tagFirst TimeTop of the Line

Top of the Line

byDireLilith©

Raphaela du Pleasante chewed a pencil between her mocha colored lips, staring dully at the clock that ticked ticked ticked on the wall.

Tick tick tick.

Detention.

She detested it....loathed it....was learning to count the milliseconds within each second.

The pretty 18-year-old high school senior sighed and lowered her head to the desk.

I shouldn't be here, she thought to herself, her full bottom lip pouting. It wasn't fair at all.

Raphaela went to a very rigid Catholic girls school who's students hailed from the richest confines of Beverly Hills. And among them all, Raphaela was a model student...and a model.

At only 18, she had been working fifteen years in the industry, starting with commercials for pull-up diapers, running her cute naked bottom around studio sets and smiling pretty for the men who laughed in delight at her free-spirited antics. She had quickly moved on to cereal commercials, then finally, her dream - clothing.

Runway was Raphaela's forte.

No girl could strut her stuff like Raphaela could.

Her mother was a small-time actress turned snooty socialite, and her father came from old money, had moved here to California from Texas on the whimsy of his new bride.

And Raphaela had been born here, raised here, spoon-fed on the best that society could offer her. The best schooling, the best recreational activities, the best "friends" money could buy.

She never took it for granted. Until now.

"Daddy, please?" she had whined this morning while her still-attractive father had driven her personally to her Saturday morning detention with Mr. Wilkes.

"Love, there is no way I can get you out of this. Truly, I have tried, my dear. But the school feels this is in your best interests."

She had put on her best pout, and simply stared at her father, her bright blue eyes wide and as innocent as could be while she leaned close.

Raphaela was becoming a woman. And she knew the power a woman could have over any man, even her own father. Her mother had taught her well.

"Raphaela," her father had whispered, finally dragging his eyes away from his daughter's beautiful and perfect face. "I can't help you here, love. I'm sorry."

And she had been dumped on the sidewalk infront of the old stone school on a Saturday morning with nothing to look forward to but hours upon hours of catch-up homework, and Mr. Wilkes.

Raphaela sighed. The clock ticked and then made a clicking sound.

Ten a.m.

She dropped her forehead to the cool surface of the smooth desk, rolling her head side to side.

How had she gotten here? What had she done wrong?

Our Lady of the Valley Catholic Ladies Finishing School ran very tightly. Because of the many high-class students that attended, the school wanted for nothing. They had the best to offer any good pupil, the best teachers, the best computer systems, and the best extra-curricular activities. And Raphaela had enjoyed them all.

But playing on the volleyball team, running for the track coach, who she knew only asked her to so he could watch her chest heave....none of it inspired Raphaela like modeling did.

It had been hard, all her life, to fit her dreams in with her every day necessary routines. But she had done it, for twelve years, managing school and modeling successfully.

Then, along came Mr. Wilkes, the chemistry professor from HELL!

He didn't like Raphaela leaving classes early, or coming in late. He didn't like making make-up tests for her like her other teachers did.

Mr. Wilkes didn't like Raphaela du Pleasante, period! She was sure of it!

After the first few months of her senior year in the school had passed normally, Mr. Wilkes had begun bringing "issues" to the school Recreational Activity Approval committee. They had never minded that Raphaela's focus was off-campus. But Mr. Wilkes insisted that the teachers begin to look more closely at the then 17-year-old's records, her attendance, and what classes she suffered in.

And they did.

And Raphaela was found lacking in several subjects, all that coincided with her modeling shoots and various trips away from school.

Before, Raphaela could have counted her modeling towards extra credits, as modeling was a common career goal for the girls at O.L.V.C.L.F.S. But now that Mr. Wilkes was here, and carrying some Harvard degrees and kudos, everything was changing.

Tick tick tick.

Raphaela's eyes stared at the clock, then she looked down at Mr. Wilkes, sitting behind his desk, scribbling madly on a pad of paper.

A solution had come about to the "du Pleasante" issue when Raphaela had had her 18th birthday in May.

One full day of study, with various make up tests, papers, and projects. And all of it supported by Mr. Wilkes, who gallantly offered to supervise Raphaela through out all the day she would spend alone at the school doing "catch-up".

Tick tick tick.

She glared at him from across the short distance, her lips once again mouthing the slender pencil held by her well-manicured hands. Reflexively, she ran a hand through her corn-silk hair, pulling it straight as it fell over the shoulders of her thin sweater.

