Screwing My Students Ch. 01

Standard disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional, and all characters are 18 or older.

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The Principal's Daughter

I had been teaching junior and senior science at a private high school called the Bennet Academy for three years the first time I slept with a student. The work was challenging, but rewarding and fun most of the time. I was reasonably popular, with good evals from admin and no complaints of any consequence from parents. I was single, and had a lot of time and energy to put into my job- late nights, weekends spent grading; I was a workaholic and I was largely at peace with the fact. Sure, I was a little lonely, but I didn't want to deal with the hassle of apps, and hitting on strangers in bars wasn't really my thing.

Bennet's was an all-female institution, and with an aging population of instructors there weren't many outlets for all those teen hormones. As one of the younger, better-looking male teachers, I was the object of many school girl crushes. Sometimes they were obvious: Girls who let hugs linger a little longer than necessary, or undid the buttons on their school blouses just above their breasts, so that tantalizing, curved skin showed when they bent over their work. Other students kept their crushes secret, left messages on the bathroom stalls or blushed whenever I came near. I always did my best to deflect that kind of attention, even after the girls graduated. Even if they were former students, it could still lead to trouble. And trouble was one thing I preferred to avoid.

Until her.

Until the principal's daughter.

Emma Connell was her name. I knew who she was, of course, though I'd never had her as a student before her senior year. Our sole interactions had been the occasional greeting with her whenever she tagged along to staff meetings. She seemed, aside from her looks, unremarkable. She was a senior, had played varsity volleyball all four years but wasn't a team standout. Her reputation among the other teachers was good; certainly no rumors that could have prepared me for what happened. Her grades were solid A's, and although she was well-liked, Emma only seemed to have a handful of friends.

All that said, she was a very pretty girl. If this was a co-ed school, she'd have crowds of boys tailing her down the halls. Even before everything that happened, I couldn't not steal glances at her whenever she came down the hallway in the school's uniform of white blouse, blue tie and pleated skirt. Dark hair, chin-length, framed a heart-shaped face with large green eyes over a pert nose and full lips. Volleyball had given her the kind of figure that made passing cars slow: toned legs, a bit of a bubble butt, and flat tummy. Her breasts were slightly larger than perfect handfuls, straining against the confines of her blouse.

How she had come from her dad I didn't know- maybe she took after mom, but I'd never seen the woman. Principal Connell was a reedy, chinless man given to playing favorites while also trying to appease anyone and everyone who came to him with a complaint. He was the sort of boss who made decisions and then reversed them before the day was out; working for him sucked, but he mostly ignored me unless it was evals or he needed a last-minute chaperone for some field trip or game. Which is exactly how I wanted to keep things.

The school year started off perfectly normal. Emma was in my 6th period senior Physics, and for the first few weeks was absolutely appropriate. She sat one row back from the front, and did little to stand out beyond introducing herself. I've always been friendly with my students, preferring a more casual, mentoring style than the authoritarian preferences of some of my colleagues. I always asked about their weekends, circulated during labs to check in and chat. I don't think I paid her any more attention than the other girls, beyond deliberately calling on her when it seemed like she was going to fade into the background. After the first month of school, Emma warmed up considerably. She really came out of her shell, asking lots of questions, taking the lead during labs, that sort of thing.

In the mornings, she'd pop her head in to say hi, before whirling away to first period with her besties Amelia and Zoey. We'd usually chat at the start of class for a bit, usually about music, but none of those things were out of the ordinary. Nothing to set off warning bells.

Since it was right at the end of the day and her dad often had to work late, she began to stay after class. Not every day- volleyball season hadn't begun, but she still worked out at the school gym twice a week. Sometimes she would help clean up after labs, eventually did so often enough she knew where most supplies went in the store room that adjoined my class. I was grateful for this- senior labs had a lot of equipment, and the extra help meant I was able to get through everything a lot faster.

The flirting started small. One day, we had to lug tubs of supplies to the storeroom. They were heavy, and the late summer heat filled the room. After a couple of trips, we were both sweaty. As I went to heft another tub, Emma paused and started undoing her tie, slender fingers working the knot until it was loose enough to pull over her head. She dropped it on her backpack, then popped out the top two buttons of her blouse. Just enough to see the curve of her collarbone, and the start of the pale skin below. I caught myself, looked away, but her eyes met mine as I turned.

