Teacher's Heart Shaped Love

Disclaimer: All characters are over the age of 18. Representations are of consenting adults. Story is entirely fictitious.

Preface

It had been a tough school year and I had taught twenty of them. I was set to retire. My wife had finally left me after being found one too many nights chatting with a woman on a cam site. I regretted the behavior but we had an essentially sexless marriage of convenience. The nest was empty and we were finally realizing that after over thirty years of marriage we didn't much like or respect one another.

It had effectively been over five years (aside from occasional spa visits) that I had been skin to skin with a woman. I yearned for connection but I had also discovered my kinks for Age and Role Playing. I had a short fling with one woman who happily called me Daddy when we fucked. It made her as happy as it made me, but she ended up really wanting a Sugar Daddy, not a real Daddy Dom. I attempted connecting with likeminded women online on sites like Literotica and FetLife, but never in real life. Never close enough to meet.

More accurately I realized I was a "Dom" Daddy. I had always enjoyed controlling my wife's orgasms but she never allowed me to restrain her and she never wanted to initiate sex. She always wanted to be pursued but never pursuing. It became scripted. Boring.

Before my wife and on the rare occasions during and after our marriage, I had never had any complaints. I knew I was a good lover. Attentive and creative and sensitive to my lovers' needs. I had even left a few spa employees wet, exhausted and thanking me for paying attention to them and making them cum.

In other words, I was in a constant state of arousal and I was ripe for the plucking.

- - -

Chapter One -- Transformation

This morning she walked into my Homeroom class with an attitude. Today was different.

She was normally a shadow. Melting into the background. A shrinking violet. Today was ...er... different. Usually, she wore baggy tops. Jeans. Sneakers. Rarely more than a dusting of makeup. Long, straight, dark brown hair combed. Usually tied back, but rarely styled.

Perhaps because it was the end of senior year. A time when most students had their minds somewhere else. They had gotten their college acceptance letters, or they had decided what they wanted to do that summer, and their gaze are way in the distance of Summer Break.

Homeroom class. I wasn't there to teach a topic; I was there to perform administrative duties. Essentially taking attendance and monitoring social behavior. Occasionally a counselor and confidante; and more than once, frontline security until Campus Security showed up. I was the soft entry into my students' school day. And during the last month of senior year attendance was equally soft. Which is why she stood out even more than usual.

Her long hair, normally tied back, was cut short in a French bob. Tousled with product. Cute. Innocent and sexy like a young Natalie Portman or Audrey Tautou. The rest of her was consistent. High cut jean jacket with white tight knit top underneath. Braless. Pleated dark grey skirt swished and drew the eye to her perfect little hips and round little ass as she walked toward the back of the room. Black converse Low Tops with white socks completed the look.

Lips? Cherry red and ever so slightly smudged. Rouged cheeks. Dark eyeliner. Eyebrows left natural, completing the cinematic "bad little girl" look she had so effectively adopted. More than one head turned when she entered, but any comments were silenced when the bell went off.

As usual, she sat in the back by the window. You got to your seat, and facing away from me she exaggeratingly bent down and straightened her skirt. Legs slightly apart. Hands pausing ever so slightly on her round bottom. She swiveled and sat down and stared straight at me. Normally she had her head in a book or looked dreamily out the window. Today she caught me looking at you. Lips slightly open. Fingers playing with a strand of hair. It was unsettling. Almost guaranteed to grab my attention... and make me ache with lust.

I went through the motions of noting attendance, handing out announcements, and "monitoring social behavior." My eyes kept wandering back to her. One time she smiled, pointed down and slowly spread her legs. Looking up, she was biting her lip.

My pulse was racing. I am sure I was flushed. Finally, the bell rang for first period. Everyone filed out except you. You slowly stood, swiveled out of your chair, bent down from your waist to get your bags, and pirouetted around to show your nipples clearly showing through your top. Walking straight toward my desk and stopping two paces in front of my desk, you said, "Sir, can I ask your advice?"

