I’d heard about her throughout my first year (Year 7) at my secondary school. She became my teacher at the beginning of my second year.

Miss Goodsey was the history teacher everyone (or every boy at least) wanted. Slim, 5ft 6in tall, with long blonde hair that looked best done up in a bun, bright, blue eyes and a dazzling smile that made every boy ache with desire. She had a pretty face that melted the heart, and large tits that stiffened many a cock. Not too big, but not too small either: perfect. I would guess her bra size was 34D. At that time, she must have been about 30. To match her brilliant looks, Miss Goodsey had been bestowed with a friendly personality, intent upon helping every last child to succeed. Though she was inherently loud, and often strict, she was good-natured, and not at all malicious. Her preference for a trouser-suit complemented her teacher/secretary look. The boys in any class of hers paid no attention to the history.

At the start of my first lesson with her, my friend, Dave, and I took a seat at the back of the class, in an effort to act as normal as possible. We quickly realised what every other boy had been fantasising about for the past year. Miss Goodsey was not patronising, despite the fact we were all 12 year olds. We were treated like adults, even if the subject matter was perhaps a little immature.

Over the next few months, Miss Goodsey began to know the class better, and we started to feel more confident. Dave and I would often be told off for talking by her, but we always thought that she might not have been too serious, as not once was either of us moved. I found her to have a hidden wicked side, expressed primarily when, after asking for an extension on a homework assignment, Miss Goodsey smiled sweetly and said “I don’t think so Joe. We’ll need that work for next lesson.” This side did not hinder her kindness, but certainly hinted at a ‘naughty’ side to contrast with her nice one.

A boy in the class, Nick, one day asked for some help on a question he was stuck on. Obliging, Miss Goodsey stood up, removed her blazer in the heat of the Sun, revealing a loose white blouse that, if you looked hard enough, you could see her bra through, and walked over to Nick’s desk. Bending down in front of him, her blouse fell away ever so slightly. On view to anyone who cared to look was now a firm, lightly tanned cleavage. And everyone cared to look. Nick’s eyes visibly flitted upwards, and the back down at his work. He continued to do this in an effort to take the mental picture while appearing as though nothing had happened to Miss Goodsey. I myself was also transfixed. I felt a familiar stirring in my trousers, and, as the bell was fast-approaching, concentrated as much as humanly possible on getting my erection down again. Needless to say, I failed. Every time I closed my eyes, Miss Goodsey flashed before my eyes. Suddenly, the bell rang, and after packing my bag, I stood up with my hands in my pockets to try to cover up for the bulge in my trousers. How Miss Goodsey failed to notice is beyond me. I almost got the feeling, though, that perhaps she was aware of 15 sets of eyes on her breasts.

It wasn’t until towards the end of my third year at secondary school that there were any further events in my sexual thoughts of Miss Goodsey (apart from the frequent masturbations over the thought of her body). A rumour spread like wildfire that she had started dating Mr Hazel, the infamous PE teacher. A prematurely balding, violent man, who spat when he talked, which was little, and sprayed you when he shouted, which was often. I struggled to see why Miss Goodsey had chosen him, when she could have had any man she wanted.

When my class next had history, Nick, who was the most daring in the class, asked her about the rumours.

“Is it true that you’re going out with Mr Hazel, Miss?”

Smiling serenely, Miss Goodsey replied, “Maybe I am, and maybe I’m not.”

The class broke out in to talk, because obviously that answer could only mean yes. Nick, on the other hand, continued.

“How come you’re going out with him?” he asked, coming dangerously close to blurting out “You could have anyone you wanted.”

Keeping a sparkle in her eye, and a smile on her pretty face, Miss Goodsey tutted, saying “That’s none of your business, Nick.” Feeling that she’d got a little too personal with a group of 14 year olds, Miss Goodsey quickly recovered, her face becoming stern, and saying loudly, “Get on with your work.”

At the beginning of Year 10 (my fourth year, and the start of my GCSEs), I was moved away from Miss Goodsey, being put into Mr Stone’s class. Whilst I was apprehensive at first (he had acted very strangely the few times he had substituted for Miss Goodsey), I grew to like him.

Towards the end of my fourth year, I went on a history trip to Belgium to study the key battlefields of World War One. I’ll admit that one of the main attractions for me going was the chance to see and be around Miss Goodsey again. I half-jokingly told this to Dave, who, being the good friend he was, knew at once that there was some truth in the jest. To my disappointment, Mr Hazel had accompanied Miss Goodsey on the trip, and complete with a newly-bought engagement ring on her hand, she seemed as though she was all his.

I finished compulsory education about a year after the trip, with a good grade in history, and fairly good grades for all my subjects. I decided to stay and study for A-Levels at the College section of my school, and, crucially, decided to study history. Unfortunately, but better for my prospects of doing well in history, I didn’t gain Miss Goodsey as a teacher. By this time, the relationship between her and Mr Hazel had ended. Maybe she had finally realised just who she was engaged to, thus keeping the dream alive for many boys and men.

