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It’s been my dream since I was a kid to be a teacher.
I teach twelfth grade calculus. I’ve always been good with numbers.
The majority of my students are good kids. I teach 18-year-olds. Teaching the older classes is a preference of mine. I find that twelfth graders are typically more mature than the underclassman. Not by a great deal, but a bearable amount.
I love my job.
But lately, I’ve been having a problem.
I have these…* urges*.
I have always had trouble dating because of it.
I have an enormous sexual appetite, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to satisfy.
99% of the reasons my past relationships never worked out, is because I rushed into getting physical, before I took time to establish emotional foundations.
I know it’s an asshole thing to do.
But, I just can’t help it. I can’t stand the slow, mind-numbing, wait-time until my partner is ready to have sex. And in no time at all, the need for sex consumes the entire relationship.
I could hardly sit still, or not check my watch every other minute as I sat through a date. I always finish my food first, and get super antsy if my date is still finishing hers.
I abhor the thought of having to go on multiple dates for the off chance the woman I’m seeing will sleep with me.
So, I work out for a chiseled body. I work a few extra side jobs for more money. I drive a sports car.
I analyze the person I’m dating, and employ conversation and tactics that I conclude will work on her particularly.
I always figure out what to say, and what to do.
I go all sorts of lengths I can to be the most irresistible, and seductive person, to eliminate the possibility of having to wait longer to convince the woman I’m with, that I’m bedroom material.
99% of the time, I can figure out how to get someone in bed with me.
Eventually, I get impatient or uninterested in doing anything that involves relationships besides have sex.
That becomes clear to my partner after awhile, and inevitably she breaks it off with me.
I know it’s wrong.
I’ve avoided relationships the past year, and just keep things casual.
I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s what’s best.
Because as much as I love having sex, I hate the idea of hurting someone.
I’ve done it far too often, for far too long, with way too little concern for it until now.
Let’s be honest, do you really think someone like me is going to be settling down? I didn’t think so.
I’ve dealt with the urges by paying prostitutes and keeping several fuck buddies.
I wish I could say that I’ve kept my personal life from my career, but that would be a lie.
I’ve slept with several co-workers.
I’ve never let it get in the way of my teaching, however.
But that’s the bigger part of my problem.
For a few weeks now, *it’s interfering. *
I’ve been having a dry spell. Shocking, I know.
All of my friends with benefits, are either in new relationships, moved, or haven’t answered my texts…
And, I’ve had to cut back on my expenses. Several appliances had to be replaced in my house, and I’ve had to be careful with my money.
Like I said earlier, I work a few extra ataşehir escort bayan jobs, but let’s face it, a teacher’s salary plus a few odd jobs here and there isn’t that much to live on. Sex from prostitutes just isn’t cheap either.
It’s driving me insane. Masturbating to porn helped at first, but now it only makes me hungrier.
Teaching has helped get my mind off of it in the past, but not lately.
All these girls coming into my classroom in short skirts, and low-cut tops isn’t helping.
I get an instant erection the second a tall blonde, long-legged, 18 year-old struts through the door and flashes me a white smile.
I’m squirming in my seat now, trying to explain tangents using the overhead projector and smartboard screen. I’d get up and write it, if not for my raging boner going nuts over the girl in the front seat’s top falling down lower and lower.
The hot pink lace of her bra pears out over her tank-top, and I can’t keep still.
Screw it. I give up.
I give them an unplanned text-book assignment, and turn towards the pile of papers on my separate table and start grading.
I sigh in relief as the class finally ends, and the school day is over.
The girl adjusts herself and leaves the classroom.
As they leave the classroom, I announce that all late work must be returned to me by a certain day, to ensure I’d have enough time to grade it all before the cut-off time. To be honest, my deadline is ridiculously soon. I don’t have a lot of time to grade since I have the extra jobs.
I’m pleased with all the papers I got graded. This means I’ll have some free time.
My erection starts to fade, and I begin replying to an e-mail.
“Um, Mr. Bell?” I turn, startled and see a student of mine, standing at my desk.
“Oh, hi Sophie. What can I do for you?” I say. My attention is refocused.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Well, I’d like to talk about my grades.”
I knew where this was going. Sophie is a… disappointing student. She has so much potential, but she doesn’t apply herself. She’s been failing my class for two weeks straight. She’s neglected most of my assignments, she texts and sleeps during class. She’s failed the most recent tests.
My class is year-round. Each semester grade is averaged together for a final, year grade. That decides whether a student passes or fails.
Sophie’s current semester grade is so low, that even if she maintained an A in my class next semester, She wouldn’t pass for the year.
That meant, she wouldn’t graduate.
There’s always a student or two that digs themselves into a hole like this, and then come crawling to me expecting me to dig them out of it.
“What about it?” I say anyway.
“Well, I was wondering if there was anything I could do to improve it?”
“You could try turning in all your missing work.” I say dryly.
“I would, but I just don’t have enough time.”
“I’ve given the classes more than plenty of a time to turn in each assignment. My deadline for late work is final.”
“You don’t understand. I’m busy.”
“Sophie, you have to do 8-15 equations max for my class every other night. I understand escort kadıöy you have other classes, but I know for a fact you don’t have a job.
I work 3 other jobs beside this one, AND grade papers all night long. If I can handle all of those things on MY plate, surely you can manage a page of math once in awhile.” I scold.
She starts to look frustrated.
Not only is she one of *those* students, but Sophie lives a street over from me. I’ve met her parents before. They’re not too concerned about anything pertaining to her.
