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After my boner mishap, either she was getting more daring, or my imagination was running wilder. One day Mrs. B. was wearing one of her short short skirts, no stockings, just muscular shapely legs. She couldn’t help but notice me watching her move around the room. She stopped at the desk of the student in front of me and bent at the waist to look at her paper. When she slid her hands between her thighs and bent a little farther, her skirt raised exposing her panties. They were red. And lacey. I thought she gave me a sidewards glance to see if I noticed. Maybe not. It really didn’t matter, though. As soon as I glimpsed those skimpy panties, I came in my pants. Right then. In class. I’m not proud, but I was only 15, I could cum at a good card trick. I had it bad.

“Sweetie don’t worry. I wanted your cum and we don’t have all day in here. You’ll do better next time.” Next time? Did she just say next time? “Of course you can’t tell ANYONE about this.” Mrs. B. helped me arrange my toga and made sure my zipper was up. Students hooted when we left the closet.

Well, I didn’t see her soon. I didn’t see Carol again. Between vacation and soccer camp I wasn’t around that much, and we could never connect when I was. When school started in the fall, I learned that Mrs. B had to quit. She was pregnant again, and in those days, teachers in our state couldn’t be pregnant. It might give students ideas. If they only knew.