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Subject: {ASSM} NIS: Mrs. Trotter by Rachael Ross ch.01  (M/F, m/F, f/F, Rom, Reluct,  MC, Bond, First, Oral, Anal, Mast, Slut Wife, Teacher, NIS)
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Mrs. Trotter: Naked in School
by rache

Copyright 2010 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for Adults
Only http://www1.asstr.org/~rache/index.htm
Special thanks to: Eager Beaver Lip-Lock Sex Gloss - High Impact Long
Lasting Fruit Flavored Labia Lubricant
Note: All characters appearing in this story are real people; I didn't
even bother changing the names. The author supports sexual
responsibility, moral sobriety, and political insurgency. Try this at
home. Join the Sexual Jihad: S.A.S.E. to P.O. Box rache696@yahoo.com

See Chapter 00 (Prologue) for story details including codes and
synopsis

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Mrs. Trotter: Naked in School
Chapter 1 - Monday Morning, Bright and Early


"Yo! Hot to trot!" ... "Hey, teach!" ... "Woo-hoo!"

The usual catcalls and whistles greeted me as I stepped carefully out
of my Volvo and smoothed my skirt. I ignored the small group of
students waiting for me near the faculty parking lot as I reached into
the backseat for a large shoulder bag. It held the assignments I'd
graded over the weekend, my lunch, and the assorted things a young
woman needs to get her through a long day.

"Oh man!" ... "Check that out!" ... "Go for it, Mrs. Trotter!"

They sat on the steps, a half-dozen high school boys, staring as I had
to bend over and lean into the car. I felt my face redden and though I
knew my charcoal skirt wasn't anything but conservative, their
excitement filled me with doubt. I reached behind me to find the hem
stretched tightly around the back of my thighs and I tugged it
downward. Some of the loose papers had spilled out and it took a few
seconds to collect them, giving my morning audience that much more
time to admire my firm round ass and long toned legs.

Of course, as soon as I stood up and turned around, the boys sat
perfectly quiet and offered me only innocent smiles. I shouldered my
purse by its long strap, fixed my charcoal blazer over my white
blouse, and carried my shoulder bag at my side like an odd sized
briefcase. I heard my heels clicking and felt my purse bouncing off my
hip, but I kept my head high and ignored the warmth in my cheeks. They
were staring at me as I approached, whispering and laughing softly,
and I had to climb the short steps between them as the boys gave me
barely enough room to pass.

"I like your perfume, Mrs. Trotter," one of them said. "You smell
really...hot!"

Todd Lowry, an eighteen-year-old senior and the leader of his small
circle of friends, made a point of massaging the lump in his pants.
The other boys grinned, watching me closely for any sort of reaction
and despite my inner resolve, I could feel the color rising in my
cheeks. Teenage boys are largely harmless by themselves, but get them
together in a small pack...

"Thank you, Todd." I had no choice but to be polite, if only to set a
proper example, but I'd decided early on that I couldn't allow myself
to be intimidated.

Being a high school teacher wasn't an easy job for anyone, but most
especially for those with less assertive personalities. I wouldn't
describe myself as bold or unduly confident, but I'd been outgoing and
popular as a student in my own high school. So I understood the
advantages boys like Todd enjoyed. He was surrounded by his friends,
good looking, and blessed with just enough charisma to gain the
shallow respect of his adolescent peers.

Like all children, he wanted to extend his reach and test himself
against his environment. Teachers were a part of that environment,
naturally, and as an attractive young woman new to the town and the
school, I'd become a favorite target for boys like Todd. If he could
humiliate me or at least appear to exert some dominance in front of
his friends, his influence would increase at the expense of my own.

Understanding that psychology, and being a responsible teacher, left
me with little choice but to respond in ways that would maintain our
professional relationship. I couldn't humiliate him or engage in some
sort of contest of wills. I had to ignore the innuendo and take the
boy's words at face value, and in that way I'd hopefully disarm his
clever attempt to embarrass me.

That's how I had to deal with all of my students every single day and
I'll admit that the effort could be taxing on my enthusiasm.

