First day of school for teachers is much like the first day of school for students. You assemble and listen to the principal, the superintendent, the custodian. The whole time though, I’m leaning over and making wise cracks to the woman I’ve had a crush on since I was 12.

Jessica. Red hair. A smile that can be seen from space and a laugh that might be better than an orgasm. It MIGHT be. She’s wearing a sun dress, her legs are crossed in one of those blue plastic chairs we are all sitting in. I don’t know if she’s just humoring me, but she seems to be liking my dumb jokes.

Yes, she’s married. Of course she is. But the heart wants what it wants and I want to be tongue-deep inside of her while her beautiful thick thighs choke me.

I didn’t say that out loud, just to you, dear reader. Also, it would be a bad time to do it, because Principal Hearn is going over the sexual harassment policy.

As my mind begins to imagine what it wants to imagine, Jessica leans over and whispers in my ear, “I guess we better be on our best behavior.”

“I guess so,” I say, letting a dozen spicier replies drift past.

“So no hanky panky,” Jessica says with a goofy and heartbreakingly beautiful smile. I swear her voice has an electrical current that sends shockwaves through my ear, to my brain, and straight to the tip of my penis.

Calm down, dude. This is day one. This is gonna be a marathon of blue balls. So you better toughen up.

Aw, fuck it.

“Or at least just the panky.” I whisper.

She looks at me, her eyes widen and her jaw slowly drops. She elbows me. We both laugh.

“QUIET.”

A voice to my right interrupts the best moment I’ve had in years.

Mrs. Peterson. Fuck.

She’s still here. She hated me when I was younger and the feeling was mutual. Why people would get into teaching when they don’t care about kids or seemingly teaching is beyond me.

“LISTEN,” she scolds Jessica and I.

Jessica shares a glance with me, trying to hide her smile.

Mrs. Peterson is like a stop sign with less personality. She’s tall, skinny, and her hair has been on the same tight ass knot since Calvin Coolidge was president. She actually doesn’t seem like she’s aged at all since I was in school. She might be a vampire.

So the rest of the assembly is silent and obedient. It’s commonplace that the young teachers have to put all the chairs away. So naturally I help and it’s not at all because I want to fuck Jessica silly in the storage closet. It’s because I’m helpful, you guys.

So we are stacking chairs and moving them to the supply closet. Laughing and flirting. We are “pretending” to sexually harass each other. It’s the dream.

I start to push my luck.

“So … is it Miss Bishop or Mrs …”

She side eyes me.

“It’s … complicated.”

“Weird last name.”

She smiles a little sadly. But only for a moment.

“We are separated.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Jess”

…Ica. Jessica. Don’t know why I shortened it there.

“No. It’s for the best, I think.”

“Still, that’s gotta be hard-“

“No, really, “ she says, “what’s hard is the bulge in your pants.”

And before I can even react her face gets all red and she covers her mouth which is in a huge smile.

“MY WHAT?” Now I’m laughing. And yes, I have been half erect for an hour.

“I’m just kidding, I’m just kidding!” She’s even redder now.

I get fake-serious. “But you’re right, Jessica, your life is not as hard my ever-hardening penis.”

She bursts out laughing.

“The burden I carry,” I continue, “is very heavy. And slightly bent.”

She can’t stop laughing. I think this is good? Let’s keep going.

“I just wish there were an angel among us who could possibly free me from this engorged hell.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear, draws her mouth in a faux-scowl, but her eyes are alight with play, “is that it. An Angel is what you want?”

“Yes.”

She takes a step toward me in the dark supply closet.

“Someone to lay you down in a bed of feather. Worship your very soul… that’s what you want?”

I’m not playing anymore. This is it. I drop all comedic pretense and look her dead in the eye, screaming the thought “take one more step to me and I’m pinning you against the wall until you’re dripping with my cum.”

“Yes,” I say.

She places a hand on my chest and my heart stops.

Now her eyes get serious. Her mouth opens slightly as her eyes look to my lips. Her tongue edging her top teeth.

She leans in.

SNAP. The lights suddenly turn on. And a voice of steel is heard.

“Just what in heavens garden is going on in here.”

Jessica jumps in fear. Like the straight a student she was.

“Nothing, Mrs. Peterson.” Jessica blurts.

We stand awkwardly staring at each other.

“You should help Mr. Elling with the tables.”

I take a step toward the door. “Right away.”

“NOT you.”

I freeze.

“You. MISSUS Bishop. “

Jessica points at herself then quickly leaves. Leaving me with Mrs. Peterson. With her hands on her hips and the sternest look I’ve ever seen.

“This is not acceptable behavior. And also these chairs are in the complete wrong order. I’ll show you.”

She walks into the room. Her legs may as well be stilts underneath an ankle length dress. Is she wearing heels? I swear she’s already 6 feet tall. Is it that important to her to be the tallest person in the room?

She reaches the end of the supply closet points at a stack of chairs.

“These. Go over there.” Her long fingers point. Her nails are painted red.

“All right…“ I shuffle my way toward her.

“ what were you and Jessica doing?”

I squeeze past a couple of columns of chairs as I make my way to the back of the room.

“Nothing. Just playing around. I know we’re not supposed to have fun. “ I mouth off.

“Mr. Hamilton. I swear you’ll never change. Let it be known that I think you were a bad student and that now you are a bad hire. You will fail. You will always fail. You will always be that little jerk in the back row hiding his little boner in his sweatpants.”

The fuck.

“Well? Are you going to move these or are you going to wait for that thing to go down?”

I look down. I am fully erect. And not in a demure, convenient little angle (up). But straight out like the nose of frankenweenie the dog from the animated film frankenweenie. I look up at her. She is staring into in my eyes. She won’t even glance at it.

“Jesus! This is embarrassing.” That’s true.

She doesn’t say anything.

“Well… “

Nothing. And my dick isn’t getting any softer.

“Well … better move these chairs.”

And then from the dreams of a teenage boy made real, Mrs. Peterson pulls out her yard stick and smacks it on my protruding bulge.

Slack jawed I look down and back up at her face. Which is now smirking.

The yellow yard stick is still pinning down my swelling dockers.

“I will not wait.” She says as she steps toward me removing the yard stick and replacing it with her mature and freakishly strong hand.

Her fingers nearly pry through the fabric to grip my shaft.

“You will always be less than me. No matter how many jokes you make. Or how many idiot girls you fuck. You will always be shit.”

Her other hand has already undone my buckle. My button. My zipper. My underwear. She has pulled down my boxers.

I’m in the storage closet. At my high school. The door open. And Mrs Peterson is holding my nuts with one hand, and jacking me off with other.

“You will always be mine you little bitch.”

I am stunned. I am so hard. I smirk.

“Is that funny?” She asks as she pumps.

“No, ma’am.” I smile.

“You are filth.” She rolls her eyes. And steps into me. Her lips on my ear.

“I am the only one here you’ll ever fuck. I promise you that.”

She squeezes my base. Slowly strokes me off with strength. I consider telling her that I’m about to come, but in an act of defiance, I look her in the eye open my mouth and show her just how good this feels for me. Her eyes find my lips. Her mouth opens by just, a fraction. And I cum all over her hand.

She stops immediately. Exhales with disgust . And says “filth.“ And walks away.