Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The following story is a work of fiction.  Its contents are of a
graphically sexual nature and may involve non-consensual sexual acts
between underage partners.  Any resemblance to persons either alive or dead
is purely coincidental.  This story is intended for ADULTS only.  If you
are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction, or if you
are easily offended, kindly STOP READING NOW.

   The Obligation - by - The StoryMaster

   "Gawp!" she croaked as her hands reflexively shot to the fronts of his
thighs.  Pushing herself away, she turned her head to one side and gagged
silently for several seconds.  Melissa hated it when Mr.  Johnson pushed it
in too far.  And if the taste wasn't enough, it always made her feel like
she was going to throw up when it touched the back of her throat.

   "Take your hands away, Melissa," the older man said in a patient tone of
voice.  "Now straighten up and open your mouth," he instructed the unhappy
teenager who squatted on the floor in front of him.

   Reluctantly Melissa obeyed.  She had no choice.  Melissa Carpenter had
an obligation, you see.

   The expression on her face was truly priceless to behold and would have
melted the hearts of most men, but not so Benjamin Johnson.  Her big blue
eyes pleaded with him while he massaged the back of her neck with his left
hand as encouragement.  "No stalling, now," he murmured.  "You wouldn't
want to be late for your next class, my dear," he added, after which he
began to rub the blunt head of his penis across her pink lips.

   Melissa made a face but did not try to turn away.  She recognized the
familiar musky odor as her history teacher smeared his clear, sticky
pre-ejaculate over her lips and nose.

   "Be a good girl now and open that pretty mouth, Melissa.  I promise I
won't push this time," the man coaxed.

   The pretty fifteen year old slowly rose up onto her knees.  She made no
attempt to conceal her disgust as she stared at the heavily veined
instrument of her displeasure jutting out from its sweaty nest of coarse,
dark pubic hair below the older man's pale distended belly.  Melissa opened
her mouth.

   "That's my girl," Mr.  Johnson whispered his approval.  "Hands at your
sides, now," he coached.  He liked to put it into her mouth the first time,
and then let her take over.  Gazing down at his target, the parted white
teeth and small pink tongue, he grasped his semi-erect member with his free
hand and milked himself until another large drop of viscous fluid formed at
its tip.  Then with a smile, he pulled the young girl forward and placed
the head of his manhood onto the warm, wet surface of her tongue, allowing
the drop of pre-ejaculate to mingle with her saliva.

   "Cawlk!" Melissa's shoulders heaved as she barely suppressed another
gag. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from balking again, but
she was somehow able to maintain control.  She knew he liked for her to
keep her mouth open wide until he told her to close her lips around him. 
So Melissa obediently knelt before her history teacher, allowing the wicked
man to place the head of his penis into her mouth then slowly move it from
side to side across her tongue.  Another gag wracked her body, but she
remained steadfast and didn't pull away.

   "Mmm..." Mr.  Johnson signed.  "You have such a pretty mouth, Melissa,"
he cooed as he gazed down into her clear blue eyes.  He was about to give
the lovely teen permission to being sucking him, when quite unexpectedly he
climaxed.

   It caught Melissa by surprise too when his first salvo caromed off the
back of her soft pallet and slid unimpeded down her throat.  She was in the
habit of allowing Mr.  Johnson to "spurt" into her mouth.  Actually, he
insisted upon it, but she'd learned to anticipate him, closing off her
throat and taking the vile substance only into her mouth so she could spit
it out afterward.  Melissa thought surely she would be sick, but
surprisingly it stayed down, and she was in the process of puzzling over
that, in fact, when Mr.  Johnson broke his promise.

   Without warning her history teacher pulled her head forward while he
pushed himself farther into her mouth.  He was reasonably strong for a man
of his stature, and instantly Melissa's hands flew to the fronts of his
hairy thighs where they scrabbled ineffectually as she felt the tip of his
filthy penis touch the back of her throat.  Unable to breathe, she dug her
short fingernails into his flesh when the second viscous projectile
exploded from him like a rifle bullet directly into her esophagus.  Melissa
remember hearing his lewd groans, before she choked on his next
installment. Because her mouth was blocked by the source of her torment, a
spray of heavy semen escaped through her nostrils when she coughed.  It was
a thoroughly demoralizing experience for the pretty teenager and one she
would never forget, in part because she was immediately chastised by her
teacher as soon as she stopped choking.

   "Look at the mess you've made, young lady," he scolded, indicating the
drooling lines of ejaculate on the fronts of his thighs and the dripping
mass on his testicles.  "I hope you didn't get anything on my trousers," he
added scornfully.

   While Melissa lapped at one side of her history teacher's constricted
scrotum with her tongue, cleaning him like he'd taught her to do, she let
her mind wander back to a saner time in her life, a time several months
earlier, before the dreadful circumstances in which she was currently
embroiled, began.  While she struggled to keep from vomiting, Melissa
wondered if this nightmare would ever end.

   Melissa Carpenter was charming, talented in many ways and exceptionally
pleasing to the eye, but she was a terrible student.  Her teachers
attributed her lack of scholastic aptitude to a minor attention disorder,
but most of her peers thought she was just plain spoiled.  In any case,
because of her poor grades the pretty blond found herself in the unenviable
position of having to either pass her mid-term exams with very high marks
or face the prospect of summer school.  For Melissa, who was quite the
little socialite, summer school was simply out of the question, but the
mid-terms loomed over her like an unscalable cliff.  Melissa definitely
needed help.

   Although she chose not to apply herself to her schoolwork, she was not a
stupid girl.  To the contrary, Melissa was crafty and imaginative, and more
often than not she got what she wanted.

   At the age of twelve she'd begun to shed her baby fat and develop those
enticing contours and curves that would inevitably make her very popular
with the boys in her life.  By age thirteen Melissa had amassed a regular
entourage of interested young men, and a few of them not so young.  By the
eighth grade she, Melissa was the most popular girl in school, and had her
pick of any young man she wished to allow to associate with her.

   Melissa naturally went for the most popular boy in school.  His name was
Trevor Williams.  The two young people were first introduced by Melissa's
best old ex-friend, Madison Williams, at a cookout.  Madison, a rather
fetching young lady in her own right, was dating Trevor at the time, but
that would soon change.  Melissa had just turned fourteen.  Trevor Williams
was sixteen, and the two attractive teenagers hit it off right away.  It
seemed at the time that Madison was the only one not to see the obvious
chemistry between Melissa and Trevor.  In less than two weeks, Melissa
managed to woo the handsome sixteen year old away from Madison, ending
their friendship for the foreseeable future.

   Trevor was not only a charming and attractive young man, he was also a
talented athlete and an exceptional student.  His grade point average never
once fell below 3.8, and by the time he reached his junior year in high
school, he was being actively scouted by the wrestling departments of
several well known universities.  There was little doubt in anyone's mind
that Trevor Williams would secure a scholarship with at least one of these
prestigious schools.

   This was indeed fortunate for Trevor, because as fate would have it, the
bright young man had not been born into a life of plenty.  To the contrary,
unlike the "fairy princess" he dated, Trevor had been forced to work his
way through school.  There was no envy or resentment on his part, however.
Trevor simply applied himself to the task at hand.  He was a confident
young man, yet modest and humble as well.  In short, Trevor Williams was
the son that every man desires, honorable and hard working.

   It was this honorable side of her beau that Melissa was currently having
difficulty with.  "Please Trev," the engaging fifteen year old beauty
pleaded.  "I thought you said that you'd do anything for me," she cooed and
gave Trevor her most beguiling smile.

   The two young people had been seeing each other pretty steadily for
almost two years now, and Melissa could usually convince Trevor to see
things her way, but this particular request involved going against his
strong moral conviction and sense of what is right and what is not.

   "You know I would, Mel," the young man replied in a pained voice.  She
was obviously making it very hard for him.  "But what you're asking me to
do is wrong.  You know that." He paused for a second then offered, "Why
don't you study really hard all weekend.  I'll help you.  We can do it
together.  You'll see."

   "Ohhhh," the pretty blond whined.  "There's just no way, Trev.  I've got
to make a B+ on this exam or I'm dead," she added ruefully.  Then with
surprising vehemence, "I hate history!  It's so stupid!  All those dates to
memorize and names of people who've been dead for a hundred years.  Who
cares!" she declared emphatically.

   Trevor remained silent while his pretty girlfriend vented her anger and
frustration.  He wanted to help Melissa, but she was really putting him on
the spot.  He really did care deeply for her and obviously wanted to see
her succeed, but there were limits.  Trevor was indeed an upstanding young
man.

   "Johnson will fail me for sure," Melissa went on, interrupting her
boyfriend's thoughts.  "He hates me.  I know he does.  And besides, he's so
weird," she said.  "He's always staring at me.  He gives me the creeps,
Trev," she added imploringly.  "Please, Trevor, please.  I know you know
how to get the test answers.  I'll never ask again.  I promise.  Please,
just this once," Melissa pleaded.

   Her beau didn't respond, but rather he stood with his arms folded across
his chest.  He was obviously troubled, and it probably wouldn't take much
more wheedling to tip him over the edge.  Melissa Carpenter decided that it
was time to play her trump card.

   Although the two young people had been dating for quite sometime by
today's standards, their relationship had remained about as Platonic as a
teenage relationship could be.  Mostly it had been Trevor who'd been
unwilling to move beyond simple kissing and the occasional awkward petting
and on to the next higher level.  He claimed that he wouldn't be able to
respect himself were he to take advantage of Melissa.  But, Trevor was
after all, a healthy American lad, and by the age of seventeen those urges
were becoming harder and harder to ignore.  Lately he'd started to lose
control of himself more and more often when he and Melissa were together.
On one occasion he'd actually touched her breast.  Through her sweater, of
course.  That had been a week ago, and his hand still burned.

   That time it had been Melissa who'd put the brakes on, and none to
gently either.  Trevor had been terribly embarrassed when she'd slapped his
hand away.  Melissa had feigned a pouting spell and then let her young beau
apologize to her over and over again.  The incident ended only after
Melissa allowed Trevor to thoroughly emasculate himself before her, and
then it wasn't mentioned again.  What neither would admit, however, was
that secretly, they both hoped that something like that would happen again,
soon.

   Melissa had come to enjoy the power she held over Trevor, learning at a
very young age that what boys wanted, she had, and that those desires could
be used to influence their behavior.  Melissa somehow instinctively knew
that she would lose some of that power should she give in to Trevor.  But
unfortunately she felt she had no choice.  It was time for Melissa to cash
in her chips.

   Dialing her charm up to "10", Melissa placed her hands onto Trevor's
broad shoulders and gazed into his eyes.  Then with all the allure of a
jaguar she purred, "If you'll help me, Trev, we can maybe go out and... 
you know." There was absolutely no mistaking what she meant as she blushed
hotly and averted her gaze, but when she looked back up at the young man,
the she-cat was back.  "Come on, Trev, you know you want to." Then she
added in a husky voice, dripping with unveiled seductiveness, "I want you
to, Trevor."

   The young man had never heard that particular throaty quality to her
voice before, and there was something in the way she looked at him and the
manner in which she spoke that caused his juices to free-flow.  Trevor
Williams caved in seconds later.

   Trevor's part of the bargain was to supply Melissa with the answers to
her mid-term history exam, and for his services he was promised heaven and
earth.  Being an honor roll student, Trevor enjoyed certain privileges not
available to the majority of the student body.  Frequently he found himself
alone in areas and offices that were off limits to most, and it was because
of this privilege that Trevor was able to secure a copy of the American
History Mid-term examination with surprisingly little difficulty.

   Benjamin Johnson had also been his American History teacher in the tenth
grade, and in looking over the answers to the ten page multiple choice
test, Trevor recognized most of them.  "Funny," he thought, that Melissa
would think badly of the middle-age man.  Trevor remembered Mr.  Johnson as
being a "pretty good guy" and a good teacher.  From time to time, he would
even share an off-color joke which tended to endear him to the boys in his
class.  Trevor never bothered to consider how the girls felt about it. 
"They were just jokes after all," he rationalized.

   Monday morning came at last.  All day long, Trevor was distracted,
wondering how his girlfriend would fare on her history exam, but when at
last the final bell rang and the two young people met in the hall,
Melissa's expression told the whole story.  Trevor couldn't remember ever
having seen her so elated.

   "I know I passed.  I just know it.  Oh thank you, Trevor," she cried,
throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.  Right then and
there Trevor began to hope and dream.

