Mrs. Charlton Ch. 01

Chapter 1

I suppose she must have been in her late thirties. Almost old enough to be my mother, I guess, but certainly not 'maternal'!

I was in her mathematics class......not my favourite subject! Two hourly lessons a week to endure algebra and statistics; and salivate over her gorgeous figure.

Occasionally, I might also catch a glimpse of her in the corridor; her high heels clicking on the parquet floor. Sometimes I couldn't resist following her, to sear into my mind, the image of her perfectly formed bottom as she sashayed to her next class.

I had made sure that I sat in the front row of her classes. This gave me a ringside view as she stretched to write on the blackboard, or paced up and down, asking questions.

She always wore her long shiny dark hair tightly pinned up, giving a 'professional' look. Her make up was subtle, though her lips and fingernails were usually painted in a bright crimson. Her working wardrobe was varied and always fashionable. Clearly, even to my young eyes, a sophisticated lady with discerning and quality tastes.

However, what really mesmerized me were three further details:

She nearly always wore a very strong, alluring perfume, which would captivate me as she drifted by the side of my desk.

She always wore high heeled stiletto shoes, which drummed a delicious feminine rhythm into my malleable brain, as she walked elegantly around the classroom.

Finally, and most importantly, she always wore the sheerest nylon stockings on her long, shapely legs.

She was frequently the subject of my masturbatory fantasies, in bed at night, and often, in her class, I couldn't resist rubbing the front of my trousers, beneath the desk.

One day, to my shame, this habit progressed further. I couldn't help it. She had been standing so close to my desk.......lecturing on probability theory, I think. Her tight, navy skirt clung to her full, rounded buttocks......right there at eye level......her shapely thighs moving inside the soft material.....I had to do it....I took my penis out of my pants....right there.....naked and erect under the desk, and began to stroke.

She sat down at her table and crossed her lovely sexy legs. I had a wonderful view of her calves, ankles and knees, clothed in the sheerest 'nude' nylons. My eyes were drawn to her feet as she dangled one of her high heeled navy court shoes.

That was too much. I spurted my ejaculate into my handkerchief......right there, just 2 yards from this educational goddess. It felt as though I had made an offering to her powerful femininity. An offering that she had forced upon me.

Shortly afterwards, feelings of shame overtook me. How weak, pathetic and weird was I?

For days afterwards, I could not get the guilt out of my system. Guilt and arousal, as I recalled my perverted behavior towards Mrs C. Remembering just how far I had fallen.....but also, the incredible waves of unbridled pleasure as I had spunked off in her presence.

It was two more weeks before I succumbed again to her magnetic femininity.

She was wearing a new outfit (new to our class anyway!). A sheer black, long-sleeved chiffon blouse' with a black satin slip visible underneath. A full calf-length emerald green pleated skirt, tightly gathered at the waist with a wide black patent leather belt, with matching high heels and sheer black seamed nylon stockings.

After ten minutes of her presence, I was again forced to wank my cock. There was simply no alternative. This time however, I prolonged the exquisite pleasure and slowly teased my foreskin as she stood directly in front of my desk, with the pleats of her shiny green skirt tumbling over the outward curves of her sumptuous bottom. I came; watching her, seated at her desk, absent-mindedly scratching and smoothing her nylon calves with her long pointed red finger-nails, crossing and re-crossing her legs and sucking the end of her pen between those full, red lips....pouting in concentration.

Out of control, I spurted my sperm onto the floor, beneath my desk.

I hung around after class and waited until I was alone; quickly mopping up my mess with a handkerchief.

Of course, I wasn't alone in worshipping Mrs C. I would regularly discuss her sexy attributes and delicious outfits, in whispered lust with close friends. Several admitted wanking to her at home and, like me, in class. There was a rumour that she was having an illicit affair with Mr J, the physical education teacher. Lucky swine!

Unfortunately, this carnal obsession was not helping my progress with mathematics! At the end of term parents evening, my father was shocked to discover how far behind I had become in this subject. In chatting to Mrs C. about my test scores, it was made plain to him that only extra tuition could raise my standards.

That evening, following a stern lecture from my father about my poor maths performance, (and reported lack of concentration in class!), he announced that he had arranged for an intense program of tuition. This would commence two days hence. There would be two sessions per week, of two hours duration.

Then came the shocking revelation........he had arrange for Mrs Charlton to tutor me at her home!!! (He had been most impressed with her, apparently; yea, right, dad!)

Two days later, I was deposited at her front door, not sure how I was feeling. When she let me in, I suppose I was rather relieved. She was not the glamorous woman of my dreams, but looked rather 'ordinary'. No makeup this evening, Loose jeans and a big baggy jumper.

To my surprise, she did everything she could to put me at my ease; bringing me a cup of tea and telling of her own early failings at maths.

Sitting next to me on the sofa, she began to explain some of the work she had presented in class that week. This one to one approach, and her lovely sense of humour, immediately began to make the calculations more understandable.

By the end of the first hour, she was actually praising me for my progress! However, the tea had had its effect and I asked to be excused. She told me where to find the bathroom, which I located upstairs.

This moment had been on my mind for two days. I was not disappointed. Without hesitation, I uncovered the large dirty clothes hamper. I looked down in awe. There before my lustful young eyes were the discarded nylons, that she had almost certainly worn in class that very day. Beneath, was a deliciously feminine purple satin slip, with black lace edging.

With shaking hands, I lifted these items reverently, to reveal a pair of matching purple French knickers, again, edged with black lace. I couldn't resist and quickly brought them to my lips, savouring the lingering scent of her perfume, mixed with, other (to my untutored mind), unidentified aromas.

I became so aroused, that I was unable to pee, so after adjusting my erection and carefully replacing her sophisticated garments, reluctantly made my way down stairs.

Somehow, I managed to concentrate on the maths tutorial for the second hour. At the conclusion, Mrs C actually complimented me on my progress! Unbelievably, she put her hand on my knee, and gave it a gentle, encouraging squeeze. I blushed, but she chose not to notice, and showed me to the door.

Needless to say, I had much to fuel my masturbatory activities over the following nights!

On my next visit, Mrs C looked stunning. She explained that she was going out for dinner with some girlfriends, immediately after our tutorial.

I didn't know where to look first. Her face was fully made up, with bright red lipstick and what I knew to be false eyelashes. She was wearing a rather short, form-fitting red dress, sheer black pantyhose, shiny red high heels and lots of glittery bangles on her wrists.

As we sat together on the sofa, I had the most wonderful view of her nyloned thighs. Luckily, on this occasion, Mrs C seemed a little distracted herself - checking her smart phone every so often, to look at texts from her friends.

At one point she managed to snag her nylons with her bangles. She stood up and ran her fingers over the rather obvious ladder.

"Sorry, Peter, I'll have to go and change. Can you finish off that calculation without me?"

"I'll try my best Miss!"

Watching her sway to the stairs, I drooled at the view of her bottom, encased in the tight soft material of her dress. Shaking myself, I somehow managed then to focus on the maths.

Mrs C returned, wearing navy nylons and we resumed. After a decent interval, I excused myself and again found myself in her bathroom. Quickly, I examined the laundry basket. To my great disappointment, it was virtually empty. Then I saw it - a small waste basket, beneath the sink. Falling to my knees, I reached inside to discover the delicious gossamer of her discarded pantyhose.

In a flash, I took a decision. As carefully as possible, I folded them and stuffed them into my trouser pocket. Surely she wouldn't miss something she had thrown away?