When she wore a skirt or dress, that was even better. I sat in the front row of the class and she always sat on her stool in front of me when discuss...ng whatever bullshit poem that day. On skirt days, I could usually see her thong because she never crossed her legs. Her pussy was typically covered with a bright colored thong.Two days were very special in particular. I once saw that her panties were especially wet one day. That gave me a boner for the rest of the day, even when I jerked off. I’m beginning to realize what the monster inside me is as it pulls at its leash like a rabid dog, jaws snapping, mouth foaming, barking profane lusts. “Afraid of what?” she giggles, reading my mind again. “Losing yourself?” “Darling, you’re already lost.” I hate you. She cups my cheek, presses her thumb against my lips. “I know.” She pinches an erect nipple, squeezing until I yelp in pain. “And I hate you. That’s why this will be so…” a throaty purr,” fucking…” another pinch,” amazing.” She. More

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