The “relationship” between Miss Goodsey and I evolved on that afternoon I went to get her to quickly look over an essay I had written, while my usual teacher was absent for the day. She was just tidying up her room as school had ended 15 minutes earlier.

“Hi Miss. Could you take a quick look at this essay?”

“Umm, ok, Joe, but it will really have to be quick,” she said, quickly glancing at her watch. She took the paper from me, moved to her desk, and bent over the paper, skim-reading through the essay. This was done in such a way that she was side-on to me, with her ass sticking up into the air slightly, and her tits visibly poking out past her blazer, beneath a tight white T-shirt. With a strand of hair falling past her face, complete with her tight black trousers, I was mesmerised. I just couldn’t stop looking at her. Every ounce of me was filled with longing, wishing I was but a bit older. And then a thought struck me in my drunken stupor. Who really cared about age? I was above the legal age for sex, so she couldn’t be prosecuted. There was a chance. As much chance, in fact, as anyone had. Tentatively, I moved my hand up towards her ass. I summoned all my courage, and brushed my hand lightly over it, immediately pulling my hand back after, and waiting for the inevitable shouting.

The shouting never came. Miss Goodsey continued with her marking without moving a muscle. Either she hadn’t noticed, or, by some miracle, she liked it. I decided to test deeper water. Placing my hand on Miss Goodsey’s ass, I gave it the gentlest of squeezes. A soft giggle escaped her lips. I flung my hand away, in case I was about to get told off.

“Oh Joe, why’d you stop?” Was all she said, looking back at me with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Are you serious?” I asked uncertainly.

Straightening up, she turned to me, and looking up into my eyes, placed her hand over the bulge in my trousers. “Deadly,” she said with that wicked smile. I grinned awkwardly, and moved my hand back to her ass, and started squeezing once more. Putting one hand behind my head, she drew my mouth to hers. My heart was beating so hard and fast, I felt dizzy. I managed to control myself as my lips met Miss Goodsey’s. It was gentle at first, nothing more than a brush. But we each became steadily more aggressive, and pressed up against her, with the warmth radiating off her body, I knew she was turned on. After a while, I felt her tongue probing my mouth, intertwining with my own tongue, which I then used to explore her mouth. Becoming more confident by the second, I rubbed her ass, and slowly drew my other hand up her back. I then moved it round her sensual, soft sides, and up onto her firm breast. From her gentle squeezes of my cock, I guessed she approved. I brought my other hand up, and placed both flat on her stomach, then drew them up beneath her T-shirt and over her bra. Rubbing her tits, I felt her breathe in slightly. Pulling her head back, she closed her eyes, taking sharp intakes of breath. I kissed her neck, still with my hands roaming her chest, then moved my hands round to her back and unclasped her bra. I was surprised at my own confidence, but not enough to slow down. With a little difficulty, she shed herself of her bra, while I drew her T-shirt up to expose her wonderfully tanned tits. They were perfect in my eyes. Pert, firm and large, with medium-sized darker nipples erect, sticking out at me. By this time, she had stopped rubbing my cock, which I was happy with for the time being. That area would be serviced soon.

Admiring her magnificent tits, I brought my hands to them, and slowly rubbed, causing her to emit a low moan. I brought my head down, and slowly sucked on her nipples. I had dreamed of this moment for years, and to actually carry out my wishes felt so surreal. As a sign to me, she undid her trousers, pushing them down slightly to expose white panties to match her bra. Grabbing one of my hands, she placed it on her panties, a request to which I willingly obliged. I found them to be soaked. Evidently she was enjoying this too. As I continued to suck on her nipples and rub her pussy, she gently pushed my head down towards her sodden underwear. Kissing and licking every inch of her I could reach, I moved past her flat, tanned stomach. As I brought my head level with her panties, I tentatively poked my tongue out to taste the white, wet material. Shuffling back slightly, she perched on the edge of her desk, and brought her trousers and panties down in one quick motion to her ankles, just above her high heels. I had never gone down on a woman before, so was quite unsure of myself. Miss Goodsey, however, put her hands behind my head and guided me towards her womanhood, spreading her toned and bronzed legs to revealing her dripping pussy, void of any hair and perfect in all its glory. I had been watching porn for years now, so knew not to go straight for goal, but to work my way towards it first. Kissing under her knees to begin with, I alternated between each leg, paying attention to the need to lengthen this wonderful experience. Looking up, she had her eyes closed, while rubbing one of her tits, with the other hand intertwined in my hair. I worked my way up her glorious thighs, eventually reaching her outer labia. Gently, I sucked on them, tasting that aroma for the first time. Strange, but enjoyable. I pulled back her pussy lips, and licked up its entire length. I heard a sharp intake of breath and a moan escape her lips. I dived in; exploring every part of that magnificent pussy. I soon found the clit, and combining both her pussy and clit into the movements of my tongue, she quickly orgasmed, the sweet pussy juices flooding my mouth and senses; a feat of which I was extremely proud.

After a few minutes, her breathing slowed, and Miss Goodsey opened her eyes again, looking down at me, again with that playful smile.

