Eighth grade English and lucky enough to be in the hot teacher's class. She sat on her desk facing the class, looked down and noticed she had a run in her stocking just like the one in the picture. I remember her picking at the run and telling us she was upset because the stocking ran down, and she still had the whole day to get through with a run in them. She said she would try to stop it from running anymore by putting nail polish on the run.
(Now this is where it gets good, for an eighth grader anyway.)
She leans back over her desk to get her pocket book out of the drawer. Now I could see her thigh almost to her panties as she leaned back. Oh how I wanted to catch a glimpse of panties. The only ones I seen up to that point were my little sister's or my mom's hanging on a clothes line and there is nothing erotic about that. She took the nail polish out of her pocket book and dabbed a little on the run.
Which reminds me of another story about that school.
It may or may not have been the same class, but I remember unthinkingly scratching my balls one day and one of the very few girls in school with real boobs, not tissue stuffed bra boobs, but real ones, asked me if she could scratch them for me. I was so embarrassed and of course I said no.
What a dick I was.
She was also the same girl who intercepted a note to some guy and tucked it in her bra. She made him go in and get it. She stood there in front of us all and let the guy feel her up, INSIDE HER BRA! Can you believe it?
Damn, I'm glad I have a good long term memory.
Then there was the time in ninth grade, or was it tenth, when I actually got to touch a girls boobs for the first time.
Never mind, your probably not interested in hearing this stuff.
4 comments:
I think I knew that girl. Or at least the version of her at my school. And contrary to popular belief, she wasn't me! . There seemed to be a corrolary between large breasts at early age and everyone assuming you were easy. The bigger your boobs happened to be, the easier everyone thought you were. That's one reason for home schooling I guess..
Polly Prissy-Pants
I don't think my teacher was a ho, just sort of an exhibitionist.
foxglove
I'm sure it wasn't you because, the best I can remember, I never knew a fox or a glove, or a foxglove for that matter. But wait a minute, there was this girl they called foxy. Did you grow in Florida by any chance?
Heee. I wasn't that girl. But I wanted to be.
aughra: Yeah, but you still can be. Tell Fodge that someone called and you took a message and that you stuffed it in your bra and he has to get it if he wants the message. ;)
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