Ms. Tibbs

"So, Peter?"

Peter snapped out of his trace-like state and looked at her.

"Nothing to say about my observations? Well, I guess this must be a fairly big surprise for you." She smiled wanly and leaned forward. "It got to be a bit silly after a while. Your naughty little 'up skirt/down bra/off to the bathroom' routine I mean. There were a couple of days in the past where I thought about wearing no panties at all and giving you a real good look." Ms. Tibbs began to pace around and started down one of the isles towards the back of the classroom. "That would have been a bit much I think" she snickered. "Judging by your current state, you'd have had an accident in your pants right then and there." She laughed. "I also thought about putting a small sign between my legs saying 'Hi Peter!' or something to that effect. The look on your face right in the middle of a class would have been priceless!"

Peter didn't turn to watch her walk. He was still frozen with embarrassment. Even with her out of his field of view, he could still see her note in his shaking hands and could hear the click of her heels on the floor behind him.

"The way I see it, you poor little men are at the mercy of your sex drive. It's so overpowering that those dirty little tug-fests are inevitable. So you find relief where you can and as often as you can: in the shower, behind a bathroom stall door, or even, say, a principal office."

Peter cocked his head, a confused look on his red face.

"Yes, principal's office." She casually walked by Peter's desk. He drank in her scent once more.

"I hate to inform you of this Peter, but the sad fact is, the male condition will never change, even when you get to Principal Thompson's age."

Peter's brow was still furrowed. The slight change in topic enabled him to look at Ms. Tibbs directly.

Ms. Tibbs laughed and smiled wryly. "Let's just say that after every meeting I have with Principal Thompson, you can count on hearing the rhythmic jingling of his belt buckle behind his closed office door. And if that's not enough to give the office admin and I a good laugh listening in, his high-pitched grunts and muffled groans of 'Oh God!' are."

Ms. Tibbs walked up to Peter's desk, crossed her arms and gave Peter a rather imperious look. Peter leaned back, trying to distance himself from her.

"He's a man, so he's... predictable, as predictable as you are Peter. So, what are we going to do about your little irresistible habit?"

Peter searched in vain for something, anything, to say, but his mind was awash in warm fantasies of Ms. Tibbs' skin, her dark hair and those penetrating eyes. Yet he was also wracked with the humiliation of having his little peeping game being discovered. Thoughts raced through his mind: would he be expelled, would the rest of the school find out, what would he say to his parents, and still he wondered if he would ever have a chance to gaze up Ms. Tibbs' skirt again?

"Follow me Peter." Ms. Tibbs walked to the classroom door, her heels clicking against the tiles.

"Peter?" She turned to regard him. Peter was still registering his situation - sitting there, note still in hand. "Please try to focus Peter." She opened the door and waited for him to follow.

Dread took hold of Peter. Once this got out to the rest of the school, and these things always did, the embarrassment he would have to suffer would be more than he could take. The looks and snickers he'd have to endure in the cafeteria at lunch, sitting in his other classes and then he'd face the same torment at home.

He felt himself rise out of his seat like a robot. He tried to imagine what the meeting with the vice principal would be like. He was dizzy again but this feeling was far different from heady sensation he experienced studying the shape of Ms. Tibbs' nipple. He followed her out the door.

It took Peter a moment to realize that she had stopped at the janitorial closet a short way down the hall. Ms. Tibbs quickly unlocked it and scanned the small, dark room. She retrieved a large orange pylon with the yellow and black lettering "Cleaning" around its base. She quickly closed the door and headed further down the hall with her curious item. Peter was perplexed but his current situation did not allow him to even consider what she was doing - he had large problems to mull over.

Ms. Tibbs abruptly stopped and placed the pylon in the middle of the men's washroom entrance. She pushed her way past the heavy door, sidestepping the pylon. Peter hesitated but then followed her in; he was slightly relieved they were not heading to the vice principal's office, at least not just yet.

