Making The Grade


     Young Cassandra looked with some satisfaction at the paper handed back to her. An "A" was inscribed there in red marker, followed somewhat enigmatically she thought, by "Please see me after class. " Idly she flipped through the essay, revelling in the little compliments written in the margin. "Great use of metaphor," was one, "Excellent ironic overtone," another. Never mind that she had never intended a metaphor, let alone an ironic overtone, she pondered. If Mr. Jamieson had seen them, all the better for her.
     No, It was the hastily scribbled footnote, that had her curious. Maybe he wanted to save her paper as an example for next year's class? Shrugging, she packed up the rest of her belongings with everyone else, letting the happy if not eclectic Friday chatter swirl around her.
     Finally the bell rang and there was a frantic rush for the door. Cassandra longed to join her friends but she could hardly overlook the directive from her teacher. So instead she sat at her desk and watched him sort through some notes. His eyebrows arched in concentration, furrowing his broad forehead; he blew a lock of unruly brown hair out of his eyes from time to time. He wasn't she decided, an unattractive man!
     Just as Cassandra was starting to believe he'd forgotten his note, he looked up and focused his attention on her.
    "Miss Peters, please come here. " Surprised by the sternness in his voice, Cassandra walked up to his desk.

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   His looked at her solemnly.
    "Honestly Miss Peters, I don't know what to do with you. You haven't attended seven classes this semester, and the absences aren't excused. I have to say that yes, you have turned in every assignment and to be honest, blown me away with your writing skills. However, with the end of the semester approaching I must warn you that you have only a C-minus in this class. Attendance I'm afraid, is unavoidably twenty percent of the grade. "
     Cassandra gaped at him. "A C-minus? But Mr. Peters, my parents expect me to get into Princeton. . . I must have an A. "
     Mr. Peters sighed, "I don't know what you want me to say Cassandra. Did you really expect to pass this class with flying colors based on your essays alone?"
     Cassandra bit her lip and stared at the floor.

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   Yes, she had hoped that might be the case, she realised. The reality was just too much for her and she began to cry.
    "It wasn't my fault Mr Jamieson," she sobbed, "Mom had to spend a lot of time in hospital after the auto accident and I just needed to stay at home to help out. Dad doesn't get back till real late and I had to do the cooking. . . . everything. " Backing up to the nearest desk she slumped forlornly in the wooden chair. "You can't give me a C-Minus. . . . please!!"
     He looked at her compassionately.
    "They're not my rules Cassandra," he responded slowly.

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   "They are set down by the educational bodies and however much I wish I could change them for you, I can't! I know about the accident, I know you've had it really tough at home for quite a while, but you simply never brought in those signed absentee notes I asked you for. You really have left me no choice here. "
     Silent tears running freely now down her pretty face she looked across at him. Even with full attendance and three more straight "A"s, the best she could hope for come end of semester was a B plus. It wasn't enough. Crying wasn't going to address the situation she realised. When 'you're desperate' she reasoned, you use whatever tools are available.
    "Won't you please reconsider Mr Jamieson," she asked softly "I'll do anything - absolutely anything you want. "
     The balance of power was definitely shifting. This was a situation completely outside the thirty-five year old teacher's experience. Even as he responded, the uncertainty in his voice was evident.
    "Are you meaning what I think you're meaning Cassandra?" he all but stuttered.
     She just stared hard at the desktop. "I have to get an "A" in English Mr Jamieson, don't you understand that? I have to"
     He looked at her with a kaleidoscope of emotions running unchecked through his grey matter. Despite the fact he was a decent man with a strong moral fiber, the truth was he now realised, that Cassandra appealed to him over and above that which might be considered appropriate in any teacher-student relationship.