   The next day when the exam were announced, it became official, and
Melissa Carpenter surprised everyone in her American History Class by
racking up an A- on her history mid-term.  The tests were passed out and
the answers gone over one by one.  History class that day seemed like it
would never end.

   Melissa didn't remember much of what was said, because the entire time
she was thinking about the bargain she'd made with Trevor.  "Was she going
to do it?  Was she going to let him go all the way?" Thoughts and images
raced through her mind, both exciting and frightening her.  "Was she ready
to give him heaven and earth like she'd promised?" Melissa was so wrapped
up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the bell ring, signaling the end of
class.  Then at last, her daydreams were interrupted by a familiar voice
calling her name.

   "Miss Carpenter?  Miss Carpenter?" her history teacher spoke from behind
his desk at the front of the room.

   Melissa looked up at him blankly as she tried to collect her wits.  Most
of her classmates had already left the room, and only a few stragglers
still crowded through the door to the hallway, chattering vociferously as
they went.

   "Miss Carpenter, may I see you for a moment, please" Benjamin Johnson
spoke unemotionally to the pretty blond teenager seated in the third row,
giving her no indication as to what he wanted with her.

   Melissa presumed that he'd called her up to congratulate her on passing
the mid-term.  "Little does he know," she thought smugly as she gathered
her books and walked to the front of the classroom.

   "Yes, Mr.  Johnson," she said sweetly when at last she stood before his
desk.

   "Aren't you the little charmer," Benjamin Johnson thought to himself,
and for several moments he remained silent as he gazed upon the young girl.
She was nothing short of elegant, as she stood before him, not realizing
that her fate was in his hands.  He'd had his eyes on Melissa Carpenter for
quite some time, hoping that some day an opportunity might present itself
where he might come to know her better.

   Melissa always dressed neatly, and Benjamin appreciated that.  So many
of the young ladies in the school chose to dress like ragamuffins these
days.  It was refreshing to find one so young who recognized her good looks
and dressed accordingly.

   Today, for example, Melissa wore a black velvet skirt which broke just
above the knee.  For a top she'd chosen a charming hot pink sleeveless
blouse which clung to her nubile curves snugly enough to allow her small
breasts to make an impression in the soft fabric, but not so tight as to
appear cheep or tawdry.  On her small feet she wore pretty white strap
sandals.  A pale pink beaded necklace finished off the ensemble.

   Usually the lovely fifteen year old wore her thick blond hair up or tied
back in a short pony tail, but today she'd opted to wear it loose and
flowing like a warm golden mantle.  She was magnificent.

   Several minutes passed while neither of them spoke.  Then gradually her
smile began to fade and was replaced by a questioning look, which tended to
enhance her naturally pouty mouth.  Melissa cocked her head to one side,
and her blue eyes flashed an unspoken challenge.  She was about to ask her
history teacher what exactly it was that he wanted to see her about, when
Benjamin Johnson broke the silence.

   "I'm curious, Miss Carpenter," the middle age man began, staring at
Melissa over the top of his reading glasses.  "How is it that you can go
for an entire semester, turning in barely passing grades, and then make an
almost perfect score on the mid-term examination?  Doesn't that strike you
as odd?" he asked.

   Melissa was caught completely off guard.  She'd been expecting praise,
not suspicion.  Panic snapped at the periphery of her conscious mind like
emotional pirana as she tried desperately to calm her racing heart and
collect her thoughts.  She paled visibly, and her mouth went dry as the
Mojave.

   "I asked you a simple question, Miss Carpenter," her history teacher
said.  "I'd appreciate an answer, and perhaps a plausible explanation." He
waited.

   Melissa was so stunned that she just couldn't think.  In her head the
words, "He knows!  He knows!" screamed over and over again.  She licked her
lips, but words still eluded her.

   "You must have spent every waking moment over the entire weekend
studying," her teacher suggested, baiting her.  "Is that what happened,
Miss Carpenter?"

   It was as though he'd thrown a life ring to a drowning person, so
quickly did she grasp at what she perceived to be an avenue to safety. 
Nodding her pretty head enthusiastically, Melissa finally found her voice.
"Y...  yeah.  I mean, yes, sir, Mr.  Johnson.  That's what happened,
really," she lied.  "My boyfriend came over and helped me study.  Heck, we
were up all night on Saturday, practically." She embellished her tale with
a nervous little laugh, then fell silent.

   Mr.  Johnson stared at the young teen for several long, uncomfortable
minutes, so long in fact, that by the time he spoke again, Melissa was
squirming guiltily.  "I see," he said at last.  He had to suppress a smile
when he noticed her sigh with relief.  Benjamin allowed another few minutes
to tick by while he continued to watch her closely.  After a few moments
she started to glance around the room in an effort to appear calm and in
control.  Then when she'd regained at least a part of her composure, she
faced him and asked rather boldly, "Can I go now?"

   Johnson didn't answer her right away, then quite unexpectedly he asked,
"Mr.  Williams is your boyfriend.  Is he not, Miss Carpenter?" He phrased
the question casually, but still she looked at him suspiciously.

   "Y..  Yes, sir," she answered timidly.  "Do you know, Trevor?" she asked
then instantly regretted having done so.  "Of course he knew Trevor. 
Everyone knew Trevor," she silently admonished herself.

   "Why naturally I know Mr.  Williams," Mr.  Johnson replied with a smile.
"Besides his enviable reputation both scholastically and athletically, Mr.
Williams was once a student of mine," the man explained.  "Also since he's
a member of the Student Government, we faculty members see a good bit of
him.  In fact, I'm told he was in my office just last week.  Funny...  I
must have missed him."

   The way he said that suddenly made Melissa's blood run cold.  She only
discovered that she was holding her breath when her history teacher asked
her another seemingly innocuous question, defusing the tenseness in the
air, and causing her to exhale with an audible sigh.

   "How long have you and Mr.  Williams been seeing each other, Melissa? 
You don't mind if I call you by your first name, do you, my dear?" Johnson
asked warmly.

   For some reason the hairs on the back of Melissa's neck stood on end,
but she chose to ignore the premonition.  "He seemed so sincere, and
besides," she reasoned.  "What's he gonna do anyway?  He might send me to
summer school, I suppose, that is if he really knows something."

   "Two years," she answered, more at ease.  "Trevor will be going to
college next year," she added proudly.

   "That's what I understand," Mr.  Johnson said, rising from his chair. 
"Word has it your young man stands a good chance to secure a scholarship to
help to defer the costs of higher education," he went on in a
conversational tone of voice as he moved around his desk, stopping directly
in front of Melissa.  He leaned back on the edge of the desk and smiled
down at the darling young girl.  This was as close as he'd ever come to
her. He was so close, in fact, that he could smell her delicate perfume.

   "I expect the two of you will miss each other for awhile after Trevor
leaves for college?" He phrased his supposition as a question, rather than
a statement of fact.

   Melissa looked up at him questioningly.  "Funny he should ask something
like that," she thought.  "I...  I guess so," she responded after a minute.

   "Come now, Miss Carpenter," her teacher exclaimed in mock surprise. 
"The two of you are together constantly.  Unless, of course, you have
another beau in the wings for after Mr.  Williams leaves town?" He smiled
craftily.

   Melissa was becoming increasingly incensed by the rather personal turn
their conversation was taking.

   Mr.  Johnson, on the other hand, had other plans.  "Tell me.  Miss
Carpenter," he went on as though he were passing the time of day.  "Are you
and Mr.  Williams having sex?"

   The question came out of nowhere, causing the classroom to fall into a
heavy silence.

   Melissa refused to believe what she'd just heard.  "Maybe this was one
of his sick jokes," she rationalized.  In any case, the pretty teenager was
speechless and stood gaping at her history teacher with her mouth ajar.

   A full minute passed while Melissa stared in slack jawed disbelief at
Mr. Johnson.  Her thoughts, on the other hand screamed quite loudly in her
head.  "He's my American History Teacher for Christ's sake!  How dare he
ask me such a thing!  This is outrageous!" And what was even more
infuriating was that all the while he stood there leaning on his desk with
this totally smug look on his chubby face.  "He does have a chubby face,"
Melissa decided.  "He looks like a fat little frog!"

   When at last, the outraged teenager found her voice, the only sounds
that issued from her lips were a series of unintelligible sputters.  "How
da...  Who the hel...  What do y...  How could y...  I...  d...!" and then
she fell silent again, red faced and breathing hard.

   Melissa couldn't remember ever having been so furious.  All along she'd
suspected that Mr.  Johnson was some kind of weirdo.  Now she was certain
of it.  And, since Melissa was a rather attractive young woman, she'd had
her share of incidents where she'd been approached in what she considered
to be inappropriate ways by an assortment of scum bags and lechers.  But
she knew how to handle herself.  "Yes, sir.  She'd show him!" Melissa
Carpenter thought to herself as she balled up her fists and prepared to
give her history teacher the verbal equivalent of a naval broadside. 
Whatever fear or apprehension she'd been feeling over her exam results was
instantly eclipsed by white hot rage.  Nothing disgusted her more than a
pervert.

   Drawing herself up to her full five foot, five inch height, Melissa
faced her foe, bristling like a terrier.  "I think that kind of question is
totally inappropriate, Mr.  Johnson," she half spoke, half hissed.  She
struggled to keep herself at least partly under control, but it was
difficult, for she was shaking mad.  "And furthermore, I don't think it's
any of your damn business!" She glared icily at the older man.  "In fact, I
don't think we have anything further to say to each other," she said with
finality and bent to retrieve her books that she'd set on the classroom
desk near where she stood.  Then as she was turning to make her exit, she
looked back at her troll-like history teacher who hadn't said a word or
moved a muscle since she'd laid into him.  "When Mr.  Gillmore, [the school
principal], hears about this, you're going to be looking for another job,
Mr.  Johnson, sir," Melissa said mockingly.  She gave the man a haughty
smirk and turned to leave.

   Johnson let her get half way to the door before he cleared his throat
and spoke.  "I think you cheated on your exam, Miss Carpenter," he said. 
"Furthermore, I believe that you had an accomplice."

   Melissa froze in her tracks.  Slowly she turned to face her American
History teacher who stood leaning against his desk still.  "What do you
mean?" the teenager feigned innocense.  From across the room, Melissa could
feel the man's eyes boring into her, searching out her secrets and bearing
her soul.

   "Why don't you come back over here for a minute, Miss Carpenter," Mr. 
Johnson suggested politely.

   "But...  I...  I'll be late for my next class," Melissa whined, grasping
at straws.  She hated it when she whined.

   "I'll write you a note," her history teacher replied with a wry smile.
"I think you and I had better talk a few things over right now." His smile
quickly faded.

   Melissa knew the game was over.  She tried to gather her courage as she
reluctantly crossed the short distance to where Mr.  Johnson stood waiting
for her.  She feared the worse.  "Summer school is such a drag!" Melissa
muttered under her breath.

   "I beg your pardon, Miss Carpenter?" her history teacher said.

   She stood in front of him now.  Gathering what remained of her
composure, Melissa squared her shoulders and looked the man in the eyes. 
"Let's get it over with.  I know you're going to make me go to summer
school, so let's just be done with it, OK!" she said rather arrogantly.

   Melissa was angry with herself for getting caught and even angrier with
the rotund little man for catching her.  She was prepared to face the
music, but she was in no mood to take a lot of crap from Johnson.  "God,
he's such a troll!" Melissa thought silently.

   Benjamin Johnson remained silent for a good while.  For such an
attractive girl, Melissa Carpenter had to be one of the rudest young women
he'd ever met.  "We're going to put an end to that," Benjamin thought as he
returned Melissa's insolent glare cooly and calmly.  "I could have you
expelled, you know," he threatened.

   Melissa hadn't expected that.  "Summer school was one thing.  Sure it
would be a drag," she thought to herself.  "But dismissal!  God, her
parents would kill her!" Melissa's mind raced as she tried desperately to
think of what to say or do next.  She knew she had to be very careful.  Mr.
Johnson had mentioned the possibility that she might have gotten help with
her mid-terms, and he'd asked her about Trevor.  Melissa was still mad
about the sex question , but so far he hadn't put two and two together. 
One slip of the tongue, though, and Trevor's dreams of college were
history.

   Johnson could see that the "wheels were turning" from the troubled
expression on her face, and elected to let her stew for awhile longer. 
Then at last he broke the uncomfortable silence.  "Perhaps expulsion is a
bit harsh," Mr.  Johnson said thoughtfully.  "And since you mentioned it,
maybe summer school would be in order."

