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Subject: {Dave Wallis} "Diary Of A Student Teacher - Feb 23rd 1998" ( mf teen con pett oral voy hs ) [Part 4] *
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{Dave Wallis} "Diary Of A Student Teacher - Feb 23rd 1998" ( mf teen con pett
oral voy hs ) [Part 4] *

WARNINGS

This story contains graphic scenes of a sexual nature. If this offends you,
or if your national or local laws do not allow you to read such things,
please leave now.

All characters in this story are fictitious and any resemblance to real
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. I am not even the same age,
sex or profession as the main protagonist.

This fourth chapter is what you'd expect from a high school story - a couple
of teenagers going at it like knives, with plenty of petting and oral,
because they think they're not being observed. Enjoy.

Comments and criticisms are welcome at my e-mail address
foxwell23@hotmail.com (Dave Wallis). And if you have any personal fantasies
or scenarios that you would like me to consider including in later chapters
they are also welcome.

This story may be reproduced, providing it is on a non-profit-making basis,
and that the text is reproduced in its entirety, with these warnings intact.
You will take responsibility for ensuring that it does not fall into the
hands of minors, I cannot take responsibility for that. Also, if you do want
to reproduce it for public view, please have the courtesy to let me know
about it.

DIARY OF A STUDENT TEACHER

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Becky Foxwell - Student teacher, who began this diary on 20th Feb 1998, as
she was about to begin her final teaching practice.
Judy - Becky's black & beautiful flatmate, with an insatiable sexual appetite.
Adam Graves - A PE teacher.
Peter Wilson [Year 8] - A 13 year old boy.
Melanie [Year 8] - A 13 year old girl.
Andrew Davies [Year 9] - A 13 year old boy.
Craig [Year 11] - A 16 year old boy.
Andrew Wilson [Lower 6th] - A 17 year old boy.

MONDAY 23RD FEBRUARY 1998

When I woke up this morning, my mouth felt like the bottom of a birdcage.
Surely I hadn't had that much to drink.

It was not even 7am, but Judy was already up and running the shower. After a
few minutes, she popped her head round the door and said, "Hiya. How's the
head?"

"Bloody awful," I replied.

"Well come on then," she said, " lets get you in the shower. You were pissed
on by a bunch of drunken first year students you know."

"Yes. I remember," I answered, wondering if Judy also remembered that we
kissed last night. But, as she led me into the shower, she seemed oblivious
to the fact that any such thing had taken place. She stood naked beside me in
the shower, helping me to wash my hair, the water pounding her large breasts
and her athletic frame. The feel of Judy's hands rubbing intimately in my
hair felt intensely erotic and I almost felt that she was getting ready to
make a pass. I wondered what my reaction would be.

But Judy's manner was entirely non-sexual. So much so, that if I had not
gotten up last night and written down the fact, I would be tempted to think
that the kiss had never happened and that I had dreamed the whole thing.

Finally, we finished our shower and set about the task of transforming
ourselves into respectable teachers.

I pulled my bike out and set off. It still had the bit of material wrapped
around the saddle that I use when I am going out without any underwear. I was
going to take it off, but it was a cold morning today and I thought it might
be nice to have something warm between the saddle and my thighs.

I got into Albert Road School by 8:30. I found my way to the staff room and
recognised Adam Graves, whose registration class I was going to take.

He told me that he would come in with me this morning and introduce me, but
after that I was on my own. He explained that his class were a nice bunch of
year 8 kids [12 & 13 year olds] and that I should have no problems with them.

When the bell rang and we went round to his classroom a gaggle of noisy young
teenagers was waiting for us. The girls in particular were all over Adam,
their shrill voices crying out "Sir, sir" and trying to tell him what they'd
been doing over their half term holidays. They were obviously infatuated by
him, and I have to say that I don't entirely blame them. He is a gorgeous
man, with an athletic build, who teaches PE. He moved through the girls,
seemingly oblivious to the effect that he was having on them. Listening to
them, I wondered if I had ever sounded as loud and shrill as that.

The class settled down and Adam introduced me. When he said that I would be
taking over registration this term, there was a dismayed chorus of "Ohh,
sir!!" from the girls. The boys however, were a little more welcoming.

