His French Teacher's Panties

I swung around the green picket fence towards the red door of the French room. I reveled in the feel of my thighs rubbing against each other, half exposed by the short, horizontally striped skirt I wore. I knew the boys would be very excited by my looks, yet unable to do anything about it. My male colleagues had tried to make remarks about how I dressed. Two of them had already caught the sharp end of my tongue, and it had travelled around the staffroom that I was nothing but a 'cockteaser'. None of them had any idea that it was not targeted at them but at the sexually-budding youngsters just turning twenty that I taught. I felt a huge surge of power over them as their teacher, knowing they were bound by society's moral code from expressing their desires openly. Certainly they discussed girls amongst themselves and made all sorts of rude comments, but would never want their teachers to overhear them. They were severely limited.

I pushed open the door and the hubbub died down as abruptly as if switched off at the mains.

"Bon matin, classe!" I greeted them.

"Bon matin, Madame!" they chorused.

"Aujourd'hui nous venons conjuger le verbe ,'courier'.

I asked if anyone knew the meaning of the verb. The guesses came hard and fast, but the tall, dark fellow in thick glasses sitting right at the back of the class kept his own counsel. He was my best student but it always bothered me that he was always so laid back.

"Barrack, et vous?" I prodded.

"J'espre...c'est marcher vite.,." his voice trailed off. "Walking fast" was not "running" but it was the closest answer I had been given so far. I turned to the board to explain the difference between Barrack's very good attempt and the correct meaning of the verb. As I wrote I made a point of reaching as high as I could. This caused my hemline to rise, thereby exposing that 'figure 11' on the backs of my knees. That was sure to heat the poor boys up mercilessly. They would drool over the sight of my exposed legs and try to imagine what was above the hemline. As I turned back to face the class, I caught more than one stealing a hand from under the desk. I enjoyed the thought they had been trying to quieten their erections at what they had just seen.

Once the word had become familiar to them in French (I avoided the use of English to explain anything) we settled down to conjugating the present tense of the verb. I sat on the teacher's table knowing full well that the sight of my exposed knees would set them more on fire. Some of them tried to shift viewpoint by swaying on their chair to see if the could see more of my thighs. I kept my teachers' guide on my lap as we went through the lesson, but once in a while, just to tantalise them further, I would jump off the table sideways so that there would be that very brief parting of my knees by a few inches. The boys thought they would surely see up their teacher's thighs only to be disappointed both by how little they could catch sight of, and how brief the flash. But I would be going to write something on the board, exposing the backs of my thighs again. These games of dangling the forbidden before the made sure that they swallowed my lesson like greedy sharks.

Last week I had given them a test, which books were still in my cupboard in class. I was going to take them home for marking that evening. I realised at the last moment that they were bound to be a heavy load for me. These were the biggest boys in the school, and I could get one of them to help me with the load. Immediately I latched onto Barrack who was both strong and a good student. He might be more ready to carry the books for the chance to spend more time with his sexy teacher.

At the end of the lesson, I let the students leave and the fact that Barrack was at the back of the class made it easier to call him to my table.

"Before you leave school, would you come to this room. I have something for you."

The young man grinned from ear to ear. "Yes, Madame." I had a moment to wonder what idea had entered his head at my words as he left the French room to his next lesson.

The short dress, the half-exposed knees and thighs and my swinging gait continued to torture the younger ones that I took for French throughout the day. It amazed me that men behaved the same way no matter the age. They were all, without exception, excited by seeing my 'figure 11', slightly exposed thighs and knees. I truly enjoyed toying with these men, dangling the forbidden fruit before them.

Then the last bell went. In scant minutes Barrack knocked on the door, his bag hanging off his left shoulder. "I have arrived, Madame."

"Could you do your favourite teacher a favour, Barrack?"

Even before he spoke I knew I had scored. His happy grin spoke volumes. "Yes, of course."

"I need to get these books to my house so that I can mark them in the evening. Will you please help me carry them on your strong arms?"

He placed his school bag on the teacher's table and tried to arrange them in a single pile. Then a brainwave seemed to hit him. "Suppose I could fit them into my bag. Would that be OK?"

"If they can go in there, why not?" replied the teacher. I watched as he arranged the books in two piles, and then put them carefully into the bag. "Did you leave some belongings in your locker, Barrack? That bag is almost empty."

"Yes, Madame, I do not have much homework tonight, and tomorrow is sports afternoon so I needed the room to bring my games things."

Off the two of us went through the school gates and turned right in the direction of my house. Barrack seemed to be amazed at how fast his teacher could walk. We arrived at our block of flats and went up the stairs. Barrack's parents lived in Kariakor, I knew, a lower-income city council estate. The cleanliness of the compound was the first thing that he looked at in wonder. Then the staircase caused his eyes to goggle.

"What is the matter?" I asked him.

"Who washes these stairs so clean? At Kariokor there is always windblown rubbish."

"I see the caretaker sweeping and washing the stairs, but each of us takes care of their own part of the verandah."

When we came to my floor, we turned left towards my door. He looked hard at the shaggy mat.

"This looks as if nobody's foot has ever stepped upon it," he said.

I opened the door to admit us into my little house. He now told me it was the cleanest, neatest and tidiest house he had ever seen. On one hand I felt oroudxthat someone admired my house, but on the other I reminded myself that this was only a student whose exposure may not be very wide.

To cover my thoughts I said, "Put the books here for me please," pointing to a an empty space on my dining table.

I went to place my handbag and keys on the small table at the door into the corridor, feeling Barrack's eyes on my back the whole time. I knew his male hormones were in high gear as he looked at my body. Here, though, I could not play him as hard as I did them in class. He might decide to grab me and an ugly scene ensues. So I did not bend as low as I would have.

"Would you like to have some tea with your teacher?" I teased him, grabbing the thermos flask that my cleaning lady always left for me. Without waiting for his answer, I poured two cups and sugared both.

"Here." I offered him. We sat on the sofas facing each other. In order not to tempt beyond that which he was able, I sat with my legs turned away from him. This avoided my accidentally parting my thighs and letting him see further up my skirt. He could see more than my exposed knees, which I expected would excite him a bit, just enough without inciting him to any action.

"I really like your house, Ms Mwera," he said. "Its not just how clean it is, but it is very well arranged."

This was more than I would have given him credit for. "Thank you Barrack!" wishing it was one of my staffroom colleagues who had admired me so sincerely. Only I would never dream of giving a warm-blooded man such an invitation. Bringing him to my house would imply that I was open to play, in the privacy of four walls.

"I wondered if you would have some advanced book that I could have a look at and return to you after some days." Typical of him to develop an appetite for more than his class textbooks offered.

"Yes as a matter of fact I do. I do think they may not be very up-to-date since I used them while I was in college. The scenarios are a bit dated."

"No matter. I only want to drink in the language, the grammar and the constructions."

I took care to get up from the sofa without inflaming him with more than he should see. "In that case this one about business practices in France should suit you."

He stood up.

"Going already?" I asked him.

"Yes, please. The bus comes at exactly 4:40pm. After that they will be full from town, which makes it hard to get space. Allow me to leave so I do not miss the 4:40. Thank you for the tea."

"That is OK then. I also want to get on with the marking before starting supper. Do take care of my book!"

"I will, definitely. Good night, Ms Mwera." He closed the door softly behind him and I heard his footsteps recede, then go down the stairs. I found my hand was on my pubis and my knees were rubbing against each other. The excitement of today was higher than any other day when I had worn something short. I just had to get to my bedroom and rub my clit to an orgasm before doing anything else.