   Melissa relaxed noticeably.  She found it hard to believe that she could
actually be relieved to find out she had to go to summer school, but under
the circumstances...

   "Consider this, Miss Carpenter," Johnson began again.  "Suppose instead
of regular summer school, you and I spend a few days each week together for
some private tutoring.  That way you won't have to ruin your entire summer,
and you and I can get to know each other a little better," he calmly
suggested.

   At first Melissa didn't catch the true meaning of the man's offer and
began to consider dates and times in her head.  Then suddenly it stuck her.
It wasn't what he'd said.  It was more the way in which he'd said it that
caused the subconscious alarm bells to sound.  Looking at the middle aged
man with thinly veiled contempt Melissa asked, "You don't mean...?" she let
the question go unfinished when she saw him smile suggestively.

   Melissa began to worry a little for her safety, but maintained a bold
front.  "I think it's time for me to go, Mr.  Johnson," she said flatly as
she clutched her books to her chest and glanced toward the door.  She
intended to have no further conversation with the warped little man. 
Melissa couldn't wait to get out of that classroom and make a beeline for
the school office where if she had her way, Mr.  Benjamin Johnson would
soon be under arrest for making lewd and lascivious advances to a student.

   "I think you'd better stay, my dear," the man said unexpectedly. 
Melissa looked at him in disbelief as he went on.  "What do you think Mr.
Williams' chances of securing a scholarship would be were it to become
common knowledge that he helped you to cheat on your history exam, Miss
Carpenter?"

   And there it was.  For a very long time no one uttered a sound.  The
atmosphere in the classroom became heavy and oppressive again, and Melissa
found it increasingly difficult to catch her breath as the full
ramifications of her situation became clearer by the minute.  Melissa's
heart began to race, and she felt suddenly weak.

   "Well, Miss Carpenter?" Johnson pressed as he watched the blood drain
from her face.  "I expect an answer, young lady!"

   "But...  but..." Melissa stammered.  "How..?  How did..?" but she was
simply too flustered at the moment to go on.

   "How did I find out?" Mr.  Johnson asked, completing her thought.  She
looked up at him with a panicky expression on her lovely face.  "I don't
think that matters, Miss Carpenter.  Do you?  The fact is, I did find out,
and now it seems to me that you and I have to decide just exactly what
we're going to do about this, shall we say, delicate situation." He stared
unflinchingly at the uncomfortable teenager until she started to squirm.

   "But why pick on Trevor?" Melissa asked in a pitiful little voice after
a minute or two.  "I mean, he wouldn't have done anything like this if I
hadn't asked him to.  Please don't report him, Mr.  Johnson." She was
pleading now and bordering on desperation.  "I'd just die if I was the
cause of Trevor not getting into college," she added miserably.

   "Hold on, hold on, my dear," Mr.  Johnson said in a slightly softer tone
of voice.  "Let's not jump to conclusions," he went on as he took a step
toward the unhappy girl.  "I don't wish to see Mr.  Williams get into
trouble.  Heavens no!" he exclaimed.  "I happen to like young Trevor very
much, as a matter of fact, and desire only the best for him, as I'm sure
you do too, my dear."

   Benjamin reached out and placed his hand on Melissa's shoulder.  It was
the first time he'd ever touched her, and even now he imagined he could
feel an electrical current leap from the magical creature standing
dejectedly before him and flow up his arm like something alive,
exhilarating and invigorating him.  "Get hold of yourself, man," Johnson
silently admonished himself.  There was no need to rush into this.  If he
played his cards right, he knew that he could have this precious gem for
his very own, to have and to hold at his leisure.

   Melissa's thoughts were so black that she didn't notice when her history
teacher put his hands on her, and when she detected a note of sympathy in
his voice, she looked up at him timidly.  The haughty, arrogant teenager
had fled the scene and was temporarily replaced by a frightened little
girl. "You...  you mean you won't...  you won't turn him in?" she asked
haltingly.

   "Well, that depends, my child, but I feel certain we can work something
out," Mr.  Johnson replied, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

   Finally Melissa noticed his hand on her shoulder, but decided to allow
it for the time being.  Then she gave him a healthy sample of her sweetest
smile that had served in the past as the key to every man's heart.  She
even placed her small hand over his on her shoulder briefly, and began to
believe that maybe she could get out of this mess with minimal damage. 
"Thank you, Mr.  Johnson," Melissa said sincerely.  Trevor and I will
always be grateful to you."

   "My pleasure, Melissa," her history teacher said, calling her by her
first name again.  "Always willing to help out a friend." He smiled
reassuringly at the pretty teenager.

   Melissa took his smile to mean that their discussion was over, and that
she could leave now.  However, as she turned once more toward the door, Mr.
Johnson cleared his throat and said, "Speaking of friends, Melissa.  I
think it's only appropriate that since you and I now share a mutual
investment in Mr.  Williams' future, if you will, that we get to know each
other a little better.  Don't you agree?"

   It was a rhetorical question, of course, and caught Melissa totally by
surprise.  She stopped abruptly and turned, feeling that old familiar icy
feeling in the pit of her stomach.

   Seeing expressions of suspicion and apprehension begin to cloud her
lovely face, Mr.  Johnson tried to make light of the situation.  "Oh come
now, my dear girl," he began.  "Surely it won't hurt for you to be just a
little bit nicer to me, after everything I've done for you and Trevor."

   Melissa remained silent for a time while she eyed the older man
dubiously.  "What did you have in mind, Mr.  Johnson?" she asked in a quiet
voice, purposely using the formal salutation in hopes that the man's sense
of responsibility would keep him from suggesting anything really crazy.

   "Now Melissa, let's not go getting testy again." Mr.  Johnson spoke in a
calm voice, and although his tone was not exactly threatening in nature,
Melissa had little doubt that he meant business.  "Obviously our time is
limited at the moment, but perhaps after school today we might get together
and discuss this matter further.  Unless, of course, you have other plans?"

   Melissa didn't care for the direction things were going and quickly
fabricated an excuse.  "Well, I...  I'm supposed to meet Trevor after
school and go over to his house for dinner and maybe study some." She
glanced sheepishly at her history teacher.  Then when she saw the smile
spread across his face, Melissa instantly realized the corner she'd painted
herself into.  "Well, actually..." she started on a new tack, but her
teacher interrupted her.

   "Splendid, my dear!" Mr.  Johnson said.  "So your parents won't be
expecting you home until later." He thought for a moment then went on. 
"Why don't you tell Mr.  Williams that you've had a change of plans for
this evening, Melissa" her teacher suggested with a smile.  "You don't have
to go into detail or anything right now, but I think that considering what
the two of us have done for him today, young Trevor souldn't mind terribly
were he to discover that you and I are friends.  You can see Trevor
tomorrow, if you like.  Oh, and I wouldn't bother saying anything to your
parents about this.  We'll have you home plenty early." Although Mr. 
Johnson's plan was phrased as a request, it was abundantly clear to Melissa
that indeed , it was a demand.

   "But Mr.  Johnson, I...  I mean, I really...  We really shouldn't, be
talking about stuff like this." Melissa realized that her voice came across
as pathetic and whiney, and she hated herself for it.  But as she felt the
loop of the older man's snare close tighter around her, the determined,
headstrong debutante who'd walked into her American History Class just over
an hour ago was nowhere to be found.  "I mean..  I'm one of your students,
and...  and besides, I'm only fifteen." God, how she'd hated to say that!

   Ben Johnson was really enjoying toying with the girl, but time was
wasting.  He did, after all have another class to teach that afternoon
before he could begin Melissa's "tutoring".  So, in a sterner tone of voice
he said to her, "I'm not exactly sure what you're talking about, my dear,
but I will say this.  At fifteen years of age, young lady, it's high time
you learn that we must all take responsibility for our actions.  You chose
to cheat on your mid-term examination, and Mr.  Williams chose to assist
you in your transgressions." He paused to allow the weightiness of her
wrongdoings to sink in.  "You may now choose whether or not you wish to
risk summer school and possibly expulsion for yourself as well as certain
dismissal for Mr.  Williams and the guarantee that he will have no chance
at acquiring scholarship funds, or, Miss Carpenter," Johnson paused for
effect, staring cooly at the girl.  "Or, Miss Carpenter, you can meet me
here this afternoon after classes, and perhaps the two of us can reach an
understanding about why I shouldn't report both you and Mr.  Williams to
the school office, in addition to beginning your tutoring, naturally. 
Think of it this way," he went on before Melissa could open her mouth to
argue.  "You'll be helping Mr.  Williams, uh...  Trevor," he said in a
milder tone.  "You'll be helping Trevor to realize his dreams, with my
help, of course.  Just a couple of good friends helping another friend. 
Some day, Trevor might even thank us," Mr.  Johnson finished with his
familiar smile.

   Melissa was simply to confused to think clearly at that moment.  She had
the uncomfortable feeling that her troubles were far from over, but for the
life of her she couldn't come up with a plausible argument with which to
refute her history teacher right then.  "Maybe later, when I've had some
time to think," she told herself, but to Mr.  Johnson Melissa simply nodded
her head somewhat dejectedly.

   "Splendid!" the older man said.  "Remember, my dear, that young Trevor's
future rests in your hands," Johnson reminded the pretty teenager as she
gathered her books to leave.  She responded with a resigned though slightly
contemptuous look.  "Oh, and don't forget to call off your date with Trevor
for this evening," he added with a wry smile.  "I'll see you after
three-thirty, my dear." Benjamin was very tempted to elicit a kiss out of
the lovely girl, but decided that he could wait until later.

   The time seemed to crawl by, and for the rest of the day all Melissa
could think about was what she was going to do about the situation she'd
found herself in with her history teacher.  At one point she tried to
convince herself that maybe, if she were to offer to work very hard and
make straight "A's" for the rest of the semester, maybe Mr.  Johnson would
reconsider.  Actually, when she thought about it, he really never did say
just exactly what he wanted to with her after school.  Perhaps she was
getting all worked up over nothing, falling prey to her imagination.  She
was so used to having men make passes at her, especially the last couple of
years.  "All the man suggested was tutoring," Melissa reminded herself.

   "But he can be so creepy," that little voice in her head pointed out.

   "He's just a lonely little man who likes to tell off-color jokes,
probably harmless," Melissa decided, putting an end to her mental debate
with herself.  "She'd go the see Mr.  Johnson right after school.  They'd
set up a schedule for him to tutor her in American History, and that would
be that."

   Melissa felt greatly relieved once she came to the conclusion that she'd
obviously misunderstood her history teacher's intentions.  Interestingly
enough, however, when she ran into Trevor at around three o'clock, she
managed to tactfully cancel their evening together without ever divulging
to him the real reason why.  She simply told the somewhat gullible young
man that she had "stuff to do", and that was apparently enough for Trevor.
After all, he was the trusting sort.

   The corridors were dark and eerily silent where only minutes earlier, it
seemed, they were filled with a cacophony of excited voices and slamming
locker doors as the throngs of Melissa's fellow students beat a hasty
retreat.  It was Friday and school was OUT!

   From the window of the ladies bathroom on the second floor Melissa could
see Trevor waiting outside for her in their usual meeting place.  More than
likely he wanted to say goodbye to her and maybe find out what she was
doing tomorrow, but Melissa didn't want to run the risk of having him ask
her any questions.  As a matter of fact, she didn't want anyone she knew
asking questions, which is why she'd been hiding out in the ladies room for
the last twenty minutes.  Melissa had pretty much convinced herself that
her history teacher meant her no harm.  Still there was the fact that she
had been caught cheating, and Melissa wanted to keep that matter very
confidential.  The fewer people who knew about her tutoring arrangement,
the less chance there was that awkward questions might be asked.  She
watched as Trevor became impatient and started looking at his watch. 
Finally he glanced around one more time, threw his letter jacket over his
shoulder and headed for the parking lot.

   "See you tomorrow, Trev," Melissa whispered from her place of
concealment.  "Everything's gonna be alright," she assured herself.

   Melissa waited another ten minutes just to be safe.  Then when she
figured that everyone except for maybe the janitor would be long gone, she
opened the bathroom door ever so quietly and peeked out into the hall.  It
appeared deserted, but just as Melissa was about to step out into the
darkened corridor a door slammed somewhere in the building.  The sound
reverberated down the empty hallways and scared the immortal hell out of
her.

