Catholic Schoolgirl

It was boring…damn it was boring. I’d been a college professor, for God’s sake. A Ph-fucking-D in American Literature & Writing. So what the hell was I doing teaching at Our Lady Of Mercy high school? Well, to make a long story short, it was money. Universities don’t pay assistant professors worth a damn and OLM (Old Laid Maids, to the cognoscenti), a conservative, full-student-uniform, old line Catholic private academy, had offered me a cool $10,000 more than Eastman City University to teach their “girls” about The Scarlet Letter and other tripe, oh excuse me, classics. So, I was bored.

Most of these girls were nice enough, maybe too nice, and not overly bright. 

They were at OLM because Mom & Dad wanted to keep them safe from boys. Naturally, while their parents paid a hefty tuition to get their girls ready for college and keep their virginities intact, the girls took every opportunity to mess around, both with boys and – oh shock, oh horror – each other. The rumor mill was constantly grinding out new salacious stories. Kirsten G had balled the football star from Cardinal O’Malley High School (better known as “Carnal & Manly”); Alicia S was in a lesbian tryst with her boyfriend’s older sister, and so on. It was enough to make you laugh out loud.

And the faculty — mostly older men, over 50 and married, or nuns & priests. There were only four of us who were under 50 and secular — myself, Sarah Jenkins (biology), Alex Fernandez (Spanish & French), and Molly Poulan (American History). Naturally, rumors had us all linked in a variety of wild sexual relationships. Naturally, they were all, all wrong. Molly was engaged, Alex gay, and Sarah only vaguely interested. We had gone out a few times, even slept together once, but nothing came of it. Me, Dr. Fisher, I was single and lonely and horny and bored.

Until (oh you KNEW there was an “until” didn’t you?) Megan Renzo walked into my English 12 class. She was a transfer from the public schools and acted like she didn’t fit in. The rumor mill had it that she had been “involved” with her music teacher and that the scandal got him fired and her packed off to OLM. Her Daddy was a lawyer and filthy rich, so Megan got in without passing an entrance examination and with the understanding that she would sail through OLM and get shipped off to a nice catholic girls college where she would stay to earn her Mrs.-degree. She had every likelihood to be trouble for us, and she knew it.

The first day she walked in, flouncing her blonde, shoulder length hair, she behaved fairly well. We were studying Chaucer (The Nun’s Priest’s Tale — safe and boring). She knew it already and impressed me with her knowledge. A short essay question on the symbolism of the story produced the usual dreck, except for hers. 

She explained the symbolism and went on to tie it to the Miller’s Tale of “handy Nikolas” — she made sure she pointed out that she knew the meaning of “to swyve” (it’s in the Oxford English Dictionary — you can look it up). She got the A she was looking for, and a note that I was impressed with her prior knowledge. 

The day after I returned the short essay, her dress was a bit more provocative. Her skirt was an inch shorter than regulation length (2″ above the knees) and her blouse (starched white cotton) was open an extra button or two. 

These alterations nicely showed off her well-developed legs and her very nice breasts. They looked like a good handful to me…firm and melon-shaped, maybe 36B’s? Megan strolled to the back of the lecture hall, the top row of a tier of 3 rows of desks. This put her about 24″ above floor level. I had noticed my first day there that the top row was prime “viewing” territory when I sat at my desk in front of the class. 

If a girl inadvertently (or advertently) spread her legs just enough, you could see her panties. I had only caught the briefest glimpse of white cotton panties during the course of two years at OLM, but I looked occasionally, just in case.

Naturally, Megan was my newest “viewing target.” And she didn’t disappoint. The second hour of the two hour class (the last of the day) was usually given over to reading an essay and responding to it in writing. It was quiet time, designed to let the instructor catch up on paperwork. As the twelve girls in the class wrote, I graded. 

Today, I was deeply involved in grading some 11th year essays, when I sensed a disturbance. I looked up, but no one was out-of-place. I scanned the room and met Megan’s eyes. She winked and sucked on the end of her pen. I glanced lower and sure enough, she was flashing me. I looked for her pretty white panties and was greeted by…nothing. I blinked twice and looked closer…no panties. I glanced up, blushing. She smiled again and licked her lips. I looked down again. 

She had spread her legs further and I could see, dimly, a naked pussy…with just a hint of blonde bush on it. I’m sure I stared forever (or at least 30 seconds) before breaking my vision away and trying to get back to work.

That proved nearly impossible, for my cock was straining my pants. I glanced down at my papers, then around the room. The other girls kept working. When I looked back at Megan, her legs were together, her head bowed, her pen working. As the bell rang, the girls handed in their writing and all left. I managed to say good-bye to them, but did not get up from the desk. As soon as my cock had softened, I packed up and left. When I got home, I masturbated, twice; thinking of the “show” Megan had given me.

This went on for more than a week. Megan would come to class, quiet & demure, gracefully breaking the dress code (the skirts grew shorter until they were 4″ above the knees — as far as anyone dared go before Sister Mary Chrysostym, the Principal, would strike them dead) and the blouse was open two buttons. Three times, Megan came to my desk for help, bending over each time to let me see her breasts. The first two times she had a bra on. But the third day, she wore the school blazer to class and then hung it over the back of her chair. And when she came up for help, I looked straight down at naked breasts, the nipples long and hard.

