First off, I’d like to begin this story by letting you know that it is based on true events. It happened about 6 years ago, so all dialogue and action is roughly what was said unless otherwise specified. Anything lacking too much detail I either forgot to add or believed it would say a little too much about my identity, and so it ended up being left out.

            When I began junior year at Fairfield High, I had a goal to become more well-liked, popular even. Both among my peers and amongst the staff at the school, I wanted to be more of an “it-girl”; funny and beautiful and likeable. My sister, 2 years my senior, fulfilled this ideal far better than I likely ever would, and was even friends with the more idealized girls in my year as well. She was 19 and we’ll call her Ingrid, I was 16 and we’ll call me Anne.

            Like Ingrid, I had joined the girls football team in my freshman year, even holding the same position as she did for all 4 years as well as going on a football tour across a neighboring country two years after her. I obviously had idolized her, a fact which only drover her to push me away more and convince me further that I wasn’t shit compared to her. Nowadays, she expresses how much love she has for me, constantly touting a sweet persona I had never seen in her until a few years ago. I’d either never seen it because she’s changed her outlook towards me and finally revealed her loving side after more than two decades, or because she decided that it was more advantageous to have me thinking we’re friends. I guess only time will tell.

            Also like Ingrid, I too was (and still am) quite short. However, standing at 161cm (5’3”) tall, I was the tallest amongst my mother, Ingrid, and I. The height difference between us all was only within 3cm (1”) though, making it very hard to tell the difference between Ingrid and myself from behind to the untrained eye.

            We both had long, naturally beautiful wavy blonde hair down to our mid-backs, mine both curlier and richer in colour than Ingrid’s. We were both very ample chested, sporting disproportionately large breasts: mine sized at 32G and hers at 34H. Ingrid was built more like the women on my mom’s side of the family, with thinner legs and slightly larger torso in proportion to the hips, ass, and waist, whereas I was built more similarly to the women on my dad’s side, with far more defined, muscular and shapely legs and a slimmer waist than her. My ass was fuller, with greater muscle tone and a fun jiggle to it. I also had paler skin than Ingrid, dotted with more freckles where the sun shone than her more evenly tanned complexion. We also have quite different facial features, her eyes far darker and her lips thinner than mine, her cheeks slenderer and her forehead smaller.

            Despite all of this, people would still constantly call out for Ingrid behind me, then turn me around, look at my face and into my eyes, and repeat themselves. I like to feel like my response of “wrong sister” to them was rather dry and witty, but more than likely just made me sound like even more of a bitch than the resting expression on my face would imply.

            Come junior year, Ingrid had graduated and moved to a different country for university, and I felt like it was my time to shine. The year of Anne at Fairfield, I had a great looking first semester, specifically due to a digital art class that was a prerequisite for a photography editing class I would be taking next year. I was taking it with my best friend since the beginning of primary school, a 170cm (5’7”) blonde bombshell we’ll call Brittany. On the first day of classes, we walked together after lunch to a small room off the arts wing. To explain briefly, Fairfield High received additional funding due to a specialized program focussing on the arts, including music, vocals, drama, dance, and visual arts; therefore, more space and attention was given to accommodate for the students and teachers in these programs. This unassuming, windowless blue door Brittany and I were walking to in the arts wing is where our story begins.

            Desktop Macs sat atop the long rectangular desks lining all four walls of the brightly lit tiled room, only breaking the circle to align two computers perpendicular to the teacher’s desk, leaving the space in front of and behind the desk clear. Quickly seeing the two computers slightly isolated beside the teacher’s desk, we simultaneously hurried to them and sat down to claim them as ours for the semester. Little did I know what a huge impact this seemingly small decision would have on the rest of my life.     

            Just after the instructor walked in, the bell rang and a couple more students filed in. The teacher walked to his desk next to Brittany and I, placing his brown canvas bag on his swiveling desk chair and opening it to retrieve his slim silver MacBook Pro. As he smoothly slid it out, he noticed my quiet stare looking up at him, and met it with his gentle gaze, providing a tight-lipped smile as he turned his head and looked away. Beneath his pushed-up dress-shirt sleeve I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his slender, yet well-muscled left forearm before he turned and pulled his arm out of my line of vision. Interesting, he didn’t look too much like the type to have too many tattoos.

            Soon introduced to us as Mr. Wilson, Aaron was tall, slender, and almost as pale as I was. He was the type to wear well-fitting jeans with a dress shirt and sweater vest, and always had a full head of short tousled brown hair. He would often show up with small bit of stubble, but it was a bit harder to see when he did because it seemed to come in blonder than his hair. His nose was defined, his brows also lighter than his hair, and dark eyes with a gentle upturn making it look like he was always smiling.  

