Miss Leslie's Ice Cream Student

What was I doing with my hands between the hot, tanned thighs of the sexiest young teacher in my school, trying to scoop out the splattered remains of a dropped ice cream cone?

Miss Leslie was sitting on the wooden park bench, clasping tightly in her hands about half a dozen ice cream cones. Her long blonde hair was dangling over her bare tanned shoulders and she was smiling, which I thought odd bearing in mind her current predicament. Her big blue eyes sparkled and I noticed that she had put a lot of effort that morning into her red lipstick and her eyeliner.

"Hurry up, Simon," she said, "I don't want another one to drop or melt while I'm waiting. We need to get back to the rest of the Art class!"

Miss Leslie had left the rest of the Art class with paper and pencils sketching whatever took their fancy in a part of the public park near the riverside. It had been such a stiflingly hot summer's day that she had taken us out of school for some field work, which she thought would help cool us all down. We were enjoying our day out of class so much that she decided to buy those who wanted them some ice creams. She had singled me out as her "volunteer" to accompany her and help bring back the cones.

Sadly, half way back from the ice cream van, she had begun to struggle with all the cones she was attempting to balance. For some reason, she had only let me hold two while she battled to carry back safely the lion's share. She sat on the park bench to steady her grip, but instead one of the cones had slipped out and fallen between her thighs as she stretched her long, tanned legs out in front of her. The cone dumped its load where the top of her bare thighs met the ragged ends of her high-cropped denim shorts.

The white stuff was melting under the hot sun and dripping between her thighs and leaking down her legs.

"Quick, Simon, scoop it out from my legs, faster, faster, faster!" Miss Leslie seemed quite excited as she said this.

I had been daintily trying to remove as much ice cream as I could without touching Miss Leslie's sexy skin. I needed to cool down in more ways than one. One of my clumsy fingers brushed against her inner thigh and I felt it like an electric shock going through my body. Miss Leslie was the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen up to that point and I felt myself become extremely aroused by being so close to her stunning body. There was, you can imagine, a lot of movement going on in my groin area under my baggy school trousers. They would not be baggy enough to disguise the effect Miss Leslie was having on me unless I could get out of there fast. But I was trapped. I would remember this feeling of being trapped later, at another time. Maybe that influenced my behaviour then when...Ah, but I must not get ahead of myself!

"Have you got a handkerchief, Miss?" I asked politely but somewhat pathetically.

"Don't be a stupid boy, Simon. Even if I had one in these tight shorts I'm wearing, and I don't, how would I get it out without dropping these blasted, dripping cones!", Miss Leslie replied.

Getting things out and letting them drip were not images I wanted in my head right then! But Miss Leslie was right. The cones were dripping down to increase the problem on her legs. Not only that, but they were also leaking on to her halter neck top. There was ice cream on her cleavage now as she tried to hold the cones higher, and away from my head, as I bent down to try to get the cone off her legs.

"Use your hands! Don't be shy, Simon," said Miss Leslie urgently. She fixed me with those big blue eyes and the ice cream was not the only thing that was melting.

Well, I had no choice. I clumsily stuck my hands between the gap separating her thighs, removing first the empty cone and then scooping up as much ice cream as I could that had not yet melted. There was still a lot of ice cream covering the tops of her legs and, to make matters worse, at that point she dropped another cone! Butter fingers!

She squealed and laughed as I quickly used my hands to remove this cone too. But I was too slow with my reactions to prevent its load spreading out between her thighs to exacerbate the ice cream covering the hot teacher's thighs problem.

Miss Leslie laughed. "Look, Simon, I'm not going back to a class of half a dozen horny seventeen-year-old boys while I'm wearing shorts with ice cream all over my thighs! This calls for drastic action. You'll have to lick it all off!"

My heart skipped a beat. No, no, no, I could not be hearing this. I should not be hearing this! My groin was now completely out of control and I had a huge, throbbing teenage erection under my trousers. I hoped that Miss Leslie had enough on her plate to notice.

"You've got to be joking, Miss Leslie. I can't. I mean, I just can't!"

