Mirror Mirror On The Wall, Part 2

by Joaane

Mrs Smith, the teacher of year six has been taken ill and is unlikely to return this year. I have been given the job of looking after her class while she is away. Year six is the eleven year olds, the new arrivals at this secondary school. At the time I was upset at being selected for this extra work on top of everything else I have to do.

It is difficult to explain how I feel. Imagine, I've been straight all my life and happily married for years. I have never had any interest in women or girls at all. I've been teaching girls between fourteen and fifteen years of age, girls with raging hormones, and none of that has had any effect on me, but within the first fifteen minutes of taking over this class all that changed. The class of anxious faced eleven year olds, of both sexes and varied physical development, all looking up to me for guidance was very empowering and changed my life forever.

Mrs Smith had arranged a glass fronted cupboard all along the wall under the window. I had asked the nearest girl to get the exercise books out and pass them around the class. She is a studious girl, quite plain, with dark hair and dark rimmed glasses. She has no figure at all, not even the beginnings. Her boyish shape would have gone unnoticed had it not been for the glass front of the cupboard reflecting like a smoked mirror.

The strict school uniform for girls is for navy blue serge knickers under a heavy grey pleated shirt. Even if they sit relaxed with their legs open all that shows is darkness. Girls who seek to ignore this rule are routinely sent home to change. When this girl crouched down to open one of the sliding glass doors. The sun shining through the window lit her up and the white panties shone out like a beacon from the darkness of her skirt. The effect on me was immediate and shocking.

I don't know if she knows what she is doing to me but when she crouches down and then turns around with a handful of books to place them on the nearest desk she treats me to a display of gaily coloured thongs. Her legs have to spread to keep her balance. I have made her the equipment monitor so that I'm treated to the wonderful sexual surges that run through me, wetting my panties, twice a day. Her thongs get smaller and smaller and cling to her shape. The whole operation gets slower, she lingers in the leg spread position as she gyrates as if trying to keep her balance, or is she displaying her pussy for me, I don't know. I am completely under the spell of this girl, an ordinary eleven year old girl.

I'm a teacher in my thirties but my obsession with this little girl has had me regressing steadily back to when I first discovered my own sex. As she grows into a sexual being, a temptress, I am heading back to adolescence. I now wear the big, navy blue, thick cotton knickers with the strong elastic at the waist and thighs and I bask in the joy of the warm, tight, comforting, snug feel they give me, hugging me tight. I now also wear the regulation school pleated skirt and I've even abandoned my bra preferring instead to feel my nipples against the thick regulation white cotton blouse. Every movement sends a sexual surge through me. It takes me back to the time of my sexual discovery.

Each morning I stare at the little girl's pussy as it gyrates and wobbles. I tense and relax my thighs, squeezing my clit and making my pussy weep into the thick double gusset. My petite breasts harden and my nipples slide against the course material as I gently rock from side to side. These all too brief moments go unnoticed by the class as they chat and text friends and clown about until the class is called to order.

My husband thinks the school uniform is a great turn on and likes to watch me masturbate into the thick serge, before peeling them off and mounting me. He doesn't take long and soon I am left to clean up. I take the knickers to my face, their warm dampness against my skin and the smell of the gusset transports me to a place where a little girl presses her naked body to mine before licking my pussy. I go to a greater height of passion then I ever achieve with my husband and I squirt my juices into the knickers. I never do that with my husband, I didn't know I could squirt. It takes many moments for my breathing to return to normal and for my heart beat to slow down. During that sexual after glow I cry, I actually weep for my little girl. I curse my lack of courage and the fear stopping from ravishing her. Eventually physical normality and common sense returns, but I know that if she had been there I would have surely raped her.