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   Whilst he had never actually gotten to the stage of contemplating any sort of marital infidelity in the past, he had to admit that on more than one occasion, the sight of this particular student's curvy little bottom exiting the classroom, had imprinted itself on his subconcscious.
    "I don't think that is really what you want Miss Peters," he announced with little assurance, realising even as he spoke, that the statement made no reference to any reticence from his own standpoint. If any retreat had been planned - no one had mentioned it to the cavalry!
     The girl stood up and was staring at her teacher with a mixture of embarrassment and trepidation.
    "We could both be dismissed, you know?" he muttered. She nodded but took no backward step. The prominent blush in her cheeks he found most attractive.
    "Think maybe I had better take some precautions," he added nervously, intentionally avoiding all eye contact as he walked past her, to the far end of the room, whereupon he turned the key in the lock.
     Having regained the relative security of his own desk, he sat in the chair and motioned to Cassandra to step forward. Hands at her sides, she approached him.
     Observing the girl more with studious appraisal than any lustful intent, he took in her slim figure, pretty rather than overt breasts, beautiful facial features that at just eighteen now, had blossomed to technical adulthood. She looked considerably younger he mused. Patting his knee, he extended an arm towards her.
     Sensing his own extreme lack of confidence under the circumstances, she allowed herself to be drawn down on to his lap, where the playing field was anything but level, she couldn't help but notice. As her flush deepened and he in turn became aware of the reason for such, he decided that time was of the essence. Galvanised into action by a combination of her youthful femininity and the sensation of so sexy a little bottom atop his crotch, he allowed himself the luxury of slipping an arm around her waist.

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     He felt her tense-up but figuring this was no time to be indecisive, slipped his hand upwards and enclosing the girl's entire right breast, squeezed the softness within. Letting out a shocked gasp she instinctively pulled his hand away.
    "I think the words you used were 'I'll do absolutely anything you want' were they not Cassandra?"
    "I'm sorry. . . nerves I guess Mr Jamieson," she muttered "I've never done anything like this before. " She allowed him to restore contact with her breast and even as he began to grope her gently she felt the adrenaline kick-in. The feeling wasn't wholly unpleasant she had to admit.
    "Are you still a virgin then m'dear?" he asked tremulously, the sensation of squeezing this particular teenage student's hot little breasts rendering him positively light-headed
    "Uh huh!" she replied, her eyes watching as both his hands now felt her up with a growing confidence. Whatever that physiological reaction was manifesting itself between her legs, it was nothing she could classify as a hardship.
    "You are such a pretty girl Cassandra," he whispered, "I'm not hurting you doing this am I?"
    "No Mr Jamieson, its OK," she replied.
    "Oh and you needn't refer to me as 'Mr Jamieson' any more either," he smiled at her. "Hardly appropriate under the circumstances is it?" he added. "Just call me Craig. "
     For a moment or two silence reigned as he continued fondling the girl's breasts increasingly aware of her unforced arousal, courtesy of those delightfully hardening nipples that her thin blouse was doing less than nothing to shield from his finger exploratory.

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    "May I kiss you?" he asked her suddenly.
     Simply the bizarre attending circumstances - a young female student being sexually assaulted on the knee of a way older teacher and he asks her for a kiss? - made her involuntarily giggle. The humor of the moment was cut short however as their lips met.
     Kissing though not unfamiliar to the girl, had been limited to a few close friends of her own age - girls and boys if the truth be known. Never though had she experienced such familiarity with a man in his thirties and thus despite both the age-difference and the inappropriate scholastic connections, she had to admit this was a step-up in class.
     From Craig's viewpoint, this surely was the epitome of every male fantasy. Groping unrestrictedly a sexy teenage girl while kissing her hard on the lips, even as her bottom continued playing havoc with his procreative equipment-in-waiting. . . . they don't write better screenplays!
     Beginning now to undo the top few buttons of her blouse, she gasped softly as he exposed her low-cut bra and dynamically arousing cleavage, A frilly little number, more concerned with fashion than support one assumes, it was the work of but a moment to slip his fingers inside her left cup. She gave a little gasp as they brushed across her engorged nipple and was fully unable to prevent a blush from coloring her cheeks.
     He wasn't looking at her cheeks though and using either hand now, began manipulating both nipples which achieved two things. Her bra was of course worked low enough that both breasts were almost fully exposed to his vitally interested gaze and her fine dark nipples became even more distended as his fingers worked their dexterous magic.
     As for Cassandra she could hardly believe she was sitting willingly on a man's lap, pretty much topless, allowing herself to be molested at will.