Ms. Tibbs walked past the urinals and stalls to the end of the empty bathroom. The sounds of her heels were incongruous with the present surroundings. She turned to regard Peter as she leaned up against the back wall. There was a silence.

"Which one?" She waved he finger at the row of stalls. Peter glanced at the stalls and then back to her, his mind at a full stop.

Seeing he was at a mental impasse, she leaned forward with her arms crossed and said firmly yet slowly: "Do you have a favorite stall Peter?" She looked at the one to her immediate right and glanced inside. "I would have thought the one at the end here would be most logical - away from the traffic of the entrance, and only one possible neighbor if the place became crowded. A little bit of privacy, no?"

Peter tried to gather himself. The vice principal's office wasn't so ominous now, and they were out of the classroom - the scene of the crime as it were. He felt himself breathing which he thought was a good thing. Things weren't looking so bleak. He decided his current confusion was much more preferable than his embarrassment in the classroom or a trip to the office.

He looked at the open stall and then to Ms. Tibbs again. Perhaps a simple admission would make this all go away? "Listen, Ms. Tibbs, umm, I'm really really sorry about..."

Ms. Tibbs held up her hand and leveled her gaze at Peter. She motioned him to come forward with a single finger. Peter's body began to tingle again and he became acutely aware of the tent in his pants. He tried to cover the obvious bulge with his hands. He ears became hot. A few tentative steps brought him to within a few feet of Ms. Tibbs. Unable to look her in the eye, Peter's eyes were cast down at her shoe tips. He vaguely became reacquainted with her vanilla scent.

"What did I tell you about the nature of men back in the classroom Peter?" Ms. Tibbs studied him, her arms still crossed. "Hmm? Remember I said something about men, masturbation and inevitability? If it's inevitable, then it's best to get it out of the way, no?"

Ms. Tibbs motioned Peter to enter the stall. "So, in you go."

Peter's heart was racing and he felt a wave of faintness come over him. He couldn't believe what she was asking him to do. Right here, right now, with her right there? His balls were tingling and his cock became fully ridged again, creating an obscenely huge tent that was impossible to cover now. His ears were once again hot and the ringing returned. He froze.

Ms. Tibbs sighed. "Feeling a bit timid are we?" She took him by the arm. Peter was keenly aware of her soft hand and it's firm grip. He looked down at it and drank in the feminine shape of her fingers and nails.

He then found himself looking out at her from the stall. Peter absently sat down in a daze, listening to his own ragged breath...

"Oh for goodness sake, Peter, how much more coaxing do you need?" Ms. Tibbs paused, then hiked up either side of her skirt, drew down her panties around her ankles, and stepped out of them. She dangled them off her index finger in front of Peter. "Here's a little encouragement for you. Don't soil them."

Peter's eyes were riveted on the white fabric. He felt his hand reach up and take it. He looked back at Ms. Tibbs, and then his eyes trailed down to her skirt and lingered there. Ms. Tibbs crossed her arms again and cocked her head. "Yes Peter, I'm not wearing and underwear right now. Why don't you think about that while you tend to yourself." Peter glanced hazily down at his crotch and the obvious bulge there.

"Uh oh." Peter looked up to see Ms. Tibbs striking a thoughtful pose. "I think we have a logistics problem Peter. If one hand is holding the tissue, and the other is holding my panties, how are you going to get any relief?" After a pregnant pause, Ms. Tibbs eyes lit up. "Can you perform auto-fellatio Peter?" Ms. Tibbs laughed.

Peter looked down at the head of his throbbing dick, and then to his hands, uncertain. "Auto...?"

Ms. Tibbs laughed out loud. "Both your hands are occupied Peter. The only way you're going to shoot your little load is if you can give yourself a blowjob." Ms. Tibbs leaned in close, flashed a big smile, her white teeth contrasting her dark lip stick.

"Can you do that, Peter? Can you suck your own cock?" Peter swallowed hard, his eye locked onto hers.