"It's too hot," she said, her voice crisp as she sat up board-straight in her desk, directly infront of Mr. Wilkes' own. "May I take off my sweater?"

Mr. Wilkes was not a Chemistry professor by nature. In his 28 years, he had become quite an athlete. If O.L.V.C.L.F.S. hadn't already had a full Physical Education staff, that's where he would have ended up. And he probably never would have crossed paths with little Miss Raphaela du Pleasante, who had already fulfilled her Phys. Ed requirements for the term.

"It's too hot," came her whiney voice. "May I take off my sweater?"

Wilkes stared at her with his gray eyes, peering at her from behind his glasses, admiring her, as he couldn't help but do.

Her hair, silky and blonde, flowed over her shoulders today. Not done up in one of those fancy-schmancy hairdo's she usually used.

And it made her look more enticing than ever.

"Um, sure, whatever. Take it off."

Take it all off, he thought to himself, feeling beads of sweat forming on his thin upper lip.

Wilkes leaned back in his chair, letting it dip backwards comfortably. He was suddenly glad she couldn't see his legs behind the desk. His cock was creating quite a stir in his navy-blue shorts.

He watched her carefully, studying her as she daintily removed first one arm, then the other, from the navy blue granny sweater. She instinctively hung the garment over the back of her desk chair, and turned around to once more watch the clock.

Her blue eyes were the perfect shade, Wilkes thought, his hand creeping up his bare thigh, ruffling through the blonde leg hair and landing over his crotch.

And her hair. I bet it shines almost like a mirror in the sun.

Wilkes began to lightly rub himself. His cock was too big, he grinned. Ah, a blessing and a curse. A curse right now, since he couldn't satisfy his member, not like he wanted to.

The bathroom was just down the hall. He knew he could go in there and get off. But he would still have to come back here. To see Raphaela. And that would just start him jumping all over again.

As if on cue, Raphaela looked straight into Wilkes' eyes, and his cock jumped in his palm, beneath the material of the shorts.

This was why he had brought her here, after all, he thought to himself. So he could stare at her, good and long, before she graduated.

"Why am I here, really?"

Wilkes' face flushed of all color. He dropped his chair down to a straight back position and stared at the girl.

"Huh?"

"Why am I here? Why are you doing this to me?"

She blinked at him, and he calmed. She was just being a snot-bag, he realized, thankful he hadn't been found out.

He leaned back again, looking cool and collected.

"I'm sure your parents already discussed this with you."

Wilkes put both his arms behind his head, stretching his chest muscles beneath his white T-shirt, flexing his biceps, and grinning confidently at the student.

Raphaela frowned openly.

"What's the matter, Miss Pleasante? Did you have other plans today?" he mocked her.

"It's du Pleasante, thank you. And yes. I would rather be doing anything today than this."

Raphaela could feel her brain working overtime.

She knew men. And she knew that look in Mr. Wilkes' gray eyes. Behind his scholarly glasses, he was up to something. And she was sure it had to do with her.

She suddenly wondered how old Mr. Wilkes was. Maybe 32? 33? He was a teacher, after all. That made him old in any student's eyes. He sure was strong, and well built. But blech, he was still a yucky Chemistry teacher.

She tapped her pencil on the top of her desk. He was teasing her, she knew. Raphaela could read that in his eyes. Was he baiting her for something?

She frowned again, and looked at the clock.

10:15 a.m.

Saturday morning.

In school, with a teacher who looked ready to eat her alive.

Wait. That was it, wasn't it! Mr. Wilkes was some sort of pervert! He only wanted her here to look at her, didn't he!!

Startled, Raphaela did her best to keep her revelation from her face. And her revulsion. She was right, she could feel it. But how could she use this to her advantage?

Wilkes smiled, and just kept on smiling, moving one hand down to his hidden crotch again. His cock was getting so hard and big, bulging the front of his shorts, threatening to pop out.

Oh what the hell, he thought, still grinning at Raphaela.

He undid the button hidden by the flap of material in the front of his shorts, and let his dick slip snake-like from his underwear. Oh, that felt so much better.

Wilkes began to stroke it with the side of his thumb, studying Raphaela as she studied the clock. The girl hadn't done a sentence of writing since she had sat down. But with her head up, it was easier for Wilkes to see her face.