I read out the register and then looked around for somebody to take it back
to the office. Most of the boys in the room stuck up their hands to
volunteer, but I chose a young lad, called Peter, who seemed a bit withdrawn
in the hope of bringing him out of himself a bit.

"Do I have to Miss?" he asked. He was sitting close by my desk and seemed to
be fidgeting nervously.

"Yes, Peter, you do," I said, somewhat surprised at his reluctance; but
secretly pleased with myself for having remembered his name.

Peter made a big display of putting on his jacket and picking up his bag.
Then he almost shuffled over to my desk, his school bag clutched in front of
him. I gave him the register and beamed what I hoped was an encouraging smile
at him. He almost snatched the register out of my hands and shuffled away.
Some of the girls in the class were snickering to themselves and I heard Adam
Graves whisper to the young lad, "You'd better take care of that outside."

At that point I looked again at young Peter and realised that under his
school bag he was sporting a rock hard erection and making a tent in his
trousers. No wonder he had been so reluctant to stand up!

I exchanged a look with Adam, but tried to conceal my smile from the rest of
the class, in case they guessed its source.

When the bell finally went a few minutes later, many of the girls made
exaggerated farewells to Adam - some of them evenly openly hugging him(!),
which seemed a little odd. But I suppose that as he was a boys' PE teacher,
many of them really wouldn't see him this half term, except to pass in the
corridor.

I thanked Adam for introducing me to his class, then gathered up my things
and headed for my first lesson...

The Maths department had decided to ease me in slowly, so my first lesson was
with year 7 [11-12 year olds]. They were pleasant and enthusiastic and had
not yet acquired that world-weariness that seems to come to fruition
somewhere around year 9.

Unfortunately, thats about all I can say about them. They were so chirpy and
excitable that they all just seemed to blend into one. I can hardly remember
any of their names, which is not a good start (I will have to make a special
effort to get to know those children).

After morning break it was the dreaded year 9. The lesson went pretty well,
but I made a classic mistake with the group of boys that sat in the middle of
the room. I decided that I wanted to appear friendly and approachable, so as
I set the class their tasks I came round to the front of my desk and perched
upon it, facing them. I beamed my best, most encouraging smile. But the
effect was ruined somewhat as I heard one of the lads, Andrew Davies, whisper
excitedly to his friends, "Miss is wearing suspenders!". I realised with
horror that they could see right up my skirt!

I quickly hopped back off the desk, trying to retain as much dignity as I
could.

At lunch time I recovered from the first morning's work and tried to make
friends with the staff.

At afternoon registration, Peter Wilson studiously avoided my gaze and I
didn't inflict further humiliation on him. I asked for volunteers to return
the register to the office and was greeted by a horde of 13 year old boys,
surging forward in a testosterone frenzy. I picked two, sent them on their
way and sent the others back to their seats..

With the register had come a note for Adam. My first lesson of the afternoon
was free, so I decided to take it round to him. Adam wasn't in the staff room
at morning break or lunchtime, so I think he prefers to stay in his office by
the gym.

I left it until 20 minutes into the lesson before I made my way round to the
gym to deliver the note, because I didn't want to have to walk through a room
full of naked little boys. So I knew that I wouldn't get to see Adam, but I
could at least leave the note on his desk.

As I drew closer to the changing rooms, I noticed a girl called Melanie
something (can't remember her surname) ahead of me. She's one of the girls in
my registration class, that how I recognised her. But I knew that she
certainly shouldn't be here at this time, because as far as I was aware their
class was having a Maths lesson now (I knew that, because I was originally
down to teach them before they became my registration class).

So, what was Melanie doing here. She was obviously bunking off her lesson,
but what else?

I watched as she entered one of the changing rooms. Had she left something in
there earlier?

I drew closer still and realised that it was the *boys* changing room that
she had entered. I thought then that she must be going in to steal from the
boys whilst they were in their lesson. What should I do?

I decided that I should have to catch young Melanie in the act. I moved
quietly into the changing room after her. Fortunately, there was a wall of
coats between Melanie and myself, so I was able to creep quite close without
her observing me.

I was going to peer through the coats, when suddenly I froze. I could hear
voices coming from the other side. One of them was a Melanie's nervous
whisper. The other...

