Substitute chemistry teacher

I remembered school. My happy, carefree years. But back then, it seemed like teachers didn't fully appreciate our talents. Turns out, talents don't need to be graded. They need to be uncovered. After all, every underachiever is talented in their own way. One likes studying literature. Another likes chemistry. Well, chemistry and I weren't exactly friends. Or rather, with the chemistry teacher from whom I constantly heard the same word: shut up. That old hag got on my nerves quite a bit. But at the end of the school year, our old woman went on sick leave, and as the principal said, a young specialist was sent to replace her.

When the young specialist walked into the classroom in April, our graduating class gasped in surprise (we

were already grown 18-year-old guys who, of course, had only one thing on our minds: sex). She was a charming young creature. Her face wasn't just beautiful. It was exquisite. Rays of kindness and freshness emanated from her eyes, and it was impossible to look away from them. They beckoned and drew you in. And I couldn't do anything about it. Her figure was incredible. A slender frame, full breasts. A tempting décolleté. My gaze kept shifting shyly from her eyes to her décolleté, to her full breasts. What chemistry?! All thoughts were only of her! Of that alluring chest, of her exciting hips in a short skirt, of her panties and stockings, which I spied on using a mirror. I don't remember the first lesson at all. But after it, in the smoking area, I promised that if anyone disrupted her lesson—I'd smash their face in. I wasn't great at chemistry. I remember we started studying alcohols with a story by Jack London about how he began drinking. How he carried beer to his father in the field and how he sipped from it until he fell under his father's plow. Jack was 5 years old then. I liked listening to that.

But with chemical reaction equations, I was, to put it mildly, weak. Noticing this, the object of my dreams often leaned over my desk, and I inhaled the light, sweet scent of her expensive French perfume. The smell of her body awakened desires in me, and I instantly got hard in my pants. (Specially for .org — ) Maybe she enjoyed it too, and I caught myself thinking that more and more often. I didn't have much sexual experience and felt insecure about it. And then one evening, she kept me behind for extra lessons.

When she leaned her body close to mine, I got goosebumps. When she leaned towards me and, as if accidentally, touched my shoulder with her firm, pointed breast, I felt as if Cupid's arrow had pierced my heart. Unable to restrain myself, I grabbed her lush hair with both hands and passionately, greedily, roughly pressed my lips to hers. And then, a miracle!!!

At that moment, we were fabulously happy. Hurriedly getting dressed, she whispered her home address to me, saying see you soon

my sunshine!