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Ms. Wey went by the name of Haeli, but I knew her as Nicole, at least that was the name she said she preferred. I first met Ms. Wey, I mean Nicole, when I was a senior at Westlake and she was my civics teacher. I knew the moment I stepped into the classroom, I had to have her. She had a body built for sex. Nicole was about twenty-six and had Playboy model looks. Standing about five foot six with long flowing dark brown hair she normally wore pinned back, she had curves in all the right places. She wore her blouses a bit on the rough side and she had equally tight fitting skirts with cuts in them, in just the right places. I liked the way she brushed her hair back over her shoulder and smiled before talking. “OK, ladies and gents,” she called out to my classmates. “Take a seat.” As everyone shuffled for a desk, I leaned up against the chalk board in the back of the room, watching the “cluster-fuck” unfolding in front of me as folks argued over desks and chairs. Nicole looked at me, arched her eye brow and then patted a desk near the front of the room. “This one has your name on it,” she remarked. I slow shuffled towards the desk and sat down. Nicole leaned forward, giving me a great view straight down her blouse. I did my best to avert my eyes, but I couldn’t. “You now have the best seat in the room,” she nonchalantly remarked. I could smell the sweetness of her perfume which only heightened my desires. Nicole paced back and forth telling us what the class would be about and her rules and expectations. My eyes were glued to her ass and I wondered if she wore full bottom panties, a t-back or perhaps nothing at all under her mersin escort tight skirt. My mind wandered. I was brought back to reality when she tapped on my desk and asked me if I was paying attention. I was not and I was caught. “I’m sorry, Ms. Wey,” I answered, “I was day dreaming.” “You need to stay focused,” she politely warned. “Think about your girlfriend and other things outside of the class, not in here.” “Yes ma’am,” I dutifully replied. She went on for another twenty minutes talking about the course curriculum and expectations. I did my best to pay attention, but it was hard. The buzzer sounded calling for the class change. As I was at the front of the class, it took a few minutes for the classroom to empty out, so I waited before getting up from my desk. “Hold up a minute,” she called out as I got up to leave. I was in a hurry to meet up with some of my buds for lunch. Nicole stepped to the back of the room and locked the classroom door. She turned out the classroom lights. I watched as she stepped down a row of desks and walked towards where I was still seated. She sat on a desktop next to me, crossing her ankles, her tight skirt inching up, well past her knees and mid-thigh. She made no attempt to correct her obvious tease. She brushed her long hair back over her shoulder as she looked at me, and then rubbed her hands together in front of her, before allowing them to come to rest in her lap. “Look,” she began, “I can tell when a student is distracted in the classroom. You’re not my first student.” She glanced at my crotch. I was rock hard and there was no hiding the obvious. “I can mersin escort bayan also tell when one of my students is, shall we say excited to be in my class,” she remarked. Her emphasis on excited left no doubt in my mind as to what she was referring. I nodded my head in agreement, even as I stretched out my legs. “Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked. “No,” I replied, “High School girls bore me. They are so immature. I can’t stand their games.” Ms. Wey smiled. “I know what you mean,” she replied. As she spoke, she uncrossed her ankles and casually spread her legs, giving me a perfect view at her upper thighs. She wasn’t wearing panty hose. She had a cheerleader physique, like a college coed, and much more mature than any of the girls in school who were my classmates. “You know,” she began, “You’re a good looking dude.” I looked for a wedding band on her left hand. Seeing none, I surmised she wasn’t married. “Thanks,” I replied to her compliment. “You’re very pretty yourself.” She pulled her long hair back over her shoulder. “You know that I offer tutoring if you ever need it,” she remarked. At this point, she had shifted on top of the desk, opening her legs even wider. I nodded my head and swallowed. “I may need some tutoring,” I replied. “Well,” she responded, leaning over on to her desk, her skirt riding higher on her thighs as she reached for a pencil, “Let me give you my personal cell and if you think you need some extra help, on anything, just text me and I’ll do whatever I can.” I watched as she wrote down a phone number on a sticky pad. She handed me the note. I folded it in escort mersin half and placed it into my pants pocket. “I better hurry or I’ll miss lunch,” I responded, grabbing my backpack. I was about to cum in my pants, I was so damn horny. I hurried down the hall to the restroom, darted into a stall and quickly relieved myself. I looked at my watch and it was fifteen after eleven. I darted out of the Boys Room and almost ran right smack into someone. I jumped back, to avoid the impending collision. It was Ms. Wey. “Oh shit!” I exclaimed, as she grabbed my jacket to avoid falling. “I know we just met,” she remarked, “but slow down before someone gets hurt.” I apologized profusely as she let go of my jacket and we both regained some composure. She patted my chest with her hand. She was much shorter than me, but that didn’t matter to me. She was, as far as I was concerned, someone I needed to conquer. “Take it easy,” she cautioned, as she took a step back. “Let’s take it a bit slower.” I was hooked. I disappeared into the school library instead of going to lunch. I brought up my FaceBook and did a search for Haeli Wey and just like that, I was inside of her world. My heart sank when I saw her photos. She appeared to have a boyfriend. But mixed in with her family photos and that of a balding middle aged dude, were some great party photos. The buzzer sounded and suddenly, reality brought me back from cyber space to the library. After school, I intently searched Ms. Wey’s FaceBook page. I debated whether or not to send her a friend invite. Throwing caution to the wind, I sent one anyway. A few seconds later, she accepted. A few seconds later, my messenger blinked on. “Are you still on campus?” Ms. Wey inquired. I told her that I was in the school library, waiting on the school bus. A few minutes later, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see who it was and was surprised to see it was Ms.

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