Ms. Tibbs

Disclaimer: all characters are 18 years of age or older.

The last classes of the day were over and the halls were quiet. Only the sports teams stayed late for practice, as well as a few of the senior school staff to catch up on their work. That is, only them and Peter.

Peter walked down the corridors towards his math class. The scuff of his shoes against the polished tile floor echoed down the empty halls. He clenched his math text and a ragged notebook in his hand. He was more than a little worried. He had been asked to stay late today by his teacher, Ms. Tibbs.

Peter was a smart teenager, if you count book-smarts, but was somewhat marginalized when it came to the various cliques and groups within school. He had his share of friends of course, but was not a popular student by any means. Tall, thin, and average looks, he was one of the crowd. He did do well in school though. He was usually near the top of all his classes and was well known among the teaching staff. Unfortunately his math marks were steadily declining over his last year at school. Being eighteen and graduating, Peter knew this could hurt his chances at getting admitted to the colleges he was hoping to apply to. He assumed that Ms. Tibbs wanted to discuss this. What else could it be?

He reached her classroom and knocked on the door with more than a little apprehension. There was no answer. He found Ms. Tibbs exceptionally attractive in both her looks and manner, and he had more than his share of fantasies about her, but the idea of being the only person in study hall with her was more than a little intimidating. He started toying with the idea of leaving. He had fulfilled his part of the deal - he showed up, and if she wasn't there, too bad. He began running through his head what he would say to her tomorrow to best defend himself, when he heard the crisp clicking sound of high heels coming down the corridor. Ms. Tibbs turned the corner and approached Peter while digging through her purse.

Ms. Tibbs was in her early forties and had been teaching at Peter's school for a few years. She was light skinned, tall, 5' 10", shapely and had a confident manner in both her demeanor and dress. This made her a popular topic in both the cafeteria and staff lounge. She wore her long, wavy brunette hair in different ways but mostly in a bun, like today. She was wearing a white cotton blouse and black linen skirt with black heels - fairly standard for Ms. Tibbs.

"Hello, Peter."

"Hi Ms. Tibbs"

"I'm glad you could make it," she said in a serious tone. "I wanted to discuss your grades."

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry they're slipping. I've got a lot of work in my other classes and..."

"We'll discuss it inside please." She breezed past Peter retrieving the classroom key and fiddled with the door lock. Peter inhaled her perfume - vanilla?

As they entered the class, Peter couldn't help but watch her walk to her desk, her hips move, her heels clicking and her shapely calves exposed under the hem of her skirt.

"Peter, close the door, thank you."

Closing the door behind him, he then took his usual seat, front row in front of Ms. Tibbs desk. Ms. Tibbs placed her books on her desk and turned to clean the blackboard.

"So. You were saying about your current work load Peter?"

Peter shifted in his seat. "Uh, yeah. I guess I'm concentrating too much on other the classes."

Ms. Tibbs continued to clean the boards, making vigorous strokes with the brush. As she reached high, her calves flexed and one of her heels came out of her shoes. "Continue," she said without bothering to turn around.

Peter blinked out of his trace and stammered "And I guess I should devote more time to this one." He wasn't sure what else he could add.

She bent low, her feet a little more than shoulder-width apart, her hips rocking back and forth with each wipe of the board. "Anything else?"

"Uh, I guess that's it Ma'am." Peter felt a knot in his throat and his face go flush.

With the boards finished Ms. Tibbs turned and walked over to the wastebasket beside her desk and began rubbing the erasers together. She bent over as she did this, affording Peter a spectacular view down her blouse. He swallowed hard; his eyes grew wide and transfixed by the smooth white skin curving into her cleavage, vigorously jiggling with her arm movement. Peter shifted in his seat, still staring at her soft light skin. Ms. Tibbs casually glanced up at Peter, her expression unreadable.

She stood up straight, crossed her arms and regarded him. "Nothing else then Peter?" He looked down at his books and toyed with his pencil.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say." Uttering those words, Peter remembered to breath again.

"Well, I was hoping you'd have more insight." She walked to the back of her desk and opened her day book. "Your marks have steadily declined this year in this class alone and I find it puzzling and somewhat annoying. Is it the way I teach the material?"

"No ma'am."