   Of greater concern, her body seemed in no hurry to be sending out May Day calls. If she didn't know better it was relishing this newly come-by learning curve.
    "May as well take these off," he murmured to no-one in particular, as he undid the rest of the buttons before peeling off her blouse and tossing it on his desk. Even as he unhooked her bra and began pulling the straps down her arms Cassandra just sat there, justifiably proud of her firm young breasts that freed now of their social constraints drew an appreciative if not limited audience.
     Inclining his head, he had barely even closed the gap between lip and nipple when she pushed him back firmly. "Noo, you can't do that. . . . . Craig," she admonished.
    "Oh I think I can Cass," he smiled, "You're not even close to a C plus yet!"
     Reluctantly she withdrew her arm and sat there rather prettily he observed - an obedient fourth grader, waiting for permission to read aloud her essay.
     As he first kissed her breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue, she let out a small whimper, beginning to wriggle on his lap in embarrassment. Craig however was far from embarrassed and as the texture of her nipple combined with the vaguely milky smell of the breast itself, wholly absorbed his concentration, he began to draw down on her teat completely transported by the combination of recalled childhood comfort and the sexual arousal such an act unavoidably generated.
     For her part, Cassandra found herself in a whole new ball-park - one where adults played quite obviously.

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   Unaware she was letting out small gasps of pleasure, she held his head against her breasts as he suckled her first one side then the other. The harder he drew down, the stronger the communications being exchanged with vaginal HQ. As the messages grew more urgent she could not avoid slipping a hand onto her lap and depressing an area of her skirt that in other circumstances might be described as 'interesting,'
     Fondling that which he wasn't already sucking, Craig was a man on a mission. No girl should be this sexy he decided. Wondering just how he could ever face up to her again in class he was suddenly distracted by the proximity of the girl's hand in her own lap. On little more than auto-pilot, he slipped his hand up beneath her skirt - she was after all sitting almost side-saddle.
     This most assuredly brought a reaction.
    "Nooo, not up there. . . please!" Her sharp intake of breath, shocked expression and rapid closure of her legs might in other circumstances have acted as some deterrent, but when a man has just about blown his wad sucking a girl's bare breasts while she wriggles sexily on his knee, you really can't expect a total withdrawal of all active troops. Besides there was unfortunately for Cassandra, an unfulfilled contract to see out, and of which she was quickly reminded.
    "If a B Minus is enough for you m'dear, we'll call it a day then," he smirked at her. "Your choice sweetheart!"
     Even as her legs parted, at least to the extent that her tight little skirt would permit, a delicate frown flitted across her face. "You really shouldn't be doing this Craig," she muttered.

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   "I only meant for you to have a feel. "
    "Well that's all I'm doing Cassandra," he grinned, insinuating his hand well up between her thighs where the heat was - if not volcanic. . . . a tad on the warm side. The blush returned and with now the twin pleasures of seeing the young girl's breasts jiggling each time she wriggled her hips, as well as the hem of her skirt riding high up her legs, he was made even more aware of his pained erection that was struggling for survival in that land-locked cavity beneath her bottom. That she must have been aware of the caged serpent on hand could not be in doubt.
     In fact Cassandra was cognizant of Craig's little problem and despite herself, the imminent presence of so sexual a threat was only adding to her own escalating arousal.
     His hands reached the front of her panties. . . sexy little white cotton briefs that already were peeking out beneath her indecently rumpled skirt. Adding to the visual delights one couldn't help but notice, the contrast between the soft white skin of her thighs and the roll tops of those fishnet leggings she had selected to wear that morning. At the point he began rubbing her intimately, both were locked in to their respective countdowns even if they didn't yet know it.

