Teacher

Once again the stern teacher's voice rang out.

"Put your hands by your side, Robert."

"Miss, please..."

"Do – as – you – are – told!"

He obeyed. As he did so his face contorted in the pain of embarrassment His cock was three quarters erect and rising.

She moved around him viewing his John Thomas from different angles. In a jeering, mocking tone she imitated the voice of a cultured, antique specialist assessing the value of a piece of porcelain.

"Impressive, very impressive indeed. A fine John Thomas and no doubt! Do you know, I think it might be seven and three quarters of an inch. Possibly, possibly, even eight inches but I would not go to eight and a quarter. But still, let me take a closer look. Don't move."

She picked up a small stool from the corner of the bathroom and put it down immediately in front of him. When she sat down Robert's throbbing cock was directly in front of her face. She gripped it and ran her hand slowly up and down.

"It really is impressive, you know."

She felt it with two fingers at its base.

"Really thick, quite magnificent. However, I stick with my original estimate: seven and three quarters of an inch."

Robert endured the humiliation but did not know why. Suddenly her voice turned cold.

"Now get changed," she barked, "I have work to do."

On his way home Robert stopped off in a park, sat on a bench, sat back and closed his eyes. Knowing she was playing with him and realising the cruelty of it was only part of the pain. But not the worst. The worst was that he would spend the night telling himself never to go to her again, to simply resume the school relationship and yet knowing, no matter what he resolved to do he would go again tomorrow; nothing would stop him.

And it did not. Robert rang the doorbell at eight o'clock the following morning. She was wearing just her nightdress. There was a certain businesslike manner to her this morning.

"Follow me, Robert," she commanded and marched upstairs. He followed, only this time it was into her bedroom not the bathroom. Once they were both in the room she stood with her back to the door and said, very quietly, "OK Robert, take off your clothes."

Robert opened his mouth to speak but she intervened, impatiently.

"Robert, please don't start whining – just do as you are told."

He removed his shirt and then his shorts but not his pants.

Again, impatiently she snapped at him, "come on!"

"I don't know what you want from me," he pleaded.

She moved away from the door and walked slowly towards him. Now very close to him she pulled her nightdress off.

"Clearer now?"

He took in her slim arms and legs, her small pointed breasts and a thick, black bush.

"Take it off," she repeated.

He did. As before, the spectacle of this beautiful young body had a quietening effect on her. She stood closer to him than before, put her hands on base of his neck and with some pressure rubbed her hands over his chest down to his waist. She pressed her thumbs hard to feel the tautness of his stomach; then around the back to feel firmness of his back side. She was so close now he could smell her breath. Unable to restrain himself any longer he lifted his hands to clasp her shoulders but she sternly reprimanded him.

"No, don't touch!"

"Why?"

"It isn't necessary."

"Necessary?"

"Yes, just keep still and do as you are told."

Now her hands dropped and she clasped his cock and ran her hand vigorously up and down its length. They sighed simultaneously.

"Is it always this hard, or am I especially privileged?"

Speech had deserted him. Again he raised his hands, this time in the direction of her breasts.

"No! How many more times?"

"I just want to touch you, that's all."

"OK, if that's what you want."

At this she started to move her hand much faster up and down his cock. She stopped, moved to the side and looked at it.

"Perfect," she concluded. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed. In a drawer she took out a condom and threw it at him.

"Quick, put it on."

But he fumbled.

"Oh, Robert, give it to me."

She took it from him and he stood obediently while she put it on as a young child might do when his mother is buttoning his coat.

"Now, come on, please!"

He lay on top of her but was as artless at this as everything else until she took his cock in her hand and directed it herself.

"Now push."

He forced his formidable body forward and drove into her at which she gave out a huge cry.

"Christ!" She gasped.

"Are you all right," he asked.

Through his rhythmic thrusts and her loud gasps, she repeated, "yes, yes, yes."

Then as it seemed they were both relaxing, he finished.

"Oh," she cried out in desperate disappointment and frustration, "not yet, please. Oh dear!"

"I'm sorry."

Another test; another failure.

He withdrew and lay beside her.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"It doesn't matter," she replied but the tone was one of resignation rather than consolation.

She got up and put her dressing gown back on.

Again she surprised him, "Tomorrow is the last day of the holiday. Come back then."

Why, after all his failures, did she ask him back? Was there some residual feeling for him? If there was, he could not see what.

He came to her after his morning run. As she opened the door to let him she barely stopped to greet him and marched swiftly upstairs to the bedroom.

"Don't you even want to say anything to me?" He called. By this time she had almost reached the top of the stairs and looked quizzically down at him.

"Such as what?"

"Oh, nothing," he said and obediently traipsed up the stairs to follow her.