“Well, that was good for a first time.” I blushed at my obvious lack of experience. “Of course, now we have a problem. You have yet to be satisfied.” I grin grew across my face, just imagining the prospect. I quickly shut that out of my mind, thinking I didn’t have to imagine any more, and I should savour every little detail of what was happening, rather than comparing it to my dreams. That could come later.

Leaving her trousers and panties around her ankles, with her cum running down her thighs, she stood me up, and started loosening my trousers. Kissing me once more, she seemed to enjoy her own taste, trying to extract as much as possible from my mouth.

“Sorry, I should leave some for you.” I hadn’t spoken for a while, and found that I had forgotten how to. I beamed stupidly, as Miss Goodsey lowered my jeans and boxers. My cock sprang outwards, and it was only then I realised how much it had been aching. Both the strain of pressing against my trousers and the need to be relieved had built up to tenderness. Pushing me back to a desk, she dropped to her knees, and grabbed hold of my cock, rubbing it up and down, squeezing out some pre-cum. I almost spurted there and then, but pulled myself together. This was to be my first blowjob, and at 17, I felt I was long overdue. Now a beautiful woman over twice my age was preparing a present for me. Keeping her eyes locked on mine, she touched my cock head with her outstretched tongue. It jumped up at the touch but then dropped back down, as if waiting for more contact. Hungrily, she placed the head in her mouth, and licked every inch of it, focusing on the underside. The sensation was fantastic. Miss Goodsey then started bobbing her head up and down, with every forward movement taking more of my cock into her mouth. With about three-quarters of it in her mouth, she suddenly stopped. I could feel her tongue moving over it, trying to taste every part of it all at once. Taking me by surprise, she suddenly pulled it back out of her mouth.

“Please…” I murmured weakly. Smiling, she raced forwards, engulfing my cock with her sweet mouth, taking it right to the back of her throat. I like to think that she was a natural at it, rather than spoil the illusion by imagining she had had a lot of experience. With my dick nestled between her tonsils, I could barely hold back any longer. A few more movements of her head, and I felt the tidal wave rushing towards the slit of my dick.

“Shit,” I grunted. I thought Miss Goodsey would pull back, but she instantly placed her mouth tightly over the end, sealing it shut. I could feel great ropes of sperm flying out of my dick into the back of her mouth. She swallowed, increasing the sensation on my cock. As my orgasm started to fade, I looked back down at her, cleaning the last remnants of cum from my cock. She stood up, and we kissed again. I wasn’t put off by the fact I had just spurted into her mouth. In fact, I was even more turned on.

Taking the initiative, I picked up her lithe body, placing her gently on the desk. She lay back on her elbows, still with her tits out, her legs hanging over the edge of the desk, waiting for me. My cock had started growing as soon as we had kissed, as if knowing what was to come. Positioning my cock at the entrance to her pussy, I rubbed it up and down. She was so wet I wondered if there was any liquid left in her body. With her spit still on my dick, no more lubrication would be needed. As this was my first time, I wanted to take this slowly, savouring each moment as the time I had fucked my teacher. I started to enter her snug little pussy. A wave of pleasure hit me as the reality of the situation became clear. I continued pushing slowly, until I reached the back wall of her pussy. Pulling it almost all the way out again, I repeated the action, except with a little more speed this time. I continued with these thrusts, picking up speed with every thrust. I was determined to last longer than Miss Goodsey, because I wanted her to feel content by the end. The heat generated was immense, and for support I grabbed one of her gorgeous tits, an action she seemed to enjoy. By now she was moaning loudly, not screaming. Perhaps subconsciously she thought it best so as not to attract any unwanted attention. I was grunting myself; perhaps not in a particularly attractive manner, but neither one of us was paying attention to the noise. Touch was the most significant sense now. Every thrust was wonderful, her tight pussy pulling on my dick, but slick enough to allow movement. The fact I was inside the teacher who I had fantasised about and masturbated over enhanced the experience. After a good 10 minutes (I think I only lasted that long thanks to my recent blowjob), I felt her pussy walls contracting. I hadn’t thought the sensation could get any better, but it did. Miss Goodsey convulsed, and I could feel her chasm flooding once more with pussy juice. The force of it brought me to the brink, and then flung me over it. Semen erupted from my cock in hot, angry jets. There’s no need for me to tell you, but it was the single greatest orgasm (and probably the single greatest moment) of my life. I squirted every last remaining drop into her, making sure I emptied my sack completely.

We collapsed; I on top of her. Losing my erection over time, my cock flopped out of her sodden pussy, bringing with it a significant amount of liquid. Standing up, I embraced her, and she me. Kissing her again, I found a new spark had been ignited between us, one that I would cherish forever. As I redressed her, neither one of us could stop smiling. I kissed her one last time, passion and lust controlling my every move, but too tired to do any more. I turned, and walked towards the door.

“By the way, Joe,” said Miss Goodsey. “It’s a good essay, but work on it a bit more tonight. Come back tomorrow with a second draft.” I grinned, nodded, and headed out the door.

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