            We got into the content, which was very easy for me as I had always had a creative edge and talent for sketching that came in handy for learning programs like Photoshop and Dreamweaver. As the first days passed, I grew more and more comfortable in testing the boundaries of what I could say to Brittany without drawing Aaron’s attention to our conversation. I began to use “lesser evil” curses, like hell and damn, before quickly graduating to ass and bitch, and eventually sparsely sprinkling in the harder cusses like shit and fuck.

            After the first few lessons, the class was given upwards of 45min of time each day to work on a task until it was due or until we’d moved onto another project. Being that Brittany and I had a slight bit of privacy from the rest of the class, we would often have more chatty and gossipy conversations during this daily work time than we normally would have so fresh into a new semester.

            Soon enough, I would catch Aaron, whom I thought of as Mr. Wilson at the time, smiling or glancing over at me when I would make a quick quip at Brittany or said something a touch crude to her. A couple of weeks into September, he’d begun to talk to Brittany and I as more than a teacher, giving his opinion on situations when we’d take breaks in our rants to one another. He seemed to take a special and particular liking to me, grading me highly as well as complimenting my wit, humour, and intelligence often. I don’t know if Brittany ever noticed, but to me it felt wonderful. I finally felt seen and appreciated, and the high 90’s on my midterm report didn’t hurt when it came around just after my 17th birthday in late October.

Soon enough my first semester was over, and I knew that out of all my teachers I would miss seeing Aaron the most. I’d look forward to seeing him around the school, but I doubted we’d ever have enough time to catch up passing each other in the halls like two ships in the night. I knew that no one else would make me feel as special and good about myself as he did, his gentle voice assuring me with confidence that I was great in ways I hadn’t ever really believed I could be. But I thought our time together was over, so I accepted this and moved on, as time stops for no one. However, as time proved, I’d thought wrong. Aaron would be very important in my sexual maturation and graduation, something which had been developing since I’d discovered my parent’s hardcore porn and homemade vacation swinger videos when I was 10.

Come second semester of my junior year at Fairfield, football practice commenced and I began staying at the school until about 4:30pm with my team. When my sister had been on the Senior team while I was on the Junior team the year before, it seemed to be less of a hassle to get my parents to work out a ride from the school at about 4:45-5pm 5 days a week. However, now that Ingrid was in a different country, it was a very different story.

I would often just stay until 5:30pm, as my parents could only manage to pick me up after most of the teachers had left at 5pm but before the school locked the doors at 6pm. I wasn’t thrilled about this, but I didn’t complain often nor did I waste the time I had just doing nothing. After the first few days of staying later at the school, I smartened up and began packing some schoolwork into my football bag to do after practice. At first, I would sit in the hallway floor outside of the school’s auditorium, leaning up against the wall for back support and balancing my binder and notebook on my knees. After a couple of weeks of conditioning my already painful back to accept the beating from this, it was a Tuesday and unbeknownst to me Aaron was walking through the hall on his way to the parking lot when I sneezed, knocking my notebook out of balance and onto the floor.

“Bless you,” he said with a chuckle, causing me to look up at him, seeing a small smile on his face as he looked at my face.

“Thanks Mr. Wilson,” I beamed up at him from the floor, genuinely glad to have had a chance to see him today.

“How’s it going Anne? You know, you can call me Aaron when it’s just us,” He looked over to the athletic duffel and backpack splayed on the hard, shiny tiled floor next to me, “Football practice, right? You’re here a little late,” he quipped, sarcastically feigning condescension while inquiring about why I was still here.

“Oh, yeah. Aaron. Now that Ingrid graduated my parents just have a little bit less reason to pick me up every day. They’re still coming, they’re just coming a wee bit later than they used to,” I explained, trying not to sound too self-pitying around him before remembering he was here a bit late too. “Hey, you’re here a bit later than the rest of the pack, too. What gives?” I questioned, trying to change the subject.  

His eyebrows drew together, “Every day? Do you just set up shop here after practice is over?” He ignored my pestering.

“Um, yeah, typically. It’s out of the way, and people don’t bug me or vice versa,” I was beginning to get a bit uneasy, I always hated having to explain myself to figures of authority, especially men. I hoped he wasn’t going to interrogate me further.