   "What are you so jumpy about?" Melissa asked herself once she caught her
breath.  "It's not like you're robbing the place or anything!" Still, her
heart was pounding in her chest as she stole quietly down the second floor
hall toward Mr.  Johnson's room.

   On the frosted glass pane in the upper half of the door, "Room 207 -
History" was printed in large black letters.  The door was cracked open a
bit, which resolved one problem for Melissa.  She'd been wondering whether
or not she should knock.  Its hinges groaned loudly when she pushed the
door open just enough to poke her head inside.  Mr.  Johnson was seated at
his desk and looked up immediately.

   "Ah, Miss Carpenter, splendid.  Do come right in," he said with an
inviting smile.  He glanced up at the clock on the far wall.  It was five
minutes to four.  He watched the attractive young lady enter quietly and
close the door behind herself.  "Set the lock, please, Miss Carpenter.  You
never know who might be wandering around after hours, and we can't be too
careful, can we?" She turned and gazed at him pensively, then shook her
head in response.  "God almighty, she's stunning," Benjamin said to
himself.

   A litany of rationalizations played in her head as Melissa walked slowly
to the front of the classroom.  Although she'd told herself repeatedly that
she had nothing to fear, and that everything was going to be just fine,
Melissa was very apprehensive.  Her body language must have given her true
feelings away, because as she approached Mr.  Johnson rose from his seat,
moved around to the front of the desk and leaned against it.

   "Why the long face?" he said, feigning sympathy.  "It's so unbecoming on
such a lovely young woman, Melissa." Then after a brief pause he asked
again, "You don't mind if I call you by your first name do you?" He smiled
warmly at the charming teenager who'd stopped just out of reach a few feet
away from him.

   She looked up at him with those deep blue eyes of hers and shook her
head.  Then she tried to smile.

   "That's better," her history teacher said, looking her up and down.

   Melissa thought she could feel him touching her with his eyes.  It made
her shiver inside, and suddenly she had a powerful urge to get the hell out
of there.  "Take it easy, Melissa," she told herself.  "Just relax.  Think
about Trevor."

   "Come closer, Melissa," Mr.  Johnson said affectionately and held out
his hand to her.  "I don't bite," he chuckled.

   Melissa stood gazing at the man for a full minute while she tried to
decide whether or not to stay or run.  He was pudgy and balding and old
enough to be her dad.  Everything about Mr.  Johnson, in fact, was
repugnant to Melissa, but deep down inside, past all of the optimistic
justification and sunny good time feelings, Melissa knew what she was going
to have to do.  She knew that it was the only way that Trevor would stand a
chance to go on to college.  But in spite of her strong feelings for the
lad, she simply didn't know if she was ready to admit it to herself or to
go through with it.  With a resigned sigh, Melissa Carpenter placed her
small hand in his.

   Her subtle perfume permeated his senses as Benjamin Johnson pulled her
closer, and it was all he could do not to take her right then and there. 
"Patience, Ben, old man," he chided himself.

   "You are indeed a beautiful child, Melissa," Mr.  Johnson said huskily.
"Trevor is a lucky young man." She was less that two feet away now,
blushing hotly.  "So self-conscious," he thought to himself.  "Speaking of
Trevor, my dear, were you able to postpone your date without too much
difficulty?"

   "Uh huh," Melissa answered meekly, staring at the floor.

   Mr.  Johnson dropped her hand then placed two fingers beneath her chin
and raised her face up to his.  "Let's see that pretty smile again,
Melissa," he coaxed, and reluctantly she complied.  "That's my girl. 
You're so much prettier when you smile for me." He paused for a minute
while he drank in her beauty.  "I'm glad you've decided to be nice,
Melissa," he told her then moved his hand from her chin to her cheek.  Her
skin was like satin, but abruptly she recoiled and turned away.  "Don't be
shy, Melissa.  You're not shy around Trevor, are you?"

   That got her attention, and she looked up at him impetuously.  Her
expression was no longer docile.  Here eyes were the color of arctic ice,
blue and cold, and just beneath the surface of those frigid pools danced
the blistering flames of enmity.

   "I'll bet you can fight like a tiger when aroused, or fuck like one,"
Benjamin silently mused.

   Melissa made a withdrawal on her spiritual reserves and faced her
history teacher.  "Do what you think is right with me, Mr.  Johnson, but
let's leave Trevor out of this, OK," she said scornfully.

   "To the contrary," Johnson countered.  "Mr.  Williams is the main reason
we're here." His crafty smile was back.  "If you recall, my dear, we agreed
to meet to discuss the pact we made with each another.  Then we can get on
with your tutoring," the older man explained patiently.

   "What pact?" Melissa asked contemptuously.

   "You know very well what pact, Melissa.  The arrangement we made to keep
Mr.  Williams' larcenous activities a secret," Mr.  Johnson expounded.  "We
decided earlier today that you were going to come here this afternoon and
help to convince me that I should ignore my duty as an educator in order to
help our a friend."

   "But you made me come here," Melissa said, bristling for a fight.  "You
don't care about Trevor.  All you want is...  is..." She fell silent,
unable to complete the sentence, but they both knew what she meant.  She'd
voiced her suspicions.  Now the ball was in his court.

   "I didn't make you come here, young lady," Mr.  Johnson said.  His harsh
tone of voice caused Melissa to take a step back.

   "Good," he thought.  "She can be intimidated fairly easily, anyway."

   "I asked you to come here, Miss Carpenter.  I asked you to come here and
help me to help Trevor," he lectured sternly, causing her to avert her
gaze. "Like I told you earlier today, I think the world of Trevor Williams.
He's an honest, hard working boy who deserves a break, but because of your
selfishness, Miss Carpenter, Trevor is in some very hot water." He paused
to let his words sink in.  "Do you understand me, young lady?" he asked
closing the gap between them in one step.  The pretty teenager started to
move away from him, but he grabbed her rather roughly by the shoulders,
cutting off her retreat.  "I asked you a question, Miss Carpenter."

   Melissa looked up at the man.  Her expression was a mixture of fear and
loathing.  "OK...OK...  I understand," she said bitterly.

   Abruptly Mr.  Johnson softened.  "Hey, let's not start off like this.  I
want us to be friends." She looked away again.  "So help me, Melissa," he
said, shaking her lightly.  "Help me to help Trevor." He waited, staring
down at the top of her head until at last she looked up at him.

   "What do you want me to do?" Melissa asked in a small voice.

   Those were the words that Benjamin Johnson was waiting to hear.  Soon
the lovely Melissa Carpenter would be his.

   "To begin with," he said, releasing her and leaning casually back
against the edge of his desk.  "We need to start being honest with each
other, if we're going to be friends, Melissa."

   Melissa stood staring at her history teacher rather blankly.  She had no
idea what to expect next from the man.  "What do you mean?" she asked
naively.

   "Why don't you start by telling me honestly what you offered Mr. 
Williams in return for his pilfering the answers to the exam for you."

   Melissa was caught completely by surprise.  She flushed beet red and
didn't know whether to be embarrassed or angry.  "I...  I..." she croaked.

   "Come now, Melissa.  You and I both know that Trevor is an excellent
student and an impeccably honest young man.  You must have made him a very
attractive offer for him to compromise his moral principles in such a
manner." He smiled as he watched the girl squirm.

   "I...  I..., but!" she said, still totally flustered.

   "I'll bet I know what you promised our forthright young man," Mr. 
Johnson said with a sly smile.  Then he winked at her.

   Slowly Melissa regained at least a part of her composure.  She knew the
moment of truth was at hand, so steeling herself, she faced her American
History teacher.  "What exactly are you saying, Mr.  Johnson?" Melissa
asked, being purposely vague.

   Johnson smiled at her little game of cat and mouse.  He could play along
for a little while longer.  "I have a lot of respect for Mr.  Williams, my
dear, but he is very young," he pointed out.  "I suspect that quite
possibly he was swayed by the promise of maybe indulging in your charms,
causing him to ignore his better judgement and end up in trouble."

   Melissa found that his purring banter was becoming extremely
aggravating, and she wondered if he would ever get to the point.

   "I, on the other hand, am quite a bit more experienced, and am not so
easily persuaded," Johnson maintained.  "I think you should make me the
same offer that you made Trevor, Miss Carpenter.  Yes, indeed," he said. 
"If it's good enough to motivate Trevor Williams to steal for you, then it
will probably be adequate to assure my continued cooperation and
confidentiality.  Let's find out, shall we?" Johnson said.  His wicked
smile seemed to be permanently embossed on his face now.  "But..," he said,
holding up his hand.  "Like I told you before.  I won't be as easy to
convince as Mr.  Williams was.  You two have been seeing each other for two
years, you said.  Mr.  Williams has a big head start, so you and I have a
lot of catching up to do, my dear.  I'd like to check out what I'm getting
for my cooperation, young lady.  Then I'll decide if I think you're worth
me turning my back on my professional ethics."

   Melissa was utterly flabbergasted.  The man was insane.  He made her
feel like a piece of raw material that he wished to test before he used it.
"Professional ethics!" she spat.  "Professional ethics!  Who do you think
you're kidding," she said in disgust.

   'Now let's not be rude, young lady," her history teacher said, cutting
short her tirade.

   Then quite unexpectedly he pushed himself forward, walked around his
desk and sat down in his seat.  Melissa stood gaping at the man, not
knowing what to expect next, but whatever is was, she was pretty sure she
wouldn't be too wild about it.  She didn't have to wait very long.

   "Come around here, Melissa," Mr.  Johnson said tersely.

   She hesitated.

   "Remember, with one telephone call," he threatened, producing a small
cellular phone from his jacket pocket.  " I can ensure that Trevor
Williams' future is a bleak one indeed."

   "But, Mr.  Johnson," Melissa said miserably as she moved slowly around
the big desk toward the rotund little history teacher.

   "Oh, stop your whining, young lady.  Why you'd think you were six years
old," he scolded.

   As soon as she was within reach, Mr.  Johnson took Melissa by the hips,
spun her around so that she faced away from him, and then pulled her back
until the backs of her legs almost touched his knees.

   Leaning back in his seat, Mr.  Johnson took a good look at his
perspective prize before commenting, "You have a lovely figure, Miss
Carpenter.  I'll bet you get a lot of exercise, don't you my dear."

   Melissa could hardly have anticipated what occurred next.  Mr.  Johnson
hadn't even finished his compliment, when his right hand moved up under her
skirt like lightning.  Before Melissa knew what was happening her history
teacher was sawing his hand back and forth between her legs, and allowing
his fingertips to trail over some rather private areas of her anatomy. 
"Very nice, my dear.  Very nice," he murmured.

   "Nnnnn...," Melissa gasped between clenched teeth as soon as her mind
caught up and commanded her body to react.  She raised up on her tip toes
and tried to pull away, but her teacher easily restrained her by gripping
her inner thigh with the one trespassing hand and holding her tightly by
her left hip with the other.  Even while he held her thus, effectively
preventing her from escaping, his right hand remained quite busy.  Reveling
in the moist feminine heat he found between her supple thighs, Mr.  Johnson
pressed upward against her with his thumb and first two fingers.

   "Sttoppppp," she cried out of both fear and frustration, and a bit too
loudly for her teacher's liking.

   "Hush, Melissa!" Mr.  Johnson admonished her from behind.  "We wouldn't
want anyone to hear us, not when we're just starting to get acquainted." He
chuckled at his witticism.  "Now hold still.  Christ, you'd think you've
never been touched by a man before."

   "But it, I mean, I..." she whimpered woefully, but failed to finish
expressing her grievance.

   "That's not like her," Benjamin reflected.  He hadn't known Melissa for
very long other than on an academic level, but one thing was for certain
about this little debutante.  She didn't take personal criticism well at
all.  "Why didn't she refute me on that one?" he wondered.

   Acting purely on a hunch, he removed his hand from between Melissa's
legs, and turned her around to face him.  She was beet red from
embarrassment, "and what else?" Johnson pondered.  Keeping his hands on her
hips, he studied the lovely teenager for a moment.  He kept trying to catch
her eye, but each time he did, she would quickly look away.  Finally he was
forced to order her to look at him.

   Ever so reluctantly she faced him.  Her eyes clearly expressed her
uneasiness and confusion.  "Such dichotomy of character," Benjamin mused.
"One minute she's the scrapper, head strong and confident, and the next the
timid little girl.  I guess I never will understand what goes on in the
mind of a young lady in her teens," he concluded.  In any case, it wasn't
her mind that he was after.

