She is of the generation, some year in the 70ies which doesn't dare to speak unasked for at an unknown gentleman.Writing this, is the third time I cry...in ten minutes. Firstly the music. Secondly as result at a flash of million memories.Thirdly from this romantic short erotic encounter, like from a famous novel which won world wide amazing attention."Sir, You do look like Frits van der Ploeg! Did you perhaps live here for some years, much more many years back?" Well by Jove, I am indeed!". Her right hand gently touched my cheek and ran down my neck to my heaving chest. Her eyes glanced down and watched as her hand went down upon my right breast and squeezed it.I gasped. "I'm not a lesbian!" I cried out."Really? So why are you so hot down there then?"I hadn't realized I was burning hot with excitement down there until she'd said. Now I felt that odd feeling again in private area. Was I getting sexually aroused by my teacher? I gasped again when I felt Ms Young's left hand go up. More

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