The only thing they care about is whether or not she’s passing her classes.
“Can’t you make an exception?” she pleads.
“No, I can’t. It’s unfair to the other students.”
She nods, and looks down.
“Ughhh.. pull out your assignment from today. I can help you with it. Go find a seat.” I grumble.
Her eyes light up and she takes a seat in the front row, and she pulls out her work, and shows me.
I’m floored when I see it.
Firstly, it’s not even half-way completed. Secondly, what little she has finished, is incorrect.
“Weren’t you paying attention at all today?” I thunder.
“Yes.” She whispers.
“I don’t see how.” I say, astounded.
“I just don’t get it.” She whines.
“You don’t ask questions! You don’t ask for help!” I scoff.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to finish all of my late work before you deadline, sir.” She says. I close my eyes.
“Sophie, you just have to get as much done as you can before then. It’ll be better than nothing.”
“Yeah, but I don’t understand it.” I become increasingly frustrated. I bend down and demonstrate another problem on her paper. I see in her eyes that it’s not clicking.
“Can you help me with my late work?” She asks.
I shake my head.
“Sophie, remember what I said earlier? I simply don’t have time. You should have asked me for help when the work was relevant. It’s not fair to everyone else.”
I stand up straight. She looks up at me with big, brown eyes.
“There’s no time at all after school?”
I think about it. I usually have about two hours after school before my other job begins. Before then I have to eat dinner, and shower, and plan for the next day’s classes.
If I did this, that would mean, I’d have use my lunch period to plan, and hurry and eat and shower before my next job started.
I shake my head. I’d do it, if she weren’t so lazy and inconsiderate. And like I said, it’s not fair.
“Sophie, I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Mr. Bell, please. I have to graduate this year with my class!” She begs.
“You should have thought of that weeks ago, instead of expecting me to just hand you the diploma you didn’t work for.”
Her frustrated expression changes. She looks at me with big, tired eyes.
“I’ll do anything you want, Mr. Bell.” She says.
The way she says it, and the way she’s looking at me, is doing something in my pants. I curse over and over in my head at the erection that’s forming. I’m standing right in front of her. My crotch is practically in her face. I try to move, but I can’t. I’m frozen in place, held hostage by her eyes.
Her gaze trail to the growing bulge in my pants, and her maltepe escort eyes widen. Her cheeks turn red. She looks back up at me and searches my face.
I know I can lose my job. I know I could go to jail.
But, right now… my boner doesn’t care,
and neither do I.
“Anything?” I manage to say.
Her eyes are wider.
“Mr. Bell, you want me to-to…” She trails off, looking down again.
“If you want me to help you after school with your late work, then you’ll have to.” I say, narrowing my eyes. I know. I’m such a bastard.
She squirms in her seat. She’s thinking about it, hard
“Every time?” I nod.
I look over her. She has about a 36-38 C cup. She’s thin, and has long brown hair. Shes wearing tight jeans.
“I’ll only do it, if you also extend the deadline for me.”
I smile. “Deal.”
She looks up at me, letting it sink in.
I step forward a little, and she focuses on my erection.
I shiver as she touches it. I take the back of her head and presses her face against it.
Oh, god it feels so good. It’s been so long.
She reaches up, and unzips my fly, and strokes it through my boxers. Her fingertips peel under the elastic, and I groan as she grasps it in her hands and pulls it out…
She looks up at me with bambi eyes, as she drags the tip of her tongue over my slit. I shiver, and rake my fingers through her glossy hair.
“Mmmm. Does it taste good?” I say, and press the back of her head.
My heart pounds so hard I fear it’ll burst.
The sight of her holding my dick with her tiny, dainty hands… near her beautiful, young face is making me incredibly hard.
“It’s so big, Mr. Bell.” She whines. Her eyes trail over it, as she gently licks my slit.
“Have you ever done this before?” I ask…
“Yes. A lot of times.” She smiles and bats her long eyelashes.
“Mmm. Fuck.” I say in a low voice.
Her cheeks redden, as she takes me into her mouth.
My heart is pounding in my ears. I can’t believe this is happening. I look at the door.
Thank god the shade is drawn.
I’m trembling where I stand. Her eyelashes are so dark and have such a deep curve. My cock dips down her throat, and I groan. She looks up at me with those fucking eyes.
I want her.
I can’t be quiet as she begins to fuck her face with it.
“Mmmm… what would your boyfriend think of this?” I say teasingly.
She pops me out, and licks me up and down.
“What boyfriend?” She says as she strokes me in her hand.
“Um. The guy you dry hump in the hallways.”
“Oh. Him. He’s not my boyfriend.”
She slides her tongue over my slit again.
“Nope. But, you watch me in the hallways Mr. Bell?”
“It’s kinda hard not too.”
“You don’t have a wife or girlfriend to do this for you?”
She says and kisses the head.
“No, I don’t.” I grab the back of her head and thrust in and out.
I ram my cock in and out of her mouth, and I can’t stop. I look down at her face, and her beautiful curvy eyelashes. She’s letting me be rough.
The feeling of her lips wrapped around my cock. I tense up, and fuck her face faster.
She moans as I pump her mouth with my cum. I hold her head in place. I call out and squirm, until she’s swallowed every single drop.
She pulls back, and gasps.. I stagger back and lean against the wall. I stare at the floor as I try to catch my breath.
I zip it up, and fulfill my half of the bargain.
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