Emma laughed, said, "School's out for the day. You don't mind me breaking the dress code a little bit, right?"

"I won't write you up for it," I replied.

"That's why you're my favorite teacher, Mr. Harlow." Her smile was small, and sly. I tried to ignore the little flip-flop sensation in my belly.

Careful, I thought.

"Well, thanks. You're pretty cool too," I said, hoping that was lame enough to lower the tension. It seemed to do the trick, at least for the rest of that day.

Just that day, though.

Things escalated slowly over the next few weeks. There were the fingertips on my bare arm to get my attention. The questions about my personal life ("Not much going on there," I'd said, perhaps unwisely. "Too bad," she'd replied with a smile that told me the opposite.). She started wearing her uniform skirt rolled up just a bit at the waist, the better to show as much thigh as possible without getting in trouble. I did my best not to notice when she bent over just a little further than she needed, or reached up for a shelf she knew was too high, but lust frequently won out over discretion and I found myself stealing glances at the firm, pale undercurves of her ass.

Some days, when there was nothing to be cleaned up, she perched on a nearby table chatting away while I tried to grade and we both pretended her panties weren't visible whenever she crossed or uncrossed her legs. By September, I had a pretty good mental catalog of her underwear drawer, one that try as I might otherwise filled my head most nights until I jerked off to thoughts of her beneath me.

Emma kept it cool during class, though. I did notice that. She didn't ask to move to the front of the room, or talk about anything other than the assignments. Her behavior was perfectly proper in front of the other girls. But once that last bell rang, another side of Emma surfaced.

All of this was skirting (crossing, if I was honest with myself) multiple lines, but I told myself It was just like all the other crushes: If I ignored her, and didn't react or respond, she'd move on.

I'm not so sure I believed myself.

Then, a Friday afternoon, mid-September. I don't know why she chose that day, what finally prompted her to cross the line from flirting to seduction. Maybe she just took advantage of an opportunity. Either way, there's no changing what went down. Even if I wanted to.

It was half an hour after the day ended, the hallways quiet except for the squeak of the janitor's cart. I was planning on staying late to grade, with the intention of having a relaxing weekend, maybe hit up the bars and play pool or go for a hike, just to do something that wasn't work related. My countertops were still cluttered from the day's lab, components scattered where 6th period had left them, the entire class raring for the weekend. They'd collectively promised a major IOU if I let them go; not feeling the fight, I'd agreed. Putting away the equipment would only keep me about another hour at most.

My classroom door was open, so I heard Emma well before she came in, can of Coke in one hand, phone in the other.

"Uh-huh. Ok. I'm just going to see if Mr. Harlow needs any help. Sounds good. Okay, love you too." She hung up, came and popped herself onto the edge of my desk. Her blue pleated skirt rode up past mid-thigh.

"Hey Emma, what's up?" I said, keeping my eyes resolutely on her face.

"Oh, Dad's busy organizing this plant sale thing with the PTO, so I'm stuck here until he's done. Whenever that is."

"Amelia and Zoey busy?"

"Yeah. It's fine, anyway," she shrugged, took a sip, "So. Do you need help with anything?"

I looked at my stack of papers, and then around the room, all the clutter on the countertops and tables. "You all left me a big mess to clean up. I wouldn't say no to an extra pair of hands."

"Great!" she said, slid off the desk. For just a moment, I saw her panties, flimsy black fabric between arcs of pale skin. Then she was away to the closest lab setup, leaving me grateful her back was to me so I could adjust my sudden erection to a more discreet orientation. I decided to start with the labs furthest away from her, give myself time to calm down.

With two people, cleaning up went quickly, Bunsen burners disassembled and components packed in just half an hour. We chatted as we worked, conversation light. I kept my distance, tried timing when I brought trays into the storeroom so that her and I were never in there at the same time. The windowless room was fairly large, with multiple rows of floor-to-ceiling shelving units overflowing with supplies. There were a lot of blind spots in that room, a thought that both worried and tantalized me. This particular lab was kept in a cabinet along the back wall, tucked into an alcove out of sight of the door. The few occasions Emma and I were there at the same time, we'd had to squeeze to avoid touching each other. If she noticed that maybe I pulled away a little faster and farther than strictly necessary, she gave no indication.