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    "God Cassandra, that feels so sexy," he whispered to the young girl as she struggled emotionally to deal with what was being perpetrated upon her hitherto unchallenged innocence. Trying to balance the reality of having to allow her teacher unrestricted sexual access with the knowledge that such was inherently wrong was inhibiting her thought processes. Added to this was the realization that her body was taking extreme pleasure from his caresses and tactile indulgencies.
     As he began to kiss her she felt all resistance crumbling and was even unaware she had spread her legs wider to accommodate his aggravated up-skirt therapy.
     He could feel the dampness through the thin material and rubbing her now the full depth of her vaginal ingress she was freely moaning and encouraging further interplay. Slipping a finger up beneath the leg of her panties he located the clitoral hood with little difficulty and set up a vibratory assault there which ultimately would be taking no prisoners he knew.
     Completely adrift from any world she had ever known, the girl was emitting small cries of pleasure now as the pressure built to intolerable levels. "Don't stop, don't stop," she pleaded even as he fingered her to the edge of reason.
     Using two fingers, he could feel how engorged she was and how taut her young pussy had become under his relentless digital massage. The moisture on site was simply the icing on the cake - proof indeed that you really can't beat the hands-on approach.
     Limited in dialog to "Ohhhh" Cassandra was suddenly lost in the perfect storm. As the shock waves eddied out in concentric circles, causing her hips and bottom to wriggle, her nipples to tingle and her pussy to bear the brunt of the ensuing seismic rift, she didn't even hear herself cry out with pleasured release.
    Craig did. . .


  . he was even privy to the onset of some pre-cum now overflowing rather pointlessly beneath the young girl's sexy little posterior.
     Unable to bear further stimulation temporarily, she pulled his hand out of her panties.
    "That was soo incredible," she volunteered. She made as if to disengage herself from his lap.
    "And where do you think you're off to young lady?" he asked her.
    "Just going to put my bra and top back on," she replied.
    "I think not Cass," he said, taking a hold of her arm. "What you can do though is take that hot little skirt off now. . . always had a hankering to see a girl your age running around my classroom in just her panties. "
    "That's disgusting Mr Jamieson," she gasped.
    "Oh, Its back to 'Mr Jamieson' now is it?' he chided her. "Well no matter I suppose.

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  . . . makes it sound even sexier.
    Naughty student misbehaving and all. "
        "I'm not gonna parade around here in just my panties?" she announced defiantly. "That's totally off!"
         He smiled at her, "Well, speaking of things being "off" sweetheart, although you definitely made B Plus with that last little performance, you are still adrift from any Princeton ranking I'm afraid, so I guess you're just gonna have to do what your teacher tells you. Its that or you take the B Plus.
         Aware she was trapped and without any aces left to play, she sighed and then simply unhooking the small clasp, she ran the zipper down and let the skirt fall to the floor. The now fully awesome aspect of probably the grade's prettiest student, stranded mid classroom solely in her leggings and a pair of white panties close to three sizes too small for her, almost robbed Craig Jamieson of his remaining sanity.
         Trying to cover up both nipples and her rather pronounced camel toe was a task and a half. It merely drew attention however to her rampant femininity. That isn't to say Craig wasn't taking the greatest pleasure in eying off the girls unwanted predicament. Had he stood up himself though, Cassandra might have been equally fascinated by proceedings, especially those some six inches or so beneath his belt-buckle.
         Indicating that she should 'approach the bench' as it were, he co-erced her verbally to return to the seat of power, taking her hand as she neared him and at the last moment having her turn around so he could admire the sculptor's work from the rear.

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       There was much to admire. She flinched as he smoothed both hands down her cheeks taking the greatest delight in observing the line of that beautiful cleft as it sank from view beneath the waistband of her panties. - the ultimate event-horizon one might deduce.
        "Don't take them down please," she yelped as he tugged at the soft material suddenly, revealing more than half her naked bottom to his gaze. Patting her right cheek suggestively, he allowed her to pull them back up to hip level.
        "Tell you what Cassandra," he said, still toying with her rear-end somewhat indecently, "I'll give you a choice. Either you take your panties off now in front of me or I let you put that skirt back on first and then I take them off for you?"
        "If I let you do that Mr Jamieson, can I please go home then?" she replied none too confidently.
        "We'll have to see about that sweetheart," he answered. "I guess you HAVE been a good and compliant little girl this afternoon. "
         Retrieving her skirt, she had no sooner zipped it up when he put his arms around her waist and pulled her too him. Fully off balance, she fell back on his lap just as his hands found their way up beneath her hem once again and began re-familiarising themselves with the architectural delights between her legs.
         Her eyes closed, she allowed him to molest her unhindered.
        "Stand up for me Cass," he instructed. No sooner had she done so, than he took a hold of the waistband and with his face but inches now from her curvy little rear, peeled her undies past her leggings and down to her ankles. Obligingly she stepped out of them.