I went to an all-boy Roman Catholic school and had had so far a very repressed upbringing. Miss Leslie was the first hot female teacher we had ever had and she was a fill-in, supply teacher, only there for six months supposedly. Every boy in the school had a crush on her and the bravest of them tried to chat her up after class. She had stopped going into the playground because of all the wolf whistles, several weeks ago. For every boy with a soft spot for her, there were five with a hard spot.

"Simon, you always get ten out of ten for discipline and obeying your teachers. Just do it. You have my permission to use your tongue wherever you like. Just make sure you lick it all up," said Miss Leslie.

I had no choice. I was an obedient boy. My parents had taught me that way. I put my face down between sexy Miss Leslie's legs and began to lap like a cat. It was a glorious feeling, tasting her hot bronzed skin, licking for all I was worth. I could smell a feminine smell that I was unused to emanating from out of Miss Leslie's shorts. I could tell from the way her body tensed and the pleasurable sighs she uttered that she was enjoying it. She smiled and moaned to herself.

"Mmm, that was very pleasant. I think you must be a naughtier boy than I thought, Simon. I think you may have done that to a woman before!", said Miss Leslie.

She smiled seductively at me. While I knew she was teasing me, tormenting me, I could not help but feel flattered and turned on. She knew I wanted her.

"Miss Leslie, I...I...I really like you, you know!" I let the words slip out, like a fool.

Miss Leslie laughed. "I know, Simon, I can see what is happening in your trousers! Let's not have another accident, young man!"

To my obvious embarrassment, I could see that my erection was quite obvious from where I crouched, my tongue still licking one of Miss Leslie's thighs.

"You can stop licking now, Simon. I don't want you to do yourself an injury or have a wardrobe malfunction because my hot body excites you a little bit too much! You've dropped your two cones on the grass anyway. Why don't you, after a respectable break, go back to the ice cream van and buy two more -- I'll give you the money later. I'll re-join the rest of the class and when you come back to us, I'm sure you'll, ahem, have fixed your groin region problem! There's a public convenience near the ice cream van." Miss Leslie finished her little speech and then departed, carrying what remained of the cones but somehow avoiding them dripping on her body this time.

"Just think of this as a human biology class, Simon. You're a smart boy. Don't tell the others," said Miss Leslie, as a parting thrust.

"Thank you, Miss Leslie," I said, still in my embarrassed, crouched position. I knew immediately what she was hinting at. Trying to hide my erection as best I could, although an elderly woman walking her poodle gave me a look that could kill, I went into the public toilet. Locking myself in a cubicle, I thought about Miss Leslie and what I had just done and seen and I brought my little story to a fitting climax. Having relieved myself and cleaned myself up, I then went back to the ice cream man to buy the two extra cones. I re-joined the class, giving one cone to Miss Leslie. Giving her one, oh no, must change that thought! She winked at me but said nothing more and the rest of the day passed off peacefully and uneventfully.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER.

I was carrying a pile of books into Miss Leslie's house, the one she shared with her boyfriend, on Valentine's Day. Ever since the park incident in August, I had become a sort of teacher's pet for Miss Leslie. She knew I was bright and also that I was loyal and could be trusted to keep my mouth shut. She knew I fancied her something rotten -- I had given her clear evidence of this. So, basically, she exploited me as an unpaid classroom assistant. I would help collect the homework books from other students at end of class, help carry Art equipment and blackboards for her and also transport various handbags and coats to her car. Her six month supply assignment at my school had been extended for another couple of months but she would be leaving soon.

When I used the key that Miss Leslie had given me to enter her home, I found her sitting on the sofa in tears. On the side table next to her was a bottle of red wine and a glass half full. An empty glass was resting next to it.

I coughed to get her attention but she kept on crying to herself, as if unaware of my presence.

Finally I had to speak. "Miss Leslie? Are you okay? Should I come back later? I brought the books you asked for. The exercise books you wanted me to collect from the Third Year boys?"

It was early on Saturday afternoon and I was dressed casually in jeans, tee-shirt and trainers. I noticed, to my quiet satisfaction, that Miss Leslie was wearing a red miniskirt and a white crop top showing off her belly button (which had a stud in it) and her tight, tanned stomach. She was not wearing a bra. I could see her long tanned legs stretching out as she sat on the sofa. Because of the miniskirt, I was getting a generous glimpse of her naked left thigh and I always enjoyed ogling every inch of her sexy legs that I got the chance to see. I was getting something out of doing these chores for teacher, even if she was not aware of it! I felt a stirring in my jeans and tried to think of something else.