"Well it must be something that's causing your grades to slide." Ms. Tibbs walk out to the front of her desk, sat down on its top and crossed her shapely legs. "Peter, we're talking about your future here. You can be honest with me." She absently dangled one of her black pumps off her toe. Peter glanced around the room, trying not to take notice of it. But his eyes eventually settled on the arch of her exposed foot and the curve of her naked calf. He swallowed hard.

"Well, if you can't figure out the problem on your own, perhaps we can together." With that she got up and return to her seat behind her desk. "I'm going to write down several important things, Peter, that I think are causing this slide in your grades. We'll discuss them in a while. Meanwhile, please go ahead and start the homework assignments."

Peter noticed that his heart was pumping fast and his breathing was a bit ragged. He stopped for a second to collect himself and shifted in his seat. He was sporting a terrific hard-on now, but that was nothing new when he was in math class. He opened his books, glad to be out of the spot light. For a while there was silence. Ms. Tibbs finished writing the note and placed it on the corner of her desk and then began dutifully marking papers.

Peter meanwhile tinkered with the questions at hand, not really getting anywhere. From his angle, he could see the tip of one of her shoes below her desk. The site of Ms. Tibbs' bra and her foot dominated his thoughts. His imagination ran rampant with images of those legs splayed wide and pointing into the air, or wrapped around his waist. He had to get another look at her legs. He couldn't resist his usual ploy: dropping an item off his desk always did the trick before and she didn't seem to catch on. It was risky now since he usually did this during normal class hours - when she had a whole class to look after and wouldn't easily pick up on his voyeuristic maneuvering. Throwing all caution to the wind, he shoved his pencil off his desk with the edge of his book. He glanced at Ms. Tibbs to gauge the reaction. She continued on with her marking - apparently unaware. His heart was racing again. He swallowed hard and reached down.

He gazed below the desktop and into the shadow. Ms. Tibbs sat with her legs crossed and one of her black pumps, again hanging off her toe. Her black linen skirt hung across her knee. Although Peter was several feet away, he tried to drink in the fragrance of her skin and perfume. He traced the line from the arch of her foot, past her calf and into the darkness under her skirt. His head swam with desire and blood rushed through every part of him. Ms. Tibbs shifted her sitting position giving Peter a flash of panic. He bolted upright into his seat looking directly at her. She apparently noticed nothing as she keep her attention to the work on her desk. He looked down at his notebook, breathing hard and congratulating himself for a mission well done. He had just garnished a month's worth of masturbation material.

He was beginning to like study hall alone with Ms. Tibbs. He decided not to push it and get back to work, or at least try to look busy. He finished off the second question when his eyes began wandering again. Ms. Tibbs still had her attention focus on marking. He studied her face for a few moments, noting the high check bones, dark eyes and eyebrows, her pursed lips as she marked, and her hair collected back into a severe bun that accentuated her neck line. Her well-manicured hands were showing some age but the way she grasped the red pencil with thin but strong fingers sent Peter's mind spinning again. If she didn't notice once, then why would she notice a second attempt? No, he thought. Don't push it, Peter. You've got a good thing going here - don't wreck it. He dove back into his homework.

He finished off his third question easily but still hadn't done a fraction of what he was capable of. He glanced at Ms. Tibbs again. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the tip of her shoe again. In fact both tips were now visible.

"Oh my," Peter murmured. He caught himself and looked up at Ms. Tibbs. Again, she was unaware of neither Peter's now hyper-excited state nor his mumbling. He glanced at the shoe tips again - they were about two feet apart and flat on the ground. Her knees can't be together if her feet are that far apart! His heart was pounding and his thoughts were racing. He had to go for it. There was no choice in the matter.

Summoning all his courage, he slid his eraser off his desk. It took an odd bounce and landed close to the front of Ms. Tibbs' desk. Peter would have to lean forward, up out of his seat this time. Normally he would weigh the pros and cons of such a bold move but he was on autopilot now, seduced by the thought of seeing Ms. Tibbs' inner thighs and her panties cupping a mound of soft wetness.

He leaned out of his chair and absently reached for his target. His eyes followed the line of revelation that was the desk top's lower edge. Her knees were spread wide apart and her skirt's hem was draped over them. Peter swooned at the sight of Ms. Tibbs crotch. In the shadow, Peter could make out a thin strip of white fabric and her dark hair curled out around the edges. He unconsciously leaned even closer, testing the air with his nose. What he wouldn't give to bury his face into such a prize.