   "You need to relax, my dear," Mr.  Johnson began by speaking soothingly.
Meanwhile, he allowed his hands to travel gently down the flanks of her
thighs, stopping at her knees.  "You're so tense, child, and your muscles
are all in knots," he commented as he started to massage the backs of her
thighs, kneading their firm muscles as he moved his hands slowly upward
over the soft velvet of her skirt.  All the while he kept his eyes fixed on
hers.  "Are you always this nervous and up-tight when you're around boys,
Melissa?" His hands moved back downward, rubbing, squeezing.  "Are you this
skittish when you're with Trevor?" he asked, staring pointedly into her big
blue eyes.

   "Well, no, but..." she replied softly.

   His hands started back up, then stopped just below the hem of her skirt.
Everything was progressing famously, albeit a little slowly.  Mr.  Johnson
glanced quickly at the clock on the far wall.  Four forty-two, it read.  He
had plenty of time, and his comforting tone of voice and concerned
questions were serving to distract the girl, quite successfully.

   "Do you and Trevor," he stopped to make sure she was listening to him.
"Do you and Trevor get intimate with each other often, Melissa?" He slid
his hands under her skirt then slowly up the backs of her thighs.

   Melissa stared at him for a few seconds then looked away, but before she
did, Benjamin distinctly saw a tiny glint of...  "gilt, maybe?  I wonder,"
he speculated.  Then again, it could quite possibly have been a reaction to
the fact that his hands were up under her skirt again.  The flesh of her
thighs was wonderfully firm and resilient beneath skin like satin.  Johnson
waited to see how she would respond.

   "Mr.  Johnson, I," she started then hesitated, blushing hotly and
averting her gaze.

   "You what, Melissa?" he prompted immediately.  "And please look at me
when you speak to me, Melissa.  It's the only polite thing to do," he
pointed out to her.  He waited, sensing that she was about to divulge
something rather personal in nature.  "With the right motivation," he
reminded himself.

   His hands rested just below her hips now, and he could feel the soft
fabric of her little panties beneath his palms.

   "What did you want to tell me, Melissa?" he coaxed in a more earnest
tone of voice.  She began to squirm in his hands.  "You and Mr.  Williams
have been intimate with each other, haven't you?" Benjamin then asked a bit
incredulously.  "I mean now-a-days, many young ladies start a lot younger
than you are," he added.

   He felt the thin elastic waist band of her panties beneath his
fingertips.

   "Answer me, Miss Carpenter," he requested rather brusquely.  "You're not
a virgin still, are you?"

   "No...I mean, well but...." Melissa responded right away.

   She looked highly agitated.  Benjamin had her right where he wanted her.
She was confused and embarrassed, yet at the same time she would wish to
maintain an air of maturity.  He knew that being considered mature meant
everything to a girl Melissa's age.

   "But what, Miss Carpenter?  Either you are or you aren't.  There's no in
between," Mr.  Johnson said patronizingly.  He studied her lovely face, but
again she refused to look him in the eye.

   The timing couldn't have been any more perfect.

   "I think we need to get to the bottom of this little mystery right now,
Miss Carpenter," Mr.  Johnson declared, and with that, he hooked his thumbs
over the little elastic band.  "Let's just take these down," he muttered
and swiftly drew her panties down to her ankles.

   It all happened so quickly that Melissa didn't realize she'd been
stripped of her underwear until she heard her history teacher tell her from
his bent over position to pick her left foot up.  Even then it was like a
dream, or nightmare rather.  "Now the other foot.  That's it." she heard
the man speak as if from a great distance.  Melissa didn't recall losing
her balance and catching herself with a hand on Mr.  Johnson's shoulder as
she obediently stepped out of her panties for him.  She was so very
flustered and bewildered by his earlier barrage of very personal questions,
some of which had triggered feelings and memories she'd wanted to forget,
that in fact, Melissa didn't remember much about the episode at all.  It
wasn't until she felt her history teacher's fingers start to fumble with
the single button on the front of her black velvet skirt, that Melissa
returned to the present, but by then it was too late.

   "Wha..?" she exclaimed dumbly then glanced down when she felt the skirt
fall around her feet.  A second later she looked back up at her teacher,
but this time it was he who refused to look her in the eye.  Benjamin's
attention was directed elsewhere, you see.

   Melissa Carpenter stood before him dressed only in her little pink
sleeveless pullover, the tail of which ended just below her navel.  Below
that line of hot pink cotton curved the softness of her lower abdomen, and
below that...  Well let's just say that Benjamin Johnson was left
breathless at the sight.

   "Oh, my dear, sweet, child," he managed to get out at last.  His eyes
were riveted to the enchanting golden triangle between the young girl's
thighs.  Melissa's wispy soft blond curls were surprisingly sparse, and
allowed him to clearly see her wide, heavy labia majora beneath.  Johnson
wanted more than anything to reach out and stroke that soft coat, but
managed to control himself for the time being.

   "Please don't, Mr.  Johnson," Melissa pleaded and then covered herself
with both hands when she couldn't stand having the man stare at her down
there for another second.  She pressed her knees together and turned away.

   Benjamin let her turn.  He wanted to get a better look at her back side
anyway, and oh, what a treat that turned out to be.  Fearing that she might
try to get away from him, although he didn't know where she would go,
dressed as she was, Johnson placed a hand on Melissa's left side above her
hip, his finger tips reaching nearly half way around her slim waist.

   "Don't be shy, my dear," he cooed to her as he placed his other hand
onto one exquisitely shaped orb of her plump little butt.  "Like I told you
before, you have a lovely figure.  You should be proud of your body, not
ashamed or afraid of it, Melissa," Mr.  Johnson said softly as he rubbed
her back side almost reverently.  She flinched slightly when he let his
fingers delve ever so slightly into the mysterious, dark valley between
rolling hills of milk white, warm and supple flesh.

   "Don't hide yourself from me, Melissa," her teacher said as he
unexpectedly peaked around her left side.  She tried to rotate her hips
farther in order to escape his probing eyes, but this time he restrained
her.  "Take your hands away, Melissa" he instructed her, and gently grabbed
the forearm of one offending hand.

   Turning quickly, Melissa looked over her shoulder at him with big puppy
dog eyes.  "But Mr.  Johnson," she whimpered.  "Please, Mr.  Johnson.  I...
I just can't." She was close to tears now, and started to struggle with him
weakly as he tried to coax her to uncover herself.

   "What can't you do, sweetheart?" Mr.  Johnson cooed in mock sympathy. 
He pulled her left hand around behind her back.

   "I can't...  Noooo," she cried louder as her history teacher turned her
gently yet inexorably around until she faced him once again.  She crouched
slightly, knees held tightly together with her right hand still jammed into
her crotch.

   "Now we'll have no more of this behavior, Miss Carpenter," the older man
said more forcefully.  "You're a beautiful young woman, and I for one would
like to see more of you.  Take your hand away this instant, Melissa!" he
ordered the stunned little beauty.

   Reaching behind her left thigh, he grabbed her just below her buttock
and yanked her closer and none to gently.  Melissa dropped her hand as she
stumble forward, granting Mr.  Johnson an unobstructed, close up view of
her treasures.

   Positioning her between his knees, Johnson said a slightly softer tone
of voice, "There, now.  That's much better.  Let's you and I not start off
our relationship fighting, my dear," he murmured affectionately.  "Remember
we have Mr.  Williams to think about."

   Melissa stiffened at the mention of Trevor's name.  She couldn't
remember ever having been in a more dreadful situation.  She couldn't
believe this was really happening, yet there she stood, in front of her
American History Teacher, naked from the waist down.  Melissa imagined she
could feel his eyes caressing her, probing into her secret places.  Not
even Trevor had seen her like this before.  Melissa was thoroughly
mortified.

   "Now, back to my question," Mr.  Johnson said in a conversational tone.
To his credit, he managed to tear his eyes away from the girl's enticing
plumpness, and gaze up at her from his seat with a look of genuine
curiosity on his pudgy face.  Then after waiting a minute for her to
respond, he prompted, "Well, Melissa, which is it?"

   With a perplexed look, the pretty teenager asked him, "W..  What do you
mean?"

   "Are you a virgin or not?" Mr.  Johnson replied in mock surprise.

   At first Melissa stared at him with a look of utter torment on her face.
She opened her mouth to speak once or twice but couldn't make a sound. 
Finally she looked away in shame.

   Benjamin asked her again, and again she was either unable or unwilling
to answer him.  After a minute, he said to her, "It hurts my feelings,
Melissa, that you choose to keep secrets from me.  Do you keep secrets from
Mr.  Williams too?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

   No response.

   With a sigh, Mr.  Johnson said, "Very well, then, have it your way, my
dear, but I wish you'd be more forthright with me.  I mean we're going to
find out sooner or later." Slowly, Melissa turned to face him.  Her deep
blue eyes were distant and troubled.  Benjamin sensed just from looking at
her that she was hiding something about which she was deeply chagrined,
something that troubled her even more than standing half naked in front of
her history teacher.  Eventually it would have to come out, but he could be
patient, and besides, Benjamin figured he could find far better ways amuse
himself for the time being.

   "I'm going to put my hand on you, now, Melissa," he said flatly.  "I
expect for you to hold very still, and I promise I won't hurt you," he
added sincerely as he placed his free hand on her tummy, effectively
preventing her from escaping from between his knees.  Then with no further
comment, he slipped his hand downward and cupped her fabulously resilient
flesh.

   "No don't, Mr.  Johnson!" Melissa cried out in dismay.  Then she jammed
her hands between her thighs, pushing her teacher's hand aside.

   For a brief moment in time, Benjamin Johnson had touched heaven.  Never
in his life had he felt such immaculate softness, and yet she was so very
plump and firm at the same time.

   "Take your hands away, young lady," Mr.  Johnson ordered the distressed
teenager.  He looked up at her sternly from his seated position.  Her face
was flushed a rosy shade of pink both from embarrassment and anxiety.  "I
said remove your hands right now, Melissa." Then abruptly he removed his
hands from her and sat back in his chair.  "Unless, of course, you've
decided to call off our arrangement.  In which case, I'll be stopping by
Mr. Gillmore's house on my way home to discuss the future of your Mr. 
Trevor Williams.  Is that what you would like for me to do, Miss Carpenter?
Do you wish to reconsider, or do you want me to stop?" he asked the unhappy
blond beauty.

   "Yes!  I mean, no, Mr.  Johnson, " she whined.  "I don't want Trevor to
suffer because of me, but I just don't know if I can do this," she whined
despondently.

   Mr.  Johnson sat for several moments, gazing at the young blond before
he spoke.  She was so adorable.  "And why is that, my dear?" he queried the
girl, trying a new tack.

   "Why is what?" Melissa asked.

   "Why is it you feel that you can't go on?" Johnson said.  "It's all
perfectly natural.  I'm a man.  You're a woman.  I mean look at you,
standing here next to me with no pants on and all.  Tell me, have you ever
gone this far before, Melissa?"

   She obviously had to think about that one.  "No, not really.  Well....
kind of," she said and started to squirm.

   "It was that 'virgin/no virgin' thing again," Benjamin told himself.  "I
realize this is a little awkward for you, Melissa, but if you'd just relax
a little, I think you might learn to enjoy it," he said sincerely.  Then he
sighed and fell silent for a moment.

   "At the risk of being indelicate, I feel like we need to come to an
understanding, Melissa." He began again in a businesslike tone of voice. 
Once again he reached toward her, and once again she tried to recoil from
his touch.  Mr.  Johnson didn't utter a sound, but there was no mistaking
the look on his face.  Melissa instantly reconsidered and allowed him to
place his hand onto her left hip.  Then he scooted up to the edge of his
chair and put his other hand on her right hip.  Looking Melissa straight in
the eye, Mr.  Johnson turned her so that she faced him directly, then he
said in no uncertain terms, "I am going to make love to you this afternoon,
Miss Carpenter.  I think you know that." He watched her blue eyes grow wide
with concern, and her mouth practically fell open.  Johnson continued. 
"Whether or not you choose to enjoy it, is entirely up to you, my dear, but
you will accommodate me.  I don't think we need to rehash the consequences
should you fail to cooperate.  Do I make myself clear, young lady?" he
asked her directly.