Miss Leslie still had her head in her hands, her long blonde curly hair dangling around her bare and tanned shoulders. "Oh, thank you, Simon. That was so kind of you. Please leave them on the floor in the corner."

"I can come back later, or tomorrow, if you want me to leave, Miss Leslie," I said. I stood there looking at her and I knew I did not want to leave any time soon. I could see her nipples through her crop top. Why was she not wearing a bra?

She looked at me for the first time and smiled. "No, it is okay, Simon. I'm glad you're here. I need some company. It's my boyfriend, you see, he is leaving me."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Leslie," I lied. I was not sorry to hear that at all. I felt my cock get harder in my jeans and start to push itself against the denim. It desperately wanted to get out through the material and point up to the ceiling and tell Miss Leslie it was pleased to see her, as pleased as I was to hear that she might be single soon.

Miss Leslie looked at me again and smiled. It may have been my imagination but I thought a cunning look flickered across her face. She glanced quickly at my groin and I'm sure she must have noticed the bulge which was becoming more apparent by the second.

"Why don't you join me on the sofa, Simon? You could pour yourself some wine. You're old enough to drink wine aren't you? You told me the other day you're over eighteen now! Virtually a man!" Miss Leslie said, coquettishly.

I did what she asked eagerly, pouring myself some wine and getting as close to her on the sofa as I dared. She moved even closer, so that her left leg was now brushing against my right leg. I gulped down some wine and then reached across her to put the glass down on the table and as I was drawing my hand back she raised her left leg so that my hand trailed across her knee and thigh. I found myself getting more and more turned on and put my right hand on her left thigh. She seemed surprised at my quick response but did not resist this advance.

"Oh Simon, that is quite presumptuous of you, touching my thigh and fondling me like that," said Miss Leslie, as she leaned over in my direction and licked my ear before kissing my cheek. I put my right arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards me, kissing and licking her neck. She tasted of strawberries and cream and her perfume was strong and stimulating. This time, I would pounce on her.

Suddenly, like the tease she was, she broke out of my grasp, which was beginning to tighten, and got to her feet. She started pacing the floor, showing off her long legs in that red miniskirt and I found my cock getting even harder. I knew I wanted her and I wanted her now. I felt like grabbing her and throwing her down on the sofa so that I could have my wicked way with her. She had crossed a line with me for the last time and this time I would get satisfaction. One way or another.

"Frank is such a fool, Simon, I wish he was more caring like you," Miss Leslie said. "The idiot wants to go back up north to live and work. I have to go with him, now this school assignment is over, but I don't really want to go. I will miss you, Simon. You've been such a great help to me! And you are good looking, you know!"

She disappeared into the next room and came out carrying a box of books. Not what I expected. Were thoughts of forcing myself on the lovely Miss Leslie to be thwarted by the fruits of academia? I had other fruit on my lust-crazed mind.

"Oh, Simon, I am so crazy. Why have I collected all these books over the years? I need to box them up before I move. Have you got the time to help me do it?"

I felt annoyed with her. So that was it. Get me here, ply me with wine, lick the side of my face and treat me like her manservant, seduce me into doing her donkey work for her. I felt quite angry with Miss Leslie at that moment. The tease who did not know how easily she inflamed my rampant teenage passion for her! She had been the subject of a hundred wet dreams since she started at the school. Angry, but still turned on by her body, I knew I was going nowhere. I had to agree to help her. I was her prisoner. A willing prisoner. One who would teach her a lesson.

We had been working away for several hours and for some reason Miss Leslie had decided to sort out her books into lots of appropriate boxes in alphabetical order. She kept building up bigger and bigger piles of books. I felt like I was helping to clear a public library from one room and move it into another. The mountain of books just kept getting higher and higher. And she was drinking more and more wine and getting less and less steady on her feet. Less steady on her high heels, I should say. Not the most practical things to wear when working on house removal. My horny hoarder was such a turn-on as she tottered across the floor on her killer heels!