I peered through. There was Melanie, one of my year 8 girls. With her was a
hulking great lad of about 16 - three years her senior.

This was obviously a rendezvous - their body language proved it beyond a
doubt. The knees that protruded from Melanie's grey pleated skirt were
pressed tight together and her hands rested upon them, but she was facing the
16 year old and leaning forward; nervous yet excited, both at the same time.
For his part, the lad was dressed in his football or rugby kit (I don't know
which) and facing forward at an angle to Melanie; but beneath his football
shorts, something was stirring...

What I should have done at that point was to make my presence known and give
them both a stiff talking to. I should then have sent him back out to the
football pitch and frog-marched her to her lesson.

Thats what I should have done. But instead, I stayed to watch events unfold.

Melanie chatted brightly to the older boy, whose name I gathered was Craig.
He seemed a little embarrassed at how excited he was becoming and looked as
if he was trying to ignore the close proximity of the young girl.

I have to admit that I can't blame him, because Melanie *is* gorgeous. At
thirteen, teenage girls are either over-developed kids or shapely young women
in miniature. Melanie is definitely one of the latter. Her long blonde hair
comes down in waves, cascading to the middle of her back; her waist is narrow
and her hips are shapely. This sits oddly with her face, which is bright and
smiling with wide-eyed innocence. When you add to that the starched white
blouse and short grey pleated skirt of her school uniform, you get a gorgeous
little bombshell. Craig didn't stand a chance.

The poor lad clearly didn't know where to look on his jailbait companion, so
he carefully looked straight ahead, trying to avoid his gaze falling on any
part of her body.

But Melanie seemed to desperately want the attention and approval of the
older boy. She leaned further forward and rested her hand on Craig's bare
leg. Sensing him jump slightly, she started to stroke it soothingly, brushing
flat the coarse hairs of his left thigh.

Melanie ran her hand up Craig's thigh to his football shorts. His erection
was now hard as iron. Grinning wickedly, Melanie grabbed at Craig's manhood,
pressed against the nylon of his shorts, and started to massage it eagerly.
They looked at each other briefly, then came together in a passionate kiss.

Melanie continued to work at Craig's prick through the thin nylon of his
shorts. The older boy started to tug at her blouse, to pull it out of the
waist band of her skirt. Eventually he succeeded and he started to run his
hands all over her back, pushing up under her white school blouse. Melanie
slid closer to him along the changing bench and her little pleated skirt rode
up her bare teenage thighs. I was beginning to get quite wet, but I did not
dare to do anything about it.

Craig's hand moved round to Melanie's small but growing breasts. He rubbed at
her breasts through her bra. His hands moved back and tried to unhook it, to
release her tits to his touch. But he was too clumsy and eventually Melanie
reached back and slapped his hands away.

Craig moved his hand down to Melanie's thigh and began to stroke it. He
pushed the 13 year old's skirt up to her waist, and started to slide his hand
under the hem of her panties. He started to tug them down and she helped him.
They slid to her knees and then she shook them off onto the floor. Craig
started to stroke at her pussy, where the first mossy down of her pubes was
forming. His attentions were rough and clumsy, but at their ages, they knew
no better. Melanie began to sigh audibly and her face was flushed.

When she returned her attentions to Craig's penis, Melanie this time reached
inside the leg of his shorts, pulled the gusset aside and released his huge
engorged member. Now it was his turn to breath raggedly as she began to
furiously wank his member up and down.

For a time they stayed exactly like that. She beating his meat, he finger
fucking her pussy and the pair of them locked in a vacuum-sealed kiss. This
was not the sensitive love-making of adults but the eager lust of
adolescence. The lack of quality was compensated in full by desire.

Craig made an effort to roll over on top of her, but Melanie broke the kiss
and whispered, "No! What if someone sees!"

"Well what then?" muttered Craig. To answer him, the young girl slid off the
bench and knelt before him on the changing room floor. The delicate blonde
looked tiny compared to the hulking great 16 year old in his last year at
school. She put her hands on his knees, leaned forward and cautiously took
his penis into her mouth. As she got bolder, she sucked harder. Her head
bobbed up and down in his lap and Craig grinned foolishly as she worked at
his penis.