Peter began to feel light-headed and realized he lost track of time. How long had he been down there drinking in the sight of Ms. Tibbs panty-clad pussy? With great effort he slithered back into his seat, not looking up, not even breathing. He felt his heart pounding and tasted the air around him. With a supreme effort, he picked up his pencil with a trembling hand and pretended to continue working on the math problems before him. No sounds came from in front of him. He breathed easier. For a moment, a flash of terror doused him, but nothing happened. He had gotten away with it.

He settled himself down while simultaneously reveling in his success. He thought of telling a couple of his closest friends of this but decided against it. This was his experience and his alone. Beside, peeping up an older woman's skirt might not garner Peter the back slapping from others he was currently giving himself. They wouldn't understand his triumph.

"Well, Peter. Lets see what you've accomplished so far." Ms. Tibbs waved him up to her desk. Peter adjusted himself as best he could before he got up. Despite his efforts, Peter's baggy cargo pants were not doing a decent job of hiding his current state and his bulge was fairly evident. With his notebook adding cover, he approached her desk. He handed over the notebook while standing over her shoulder.

"Peter, you've only got three proofs done. You should have at least five by my guess." She turned around to regard him. Peter reflexively clasped his hands in front of him. She glanced down at his hands for a moment and turned back to his work. Peter hoped he had been nonchalant enough.

While Ms. Tibbs was looking over his work, Peter notice he was at an advantageous angle. Ms. Tibbs' blouse hung open and billowed out somewhat. The view wasn't nearly as deep as before but he could maneuver slightly to get a better view of what was exposed. Peter could see the soft white curve of Ms. Tibbs' breast disappearing into her blouse. He noted the freckles dotted across her smoothness skin and leaned in closer and slightly back for a better angle. Peter could see the front clasp of her bra and traced the lacy white line deeper into her blouse. There was a flash of darkness as he craned his neck further back. He stopped and leaned in closer. A jolt went through Peter's body as he realized he was seeing the dark skin of her nipple. As Ms. Tibbs scribbled remarks on his work, her arm and shoulder moved with the rhythm of her writing. And so did her breast. Her nipple rubbed against and intermittently disappeared behind the soft white fabric of her bra cup. Peter's cock was stiffer than he could ever remember, his legs felt weak but he could feel his blood surging through his body. He was in a daze...

"This is substandard work Peter," Ms. Tibbs said without looking at him. Peter's breathing became labored and his throat was dry. His hips began to move unconsciously as he stared at the shape and dark color of her nipple and a pleasant dizzying feeling came over him. His balls began to tingle and his cock was a tuning fork. Relief was all Peter could think about - he distantly pictured his semen hitting the bathroom stall door. He was lost in the warm ecstasy of the moment...

"Peter?"

Peter snapped out of his heated body buzz with a cold shock.

"Are you getting a good look?"

Ms. Tibbs was looking up at him with a quizzical expression. Her blouse was open, her nipple exposed in it's cup. Peter eyes darted from her penetrating brown eyes, to her nipple and back. His chest tightened with electricity as panic filled him.

"Huh, I'm... sorry..."

Ms. Tibbs handed Peter back his work and regarded him. "Peter, please pick up the note I wrote earlier and take your seat. I need to speak to you frankly." Peter felt himself moving to his desk but he couldn't feel his legs working and he couldn't remember picking up the piece of paper from Ms. Tibbs' desk. His face was flush and hot and his hands were trembling. He sat down, staring at his desk top.

"Read the note, Peter."

Peter unfolded the paper, which served to call attention to his hands were trembling. His eyes started darting across the page.

"Out loud Peter" Ms. Tibbs stated firmly.

She came out from behind her desk, and again sat on its top. She looked sternly down on Peter.

Peter stammered but found his voice, and he began to read out loud.

"Peter, your grades are falling because you are failing to control your... sexual urges." Peter swallowed heavily.

"By the time you read this note, you will have attempted to look up my skirt at least once, look down my blouse at least once, and eventually, you'll asked to go to the bathroom. This last request, no doubt has something to do with your erection that is clearly visible through your pants."