She kept moaning away to me about her boyfriend and also other teachers at the school who she hated. She hated the other women teachers in particular because she felt they despised her for her youth and beauty and were jealous of the way the boys and the male teachers used to ogle her. She complimented me on my strength and muscles in helping carry the heavy books. She was paying less and less attention to the unsteady mountain of books she and I were creating behind her. I tried to warn her but she wouldn't listen. Inevitably, an accident had to happen.

She was in the middle of a tirade against the head teacher when she lost her balance and suddenly started falling backwards towards the piles of books. Losing her footing completely, she tumbled to the ground in a mess and, like a stack of dominoes, the mountain of books fell on top of her. She was smothered in learning, a suitable fate for a sexy teacher like her! She just had time to shout at me to help her before she was almost completely covered in books, books and more books. At last, I could not see any of her lovely body above the waist, all that was visible was her red miniskirt and her long, dangling tanned legs. She was very quiet, and I assumed that the impact may have knocked her out.

Some of the books had fallen on her waist and her legs, so I started to help free her by removing these books first. Without meaning to, I found myself touching her legs as I removed these books. Then I started to touch her legs again. And it had nothing to do with removing books this time. My cock started to get hard again and I remembered that I had brought some ice cream with me, as a farewell gift to Miss Leslie and a bit of an in-joke for old time's sake. I felt now like the cat who had got the ice cream.

I left Miss Leslie lying there helpless while I went back to my rucksack to get the huge tubs of ice cream. I had strawberry, raspberry, chocolate and vanilla flavours. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I started opening the tubs and rubbing ice cream over her calves, her shins, her thighs, her knees, even her feet (having removed her high heels first of course). Crouching on the floor beside her, I started kissing and licking her legs, tasting the different flavoured ice creams and enjoying the taste of Miss Leslie's own flavour. I removed my tee-shirt and jeans and, in my boxer shorts, concentrated on licking her inner thighs before gently pulling down her miniskirt. Underneath the skirt were some black, lacy knickers, which of course I had to remove.

Now that I had exposed her pussy and her pubic hair, I had of course focused on covering everything in ice cream. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I heard Miss Leslie moan as I started licking the cream from her groin. My cock was rock hard now and I removed my boxers so that I could rub the shaft against her thighs. I picked up one of her high heel shoes and kissed it as I did so. Then I kissed her black knickers, which I also sniffed. These would be good souvenirs, I thought.

Feeling extremely turned on, I continued my somewhat perverted rescue mission by removing the books which covered her belly button and bare midriff. I used the ice cream again and continued my job of licking it from every available inch of Miss Leslie's fit and tanned body. I enjoyed licking the stud in her belly button too. Her head, breasts and arms were still covered by mounds of books and she was totally in my power, I noted to my satisfaction. One of the books on her face had even opened on a page of love poetry and I started to read it aloud for a few minutes. I knew she loved poetry.

"Oh, Miss Leslie, you know I want you, don't you?" I said, as I stroked her hips and licked her pussy again. The poetry had also made me want her even more. I imagined myself as the male in the poem who was finally satisfying his lust by possessing the love object he had pursued for years. The woman of his dreams was now in his arms. And so was my own conquest.

Then I started clearing the books off her crop top. I carefully cut the top from her body using a pair of scissors I found nearby. It was like I was unwrapping a lovely present and my reward was to expose her full breasts to my eager tongue. Using the ice cream to smother her tits, I had a field day kissing and licking them, every now and then giving a gentle bite. Her nipples were a particular good place for me to focus my lustful tongue on and I spent some time playing with them. I finished by rubbing the shaft of my cock between her cleavage and pressing her breasts together while I moved it up and down between them. Needless to say, I now had ice cream on my cock too!

Her arms were trapped by books and I decided to add more books on top, just to make sure she was pinned down. I thought about some of the bondage photos I had seen on the internet and it really turned me on even more. I loved the idea that Miss Leslie was trapped and that her torso was at my mercy. And I had no mercy then. I was a lustful eighteen year old who had his teacher where he wanted her, in his power. This was the sort of homework every young man dreamed off.