When he got in the room she was standing, naked, against the bed.

"Please Robert, do hurry up. I've got other things to do."

Sluggishly he started to remove his clothes as Miss Pirie's irritation grew. As he removed his pants she saw, for the first time since this little escapade started, that his cock was limp. She exhaled one large sigh of impatience.

Robert now raised his voice.

"I'm sorry, I can't do it to order!"

"Don't raise your voice to me!"

But her urge was great and she had to make sacrifices. She walked over to him, took hold of his hands and placed them on her breasts and with her hands on top of his, began to massage them. Quickly it began to have the desired effect, so she dropped her hands and took hold of his cock to bring it to her requirements.

Finally, she said, very quietly, "excellent, now let's see if you can get it right this time."

He was nervous and fumbled about as usual. Eventually he entered her and again she gasped at the moment of penetration.

"Come on, Robert, fuck me, fuck me, come on, that's it, harder, harder!"

But Robert was like a child learning to ride a bicycle: he had a certain momentum to begin with but soon fell off. She screamed with frustration and he withdrew and whined. They both lay in silent dissatisfaction for a short time before she got up. There was no compassion or sympathy for him at the moment. She put on her clothes and just as she was leaving the room she launched one final volley of anger at him.

"Robert's law – do you know what that is?"

No answer.

"It states that there is an inverse relationship between the capacity of the male animal to brag about copulation and his ability to deliver a satisfying experience to the female animal."

Buried almost beneath the sheets of the bed a thin voice retorted, "I don't understand."

"No, you wouldn't."

Robert knew this was the last time. There would never be another time to say what he wanted to say. Her mood was unforgiving. Getting dressed he unloaded his sorrow.

"All you seem interested in is my body and.....doing it," he pined.

"Doing what?"

"You know what."

"Well, you have a truly magnificent body and anyway," Miss Pirie replied in a voice beginning to sound like a confident lawyer summing up her case, "what's wrong with admiring someone's body?"

"It's not that, it's that it's is all you seem interested in, with me anyway."

"What else might I be interested in then?" She replied with unintentional cruelty.

"So my body is the only thing about me that interests you?"

"Of course," she returned, in a tone close to incredulity, "aren't you interested in bodies to the exclusion of other things?"

"No!"

"Really? What about Philomena Whyte?"

Robert did not see the connection.

"What about her?"

"Oh, I've seen you boys drool, mouths wide open when she walks past. Why is that? Are you desperate to seek out her opinions on a wide range of political, social and cultural affairs? Interested in engaging with her in witty repartee? Lured by her subtle and dry sense of humour? Wondering, perhaps, how she rates DH Lawrence in the canon of English literature? Or could it be instead that, despite being only fifteen years old, she has very large breasts and does you all a service by wearing shirts a size too small so that you miss out on none of their undulating attractions?"

Robert was silent now, his arms resting on his knees looking at the floor. He had been found out; he had been made a fool of; he thought she wanted to sleep with him but it was just another lesson. She recognised in his face the scale of his defeat and softened, slightly.

" 'O, these men, these men,' " she quoted.

"Othello," he muttered without looking up from the floor.

"Very good! And who was speaking?"

"Desdemona."

"Good," she replied, now with a smile, "so you have learned something."

He turned his head, looked at her naked body and the disheveled bed and replied, "but not much it seems."

She opened the door to let him out.

"I'll see you tomorrow in class," he said stepping outside.

"No."

"Why?"

"I'm not coming back, ever."

He could feel tears welling.

"I have resigned. I cannot suffer the drudgery of teaching any longer. I gave a month's notice a month ago. I'm going to France, to do .....something, I don't know what."

"So I'll never see you again."

"No. Please go Robert, it's not important. Go."

She closed the door.

Robert cycled for about five minutes and then stopped at the park. He found a seat largely concealed by trees, sat down and wept the tears of Niobe.

The following morning at eight o'clock Robert's mother woke him up to prepare him for school. He complained of sickness and a terrible stomach ache. Mother told him to stay at home for the day.

At the same time Miss Pirie was sitting on a dirty, malodorous railway station waiting for a train to take her to a channel port from whence she would sail to France to begin her unknown new life.

Meanwhile the sun shone brilliantly across the grounds of the school where Robert and Miss Pirie had previously played out their small, domestic tragedy.

Then, emerging into the brilliant sunshine, through the shade offered by the trees and into the open playing field, came Philomena Whyte. Groups of girls stopped their conversation to watch her but said nothing. Groups of boys, usually full of bravado, quietly melted.

As she walked, or as it seemed, glided, towards her first class, rays of sunshine seemed to hover around her. Strands of her long hair flickered in the breeze and her beautifully formed breasts vibrated gently to her firm, confident step.