Everything was going fine right up until the end. I was on the floor shelving equipment. Emma came up with a precariously balanced stack of trays and knelt beside me, carefully lowering them to the linoleum. By some miracle, nothing fell.

"This is all that's left," she said, face a few inches from mine.

"Lucky you didn't drop them," I said. Emma was very close to me. I needed to get away from her.

"I have a few talents," she said, meeting my eyes. My cock shifted uncomfortably. Her lips were so close...

"Let's wrap this up," I said, turning my face away from her before the urge to kiss her overwhelmed my resolve.

"Okay," she said, scooting in closer and reaching for a tray. The space was small enough that our shoulders pressed together. I could feel her muscles flex when she moved. I was very aware of her scent, that morning's honeyed shampoo and the faintest hint of perspiration. Her breath smelled like bubble gum. Thoughts of her black panties, and what lay beneath them, came unbidden. She's the principal's daughter, I thought, not for the first time. Here, now, with the skin of her thigh close enough to touch, those words failed to conjure up anything other than a sharp taboo thrill. My cock grew hard, uncomfortably constrained by my slacks. There was no way to readjust. Meanwhile, Emma was chatting away about the upcoming sports season, oblivious (maybe) to the effect she had on me. In no time we were done. I shot to my feet, grateful and a little disappointed to break proximity.

"There, all finished," Emma chirped. She was still on her knees, looking up at me with those wide green eyes. Her back was arced slightly, that smile from the first time she'd flirted back on her lips. "Is there anything else I can take care of down here?"

I flushed, heat flooding my face. I hoped it wasn't too obvious, but her smile widened. I took a step back from her, felt my back hit the shelves, and said, "No, I think we're about done with that."

"Just that?" She asked, standing. Her breasts pressed against my chest. Emma brushed my earlobe with her lips. "You sure?"

Her hand cupped my erection. Little teeth nibbled at my ear. I had been so eager to get away from her I'd forgotten about my hard-on. Now there was no denying it to her or me.

"Emma, hey, no, I'm sorry. This is totally inappropriate of me, and-" I was interrupted by the sweet pressure of her lips against mine. I tried to pull away, but she was needy, insistent now that she had me, her tongue sliding into my mouth and with that I gave in and kissed her back. Our tongues intertwined. Her hand squeezed my cock through my slacks and I moaned into her mouth.

Emma broke our kiss to murmur, "If this is so bad, why aren't you stopping me?"

"God," was all I could manage, brought a hand up under her skirt to palm her delectable ass, ran my fingers across her skin and under the elastic band of her panties. Meanwhile, her hands were at my belt, pulling it free hard enough to make the buckle jingle.

The sound brought me back to myself as I remembered the open classroom door. I tried to pull away again, took my hand off her rear.

"Emma, Emma," I whispered against her insistent lips, "the door is open. Someone could hear us."

The button on my slacks popped free. The eager fingers of one hand drew down the zipper, the other slipping through the waistband of my boxer briefs. I gasped with pleasure as her fingertips caressed the head of my cock.

"Then you better be quiet, Mr. Harlow," she whispered back. Her hand wrapped around me, jerking me gently as she worked pants and underwear off my hips.

Still trapped between embracing what was happening and shoving her away before my life was ruined, my arms awkwardly gripping the shelves, I said, "I could lose my job, Emma. Could go to jail."

My pants and underwear hit the floor. Emma knelt, saying as she lowered herself, "I'm eighteen. And anyway, I don't want you to get in trouble. I just want your cock." She kissed the head, let her lips envelop the tip as she looked me in the eyes. A shining thread of precum connected us as she pulled back enough to say, "You sure you want me to stop?"

For an endless moment I took in the sight of my student, on her knees before me. Her cheeks were flushed, green eyes half-closed with lust. A wing of hair fell across her face; with her free hand, Emma pushed it behind one ear. She lowered her mouth close to me, so close her breath sent thrills of sensation dancing up my nerves when she spoke.