"Mrs. Trotter!" A freshman named Michael McMurphy blinked and nearly
dropped his books as I walked past.

"Good morning," I said gently, offering the boy a genuine smile.

He was typical of another sort of student I had to cope with, being a
shy young man of only fifteen. He'd never dated a girl, never kissed
one on the lips or even held her hand. Michael desperately wanted to,
however, and so he was the sort of boy who became easily infatuated
with any girl sparing him even the smallest attention. Teachers by
definition are required to interact with their students, to chide and
praise them, to encourage proper behavior and reward their
accomplishments. Our role puts us in a vulnerable position and boys
like Michael were most susceptible to the age old curse of students
falling in love with their teachers.

"Good morning," he replied softly, fairly basking in even that small
moment of passing attention.

Walking through the crowded hallways before classes started seemed
very much like walking through a minefield.

"Wow! Nice shoes, Mrs. Trotter!" Amy Watson said with a catty smile
and her two friends shared in her laughter.

"Thank you, Amy," I replied politely, but a woman's patience only
extends so far and I'll admit my tone wasn't entirely without sarcasm.

"Where can I get a pair?" Heather wondered, rubbing her swollen tummy
and her baby was due in about a month.

I'd been more than a little shocked at first, finding nearly two dozen
of the students pregnant. The school simply wasn't that large and
where I'd grown up, teen pregnancy usually resulted in the girl
dropping out of school or at least taking a semester or two off. It
should have been a private thing. A humiliating experience, but none
of the girls I'd met seemed concerned in the least. Some of them were
actually proud of their condition.

Like Heather, wearing her pleated cheer skirt beneath her bare,
distended belly. Someone had penned "Baby Inside" around her
protruding belly button, like the Intel logo, and I rolled my eyes at
that. Her cheer top was reduced to little more than a blue and gold
halter as it stretched over her large, milk-filled breasts and the
girl's nipples were prominent beneath the wet stains. She'd begun
lactating and some of the other students had teased her about it, but
again, I was struck dumb by not only her acceptance, but by that of
the school as a whole. It made little sense to me and I always felt
uncomfortable around the pregnant girls.

"Did you get those at Pay-Even-Less?" Valerie asked from behind my
back and I had to let it go.

Amy and her friends, Valerie and Heather, were juniors, 11th grade
cheerleaders and destined to rule the school the following year. They
were already practicing for their upcoming roles and more than their
superior attitudes and contempt for anyone not in their clique, the
knowledge that I'd once been exactly like them disturbed me most. I'd
been a cheerleader and ridden the Homecoming Queen's float my senior
year. I'd teased girls less attractive than me, sometimes mercilessly,
and reveled in my popularity. Tall, blonde, and blue eyed Amy seemed a
mirror reflecting my past and I didn't care for the view.

It's difficult to say how or when I'd finally grown up, but it had
happened and like everyone else I often wished I could go back and
change some of the things I'd said and done. Amy and her friends would
understand that someday, I hoped, and I only wished I knew how to tell
them that it wasn't too late to spare themselves at least a few
regrets later on in life. But even if I had the words, they wouldn't
have heard them and their mocking giggles followed me down the hallway
until they found someone else to belittle.

Of course, they'd singled me out not only because I was a teacher and
'the enemy' as they say, but I also represented a threat. The boys in
school had little choice but to compare Amy and her friends with me.
It's what boys do, compare women and grade them on imaginary scales,
and unlike many of my female peers, I didn't suffer by comparison. I
was every bit as attractive as Amy, but with the advantage of being
fully developed and perhaps more importantly, unattainable.

Being an adult, a teacher, and married to boot, lent me a status that
Amy couldn't compete with. High school boys, like their fathers,
always want what they cannot have. The best toys are the ones other
boys get to play with after all, and I'm proud to say a good many of
the young and old men in Cotton Falls were quite envious of my
husband. That unwanted but pleasurable attention translated into
female jealousy on the part of their wives and girlfriends. For my
students, especially the popular girls like Amy, I represented the
unknown future when they'd leave their small pond for the open waters
of the real world and discover that beautiful women are not such a
rare commodity after all.