I nod, "Of course, Rosette. But please don't call me 'Sir.' I'm just Mr. Nick to you." I pretended to be confident and in control but she had pierced my defenses already. If she'd asked me to buy Girl Scout Cookies, I would have bought the factory.

"Sir...er...Mr. Nick," she hesitated and smiled, "I've never been very social or extroverted. Sometimes I have difficulty understanding why my classmates behave the way they do. Everyone seems intent on being the center of everyone's attention. That's never interested me..."

I smile warmly, "I appreciate that. The 'herd mentality' is hard to break away from. I respect that in you." Stay calm. Try not to look at her round swaying tits. Dark nipples under the fabric. Her smooth pale legs.

She smiles at the compliment and looks down briefly, then up with a little cute pout. I almost laugh, it's so obvious how much you're flirting with me, "...but I've been very frustrated because there's one person... one older man in particular that I want to pay attention to me. It's been awkward. I wasn't sure how to get his attention. Plus, he's so much older than me. I was afraid he would think I was being infatuated. A silly teenager." She tilted her head questioningly.

I started to interrupt, but looking into my eyes she continued, "So, I took my time this past year studying him...studying my man. For weeks I've been thinking about how I can make sure I get his attention. That's why I've changed my look today. I'm pretty certain this skirt," lifting the hem dangerously high and showing your upper thighs, "and this top," sliding your hands up to pull your top tight over your boobies, nipples erect, "Does that sound weird or creepy to you?"

I got up from my desk and came around the front and leaned back on the edge of the desk with my arms folded in front of me. I thought, 'I could wrap you in my arms in one stride. Those lips covered with mine. Tongue deep in your mouth. My fingers pinching your nipples until you groan.' (Whoa boy!)

Calmly I replied, "I think it depends on the man. If you think he would be offended I think you're right and it would be creepy. But I have a feeling you know he won't be offended. In fact, I suspect you know exactly how flattered and excited this man would be by your desire to get his attention with your...," I pause, letting my gaze wander over her breasts, "...your 'new look.'"

My last comment seemed to melt you. You shuddered visibly and smiled.

Standing up and looking into her eyes, I continued, "But I want you to know something. I've always thought you were unique and special. The fact that you never tried to impress anyone impressed me. I was always impressed by your intelligence and natural charm. But I understand that sometimes we need to go that extra mile to help others understand exactly what we think or feel about them."

Rosette takes a half step closer and looks down at my shoes, barely breathing a response.

Gently but firmly, I say, "I'm sorry, Rosette. I didn't hear you. Can you please look up and repeat what you said?"

She raises her face and looks right into my eyes. "I wanted you to notice me." Your cheeks are flushed. You're visibly nervous. You look away briefly and then return my gaze, and continue, "I've been studying you. I see which girls you unconsciously look at longer. I notice which of their clothes get your attention. I've also looked at the titles of some of the novels you read, and any time you mention a movie or song or website you like, I try to take the time to watch or listen to it. I just wanted to know you better but I was too shy. Afraid you'd reject me."

She's clearly nervous, but also clearly pushing herself to be courageous. I'm frankly awed by this young woman's courage and honesty. I'm also hard with the excitement of this beautiful young thing's confession of desire and I know the next few seconds between us are crucial.

I quickly stand up, close and lock the classroom door and turn off the lights. The only light is coming through the row of windows on one side. There are no classes in this room for the next period and the windows look out onto the trees behind the school giving us a degree of privacy.

I come back and stand in front of her. Almost touching her. Gently I say, "Rosette, I admit that you've tempted me to cross a professional line with you. Anything we do going forward must be completely consensual. However, I also want you to know that I am primarily attracted to what is inside here," touching her forehead gently with two fingers, "and here." Touching her just where her left breast begins to swell from her chest. My fingers linger a moment longer on her chest. She breathes deeply and a sigh escapes her lips.

Looking up, you whisper, "Mr. Nick, I'd really prefer to call you, Sir."