"Mr. Harlow? What do you want me to do?" The way she said my name, murmured it with her lips less than an inch away almost put me over the edge then and there. I couldn't speak, so, not waiting for my answer, she took my cock into her mouth, all the while keeping her eyes on mine. She was so warm, her tongue playing along the edges of my glans, sucking gently as she stroked the shaft. I moaned again, not sure how loud I was, hoped the sound didn't carry far. Emma smirked around my cock, clearly satisfied with the effect she was having.

She popped me out of her mouth, gave me a long, slow lick from base to tip and back again. Her lips worked wetly against the sensitive skin, making my hips buck. It'd been a long time since I'd had a blowjob, let alone one this good. Emma leaned back, brought both hands up to stroke me. With one palm, she smeared precum around the glans, then began stroking me again. "Do you like this? You haven't answered any of my questions yet. Should I stop?"

The last few weeks flashed through my mind's eye. Her long, toned legs. The way she smiled when I thanked her for helping out. A particular pair of light purple panties she sometimes wore. Her, now, willing and eager before me. I wanted this. I wouldn't have let things go so far if I didn't. I cupped a hand around the back of her head, gently, no pressure yet. Her hair was silken; she turned her head and, smiling, nipped the heel of my hand.

"Don't stop," I said.

"Don't stop what, Mr. Harlow?" There it was. My name again. My last reservations fell away. I forgot about the open door, about how anyone could walk in on us at any time. There was only my student Emma, gazing up at me expectantly, my cock already shiny with her saliva. I wanted her, had wanted her for weeks now. So I gave Emma the reply we both so clearly desired.

"Don't stop sucking my cock."

"Oh?" She teased, "Now you want me?"

"God yes," I said, pushed her head forward until her mouth took me. Only then did Emma close her eyes, drawing me in and out of her mouth in a steady rhythm. As her head bobbed up and down, she stroked my shaft with her fingers, cupped my balls with her free hand and squeezed gently. After all of her teasing, all of my delaying, it wasn't long before I felt my orgasm building, spikes of pleasure radiating up and out of my groin. My knees trembled. I bit my lip to hold back any noises I might make, my hips thrusting into her mouth...

... and then, a phone buzzed.

At some point, Emma had set her phone down on the counter beside me. Now, face down, its angry wasp sound pushed back the pressure to cum. Without missing a beat, she reached up and plucked it from the counter. Cock still in mouth, she looked at the screen and laughed.

"What?" I gasped, orgasm receding. She flipped the screen around to show me the worst name possible: DAD

"I should probably answer this," she said.

Still recovering from this accidental edging, it took me a moment to understand what she was saying. Before I could respond, she had accepted the call. Still on her knees. One hand wrapped around my shaft, somehow hard even as Emma said, "Hi Dad, what's up?"

I could just make out Connell's voice on the other end, stared in disbelief as Emma resumed sucking while he spoke. She winked at me, mmm-hmmming her responses to her father's questions. A wave of warm pleasure washed over me; I realized I was getting off on the spectacle. I returned my hand to the back of her head, gently encouraging the girl to take me deeper. His words had become a background hum, a distant irritant drowning beneath the returning waves of my orgasm. All I could do was watch her mouth move up and down my shaft, phone clasped to ear with her free hand, eyes locked with mine.

Abruptly, in response to a question I didn't hear, Emma pulled away to say, "We're almost done. You want me to meet you out front? Yeah. See you soon."

A pause while he said something else.

"Okay, he's right here," Emma grinned, and offered the phone up.

No. I couldn't. There was no way I could talk to that man with my pants around my ankles, his daughter expertly fellating me, her teacher. No way.

Emma gave me an expectant look, and shook the phone at me. I let out a long breath and took it, of course. What choice did I have? Emma returned her mouth to my cock and resumed sucking vigorously, skillful tongue keeping me hard as I accepted the call.

"What's up?" I managed, my heart doing what felt like a million miles per hour.

"Hey Harlow," Connell said, "I just wanted to say thanks for letting Emma bother you so much. I appreciate you giving her a place."

"She's really no bother," I said, hoping my voice sounded normal. Emma had picked up the pace, her lips occasionally smacking with suction. My knees wobbled.

He laughed, replied, "Well, just let me know if there's ever a problem. Hey, since I have you, can I ask a favor?"