Perhaps that had been the catalyst for my own sudden maturity, being
thrust into college and finding it filled with former Homecoming
Queens. Physical beauty, I'd realized, wasn't enough to stand out in a
crowd. Intelligence, personality, and a genuine capacity for hard work
all counted for just as much, and the most popular girls were the ones
who made others feel good about themselves. Amy would learn that
someday, perhaps, or she'd end up as someone's lonely trophy wife,
drinking too much, and trying to pretend it was the life she'd always
wanted.

My mom's favorite drink is a gin martini, by the way. Two olives.

"June!" Mrs. Watkins waved at me as soon as I walked into the school
offices. "Mr. Steinway has been waiting for you. Go right in."

"Waiting for me?" I smiled nervously, threading my way past the usual
chaos.

"Morning, June," Mr. Clemens, one of the math teachers greeted me with
a grin and I ignored the lecherous look in his eyes. He was harmless,
but still annoying with his unabashed interest in all things female.

"Hi, June! Oops...Excuse me! Mondays!" Ms. Rodriguez rolled her brown
eyes and smiled apologetically.

She taught English and Spanish and like me, wasn't much older than her
students. Marie Rodriguez had been brand new to the school the
previous year and the attractive young woman had offered me plenty of
advice and sympathy early on. We'd formed a quick friendship as most
of the other female teachers were older and shared a long tenure at
Cotton Falls High. That situation had made my acceptance slightly more
difficult perhaps, but with Marie's help I'd been able to overcome the
natural suspicion we all have for strangers in our homes.

That's very much what a high school is of course, a home away from
home, and no one guarded his castle so diligently as the principal.

"June. Good morning," Mr. Steinway said, waving me into his office
while he covered the mouthpiece of his telephone.

I closed the door behind me and took a seat in front of the man's
desk, smiling at the odd sense of déjà vu I felt. I'd graduated only
three years previously and so my memories were still strong, if not
fresh. I'd never been much for trouble, but I'd had a few visits to my
old principal's office and I felt the nervous tingling in my tummy for
no good reason at all.

"You know you're naked in school this week, right?" Principal Steinway
said after finishing his phone conversation, replacing the handset in
its cradle.

"Excuse me?" I smiled with confusion and in truth, the words hadn't
made a lot of sense. I couldn't quite decipher them.

"Naked in school? You? Today?" he prompted me with a slow nod of his
head. "You got the memo, didn't you?"

"Memo?"

"Friday," he said. "I put it in your box myself. You checked your box
before you left, right?"

"I, uh..." I swallowed hard and shifted in my seat, feeling like a
teenager again. "I think so. I didn't see a memo."

"Well," Mr. Steinway shrugged, "either way, this is your week and you
need to get undressed before classes start."

"But...Teacher's don't get naked in school!" I said dumbly. "That's for
the kids...the...the...the students!"

My face must have turned beet red and I could feel the heat radiating
out of me as I sat there. My tummy had performed a high dive and I
felt almost nauseas at the possibility that this wasn't some sort of
strange joke. The Naked in School Program was something I struggled to
understand anyway. It hadn't been implemented in the town where I'd
grown up and so I'd never had to deal with it as a student. As a
teacher, I had to support NIS and deal with those students who were in
the program every week, but I wasn't sure I agreed with the idea. I'd
thanked my lucky stars repeatedly that I'd never had to suffer the
indignation of spending a week naked in front of a bunch of high
school kids.

"Every four weeks a member of the faculty participates in the
program," he told me. "You're the new girl, so...You get to go first
this year."

"Nobody told me about that!"

"Nobody told you?" He narrowed his eyes and almost smiled. "It's in
the contract you signed when you took the job here."

"I didn't know that!" I replied, wishing I had a copy of my employment
contract in front of me that very moment.

"Now you do," Mr. Steinway said with a chuckle. "You're in the
batter's box, June. I hate surprising you like this, but it's better
to get it over and done with anyway. You'll see."