   Melissa stood between his knees considering her limited options and
feeling totally defeated while her teacher's eyes bored into her.  She knew
that she had no choice.  There was no way out.  She'd wanted to save
herself for Trevor, but that simply wasn't going to be.  If she was lucky,
perhaps he'd never know.  Slowly Melissa looked up at the older man.  Their
eyes met.  She nodded her consent.

   "That's better, Melissa.  That's my girl," Mr.  Johnson said, warming
right away.  He squeezed the firm flesh above her hips affectionately. 
"Now let's have a closer look at you," her teacher said, wasting no time.
"Trevor is one lucky man to associate with such a dedicated young woman. 
You must care a great deal for him.  Don't you, my dear?" he asked
rhetorically.

   Melissa nodded dumbly, then watched transfixed as her history teacher
leaned forward in his chair and studied her closely.  It was all she could
do not to turn away or cover herself with her hands.  Then for the second
time that afternoon, she felt his hand upon her.  "Oh...  gdddd!" Melissa
groaned softly through clenched teeth, as his fingers moved over her,
touching...  pushing...  probing, until she thought she would scream.

   "Spread your feet apart a bit more for me, Melissa," Mr.  Johnson
instructed her.  His hand moved farther between her trembling thighs.

   "Tell me, Melissa, sweetheart," Mr.  Johnson asked, tugging playfully at
her wispy coat.  "Do you shave yourself...  for swimming, I mean?"

   "Huh...  wha...what?" she replied breathlessly.

   He cupped her firmly and began to palpate her private flesh slowly and
rhythmically, allowing her soft blond curls to slide between his fingers.

   "You know," he said in a perfectly calm voice.  "Many girls find it
desirable to shave themselves down here in order to wear those fashionable
new swim suits, but your pubic curls are so naturally sparse and fair, I
was just curious if you shave.  Just an innocent question, my dear, one
friend to another." He smiled up at the confused teenager.

   Meanwhile, Johnson pressed upward with his four fingers against
Melissa's meaty labia.  For a fifteen year old, she was remarkably well
endowed.  Resisting the temptation to slip a finger between those marvelous
lobes of flesh, Mr.  Johnson, moving his fingers in pairs apart then
together, he in turn opened then closed Melissa again and again.

   "Hhhhooohhh!" the pretty teen exhaled, feeling the cool classroom air
against her moist intimate petals.

   Mr.  Johnson felt a powerful tremor pass through her slim figure.  "Does
Mr.  Williams touch you like this, my child?" her teacher asked as he
continued to rub and push and squeeze, slowly and firmly.  "Does he,
Melissa?"

   Melissa glanced down first at his hand between her legs, then into his
eyes.  Her blue eyes were troubled but somehow remote and unfocused.  She
shook her head distractedly.

   Mr.  Johnson smiled knowingly up at her.  "That's too bad, because I
think you like being touched like this.  Don't you, Melissa?  Don't you,
baby?" he cooed softly.

   "Nnnn!" Melissa groaned between clenched teeth, but his hand kept
rubbing and squeezing and...  It was driving her mad.  Again, a tremor
wracked her body.

   "Now don't fib to me, Melissa," he said in a patronizing tone.  "I can
tell, you know," he added.

   The expression on her face was marvelous to behold when felt her
teacher's finger slipped much too easily between the outer gates of her
citadel.  Melissa thought she heard him mention something about her being
very wet, but at that particular point in time, she found it rather
difficult to concentrate on anything other than the wonderment of his
inquiring digit as it stroked slowly back and forth, seeking her out her
deepest secrets.

   "Nooo!" Melissa cried quite adamantly when his finger tip started to
tickle around her vaginal portal.  Suddenly she reached down with both
hands and grabbed Mr.  Johnson's wrist.  At the same time she clamped her
thighs together tightly on his marauding hand.

   Mr.  Johnson didn't fight her, but neither did he remove his hand from
between Melissa's legs.  Instead he stared patiently up at her and didn't
speak for several seconds.  Melissa didn't know what to do and was about to
plead with her teacher not to make her go any farther, when he spoke.

   "Shall I call Mr.  Gillmore, Melissa?" he asked her succinctly.

   Melissa was crushed, and felt like bursting into tears, but she somehow
knew that would accomplish nothing with Mr.  Johnson other than to make her
look even more like a child.  Without his even having to ask her, Melissa
slowly relaxed the muscles behind the smooth skin of her thighs.  Then
finally she dropped her hands to her sides and stood staring at her feet,
feeling dispirited and hopeless.

   "That's better," Mr.  Johnson said, giving her a playful squeeze on the
bottom with his free hand.  "I feel certain that Mr.  Williams will
appreciate the fact that you've chosen to cooperate, Melissa.  Not only
will you be insuring his academic future, but think of the experience
you'll bring into your relationship with Trevor.  I'm sure the work we do
here today will be beneficial to you young people in the long run."

   Melissa wasn't really listening to her history teacher, rather her
attention was focused on his finger tip which once gain hovered near her
entrance, swirling over the moist folds of her labia minora.

   Benjamin watched her expression carefully.  There was little doubt that
she was distressed by their arrangement, but there was no mistaking the
blush of color in her cheeks either.  On more than one occasion, he felt
her push against his hand, when he touched a particularly sensitive spot,
and whereas just a few minutes ago, Melissa had been relatively dry, his
finger tip now glided over supple petals slippery with dew.  From time to
time the two of them exchanged poignant glances while he worked with her,
and after a few more minutes, he deemed her ready.

   Melissa's eyes spoke volumes, and Benjamin was fortunate enough to take
in every nuance of expression as he slowly pushed his long middle finger
into the lovely teenager.  Besides the obvious consternation involved with
being handled contrary to her wishes, there was something else in Melissa's
expression.  Anxious anticipation could best describe what he saw in her
eyes, as though some long kept secret was about to be discovered.

   Johnson met with no resistance as he slowly worked his finger in past
the second knuckle.  Then he paused for a moment and asked, "You mentioned
that you and Mr.  Williams aren't intimate with each other, did you not, my
dear?"

   "Uh...  uh..., Ohhh," Melissa groaned as his finger moved about inside
of her.

   "Answer me, Melissa," Mr.  Johnson ordered.  "It's obvious that you've
been with someone at some point in time." He waited.  "Who took your
virginity, Melissa?  Have you been playing around with someone behind
Trevor's back?  That's not very nice, Melissa," he glared up at the
distressed girl.  "Now tell me who your lover is, young lady." He pushed
his finger in a little deeper, and felt her clamp down in an effort to
resist him.

   "It's nobody!" she blurted out suddenly in anger and frustration.  It
was bad enough that her history teacher was blackmailing her into having
sex with him, but he also seemed to insist upon asking her some very
indelicate questions.

   "Nobody?" Mr.  Johnson sounded dubious.  "How could nobody penetrate
your hymen, Melissa?" he asked sarcastically.  As he spoke, he pressed his
thumb to the top of Melissa's carnal rift and began to rub her slowly in
tight circles.

   Melissa shuddered from the electrifying sensations that leapt from under
his thumb and coursed through her body.  It was becoming harder and harder
for her to concentrate.  "Ohhhh..." she moaned unconsciously.

   Mr.  Johnson smiled, and after a few seconds he asked, "Are you
listening to me, my dear?"

   "Uh..  Huh," she nodded distractedly.

   "Then tell me who you had sex with, Melissa, and how old you were at the
time."

   "W..why?" the pretty teen asked bitterly.

   "Because, I want to know all about you, Melissa.  After all, in a very
few minutes, you and I are going to become much better friends," he said
with a wry chuckle.

   Melissa shot him a cold look.

   "Who's your secret boyfriend, Melissa?" her teacher asked again
unrelentingly.  As he watched her face, he saw her indignation rise like
mercury up a thermometer.

   "It was an accident, OK!" she blurted out when she could contain herself
no longer.  "I don't have a secret boyfriend, OK!"

   "I see," Mr.  Johnson responded calmly.  "Tell me about this
'accident'," he said.  He began to move his middle finger slowly in and
out. She was wonderfully tight and her vaginal muscles were surprisingly
athletic.

   She looked down at his hand then into his eyes.  She hesitated then
asked in a small, uncomfortable voice, "Do you have to...  do that, Mr. 
Johnson?"

   "Do what, my dear?" he asked with a smile.

   Another hesitation.

   "You know.  With your finger," she murmured, then she shivered all over.

   "Yes I do, Melissa," he replied and offered no further explanation. 
"Now about that 'accident'," he added.  He pushed his finger all the way
in, causing her to groan softly and her tummy muscles to flex.

   Melissa gave him a perplexed look, then in a barely audible voice, she
said, "My friend, Cassidy did it."

   "I beg your pardon, Melissa.  Speak up please," her teacher responded.

   "I said, Cassidy Wilson did it, but it was by accident," she added
emphatically.  Then she hesitated, and only when Mr.  Johnson raised his
eyebrows did she reluctantly disclose her tale.  "We found her mother's
vibrator thing," Melissa explained, blushing hotly.  "We both tried it,
Cassidy went first, and I held it for her.  Then it was my turn," she said.
"It felt really weird." Melissa squirmed a bit in his grasp, remembering
that day and those strange new sensations.  Johnson held his finger still
for the moment, and let her continue with her story without distraction.

   "Go on," he prompted.

   "Cassidy was holding it for me.  You know, between my legs." Melissa's
face was beet red now as she recounted the events of that momentous
afternoon.  Cassidy kept pushing the thing against my...  my," she
hesitated.  "My, you know, down there." She nodded down at his hand between
her thighs.  "I guess I flinched.  I don't know.  It felt so strange, and
it made the muscles in my legs twitch." Unconsciously Melissa squeezed her
teacher's finger.  She looked anxious and confused.

   "Go on, Melissa.  Then what happened?" Mr.  Johnson asked.

   "I don't know, I...  I think maybe I must have accidently moved my hips
or something at the same time that Cassidy was pushing the thing against
me, and then...." She hesitated again.  "Well..." Then she stopped and
stared down at her teacher.  "This is really embarrassing, you know," she
whined.

   "I know," Mr.  Johnson replied flatly.  "Tell me what happened next,
Melissa."

   Again she gave him that perplexed look of disbelief.  It was priceless.
"There was some blood...  not a lot.  Cassidy pulled it out right away.  It
didn't hurt much, but it scared both of us to death.  Neither of us really
knew what Cassidy had done to me at the time, but both of us promised we'd
never tell anyone.g"

   It was all Benjamin could do not to laugh.  In fact several moments
passed before he could speak in a composed manner.  "Miss Wilson must know
by now that she took your virginity that day.  Has she ever said anything
to you about it?"

   The uncomfortable girl gazed at him curiously.  "Well yeah.  I guess so.
I mean she said she was sorry and all," Melissa replied after a second. 
"What difference does it make, anyway?  It was an accident, like I said,"
she said a little testily.

   "Now don't get cross with me, my dear," her teacher replied calmly.  He
started to move his finger again, probing about inside of Melissa and
making her shudder.  "I was just curious, that's all.  It's not everyday
that I meet a young lady who lost her virginity to a girlfriend.  Perhaps
I'll have a word with Miss Wilson about this at a later date," he mused.

   "No wait, Mr.  Johnson.  You don't understand.  Cassidy didn't mean
to...." Melissa began with an alarmed expression on her pretty face, but
her history teacher interrupted her before she could finish.

   It was too late, anyway.  Benjamin Johnson had already made a mental
note to contact Miss Cassidy Wilson at his next opportunity for a little
heart to heart chat.

   "So you're telling me that Miss Wilson took your virginity, and that
you've not been with a man since that day.  Is that correct, Melissa?"

   She stared at him for a moment in silence, nodded her head then looked
away.

   Benjamin gazed at her for several seconds, then he shook his head and
said, "I still find it difficult to imagine that such an attractive young
lady hasn't yet taken a lover.  Be that as it may," he went on.  "I must
say that the prospect of helping you to discover the wonders of physical
love is very intriguing, my dear.  I believe we are both in for a very
pleasant experience."

   Melissa stared at her history teacher with considerable displeasure ,
but before she could respond to his rather assuming remark, Mr.  Johnson
said quite unexpectedly, "Squeeze my finger, Melissa."

   "W..what?" the teenager asked, shocked.  "W..what did you say?"

   "I said, squeeze my finger.  Don't play dumb with me, Melissa.  You know
what I want.  Use the same muscles you use when you want to stop peeing."
He moved his finger in and out of her a couple of times while he stared
fixedly up at the stunned young girl.  "Squeeze my finger, Melissa," he
repeated.