Peter sat dumb-founded. He held the note is his (by now) cold, sweaty hand, terrified to look anywhere else.

"Well, Peter? Was I correct in my forecast of this study period?" Peter couldn't find the words to answer her. Ms. Tibbs walked to the class window, and regarded the teams on the play field below. "Your routine in my class has become very apparent to me, Peter. Almost every class it's the same thing: you drop an item so you can peek up my skirt, occasionally come up to my desk and ask questions we both know are beneath your intelligence, so you can glance down my top. And then there are the inevitable trips to the bathroom..."

Peter sat there, barely breathing, embarrassment freezing him.

"And I think we both know what goes on in there, don't we? Oh come now Peter, you spend far too much time there for anything else." Ms. Tibbs walked back to the front of her desk and sat on the edge, crossing her legs. Peter managed to look her way, but only got as far as her black pumps.

"Peter, how are you supposed to pass this class when your sex drive clouds your thoughts every minute you're here. How are you supposed to pass my tests when all you can think about is bending me over a chair and hiking up my skirt?"

Peter's eyes widened. Her looked up at he face, astonished by her racy statement. Ms. Tibbs calmly regarded him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Oh, come now Peter. You think I'm unaware of the fantasies you young men conjure up? Every 15 seconds - that's what they say. Men think about sex every 15 seconds. I'm surprised you men get anything done" she smirked. "You'd think the bathroom stalls would be packed all the time."

Peter winced.

"This behavior of yours has been going on for some time Peter. You must come up with a lot of scenarios then" she pressed. "What kinds of fantasies do you create in that fertile young mind of your?"

Peter went back to looking at the note - it was like a dream that he wanted to end but didn't want to end.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question Peter." Peter glanced up, again with eyes wide in fear and bewilderment.

"Really, I'm interested to know." She leaned back, with her hands clasped around her knee, her legs crossed, and her black pump hanging off her bobbing foot. There was a pregnant pause.

"Hmmm? What sorts of things occupy your thoughts while taking my class? Cat got your tongue?"

She arose from her desk and began pacing around the room, hands on hips, eye towards the ceiling. "Well, shall I take a stab at it then? Let's see. You no doubt have fantasies about me since I garner so much of your attention. What does your mind's eye hold while you sit in the stall, one hand at the ready with a tissue, the other madly pumping away, desperately trying to not make any noise?" She panned the room. "Ah, my desk" she pointed. "No doubt you've fantasized about me on my desk, hmm? Me, flat on my back with my rear at the edge, legs spread wide in the air. Perhaps my heels are resting on your shoulders and my blouse and bra are hanging open?"

Peter's face was beet-red and although he was thoroughly mortified, he had never been so excited in his life. He glanced at her and then the desk.

"Perhaps I'm sitting up, grabbing your ass? My nails digging into your pert little cheeks." Ms. Tibbs regarded Peter and snickered. "Ah fantasies. Truth be told, I can imagine a young man with your limited experience wouldn't last more than a few strokes."

Ms. Tibbs walked around to her seat and pushed her desk chair into full view of Peter. "Or what about my chair, Peter? Hmm? I'd bend over the back of it and grab the seat, then you'd get in behind me, hike my skirt up over my hips and slide my panties down?" She regarded Peter and then thought distantly. "It's been my experience that men, for some reason, prefer that position. I'm not sure if it's because they like looking at the woman's rear bouncing away, or if it's the view of penetration, or just because they can really hammer it home." Ms. Tibbs looked directly at Peter and then glanced at the tent now clearly visible in his pants. "My, I can see that's a popular one with you." She sat down in her chair facing Peter, legs crossed and hands in her lap. "Unfortunately, Peter, men seem to blow their loads far too quickly for my liking in that position. It's nice for a quickie or if she wants to get it over with: a little wiggle, a bit of dirty talk, and then give him the 'over-the-shoulder-sensual-pout' look to finish him off." Ms. Tibbs smiled inwardly. "That never fails to pop their cork."

Peter sat there with his heart in his throat, his hands trembling and his eyes wide. He was afraid to move. Even if he could, he was too embarrassed to get up. He was desperately searching for something to say, anything to ward off the avalanche of raw truths pouring from Ms. Tibbs. But nothing came to him. All he could do was concentrate on the heat in his face and the ringing in his ears.