"No!" I shook my head. "I can't do that. I can't get...naked! I'm a
teacher! I'm married! What will my husband say?"

"I'm afraid you have to," he said, clearing his throat and lifted his
hands. "It's part of the job and you signed a contract. If you don't
participate..."

"What?"

"We'll have to accept your resignation." Mr. Steinway looked honestly
sad at that pronouncement. "The district paid you a bonus, the
incentive bonus, remember? They're going to want that money back and..."

"They can't!" I said. "I...We...That money was the down payment on our
house!"

"I know," he sighed. "I understand, believe me, but you're breaking
your contract. The district will sue you for the money; you'll
probably lose your teaching certificate..."

"What? Why?"

"June..." He held out his hands. "The state requires teachers to be
responsible, dependable, and to uphold the moral values of our
community. Breaking a contract is...Well, it's something that will haunt
you the rest of your life, even if you manage to keep your license."

"Moral values?" I almost laughed considering the circumstances, but
the man had spoken seriously. He meant what he said, I had no doubts
about that.

"Please," Mr. Steinway said gently. "Consider this carefully. You're
too young to throw away a promising career."

"But naked..." I shut my eyes tightly, praying this was only a dream.

"Not to mention your student loans," he reminded me. "The state won't
pay them off if you're not teaching."

"Oh." I swallowed hard, feeling as if a piano had been dropped on me
all of a sudden. My degree had been expensive and the state had picked
up the tab so long as I didn't take my education somewhere else. They
were desperate for teachers and it had been a deal too good for me to
pass up.

We couldn't afford to pay back the incentive bonus I'd been paid
either. I'd signed a contract for three years with an option for two
more, and received nearly ten thousand dollars. I'd get that same
bonus every year and my husband and I had planned much of our future
around that annual windfall. Teaching didn't pay well otherwise, as
everyone well knows, and the state had offered the incentive bonus as
a stopgap until they could find a way to increase salaries and fund
real benefits.

They'd want their money back! Every cent of it and we simply didn't
have the cash, not anymore.

And would I really lose my teacher's certificate? Probably, I thought.
Getting fired, which was what my resignation would really be, was
surely grounds for revoking my license. Even if they didn't, I'd have
to answer innumerable questions wherever I applied for another job.
We'd have to move. Henry would have to find another job in another
city and we couldn't afford that. We couldn't afford to live on one
paycheck either, not if we were going to start a family in three or
four years like we planned. How could I explain this to my husband?
He'd be crushed after all his hard work!

How could I explain to him that I had to get naked in school? We
didn't even make love with the lights on! He'd never seen my body, not
all of it, and now Mr. Steinway expected me to bare myself in front of
several hundred high school students? This had to be insane! A cruel
joke and every part of me longed to stand up and walk out of that
office forever. With my head held high, my dignity preserved, and my
conscience as clean as it had been when I'd woken up that morning. But
where would I go? What would I do?

"I have to talk to my husband," I decided, reaching for the phone
without asking permission.

"Of course," Principal Steinway agreed. "Just, um...make it quick,
right? We don't have a lot of time before first bell."

I dialed our house and got the answering machine, an old fashioned one
that Henry had owned forever. It still had his original message, the
one from fifteen years before when he'd been a brand new college
student.

"Hey! You're too late, I'm already gone! But if you leave your name
and number..."

I hung up with a frown and dialed his mobile and he didn't answer
because he'd still be driving to work. My husband never answered his
phone in the car because it wasn't safe. He'd point to other drivers
talking on their phones, complaining about how dangerous they were.
I'd usually ignore him or nod my head in agreement, but I honestly
didn't care very much. Now I did.

"Stupid...Stupid...Stupid..." I breathed and then caught myself with a
grimace. Henry wasn't stupid, I was. How come I hadn't read the
contract more carefully? A Naked in School clause...Who could've
expected that?

"No luck?" the principal asked with a sympathetic smile.

"I can't reach him," I said, hanging up the phone and taking a deep
breath. "Are you sure this is in the contract?"