   It had to be one of the most loathsome and dehumanizing things anyone
had ever asked of her, but Melissa knew by now that she had little choice
in the matter.

   Benjamin felt her slowly bear down.  "Good," he said.  "Again, please."

   Melissa couldn't remember ever having been more embarrassed.

   "Harder," Mr.  Johnson demanded.  Then he began to move his finger in
and out again.  "Relax when I push and squeeze when I pull out, Melissa,"
he instructed the bewildered, indignant teenager.  "Good," he said when he
felt her start to comply with his instructions.  "A few more times, and I
believe you'll be ready."

   "Huh?" she looked at him obviously alarmed.

   "Squeeze my finger, Melissa.  Concentrate," was his only reply.

   After what seemed like hours, Mr.  Johnson finally extracted his finger
from the girl, and the wooden chair legs groaned against the linoleum as he
stood.

   "I want you to see something, my dear," her teacher said casually.  He
held his hand up in front of Melissa's face, and began to rub his thumb and
middle finger together slowly.  "You're a very wet young lady, Melissa," he
commented with a cynical smile.

   Melissa thought she would simply die as she stared in horror at Mr. 
Johnson's hand.  Not only was his middle finger, the one which had done the
majority of the trespassing, but his other fingers and his thumb as well,
were uniformly coated with a silky, clear fluid.  Gazing in stunned
disbelief at her teacher's fingers, Melissa felt mildly sick to her
stomach. She realized that in spite of the fact that he was forcing her to
accept his repugnant attentions, the despicable little man had also somehow
been able to arouse her.  Melissa had never felt more ashamed.

   "Let's take your blouse off now, my dear," Mr.  Johnson said to the
appalled teenager.

   Melissa was still so shocked, in fact, from the revelation concerning
her unanticipated sexual arousal, that she unconsciously raised her hands
over her head when he asked, making it easier for him to remove her top. 
He tossed the blouse onto his desk, then stooped, picked up her velvet
skirt and placed it on the desk as well.

   "You always wear such pretty things, Melissa," Mr.  Johnson purred. 
"That's one of the things that I find most attractive about you, my dear."

   Melissa wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or not,
considering the circumstances.

   "Turn for me, now, Melissa," her teacher said in a gentler tone. 
Gripping her lightly by her shoulders, he helped her to turn, facing away
from him.  "I want to see your little titties, my dear," he added gruffly,
and before Melissa knew it, he'd unfastened the tiny catch at the back and
slipped the thin straps of her brassiere over her shoulders, causing the
small garment to slide down her arms and fall to the floor.  "We'll pick
that up in a minute," Mr.  Johnson said as without the slightest warning,
he slipped his hands under Melissa's arms and around her torso.  He then
cupped her small breasts and pulled her naked body back against his.

   Melissa was too surprised to resist, as he began to knead the firm flesh
of her two perfect breast cones.  Nobody had ever done that to her before.
"Why Trevor had never even seen her breasts, let alone touched them," the
girl thought absently to herself.  Melissa shivered when her teacher nuzzle
his lips against her neck.

   "Mmmm..." he murmured into her soft hair.  "You smell so fresh, Melissa,
sweetheart," Mr.  Johnson whispered then began to kiss her neck and the top
of her shoulder.

   "But, Mr.  Johnson, I..." she began.

   "Hush now, little one," he said as he nibbled behind her ear.

   "Ohhhh," Melissa moaned when he pressed her little breasts against her
chest, flattening the precious cones between her ribs and the palms of his
hands.  Next he pinched her tiny nipples and stretched her breasts outward
from her chest, before he finally released them, causing the resilient
flesh to snap back into its immaculate, original shape.

   Then as he began to repeat the procedure, Mr.  Johnson made what Melissa
felt was a highly indecent proposal.  "Why don't you touch yourself down
there for a minute, Melissa, while I rub your pretty little titties some
more.  Would you do that for me, please?" he asked gruffly from just behind
her ear.

   "What?" Melissa responded somewhat breathlessly.  She couldn't believe
he'd ask her to do something like that.  "Mr.  Johnson, I just can't," she
whined rather pitifully.

   "And why not, my child?" her teacher murmured into her fragrant hair. 
"You let your girlfriend touch you," he reminded her.  "You let me touch
you, Melissa." He kneaded her shapely breasts with his hands, feeling the
denser mammary glands beneath the softer fatty tissues.

   "Ohhh...ugghhhhhh," Melissa gasped.  She felt his hot breath against the
back of her neck.

   "Touch yourself, Melissa," Johnson repeated.  "Rub yourself down there,
sweetheart.  Keep yourself nice and wet for me, Melissa."

   His hands never seemed to rest, and Melissa felt sparks fly between her
small erect nipples and his fingers as he fondled her.  She shuddered all
over.  Then suddenly he reached around her, took Melissa by one of her
wrists and guided her hand downward.

   "But Mr.  Johnson, I..." she moaned softly as he slid his hand over the
back of hers and pressed it between her thighs.

   "Shhhhh....  That's my girl," Johnson murmured as he squeezed her hand
with his own, causing her to clasp her intimate flesh.  She pressed her
butt back against his, trying to escape his attentions.  "Make yourself wet
for me, Melissa," he whispered then began to kiss her neck and shoulders
repeatedly while he helped her to get acquainted with herself.

   "You just keep touching yourself, Melissa," Mr.  Johnson said when he
unexpectedly removed his hands from her.

   Surprised, Melissa turned and looked back at him, but unconsciously, she
kept her hand between her legs.

   She made quite the exquisite site, standing naked before him.  Mr. 
Johnson, resting one hand on her shoulder, quickly unbuckled his belt,
dropped his trousers and stepped out of them.  "Keep rubbing yourself,
Melissa," he instructed the confused girl as he placed his pants on the
desk.  She turned away in shame and embarrassment.  She was definitely
primed, for he could see that telltale flush of color in her shoulders,
face and neck, and surprisingly she began to move her hand slowly up and
down between her legs.

   Mr.  Johnson bent down and retrieved Melissa's bra from the floor along
with her panties.  The bra he placed on top of the growing pile of clothing
on his desk top, but the panties he brought reverently up, and nuzzled his
face into the soft satin.  He nibbled at the smooth fabric with his lips
and inhaled heady drafts of her intoxicating bouquet.  Intermingled with
the subtle perfume she wore, was that unmistakable, slightly unwashed scent
that young ladies try so hard to disguise, but which made Benjamin
Johnson's senses reel with delight.

   He could wait no longer.

   After tossing her fragrant undergarment on top of the pile, Benjamin
reached out and took Melissa by her narrow waist.  She jumped in surprise
when he first touched her for she'd been distracted by the odd sensations
which were just beginning to make themselves known to her from somewhere
deep in the center of her womanhood.

   "What?" Melissa asked rather distantly as her history teacher maneuvered
her.  Trading places with her, he turned her to face his desk.

   "Bend over, my dear, and put your hands on the desk," Johnson ordered
somewhat impatiently.

   Even as she was following his instructions, it dawned upon Melissa what
was about to happen.  Somewhere in her subconscious a small voice shouted
for her to either fight or flee, but somehow it got lost in a haze of
confusion, perhaps brought on by the intoxicating mixture of adrenalin and
endorphin which flooded her system.

   Melissa had looked at a few "dirty magazines" with her girlfriends
before, and had seen people "doing it" from behind.  "Doggie style" they
called it.  She'd even seen a few pictures of couples "making love"
standing up, but Melissa had always envisioned her first time as being in a
big soft bed with satin sheets and lots of pillows.  Wrapped in the strong
arms of her faceless "Prince Charming", she would invite him atop her, and
then....

   "Spread your feet apart, Melissa," she heard her history teacher say,
snapping her back to the present.  He kicked lightly at her ankles until
she did as he requested.  Oddly, she still hadn't thought to resist.  With
one hand on her hip he guided her into position, and all would have gone
quite smoothly, except Melissa chose that moment to glance back at him over
her shoulder.

   Perhaps it was that insistent "little voice" that finally got through to
her, or maybe it was simply curiosity, but whatever the reason, the first
thing Melissa saw when she turned was that which her history teacher held
tightly in his right fist.

   From her angle pretty much all Melissa could see was its bulbous head.
It was dark purple in color and at least two inches in diameter.  Melissa
was stunned as she stared at the blunt head of the meaty battering ram, and
while she looked on in growing horror, a drop of clear, viscous liquid
formed at the mouth of a fairly large hole near its center.  Melissa
couldn't really tell how long the thing was, for most of it was obscured
from sight behind Mr.  Johnson's fist and forearm, but what she could see
was covered with dark purple veins and sprouted out of a mat of black hair
between his pale, chubby thighs.

   Melissa felt him tighten his grip on her waist as he took a step toward
her.  Pure fascination held her routed in place long enough for him to move
into position behind her, but when she felt the scalding hot tip of the
beast touch the insides of her shapely buttocks, the alarm bells went off
with a vengeance.  Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, her
instinctive warning system reacted just a little too late.

   Since she was wholly inexperienced at the art of love making and hadn't
done to well in biology class either, Melissa didn't know that the vulva,
or external genitalia of the human female, is specifically designed to
facilitate the insertion its male counterpart.  Much like a socket, the
buttocks, inner thighs and labia all curve inward toward the vaginal
entrance, forming a foyer or vestibule which is damn hard to miss.

   "W...wait, Mr.  Johnson.  P..please," Melissa gasped.  It felt like a
boiling hot billiard ball as it moved downward slightly, parting the heavy
folds of her labia majora.  She tried to shift her hips in an effort to
move herself out of harm's way, but again, she acted too late.  Her history
teacher was already on the glide path.  "N...nnno, wait, I..." she said
breathlessly.  "I can't do this.  I can't!" she cried, and was about to
make one last valiant effort to escape when suddenly she froze.

   Melissa felt herself begin to dilate, and like most young ladies will do
at the exact time of entry, she became routed in place as her body
instinctively prepared to accept her lover.

   As if from a great distance, Melissa heard her history teacher coax her.
"Sure you can, Melissa.  Just relax, sweetheart.  Don't fight me, Melissa.
That's a good girl." He felt her begin to open up for him.

   "No, donnn't.  Plea....  Ohhh...ohhh...uugnhh!" Melissa's final plea was
cut short and ended in a rather unladylike expression of surprise.  As a
throbbing fire ball swelled between her thighs.  Melissa felt like she was
being torn asunder as she heard her history teacher say in a husky voice,
"Sweetheart, I want you to meet the other 'Mr.  Johnson'!"

   It was a shame that he couldn't see her face, for her expression was
priceless.  Benjamin was beginning to have doubts about her carrying
capacity, when at last her gates fell.  As though her body decided to
switch sides, Melissa threw her head back and rolled her shoulders forward.
Intuitively, she arched her back to better align her vaginal passage, and
with that, Miss Melissa Carpenter accepted her first lover.  Not bad form
for one so inexperienced.

   "Everything alright in there?" a man's voice called from outside the
door of Room 207.  He knocked a second time.  It was the night watchman,
Fred.

   Mr.  Johnson cleared his throat and tried to speak.  He stared into the
startled eyes of the lovely young girl before him as she looked back at him
over her right shoulder.  Then quickly he glanced down to see about seven
inches of his ten inch engine still protruding from between the twine milky
white globes of her perfect little rear end.  The first three inches of him
was in nirvana.

   "We're just fine, Fred," Mr.  Johnson answered a bit hoarsely.  Melissa
shook her head imploringly and mouthed a silent, "Please".  Her eyes
gradually grew round and staring then finally closed as her teacher slowly
pulled her back onto himself, causing her to exhale loudly.

   Meanwhile, back in nirvana, the convoluted walls of her vaginal passage
were thrust aside by the broad head of his manhood as he traveled another
few inches into her interior.  "Just helping a young lady to get caught
up," Mr.  Johnson called to the night security guard.  He pulled back with
his hips, extracting a few inches of his meaty engine from the girl.  She
shuddered.  Inside, Melissa's exceptionally elastic muscles closed down
behind him.

   "You sure you don't need any help?" the guard out in the hallway
inquired.  "I thought I heard a cry or something a minute ago."

   "Oh, yes, that was Miss Carpenter here," Mr.  Johnson answered
cheerfully.  "She insists that I'm moving too fast." He winked at Melissa
when she turned and stared at him in disbelief.  Then without warning,
Johnson shot his hips forward much more forcefully than the first time, and
driving her down onto her elbows on top of the pile of their clothing.