And to imagine what it would be like if her mouth were wrapped around his cock, right now. He looked down into his lap, at where his member stood at attention.

Oh yeah. That would feel so good, he thought, as he squeezed the head, forcing a drop of precum to the surface of the small hole. He rubbed the drop into the tight skin of his cock, and had to forcibly hold back a gasp. Imagining rubbing that cum on Raphaela's perfect chin, oh yeah...

"I need to go to the lavatory, please," Raphaela said suddenly.

She had an idea.

There was no way she was going to stay here and be some pervert's peepshow. She was going to deal with this just like her mother knew she could. Men were toys, puppets. And she was going to dance Mr. Wilkes on his strings like he had never been danced before.

"Oh yeah, uh, sure, go ahead. Just come right back here, young lady, when you're done!"

He tried to sound firm, but she knew she had caught him off guard by the way he had popped his chair back down again, hiding his legs under the desk.

He was probably getting an erection from staring at her.

That's fine, Raphaela thought to herself as she did her best sashay out of the classroom.

I'm going to give him something to stare at, alright. I've got this baby in the bag.

Whew, Wilkes thought, giving Raphaela permission to go to the bathroom.

He was taking such a risk. And it only made him get harder.

He kept his hands folded on his desk, watching her wiggle out of the classroom, swinging her little black purse on its long strings.

Man, that girl could walk. She had that strut down to an art!

Once she was gone, Wilkes whistled low and soft, and leaned back, fully and openly stroking his cock.

"Buddy, we have got to get some of that!"

Again, he pictured Raphaela's mouth poised beneath the head of his cock, her lips eager and ready to take him inside. That would be the best image, right there.

"I'm...back?"

Quickly, he rolled his chair back under the desk. But had it been in time?

She must have seen him!

Raphaela tried not to throw up.

Oh my god, had she just seen what she thought she had just seen?

Was that...Mr. Wilkes' cock? In his hand??

Had he been masturbating while she was in the bathroom?

Oh my god, she thought, suddenly weak in the knees.

Maybe she wasn't doing the right thing after all. Maybe going to the bathroom and removing her bra and panties wasn't such a good idea.

Maybe...

But she looked up at the clock as she passed it by.

10:30 a.m.

She had five long hours to go, if she didn't follow through on her plans.

She could do this. She knew she could. This would be a cakewalk, if she did it right. Just a little flash here, a crossing and uncrossing of the legs there, and a sweet request. And Mr. Wilkes would let her leave so he could take care of himself properly.


Not that he hadn't already started, if she had seen what she thought she had just seen.

Raphaela sat back in her desk, making sure to round out her bottom as she slid in, the plaid skirt flaring slightly as she sat down.

Was he watching?

A quick glance said he could not take his eyes off of her.

Doing her best to look hot and bored, Raphaela drew Mr. Wilkes' eyes from her uncrossed legs up to her hands, where she coyly fidgeted with the top bottoms of her blouse before undoing them.

Then she leaned over her desk, picking up her pencil and dabbing the tip on the paper infront of her. Putting on her best pout, she looked up at Mr. Wilkes.

"I wish I didn't have to be here today. I would do anything to get out of this. It's so unfair, don't you think, Mr. Wilkes? Isn't there something you would rather be doing than watching over little old me?"

Wilkes nearly came right there. He was sure she had seen him touching himself. That had seemed bad enough. But upon closer examination of Raphaela, he noticed she had removed the brassiere from beneath her thin white blouse. And as she sat down, her tiny skirt bunched up. She uncrossed her legs, and he could swear he saw through the shadows between her slender thighs.

What the hell?

What was she trying to do, make him cum??

Well, Wilkes thought, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Maybe she was doing just that.

As the highschool senior leaned over her desk, top buttons of her blouse now undone, Wilkes could see a good bit of her round young cleavage. There was no way that wasn't done intentionally.

"I wish I didn't have to be here today. I would do anything to get out of this. It's so unfair, don't you think, Mr. Wilkes? Isn't there something you would rather be doing than watching over little old me?"

Wilkes gulped, stunned. His cock began to throb, aching and jumping out of his shorts.

"Uh huh."

He was right! The little vixen was planning on conniving her way out of her detention with a little flash of titty and pussy.

It was all Wilkes could do not to laugh.