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        "Does that feel sexy sweetheart?" he asked, "standing there in just a short skirt with no panties on?" The truth was - it did, but she was not about to share such intimate home-truths.
         A full scale discussion on the subject was never even to reach gestation stage however, since his grip around her waist tightened at that moment and with the least exertion, he pulled her back on to his knee. She gave a small cry of surprise that was replaced by one of genuine shock. Straddling his knee as she now was, her parted legs revealed a hitherto unchartered actuality. Not only unzipped, her teacher's erection announced its clear intent, standing to attention there between her thighs, in honored tribute to the Star Spangled Banner quite obviously.
        "No way," she cried out, You're not going to fuck me now are you?" She tried unsuccessfully to exit the playing field.
        "Well Cass, I wouldn't have put it quite that indelicately," his arm around her waist tightened. "But you have latched on to the general direction of things here. Think of it as your "final exam" sweetheart. I'll be gentle. "
        "Nooo. . . please. .

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      "she sobbed. "I'm a virgin. . . I could get pregnant. "
         Suddenly lost in some excruciatingly hot images that her words generated, he was silent for a few seconds.
        "Cassandra," he responded eventually, "This isn't a multiple choice question I'm afraid. You want an "A" - you let me fuck you here and now. What's it to be? You needn't worry about pregnancy either, there are pills you know!"
         Naively she hadn't even considered it might have come to this. Her tears were real and she regretted now ever embarking on such a drastic course of action. As she looked at her teacher's erection however, its very proximity was arousing to her she had to admit. Perhaps the concept was worse than the reality? Idly, she took a hold of it.
        "I'll take that as a 'yes' then," he whispered, following up with a kiss just below her right ear. She really smelt so young and inviting.
         Not too many girls lose their virginity straddling their English teacher's lap butt naked, save for a skirt of such brief proportions.

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       In actuality, the window of opportunity as it were at that angle, favors the uninitiated as the girl is fully able to control the degree of penetration simply by spreading her legs marginally or using her feet pretty much while standing, to absorb the pressure on her hymen at any given moment. This isn't to say it didn't hurt her. Although he was true to his promise, very gentle and respectful of her virginal state, making headway was slow and Cassandra was wincing in pain up to the moment she herself relaxed sufficiently to allow him to push up finally into the promised land.
         The sensations afforded her nervous system as she felt him suddenly penetrate her vagina deeply, quite outstripped his own pleasures. She eased herself lower, fascinated to see his quite large erection sinking into her most intimate of orifices with such apparent ease. She could see a few spots of blood but the pain of the past few minutes was obliterated by what he was now doing to her.
         Something less than cool calm and collected himself, after all the illicit pleasures to be had, penetrating a sexy young virgin on your lap, her bottom jiggling inches from your face while you grope her breasts stupid, - never mind her being one of your students - does have its appeal!
         Establishing eventually a rhythmic upthrust, he could hear Cassandra's breathing following the same line as his own - tortured to the point of pleasurable agony. Holding her hips tightly he was entering that wonderfully tight little chasm - one that she evidently kept hairless and smooth - with increased purpose.
        "You are so sexy sweetheart," he offered up in full praise of younger women generally. "I could. . . . . "
         He never got to finish the sentence as right at that moment, someone called out "Fire in the hold.

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         Her eyes closed in orgasmic bliss, she felt something hot and sticky spraying deep inside her. For a full ten seconds she was unable to find the "off" switch as her vaginal muscles refused to unclamp their prey whilst her hips continued their automated downward thrusting.
         The post coital experience for both protagonists was one of pleasured respiratory re-affirmation. Their systems were re-set!
         Slumped in his chair up alongside the blackboard, Craig Jamieson felt all of his thirty-five years. The last thing he was expecting was the young girl to turn around, hands provocatively sliding across her glistening pussy - the ultimate Cheshire Cat. . . . albeit on heat!
        "I'd really like to make sure I get a straight "A" Sir!"
    (c) Peter_Pan 2006
    Visitors are most welcome at "The World of Peter_Pan" also now: the latest Harper Valley volume:  "Harper Valley: A Postscript"
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