"I'm positive," he said and I knew he wasn't lying.

If he was making all this up for some reason, I'd end up owning the
school and everything in it. My husband worked for a very good law
firm and they sued people for silly things all the time. No. Principal
Steinway had only telling me the truth and I had a very difficult
decision to make.

"What are the rules?" I asked, clearing my throat and sucking
nervously at my full, bee stung lips like a little girl.

"The same as for the students," he said. "You're setting an example
for them, making it easier for the kids to deal with the experience."

"Hmmm..." I had real doubts about the whole thing anyway, even before
this conversation.

"You'll have to remain naked at all times, except for your shoes," Mr.
Steinway said with a smile. "I think you can keep those on."

"Thanks."

"You're not to hide yourself from view, like cover yourself with your
hands or crawl under the desk," he continued almost jokingly, "and
you'll get the same five minute bathroom breaks the students get."

"Three breaks?"

"All day long," he agreed. "But if you need more, nobody will
complain. Use your common sense, June."

"Common sense is telling me to go home," I said with a wry smile as
the principal chuckled.

"You have to submit to reasonable requests, of course."

"Uh..." I licked my lips.

"Students may want to, uh...examine you more closely," he explained.
"You have to let them touch you and...explore? Shall we say? If they
make a reasonable request, you can't refuse it. We've gone over this
before, right?"

"Yes," I agreed with a reluctant nod.

We'd had several meetings with members of the school board and the
district supervisor to discuss the NIS Program and especially
reasonable requests, which were monitored by the teachers. The school
faculty acted as judges and tried to rule fairly for everyone
concerned, avoiding disagreements and helping the students cope with
and learn from the experience.

"And if I think a request is unreasonable?" I asked, lifting my
eyebrows. "Do I get to decide?"

"Uh, no." Mr. Steinway smiled at me. "You'll have to bring it to the
attention of myself or one of the other teachers. We have to be fair,
right?"

"Right," I sighed, getting a little tired of that word.

"And, I hate to bring it up, but if you have problems following the
rules, then..."

"You're not going to collar me?" I blinked at him. "Are you?"

"Only if you break the rules, June."

We were speaking of a device that naked students wore if they couldn't
obey the few simple NIS rules. A collar was fitted around the neck and
the student's wrists were bound to it by short chains, keeping them
exposed and largely helpless. It's very hard to do anything without
free hands and if that punishment proved insufficient, the student
could also be forced to wear a leg spreader attached to his or her
ankles. I'd never seen the spreader used, but some of the teachers had
assured me that sooner or later some unruly student would wear it.
This was the fourth school year to include NIS in the curriculum and
so I believed them.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind..." Principal Steinway glanced at his watch.
"We only have about five minutes."

"Where do I change, um..." I glanced towards his closed door. Students
changed in the hallway and I imagined Mrs. Hemingway, the vice-
principal, would be handling that this morning, since the principal
was busy with me.

"Right here is fine," he said. "Tomorrow and the rest of the week, you
can change in your classroom."

"Can I, uh..." I smiled nervously and felt my cheeks redden again. "A
little privacy?"

"Oh," he said with a smile. "I could step out, but really, June...I'm
going to see you anyway, right?"

He had a point, but I still didn't like the idea of undressing in
front of the man. Mr. Steinway wasn't very old, perhaps forty-five
maybe, and he looked like a principal. He had a rather large body, a
generous stomach, let's say, and a very high forehead. His round face
was neither handsome nor ugly, but friendly and something like jovial
would be a good word, I suppose. He'd make a good Santa, I thought,
and I tried to picture him at the mall, bouncing a child on his knee
and wearing a fake beard and red outfit.

Santa Claus wasn't real, but only make believe, and about as non-
threatening an image as my imagination could conjure just then. Some
people say you should imagine your audience in their underwear, but
I'd suggest Santa or the Easter Bunny. I could undress for the Easter
Bunny, couldn't I?