Each day, the show changed slightly. One day, panties (of various colors), the next, I swear it was a thong…at least her ass seemed naked under the skirt, but the pussy shot was of red silk. Then came the Friday. She strolled into class, her skirt hiked up, her blouse open as usual, with a very sly smile on her face. The class had a major test on Chaucer — two essays in two hours — and as they all concentrated and flipped through their notes, Megan gave me the “show”. 

She flashed her naked pussy as me and kept her legs spread wide the whole time. I watched, glancing over the class, moving around the rows, helping out (as my half-hard cock fought to grow longer and harder). Megan called me over twice. The first time, she sat back and let me see her thighs and her nipples…hard as rocks. The second time, it was leaning forward, a third button undone, and her breasts utterly visible. She brushed her hand against mine. Instant erection. I went back to my desk, quietly cursing her as a teasing little slut.

When I sat, I looked up. Megan had slipped a hand under her skirt and was playing with herself. As I watched (and no one else saw) she dipped a finger into her pussy then brought it to her lips and sucked it clean. I nearly came as she licked her lips, smiled, and went back to work. I was both horny and angry. She was of course quite deliberately provoking me and enjoying it. I decided to take action.

Over the weekend, I put together a gym bag that then went to school with me on Monday. All week long, I watched and waited. The tease went on, except that, instead of going home and jerking off, I waited, bided my time, until she provoked me totally. Thursday, she presented the naked pussy shot again, idly “scratched her itch” for me to see. After she licked her finger clean again, then winked and licked her full red lips, I told her to stay after class. She looked shocked, even appalled, but stayed seated after class, nevertheless.

After the rest of the girls were gone I told her that her behavior was not what I expected from a good catholic girl and that we had to deal with it appropriately. I was in deadly earnest and she looked on the verge of tears. I had her sit and work on an extra-credit worksheet on Chaucer for nearly 45 minutes, until I knew that everyone was gone from school. Then I locked the door and lowered the drapes on the windows and the door (thank god for “blackout” curtains). Then I walked back to her and ordered her to stand.

When she rose, I looked at her chair. As I suspected, the fear of punishment had aroused her. She had already been damp when she fingered her pussy and teased her clit. Now after almost an hour of anticipation, she was flowing. Her seat had a small puddle in it. “Clean that up,” I growled softly. She reached for her purse to get a tissue, but I took her hands and whispered, “No, Megan, clean it with your tongue.”

She turned on me in disgust and horror, and started to speak. But something in my eyes must have stopped her, because she whispered, so softly that I could barely hear her, “Yes, Dr. Fisher.” And she knelt by her seat and leaned over it. Her tongue darted out and she lapped her own juices from the chair seat. As she did this, her skirt rode up and I saw that perfect ass at last. The cheeks were round and firmed and ripe. I watched them flex as she moved to lick up more, and I could no more stop myself than stop an earthquake. My hand struck out and I began spanking her.

With each sharp blow her ass rebounded. At first, she screamed in surprise, then she grew silent, then she begged me to stop. When I continued her spanking, she moaned. Her head fell onto the seat of the chair and stayed there. I struck her until her asscheeks glowed red and her tears seemed to flow perpetually. When I stopped she licked the tars from the chair, then rose, back straight, and turned to face me. She looked up into my eyes and I saw her lust there. She was afraid of me now, but also turned completely on. Her vision dropped to my bulging crotch and she licked her lips. She reached out and touched my dress pants, then slowly unzipped them. “Dr. Fisher,” she whispered in her best little girl voice, “I’m soooo sorry for teasing you. Let me make it up to you.”

And she sucked me…little Catholic schoolgirl in her uniform, her ass red, her eyes red, her lips red, and her mouth. Warm and buttery, her mouth moved on my hardness, urging me to cum. I wound my fingers in her hair and kept them there, guiding her mouth on me. I reached the back of her mouth and she opened further, letting me into her throat. Her nails were dragging across my scrotum and I knew I would explode any moment. I concentrated as hard as I could and stopped her by pulling hard on her blond waves. She opened her mouth to scream and I extracted my cock.

“Open your blouse, Megan,” I ordered as she looked up at me again. “Let me see them.” She unbuttoned the final three buttons and exposed the tits I’d fantasized about. They were better than I’d suspected. I walked to my desk and opened the bag. Reaching in, I found the toys I’d brought and returned to her. I took the tiny silver chains, slid the wire closures open, and fixed them on her nipples, drawing the wire loops tight enough to make her groan. As I looked down at her, I knew that she was mine. She smiled through her tears, then rose to her feet and turned. She dropped her skirt and blouse to the floor and walked to my desk. There she leaned over and presented her open cunt to my view.

I moved to her and took her hips in my hands. And for the first time, I fucked her. As I pistoned into her, my balls slapped at her clit. She began to chant in time to my thrusts, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me hard!” 

Her cries built as I hammered home. Her pussy was soaked, but oh so tight and hot. With each thrust, I brought a bare hand down on her already red asscheeks. 

And as I spanked and fucked Megan, I felt it build in me. She was cumming, moaning and clawing at the desk top. And I was so close…so close…and then I exploded, filling her tight little pussy with my week’s worth of cum.

She dropped back to her knees and cleaned me, wiping my cockhead on her face, taking the dripping juices from it with her fingers and tongue. She smiled up at me, her face alight with passion and gleaming with her juices and my cum. Then she rose and dressed. As she went out, she giggled, “Can we do detention next week, too, Dr. Fisher?”

Updated: May 3, 2019 — 8:40 am