Since he had been here this school year, over 75% of the student body had thrown itself at him. And more than half the faculty, men included. Some he had obliged, under special situations. Heck, to get this detention today, he had done some pretty good flashing of his own.

But he wasn't about to have Raphaela ruin it for him now. No way. He had worked hard to get this day, to plan it so the school would be empty, and no one would be around. Just him and Raphaela du Pleasante.

She would do anything to get out of this, would she?

We'll see about that, Wilkes thought, leaning back and grinning again.

Raphaela gulped. Mr. Wilkes didn't seem to be taking her bait. No other teacher had lasted this long before. She had used this ploy a few times, to get her way. It even worked with Daddy.

But that grin on Mr. Wilkes' face didn't say a thing about giving her her way. She looked at the clock and thought hard. She really didn't want to be here. She could be doing so much right now, better things.

And Raphaela wondered to herself, exactly what would she do to get out of this?

"Come here for a moment, Raphaela," Mr. Wilkes said in a silky-smooth voice that had so many undertones to it, Raphaela couldn't begin to decipher their meanings.

"Come over to my desk a moment."

Here goes, thought Wilkes.

This was the part where he found out exactly how much Raphaela would really do to get out of her detention. Or if he was about to be slammed with an indecent exposure lawsuit.

He turned his chair on its swivel, as Raphaela stood up and came around one side of his desk. She now had her back to the classroom door.

As she walked around the desk, he knew she could run, at any time. Wilkes wasn't into rape. Domination could be fun, especially with a little snot-bag like this one. But he wasn't about to force anyone to do anything. He liked being wanted, the idea of being desired.

Raphaela slowly walked around the desk until she faced Wilkes. He looked up at her, trying to feel half as confident as his grin said he was. He put a hand on his thigh, and as Raphaela's surprised eyes moved downward from his face, he made his dick jump, on cue.

And he kept on grinning.

She couldn't believe it.

There, infront of her, was a real life cock. She had never seen a real one. Not like this. Sure, she had watched movies, and giggled over them with her friends after looting her father's personal stash. She had even seen her father's penis, when she had stumbled on some of his home movies of himself and her mother.

Her father was a handsome man. But Mr. Wilkes' member was...perfect.

And very big.

As her eyes became glued to it, it jumped. And so did she.

"Nothing to be afraid of, Miss du Pleasante," Mr. Wilkes said, as he reached a big hand down to his big cock, and began to stroke the shaft.

Raphaela was speechless, watching him.

"I'm just a man. And you are a very attractive young lady. And you know it, too, don't you. That's why you took off your bra and panties, isn't it. You thought that might help you get out of detention, didn't you."

Raphaela nodded, gulping again. Her throat seemed suddenly dry and tight, and she felt she had lost her voice.

"Well, young lady. I'm sorry. But I'm afraid I can't let you leave detention. The Recreational Activity Approval committee left me in charge of you today. And I know I need to do a good job in supervising you."

Mr. Wilkes smiled and Raphaela looked at his smile, then back down to his lap. He was still stroking himself. His cock was so big and hard. She could see the flesh bulging in his hand's grip, could see the veins popping along the sides of the long thick shaft.

"I suppose, though, that I may have over-dramatized your failings in school this year. Do you think you should be here, in this classroom, with me, all day long...Raphaela?"

What could she say to that?

"No," came the unusually quiet voice of the blonde senior infront of Mr. Wilkes.

Alright, he said to himself, feeling every vein in his shaft throb as his hand ran over his cock.

So far, so good. Now to see if she was ready to deal.

"Well, maybe we can work something out, between the two of us. I mean, you seem pretty determined to get out of this thing, any way you can."

Wilkes nodded at Raphaela, as if pointing out that her perky breasts now jutted, with hardened nipples, from her thin white blouse.

The girl nodded in return, her eyes wide as she watched his hand on his cock. Then he realized something very important and crucial to his little fantasy.

Little Miss du Pleasante had never seen a real life cock before.

Oh, she'd probably been felt up on occasion. Wilkes couldn't doubt that one second. She had dated most of the football team, but she had never been with anyone seriously, that he'd heard anyway. She probably prided herself on her prudish chastity.

The very thought of her virgin mouth wrapped around his cock made a drop of precum splurt out of the hole on the head of his dick. And he rubbed it around, looking from the swollen helmet of his cock, up to Raphaela's mouth.

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byDireLilith© 3 comments/ 79690 views/ 10 favorites

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