It didn't help as much as I'd hoped it would and my fingers trembled
as I removed my blazer and folded it carefully. Mr. Steinway's
constant glancing at his watch reminded me to hurry and I fumbled with
the small buttons on my blouse, but removed that small comfort as
well. I felt my skin flushing pink as I stood there in my bra, feeling
it altogether too small for my breasts. I had that extra bit of pale
flesh spilling out of the firm cups and I tried to ignore the
principal's eyes as he stared at them.

I unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it with a shiver. I'd worn no
stockings as my legs were very smooth and creamy all by themselves.
I'd thought the contrast of my white skin and charcoal suit looked
nice and now I regretted not having the extra clothing. I wondered if
this was how it felt to play strip poker, a game I'd never wanted to
play for obvious reasons. I hesitated as I stood in my thin panties
and swallowed hard as Mr. Steinway's eyes drifted down to see a hint
of curling blonde pubic hair through the lace. No man had ever seen my
pubic hair before and I almost changed my mind.

"June..." he prompted me, tapping his watch impatiently.

"I know," I breathed, trying to calm myself and the rushing of my
heart frightened me.

I felt as if I'd just sprinted a mile. My body burned and glistened
with a sheen of sweat. My lungs ached and my tummy seemed to wrap
itself in knots, giving me small cramps and making my knees wobble.
I'd fall down in a minute, I thought. I'd collapse helplessly to the
floor in my underwear. They'd call an ambulance and dash me to the
hospital. Henry would rush to my side from his office, wondering why I
would have passed out in front of Principal Steinway's desk wearing
only my bra and panties.

That would be more than slightly embarrassing and somehow I found the
motivation to reach behind my back and unclasp my bra.

My breasts sprang free, literally, as the bra straps fell off my
shoulders and down my arms. I had very firm tits topped with
strawberry nipples, long and hard just then and I wasn't sure why. I
felt nothing but acute humiliation and irrational fear. Mr. Steinway
was practically a stranger after all. I'd known him only a month and
he licked his lips, staring at my proud breasts and dark, swollen
nipples. They pointed slightly upward with the flawless curve of my
tits jutting heavily from my slender body. My breasts were perfect,
I'll admit, and some of my college friends had accused me of getting
implants, but any such thoughts would have been wasted. They were
completely natural as the principal could well appreciate.

"Hmmmm..." he sighed, sitting back in his chair with a dull squeak. Mr.
Steinway's right hand disappeared beneath his desk, but I could see
the tiny movement of his shoulder and elbow as he must have been
rubbing himself through his trousers.

I laid my bra on the growing pile of clothing between us and asked
myself one last time if I could really do this. Breasts were one
thing, but exposing my sex, the very center of my womanhood...I hoped
Henry would understand and forgive me. I felt like crying as I hooked
my thumbs in the waistband of my panties, but I refused to give in to
that weakness. I felt ashamed, yes, especially since I could see Mr.
Steinway's lust-filled eyes. I heard the unmistakable sound of his
zipper going down, followed by a soft gasp as he took his arousal in
hand. I couldn't see his penis, but I imagined I could smell the musk
of his manhood on the sultry air. The room felt like a sauna, I'd
grown so hot inside and out.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes and pushing my panties
quickly down my legs before I could change my mind.

I did it for my husband, I thought, for our future. That's why I'd get
naked in school. I'd bear the humiliation for a week and live with the
memories for the rest of my life, but at least I'd have a good life. A
decent life for myself and my husband, and eventually for our
children. This moment would pass, this week would end, and all I had
to do was survive it and convince Henry that my intentions were pure.

Mr. Steinway seemed to be mocking those intentions, however, and when
I opened my eyes I regarded him somewhat coldly. He didn't notice
though, since his eyes were fixed on my vulva. The fine, blonde hair
that covered my sex did little to hide anything. I had a pronounced
swell above the mouth of my vagina, the mons veneris, and below that
lay the pink cleft of my sex proper. My clitoris remained sheathed in
a knot of flesh at the top, but my labia were exposed and I wouldn't
say I had overly large pussy lips, but they were coral pink and right
there for anyone to see. If I became sexually aroused somehow, then I
knew they'd become plump and greasy, heavy with excited blood and
dangling between my thighs. I'd seen myself that way plenty of times,
but I knew I wouldn't have to worry about it at school.