"Aw, poor thing. I guess I should help you out." Ms. Tibbs stepped forward.

Peter's mind raced. His dreams were coming true. To fantasize about this woman was one thing, and to have the luck to peek at her crotch and nipples was yet another, but to actually have her on her knees wrapping her hot tongue around his cock in the boy's washroom was just too good to be true. Peter mentally tried to prepare himself...

Ms. Tibbs snatched the panties out of Peter's trembling hand and promptly pulled the garment over his head. She quickly arrange the crotch over Peter's nose. "There we go. Problem solved." With that, she turned and walked out of the stall. "Try and make this quick Peter" she said, shutting the metal door behind her.

Peter sat there for a moment. And then a pungent, musky scent filled his nostrils, thick and sweet. As he exhaled, the heat of his breath intensified the scent from her panties and his world went spinning again. Any doubt or last vestiges of pride were completely swept away.

"Peter? I don't hear anything." He could see the black tips of Ms. Tibbs shoes underneath the stall door. "I want to see your pants around your ankles, Peter. Right now." Her tone implied no alternative.

Hands trembling, Peter unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his fly and pulled his jeans down around his knees pausing several times to take in the heady smell of Ms. Tibbs panties. He was vaguely aware of the hard plastic toilet seat underneath him and the cool air around his legs and ass cheeks. He gazed at the head of his penis, twitching for attention. Pre-cum was oozing from the tip in a slow, glistening stream.

Peter wiped the clear liquid around the head of his cock, and took several tentative strokes. The feeling was electric. His shaft convulsed and the head pulsated to a deep, angry purple. Precum flowed freely now making his hand slick. His legs began to shake, and his buttocks started spasming involuntarily. A moan slipped from his lips... his ragged breath once again intensifying her scent.

"Ooo, sounds like you're making some headway Peter." He could hear Ms. Tibbs pacing outside the stall, her heels making sharp clicks on the polished floor.

Peter started jerking off in earnest, giving in to the all-consuming sensation in his crotch. His pounding motion shook down to his belt buckle, which started sounding off each stroke of his shaft. His breathing was drawing in more and more of Ms. Tibbs' musky smell.

"Oh God" Peter murmured.

Ms. Tibbs laughed outside the stall. "You and principal Thompson are like two peas in a pod - belt buckles and all. Come on Peter. Let's hear it" she chided.

Peter's legs stretched out and he leaned back giving his hand unfettered access to his member. He began to grunt with each stroke as his hand started to fly up and down on the shaft. A low moan escaping from his lips. And then another, and another. And they grew louder.

"Remember what we talked about Peter - me bent over a chair, you pounding me from behind? Imagine that you can see my pert little asshole, Peter. Come on Peter, shoot a nice big load for me."

"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God! Oh God! OH GOD!"

It was like he hadn't had release in a year. Thoughts of Ms. Tibbs asshole, her hand on his arm, her smell, her warm, wet pussy, and her mocking laughter mixed together in Peter's subconscious. All the pent-up desire was let loose in the most incredible orgasm he had ever had. A huge spasm gripped his entire body send the first load of cum arching high into the air and landed squarely on Peter's chest. The second arrived with even more force and landed on his panty-clad face, and the third flew even further splashing against the wall behind him. Wave upon wave of ecstasy washed over him as he lost his load over himself, his hips bucking off the seat, the remaining cum trailing down his stomach. He was lost in a world of Ms. Tibbs authority and his need to shoot his load for her.

Slowly, the convulsions subsided. And then they stopped. Peter relinquished the strangle-hold on his cock. He lay there, motionless, covered in his cum with Ms. Tibbs cum-stained panties still over his face. He was exhausted. All he could hear was his heavy breathing and feel residual tremors running through his lower body.

The stall door slowly creaked open. "Peter? What the hell...?"

Peter looked up and his eye's grew wide with terror. It was not Ms. Tibbs as he was expecting, but Lisa Beckwith, one of his classmates...