   "Huuuuuhhhh," Melissa responded as softly as she could, considering the
wind had just been nocked out of her.

   "I think we have everything well in hand," Mr.  Johnson replied.

   "Well, if everything's OK, I guess I'll be movin' along," the guard
said.

   "We'll be just fine, won't we, Miss Carpenter?" Johnson said, and then
had to suppress a laugh when he saw the look that Melissa gave him.  "Tell
him you're OK," he whispered to the distressed girl.

   Holding her tightly by her waist, Mr.  Johnson rocked his hips from side
to side and maneuvered another inch of himself into the lovely girl. 
Melissa shuddered as the broad head of his penis moved forward into an area
of her anatomy that had previousl remained unexplored for almost sixteen
years.

   "Answer him," Mr.  Johnson snapped under his breath.  Then he jabbed her
lightly.

   "Huhh..I'm f..fine," she called out, struggling to keep her voice from
faltering.

   Melissa and her friends had often talked about what it might feel like
to be with a man, but none of their innocent musings could hold a candle
the all encompassing fullness and internal fire Melissa experienced at the
hands of her history teacher.  Slowly she lowered her head to the desk top
and hoped she would survive.

   "Whack !!"

   Melissa heard the impact of his palm against her right buttock even
before she felt the sting.  In an instant she was up on her hands.  Glaring
back at Mr.  Johnson she hissed, "He's gonna hear us!" then nodded in the
direction of the door.

   Johnson smiled at the anxious teenager and said, "He's gone for now. 
Anyway, Melissa, Fred's a good looking chap.  Who knows, you might want to
become better acquainted with him some day," he added ominously.  Melissa
stared at her teacher in shock and was about to say something when he cut
her off.  "Arch your back, Melissa, and pay attention," he ordered.

   "Whack !!"

   "Oww," she protested, as a glowing red hand print formed on her butt.

   "Arch your back!" Johnson growled.  "Head up, shoulders forward."

   Melissa glared at him icily, but in the end, she did as she was told. 
She stared across the room at the faces of presidents Washington, Jefferson
and Lincoln as she felt her history teacher's thick penis start to pull out
of her.

   "Squeeze me, Melissa," Mr.  Johnson said pausing his egress from her
momentarily.

   "Huh?" she said, looking back at him again.

   "You heard me.  I said, squeeze me.  Just like you did to my finger."
Melissa stared at him for several seconds, until he raised his hand.

   "OK...  OK..." she said hastily.

   While he gazed at her lovely face, her expression became distant.  Then
he felt her embrace him.  She was like a steely soft vice.  "Keep
squeezing, just like that," Johnson instructed, as he began to inch his way
out of her.  Her strength was remarkable.  It was like she was actually
sucking on him.  "Until I'm almost all the way out." He felt her start to
tremble from the effort.  When approximately one inch remained inside of
Melissa, Johnson told her to relax.  Then he removed his hands from her
waist and placed them on his hips.

   "Very good, Melissa.  Are you sure you haven't done this before?"
Johnson winked at her when she shot him a hateful look.  "OK.  Now, my
dear, if you're relaxed and ready, I want you to push yourself back onto
me. Would you do that for me, please, Melissa."

   Again he was forced to suppress a guffaw at the look of incredulity the
teenager gave him.  Mr.  Johnson gave her a couple of seconds to think
about it then raised his hand over her pretty butt once more.  "Do it,
Melissa," he ordered.

   Melissa's abject humiliation was painted plainly on her face as she
leaned back against her history teacher.  A violent shiver coursed through
her body as she slowly impaled herself on Mr.  Johnson's "Mr.  Johnson".

   Once she was fully on him, Mr.  Johnson coached her through several
repetitions of alternately flexing then relaxing her vaginal muscles around
him.  "If this ever becomes and Olympic sport, I'll gladly volunteer to be
this little lady's trainer," Johnson mused silently.  "Again, Melissa," he
snapped.  Five minutes flew by while he worked with the wonderful girl,
then at last Mr.  Johnson patted her on the rear and told her to take a
break.

   "You're quite a talented young lady, Melissa," Mr.  Johnson complimented
her.  "I just know we're going to work well together over the next few
months."

   "Thanks a lot," she responded sarcastically then realized what he'd
said. "Next few months?" she cried in shock.

   "Why of course, my dear.  You don't think we can become close in just
one evening?  Think how long you've been dating Mr.  Williams, Melissa.  At
least I deserve a chance to catch up, don't you think?"

   Melissa was speechless.  Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came
out.  She stared at the man who's penis currently occupied a goodly
percentage of her available abdominal area and thought she would be sick.

   "I know...  I know, Melissa.  I don't expect for you to warm up to me
overnight," Mr.  Johnson cooed as he reached down and took her by her hips.
"And I promise I won't make you rush into anything." Once again he rocked
his hips from side to side, worming his way deeper into the stunned young
girl.  "We'll take it nice and slow.  You set the pace, my dear."

   Melissa's tummy bulged outward as the broad head of his penis nestled
against her cervical os, and she felt the fronts of his hairy thighs press
against the soft skin of her buttocks.  Melissa was fully involved.

   "Like I said, we'll proceed at your pace, Melissa." Her history teacher
removed his hands from her hips, and Melissa actually thought her ordeal
was over for the night when unexpectedly Mr.  Johnson said, "So, my sweet
child.  At your own speed.  I want you to take your time and make love to
me.  Do it well, and we'll call it an evening.  If, however, I think that
you aren't concentrating or that you're not being attentive, then we'll
simply have to keep working."

   After approximately twenty minutes Melissa's mind went blank as she
rocked steadily back and forth, again and again on her history teacher's,
heavy penis.  Occasionally he reminded her to squeeze at the appropriate
times, and after a few minutes, he insisted that she look back and maintain
eye contact with him.  What truly sickened Melissa, however, was his
incessant commentary regarding her "vaginal fitness" and "how well
lubricated she was".  Worst of all, though, were his constant references to
Trevor, and how "the two of them were doing him such a great service in so
many ways".

   Suddenly Mr.  Johnson grabbed her by the hips and held her firmly onto
himself.  "Squeeze me, Melissa," he ordered a little breathlessly. 
"Again," he said when she complied.  "Again," he gasped.  "Keep doing that
until I tell you to...  Oh!  Jesus!" Benjamin groaned loudly as he dug his
fingers into her supple hips.

   At first Melissa didn't know what was happening, when she felt something
"flick" at her, deep inside.  As she stared at Mr.  Johnson's flushed and
contorted face.  She felt his dreadful penis twitch just before she felt
that odd "flick" a second time.  Then an unusual sort of liquid heat began
to spread deep in her belly as she felt a third "flick".

   "Wait a minute," Melissa's mind cried.  "That wasn't a 'flick'.  It was
a spurt!"

   "Nooo, Mr.  Johnson," the unhappy teenager moaned pitifully when she
finally realized that she was being inseminated by the older man.  "Please,
Mr.  Johnson.  I'll get pregnant," she cried, trying to keep her voice down
in case the security guard was about.  She tried to pull away from him, but
he held her little bottom tightly against his thighs.  "Ohhhhh..." she
moaned when yet another pulse of viscous hot semen "flicked" at her
insides.

   Melissa was so distressed by the prospect of becoming pregnant by her
history teacher that she barely noticed when he slid his soft hands up her
flanks and under her torso.  Melissa groaned softly when he began to knead
her small breasts while he kissed her back and shoulders.

   Between kisses Mr.  Johnson murmured what a good girl she was, and how
he thought the world of Trevor, and on, and on....  Melissa was starting to
think the night would never end.

   At long last he stood up behind her.  He was still inside of her, but
Melissa could feel him beginning to shrink.  Then after a few seconds Mr.
Johnson pulled out of her with a disgustingly, wet sucking sound.  Even
after he was gone, Melissa still felt an unpleasant fullness in her
abdomen. Something inherently female in Melissa told her that she was
surely with child.  Her heart sank.

   "You've done very well this evening, my dear," Mr.  Johnson said to her.
Both of them looked up at the clock.  It was now seven thirty-five.  "You
may get dressed now."

   Melissa didn't speak.  She had nothing to say to the man.  She turned,
picked up her panties from his desk and leaned over to step into them.

   "Just a moment," Johnson said.  "Hold off on the underwear for a moment.
I have a surprise for you," he said when she looked at him questioningly.
He held out his hand for her panties.  Hesitantly Melissa handed the small
satin garment to him.

   Mr.  Johnson pulled on his trousers, and while Melissa was dressing as
best she could, he stepped behind his desk and opened the middle drawer. 
He removed something from the drawer, but Melissa didn't get a good look at
it.

   "I'd like to see you again, tomorrow afternoon, Melissa," he said,
moving closer to her.

   "But...  It...  It's Saturday," she complained.  "Trevor and I have
plans this weekend."

   "That's fine, Melissa," her teacher told her.  "In fact, I hope that you
and Mr.  Williams continue to enjoy each other's company often.  On the
other hand, you and I have an agreement.  Do we not?" he asked, raising his
eyebrows.

   Melissa gazed into his dark eyes for a moment then dropped her eyes to
the floor, dejectedly.  "I guess so," she said softly.

   "Good.  Then be a good girl and bend over for me, Melissa" Johnson said
with a smile.  "You can put your hands on my desk again if you like."

   "But...  but I thought we were...  you know...  finished," the anxious
teenager whined.

   Mr.  Johnson smiled warmly and placed a hand on her cheek.  Just as she
was about to shrug away from him, Johnson dropped his hand to her shoulder
and turned her around.  "Bend over, my dear," he said, offering no further
explanation.

   "Wh...  what's that?" Melissa gasped when she felt the cool plastic
touch her.

   "Spread your feet apart and be still, Melissa," her teacher ordered. 
Then she felt his hands on her, spreading her open down there from behind.

   "But..." she started.  "Hey wait!" she blurted out when he slipped the
hard rubber object effortlessly into her well lubricated vagina.  "What are
you doing?" she asked miserably when the man began to twist the object
while sliding it in and out slowly.

   "Just hold still, Melissa," he answered flatly.  "I'm getting your
surprise ready for you."

   Melissa relaxed visibly when he pulled the thing out of her.  Then
suddenly she felt it touch her again.  This time it was in the wrong place.
"He must have gotten confused," she thought to herself.  Then she said in
an embarrassed tone of voice, "Mr.  Johnson, I...  I think you missed."

   A most unladylike grunt escaped Melissa's lips, and then she began to
protest quite spiritedly as the hard rubber object found its way into her
rectal passage.  "Mr.  Johnson, what are you doing!?!" Melissa cried out as
he seated the wide plastic flange snugly against the cheeks of her butt.

   Melissa's "surprise" was a small phallic device, approximately three
inches in length and one half inch in diameter.  It was deliberately shaped
so that once fully inserted, her anal sphincter ring would hold it in
place.

   "You may stand up now, my dear," Mr.  Johnson said after patting her
affectionately on the rear.  Gingerly Melissa stood up and smoothed her
skirt down over her thighs.  She was afraid to move, because the horrible
thing in her rear end was poking at her from the inside.  Meanwhile Mr. 
Johnson explained.  "I won't be seeing you until late tomorrow afternoon,
Melissa, and I know that in the meantime, you'll be with Mr.  Williams.  I
wanted to give you something to remember me by."

   "But," she started to protest.

   Ignoring her distress, Johnson continued.  "I expect for you to leave it
in place until we're together again.  Whenever you feel it in there." He
placed a hand on her hip and squeezed gently.  "I want you to think about
our time together this afternoon.  Will you do that for me, Melissa?" he
spoke in a friendly manner.

   "But, Mr.  Johnson," Melissa said anxiously.  "Why do I have to leave it
there for so long?  What happens if I have to go to the bathroom?"

   "You'll be just fine until tomorrow afternoon," he assured the dejected
teenager.  "Remember, Melissa.  You have an obligation to Mr.  Williams and
to me."

   Melissa turned to leave and winced as the hard rubber plug shifted
inside her tender interior.  Then she remembered her panties.  Turning back
she reached for them lying on the corner of the desk, but her teacher
snatched them away.

   "I want something to remember you by as well, my child," he said
huskily. Then he raised her panties to his nose and inhaled a deep draft of
her subtle fragrance.  Melissa blushed hotly.  "Until tomorrow, then, my
dear," Mr.  Johnson said to her as she turned and waddled toward the door.


   More to follow, perhaps...  SM