“Well I typically stay until 5:45pm or so, in the arts wing computer lab. You can always knock and I’ll unlock the door for you so you can sit in a real chair and do your work on a real desk. It would probably hurt your back less, too,” he said, knowing of my breast-related back pain. I smiled and opened my mouth to respond, but my phone began to ring in the bag next to me. It was my mom, probably letting me know she was here. I fished it out of my bag and looked up to excuse myself for the phone call, but Aaron had already made his way down closer to the parking lot, looking over his shoulder at me as he went. I smiled as I waved, and answered the phone. I would see him tomorrow.

I thought about seeing Aaron all the next day, secretly hoping that maybe he would say something to me that would further validate my interpretation of his opinion of me. I was excited to see him, and to talk to him.

After practice, I changed into a tank top and some sweatpants, delicately spritzing some strawberry and vanilla perfume over my body to cover some of the sticky sweat smell emanating from my pores before I saw Aaron and subjected him to it. I hurriedly made my way to the arts wing computer lab, stopping in front of the windowless door to look down at my breasts before knocking. I hated the way my tits made me look fat in pictures as well as my usual attire of looser clothing, but I absolutely loved the rush of energy I got to my pussy whenever I noticed a guy appreciating them, so I brought them out a bit when I wanted to feel sexually powerful. So, I took the opportunity to show the faintest line of the lace on my bra by pulling down the neck of the tank top just a touch, showing slightly more of my gently flushed cheeks and décolleté. I checked the time on the wall clock just down the hallway, it was 4:45pm.

I knocked three times on the door, waiting only a moment before another student opened the door, revealing two more students in the room. Both girls looked to be in the arts program, possibly seeking guidance on advanced projects or using the school’s resources to complete others; one was seated by the door while the other looked to be talking to Aaron at his desk, sitting on a chair with her laptop open on Aaron’s desk. The other student, just a boy sitting in the corner doing something on a computer, didn’t seem to be aware of anything going on around him thanks to the large headphones covering his ears.  I smiled at the girl who opened the door, making my way into the room as she took her seat in front of her laptop once again. Aaron noticed me entering, and sent me a big smile before I took my usual seat next to his desk and began to work on a project for a history class. Time passed, students left, and before I knew it, Aaron and I were alone in the bright, yet windowless computer lab full of Macs.

We began talking, going over any updates on drama or gossip he had heard from Brittany and I last semester, making me laugh with his opinions on what people had thought was a good idea.

“Well, you could say he really fucked the shit out of her,” he promptly said after I told him a new story about a boy in my year who did anal with an upperclassman and she ended up projectile diarrhea-ing on his dick. My eyes widened as I burst out into laughter, unable to contain myself when he was so inappropriate.

“Aaron!! Oh my god!! That’s the worst kind of ‘fucking-the-shit’ out of anyone I ever heard of!!” I choked out between laughs, feeling a slight zap of arousal in my lower stomach at the mention of sex. I could feel the slight jiggling of my chest as I laughed, and slyly noted his eyes pausing briefly on my tits while my eyes were squinty with laughter. I settled, occasionally chuckling a bit as I remembered how funny he was. As I checked the time on my phone, a text from my dad came through to let me know he was here. I sighed, subtly squeezing my elbows together as I texted my dad back, forcing a bit more cleavage to pop out from my black bra. I hoped Aaron was looking. I quickly glanced up and smiled, he was. His eyes snapped up to mine, and I quickly sent the message and got up.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow! Probably Friday too, unless my dad gets to leave work early,” I chirped, smiling at him as I gathered my belongings and made my way out of the room. Now I hoped he was looking at my ass in my sweatpants. As I would find out later, he very much was.   

That night I made myself cum to the thought of him looking at me. I fantasized about his hands on my body, cupping my pale tits and smacking my porcelain ass. I dreamed about him dipping his fingers into me, kissing my thighs as it all turned into a blur, and then I was awake and alone in my bed. I wanted him, but I was afraid. I had only ever kissed one boy, and that was a couple of years ago now. Plus, he was my teacher, and I was being ridiculous.

The next night went very much the same, we talked and I tried my best to get him to look at my body. I wore a tank top and yoga pants that night, with my prettiest bra and matching panties just in case he wanted to see them. I ended up getting him to look at my cleavage, with the help of a gently sweeping hand as well as showing both cups of my bra. When I got home I was soaked, my pussy dripping with the anticipation of possibly being able to even just kiss him, especially in a classroom. Something about it all got my little teen cunt so horny. I needed it, I needed him. I would make a move. I would make him want me.