like adults physically. So it is just natural to have conflicting feelings about them, I guess."
Jenna and I watched them work for about another twenty minutes, while we enjoyed a couple nice cold microbrews. Our blue-eyed, blond-haired Jason was sweating rather profusely by that time, his face turning a flushed red from the heat. Jenna and I decided that we should probably go in and offer them something cold to drink.
"What would you guys like to drink? I think we have 7-UP and Mountain Dew," asked Jenna.
"I think I'd rather have one of those microbrews, Jenna," replied Jason nonchalantly. "I think you kinda owe us one, since we had no idea that our driving lesson would end up as a lesson in moving storage boxes."
"Shit, guys, you know the law. You're eighteen, so we're not giving you any alcohol. I can't even believe you had the nerve to ask," I said.
I was surprised that Jenna, who was by now a little tipsy, sided with Jason on this one. "Come on, Jill, let's give the boys a couple beers. They can drink them inside the house. It will be okay. We can drive them home in a little bit."
I thought about it deeply and, knowing that I was clearly outvoted, I decided to acquiesce. "Okay, you can have a couple beers each, guys, but you are going to drink them in the house and you will wait at least an hour before we take you home. I don't want your parents to know that you were drinking."
"Cool, thanks Jill!" said Ricky enthusiastically, as we headed inside the house.
Once inside the living room, we gave the boys a couple beers each and began talking pretty much about everything, from Jason's Mustang to their future career plans. As time passed, we realized that our alcohol consumption was increasing, though we were having such a good time that we didn't really want to slow down. Jason and Ricky were only supposed to have a couple beers each, but after about an hour they were already working on their fourth beer. Jenna and I were keeping pace with them, knowing that we should slow down a little bit, but we were having too much fun at our impromptu party to do anything about it.
"Jill, do you have an extra shirt that I could borrow?" Ricky asked me out of the blue, as we sat there drinking our microbrews. "I've sweated through mine when I was moving those boxes, and I'm feeling kind of nasty."
"Sure, just go down the hall into the bedroom and pick one out. Jenna will show you where they are," I said.
I was surprised to see Jenna, as she got up off the couch, take Ricky by the hand as she led him to the closet in the bedroom. I could tell that Jason too was a little taken aback by the sight of her intimate gesture. When they reached the end of the hallway and turned into the room, Jason and I could still see them in the reflection of the mirror that was on the open door to the bedroom. What happened next was a little shocking, to say the least.
As Jenna handed Ricky a new shirt, he peeled off the shirt he was wearing, revealing his black, muscular chest and back. His biceps and triceps did not have an ounce of fat on them, and his abdominal muscles were stunning. Jenna turned him so his back was facing her and slowly began to rub the cold beer bottle along his back, causing his muscles to quiver. They did not say a word to each other. For another minute or two, Jenna rubbed the bottle along his back with her left hand while she rubbed the muscles on his side with her right hand. Then, to the amazement of Jason and I who were watching in the refection of the mirror on the door, Jenna reached down under her skirt, slid her panties down, and stepped out of them gracefully while Ricky was still facing away from her. Jenna then hiked up her skirt, and moved the beer bottle between her upper thighs, methodically raising the bottle's neck so that it barely parted her swollen pussy lips. She insterted it further, and began using her left hand to fuck herself with the bottle slowly while she used her right hand to rub Ricky's back.
Ricky obviously knew what she was doing behind him, but like a polite young man, he did not turn around until he was told. As Jenna fucked herself with the bottle and caressed Ricky's back, she whispered things into his ear that clearly intensified his state of sexual tension. After fucking the bottle for a minute or two, Jenna took it out of her hot pussy and reached around to Ricky and let him take a nice, long swig from the beer. He clearly savored not only the fruity microbrew, but also the taste of Jenna's pussy on the shaft of the bottle. Ricky licked and sucked the bottle for all it was worth, emptying its contents completely within seconds.
Jason and I decided to move closer to watch what was transpiring in the bedroom between Jenna and Ricky. From the hallway, we watched in the mirror as Jenna turned Ricky around, dropped to her knees, and slowly began to unbutton his jeans. Ricky's ass and legs were that of a bodybuilder's. They were so well defined and muscular. Jenna then shimmied down his dark purple boxer shorts, which exposed his beautiful, semi-erect, thick black cock that looked heavenly on his incredible frame. Even semi-erect, it was at least eight inches long.
My mind was totally spinning. I was Ricky's teacher. He was in my house. He was eighteen years old. His cock was dangling in my clear view. I was not supposed to be seeing this. I had already screwed up by giving him and Jason beer, and now my friend Jenna was in my very own bedroom undressing him. Oh shit, I thought, feeling panicked that someone would find out and that my career would be in jeopardy. We were also doing this to minors, so I began to be enveloped by the fear that I was going to end up in prison. Although the Apollonian side of me wanted everything to stop and return to order, my Dionysian side wanted to encourage the hedonism that was quickly transpiring in my bedroom. Shit, being so fucking bad was feeling way, way too good.