As Melanie sucked her boyfriend off, she was facing away from me and on her
knees. Her little school skirt had flopped back down over her arse cheeks,
but every now and then her bum gave a delightful little bounce and the hem of
her skirt flipped up, revealing her soft downy pussy below. I noticed that
with one free hand she had reached back and was frigging herself gently.

Suddenly, we heard voices in the corridor. All three of us froze. It was the
girls returning from PE. That meant that the boys would be not far behind. I
knew that I should leave immediately. If I was caught lustfully drooling over
two teenagers, it would be the end of my career before it began.

But for some reason I couldn't move. I just had to see this through to its
conclusion. It was clear that Melanie and Craig had the same feeling. Some of
Craig's ardour had left him during the frozen moment when we had heard the
girls' voices in the corridor. Now Melanie redoubled her efforts, wanking the
base of Craig's prick viciously as she sucked eagerly at its head. I think we
all knew that none of us could leave that place until we were either all
caught, or Craig's penis had splashed its seed over Melanie's pretty little
face.

Craig gazed down at the young teenager whose lips were wrapped round his
penis head. He seemed to be willing his seed to come.

Eventually Craig began to wince and his face contorted. As he squirmed on his
bench, Melanie gripped his penis all the more harder. It was starting to
throb and spurt globs of  harsh salty liquid into her mouth. Melanie gulped
down Craig's cum. I realised that she did not dare spill a drop, because she
couldn't risk it splashing onto her school blouse. She still had one more
lesson that day, if she went to it and in any case her mum would probably
kill her.

As the spurting eased, Melanie washed off the head of Craig's penis with her
lips. He smiled down at her with grateful contentment, but she was already
tucking her blouse back into her skirt.

We heard the noisy row of the boys returning to the building. In alarm,
Melanie pecked Craig briefly on the lips, then she grabbed her school bag and
bolted from the room. I had no time to get out before her, so I pushed myself
into the coats and hoped that she would not see me.

As I got up and and dusted myself down, the first boys were arriving back
from the fields. I followed them into the main part of the changing room,
where Craig had composed himself and was trying to pretend that the
activities of the past half hour had not taken place.

"Here, Miss, what are you doing here?" one of the 16 year olds asked with a
cheeky grin.

"I have a note for Mr Graves," I said as primly as I could.

"Not been waiting long, I hope, Miss Foxwell?" It was Adam Graves, who had
entered the room behind me.

"No, no," I smiled, "only 5 or 10 minutes." I don't know why I said. Just
mischief, I guess. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Craig look up in guilt
and horror, but I ignored him.

"Here, Miss," said the cheeky lad who had spoken earlier, " these aren't your
knickers are they?" I looked down. There on the floor were Melanie's panties.
She'd run out in such a hurry she'd left them behind! Craig looked like he
wanted to sink into the earth.

The cheeky lad, grinned inanely at me. I fixed him with a steely gaze and
said: "Certainly not."

Adam let us all off the hook, by saying, "Its amazing what you find in here.
Anybody want to claim these?" A few lads answered with ribald comments about
giving them a sniff, but Adam said, "Lost Property, I think," and scooped
them up off the floor, throwing them with one fluid action into his office.

Another lad said, "Miss. Are you going to stay here long. Some of us want to
get changed."

"Carry on," I said. I'm not interested.

The boy in question promptly turned his back to me and dropped his shorts.
This seemed to be the signal for all the lads to start removing their
football kit. There were over 20 of them, all burly lads, approaching their
sexual prime and all naked or near naked; their penises hanging down like
quiescent serpents, ready to strike. I realised that I was just one woman,
not very much older than them, and suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

In some confusion, I handed over the note that I had for Adam, then beat a
hasty retreat. Behind me I heard more baudy comments from the boys and Adam's
voice as he tried to keep order.

After that I had just one more class to teach. A-Level Mathematics. Quite a
challenge, as I had been taking it myself only a few years earlier. But the
16 and 17 year olds who were doing it were quite a good bunch. At the end of
the class, I was kept talking by a 17 year old called Andrew Wilson, who
turned out to be the older brother of Peter, the boy I embarrassed in
registration this morning.

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