"Ugh...Ugh...Yessss..." Mr. Steinway hissed as he reached for a box of
tissues with his left hand, scrambling to get some Kleenix around his
spurting penis.

"That's disgusting," I told him, overcoming my shame just enough to
voice the outrage I felt at being used that way.

"I know," he admitted with a breathless chuckle. "But it's allowed,
Mrs. Trotter...Welcome to the Naked in School Program."

The bell rang exactly then and I quickly removed my jewelry,
everything except my wedding and engagement rings, and struggled for
the strength to leave the man's office.

Mr. Steinway had been right, of course, masturbation by students and
faculty in the presence of an NIS student was allowed and even
encouraged. It's one of many issues I have with the program.
Masturbation is a sin, I believe, especially for a married man. If he
needs to cum, a husband should ask his wife to do it. I didn't mind
jerking off Henry from time to time, just as I'd been happy to relieve
the sexual urgency of all my previous boyfriends. A woman should take
care of her man's needs and being willing to do that, I found it
rather insulting not to be asked!

Not that I wanted to touch Mr. Steinway's cock, not at all, but there
is principle involved and if he'd asked me to do it...The rules left me
little choice. How often had I told a naked student that she had to
jerk off a boy? Countless times, because it seemed a reasonable
request to me. The boys loved me for that, by the way, but hated me
because I didn't agree that fellatio was reasonable, nor intercourse
for that matter. The boy who requested a blowjob or a quick fuck
couldn't look to me for support, he'd either have to convince the girl
himself or find another teacher to rule in his favor.

"Avoid the men," I told myself as I opened the principal's door and
peered into the busy administration office.

The male teachers thought almost any request was reasonable so long as
it involved a naked girl. If I started getting requests for oral sex
or especially intercourse, I'd have to make sure we found one of the
female teachers to make a decision. I could trust them, I hoped, and
this was the real issue. Naked in School wasn't just about taking off
your clothes and walking around all week, it was about interacting
with other students in complex emotional and very physical ways. If I
wasn't careful, I could end up doing things I really, really didn't
want to do!

"Oh!" someone gasped loudly as I left Mr. Steinway's office. A dozen
students greeted me with wide eyed silence. Even the secretaries and a
couple of the teachers who happened to be in the school office stopped
what they were doing and stared.

I could barely walk and I shivered with goosebumps breaking out on my
flushed skin. I didn't lower my head or anything. I didn't slouch or
even try to cover my naked sex with my hands. I wasn't a child, I told
myself, but an adult. I was a teacher and I had to set an example.
That had been drilled into my head over and over in my courses at
college. I had to remain of aware of my position and responsibilities
at all times, under all circumstances. None of my professors had ever
mentioned being naked however and I did suffer a sliver of doubt.

"Focus!" I breathed, ignoring the smiles and stares and whispers all
around me.

A phone rang, but nobody seemed to notice. I'd become the center of
attention and I felt their eyes on my breasts and pussy, on my ass
when I'd walk by. Self-control became my world as I tried to turn off
my senses. I didn't want to see them looking at me. I didn't want to
hear their comments about my body. I didn't want to smell my own sweat
as it evaporated from my skin. I focused inward, playing the emperor
and convinced that I wasn't really naked at all, but it only takes one
little boy...

"Mrs. Trotter's naked!" a freshman named Cal Winters yelled with a
mixture of surprise and glee.

That seemed to wake everyone up and I nearly ran out the door as my
confidence crumbled. I was naked except for the three inch heels on my
feet. They clicked on the tiled floor, pushing my pert butt out even
further, arching my back and stretching my calves, and forcing me to
turn my hips more than I wanted to. Stupid shoes. They pinched my toes
and made me strut like a runway model whether I wanted to or not. I
had a long day ahead of me and I should have worn flats.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
end

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