I walked along the corridor towards my class acknowledging the admiring glances from the other teachers who were also approaching their classes. I knew that I looked good. I couldn't get away with the knee length white stockings worn by the young girls and so I wore the thick black tights worn by the older ones. The men, even those that had not given me a second glance before were now staring and drooling at my schoolgirl look. The headmistress, whom we all knew to be gay, looked me up and down and smiled more sweetly than ever. My class, Year six, was all too preoccupied to notice anything. As I passed the line of children a hand was held out. It was my little girl. She held out her hand as if to shake mine. I didn't understand but I put out my hand anyway. She shook my hand and in that brief contact something was transferred. I kept my hand tightly closed until I was inside the class. The children burst through the open door and spread out around the class like an invading hoard. During that moment of chaos I opened my hand. Jumping to life on my hand was the tiniest thong I have ever seen. It was just a small triangle of material only big enough the cover the smallest pussy and the strings to hold it in place. The triangle was slightly discoloured in one place that told its own story and sent and a surge of tingling energy through my stomach, down through my pussy and down my legs. I could feel the wetness of my gusset growing.

My voice was hoarse as I called out to the class "Maths today." There was a groan from the class. They then returned to their noisy chatter totally disinterested. I nodded at my little girl, who was smiling broadly. I sat at my desk. I couldn't breathe at all, the tingling energy immerging from my pussy and running in waves down legs had me teetering on the edge of orgasm. My girl crouched down facing away from the cupboard. She turned very, very slowly, spreading her legs as she went, until the sun shining through the window reached the centre of my world. She giggled as I saw the brilliant white infant panties, stretching tight across her pussy hiding everything, the elastic gripping her thighs, one of the teddy bears printed on them was darker than the others. There was a single line of dampness down the centre. I orgasmed instantly squirting into the already wet cotton knickers.

I now knew that she did know what she was doing to me and that she enjoyed teasing me. I also knew that she had masturbated into her thong that morning and has made me a gift of it. During the break when all the children were outside playing and the teachers were all in the staffroom, I was in the toilets sniffing at my gift and frigging my clit violently through the rough serge of my very wet knickers.

My husbands thinks all his prayers have been answered, I am permanently aroused. When he caught me masturbating in the shower and joined me, I wasn't thinking of him. When he peels my very wet school knickers off, the wetness is not for him and when he licks my pussy I am transported to be with my little girl. When I lick his nipple in my sleep I am not dreaming of him, but none of that seems to bother him. He just pumps his load into me with energy and enthusiasm. I do have a twinge of guilt when he buys me flowers and chocolates and when he holds my hand in a display on affection, but I will live with it.

As I approached my class for another day the kids were more like an unruly mob than a line. When they spotted me though they became orderly and formed a line facing towards the class, my little girl was at the back. As I approach she turned, smiled sweetly and handed me the teddy bear printed knickers.

Once in the class and when I was sat down again behind my deck, I nodded towards my girl. "Geography," I called to the class, the usual groan followed. I didn't hear it or care, I was staring at the cupboard. She crouched down but with one knee on the ground hiding everything. She lifted a geography book into the air, as if to say, "This one Miss?" She was teasing me. "Yes yes," I said hoarsely and impatiently. She turned to the cupboard, she slowly, very painfully slowly, raised the knee off the ground. I whimpered at the sight. She was wearing transparent nylon French knickers the legs of which fell away to give full view of the smooth naked pussy. My own pussy throbbed squirting its juices into my heavy cotton gusset. The display was slower than ever and I am sure she spread her legs even wider and I swear I saw her pussy glisten in the sunlight.

I don't know how, but I managed to set work to keep the class occupied while I sorted myself out. I looked up from my thigh tensing induced orgasm to see my girl's hand in the air. Children had to put their hand up if the wanted something. "Yes Zoe," I said in my best teacher voice. "I have something for you." She said and approached the desk. She stood beside me. I could feel the warmth of her. I looked at the class to ensure that they were all concentrating on their work. I slid my hand up the back of her skirt. My pussy wept copiously as I reach her spring bottom. She put an envelope onto my desk. She looked at me and smiled. I looked at the envelope as my fingers probed at the tightly clamped and closed slit. She whispered in my ear, her breath sending shivery thrills down through me, "No Miss." she was smiling. It was a soft no, not a definite no, more like a not now Miss no. Disappointed, but not disheartened I removed my hand.

She left and sat down at her desk again and got on with the work I had set the class. The envelope was very cheap. It was almost transparent. The folded letter and the lined paper could be seen. I opened it expecting childish writing. Fear hit me as I saw the adult writing.

It simply said, "Zoe has told me all about you, we need to talk, please bring her home after school. I and her sisters would love to meet you."