EroticLiteracy
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 27, 2017
- Posts
- 1,085
I was running late
That wasn’t anything new of course. I wish I could say it was but I wouldn’t have fooled anyone. Absentminded they called me, forgetful, hell my wife would have just said I was an idiot plain and simple. Back in the day I laughed it off even would have gone so far as to flirt and remind her she had married a so called “idiot”…..
We were far past that
It was her fault I was late. At some point in the night she made the choice to leave our bed and go see her “boy toy”. Her car was in the shop which meant mine was elected to ferry the lovebird over to the fucktards apartment. My having to work the next day was nothing more than an afterthought a minor speed bump in her plan.
Imagine my surprise when I woke the next morning greeting the day with my usual explosive “fuck” before uttering another one when I found out what transpired. I liked to get as much sleep as possible before greeting the day so my morning became a mad dash to get ready and get myself to the bus in time. I barely had the time to give her a proper cursing! So far my only message to my darling was a simple F U text message that didn’t do my anger justice.
“Keep the change Bob” I murmured pushing a few bucks towards the bus driver as I grabbed my beat up old guitar case. Me and Bob were old friends the kind of friends you could only be after seeing one of you at your worst. The man had seen me in all sorts of different flavors, drunk, angry, and hungover.
He even served as my priest sometimes……
I hopped down the faded yellow steps of the buss and out onto the crisp fall air. A few leaves floated by falling from the great big oak tree that marked the entrance to the high school I had worked at for almost 15 years. My tweed petticoat flapped in the window licking my long legs as I moved my guitar case from one hand to the other. I ran a hand through my salt and pepper hair wincing as I realized that in my haste I didn’t shave the rough five o clock shadow from my face. I picked at my simple white button-down shirt frowning as I noticed the way it hung on my body evidence that I hadn’t been taking proper care of myself again.
“Need to eat better” I murmured to myself though I somehow knew that wouldn’t stick.
Some students passed me by murmuring a good morning Mr. Oakman before continuing to chat amongst themselves. I didn’t bother to answer back instead reaching out and clasping my wire rimmed glasses with my long fingers. I sat my case down reaching into my coat and ignoring my pack of cigarettes as I pulled out a simple cloth and began to clean my glasses. I hadn’t had a chance to take a breath and enjoy the scent of fall so I did it not breathing in deeply and closing my eyes….
“Jimmy!”
“Shit” I murmured reluctantly opening my eyes and watching as our fat fuck of a principal run up. Mr. Olson always reminded me of a frog stuck halfway between animal and human. The way he jumped when he moved to his fat plump body and distinct lack of hair on his head. When he burped (which he did often) he damn near croaked!
“Riding the bus again huh?” Olson asked a knowing gleam in his eyes I didn’t care for as he huffed and puffed and moved to stand next to me “How are things at home?”
“Oh same old same old” I responded the same response I gave him EVERY time he asked.
I wasn’t one for sharing my business especially when said business made me look like a sad washed up man.
“I see” Olson said not believing me but not calling me out on it. I guess he thought he was doing me a favor…..
“Mrs. Kramer bothering me again” He murmured rolling his eyes as he stood next to me “Bemoaning about her back again how she can’t move up all those steps in this weather”
“So, move her” I replied watching the students and not really paying attention.
“And have the bitch closer to me? I don’t think so” He remarked his eyes zeroing in on a pair of girls walking by in short skirts and tapping away on their phones.
“Fucking A…. They sure don’t make young eighteen years old like they did in our days huh Jimmy?”
I wanted to remind him I was at least fifteen years older than him and therefore didn’t know HOW they made them back in his day. At the same time, however I knew what he meant. In the day of texting and YouTube and all the other electronic noise there was a new breed of young women. The breed of “if you got it flaunt it”, the breed of women who flaunted and celebrated their sexuality instead of repressing it, and the day where a man didn’t need to search very far to find an eyeful to look at.
The romantic and English teacher in me couldn’t help but imagine how the men of old would handle it. If men were willing to kill and go to war for women in demure dresses what would they do for the women of today? Would they have even been able to handle it?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about” I finally said reaching down and picking up my case.
“Yeah yeah sure you don’t” Olson chuckled shaking his head as the warning bell began to toll “Says the man with the all eighteen-eighty percent female class”
“Best be getting to said class Jimmy” Olson remarked clapping my shoulder before he began to follow after the throng of kids “Come see me on your lunch break I got something I want to talk to you about”
“Sure” I said mentally groaning my plans to go track down my wife and get my truck back going out the window.
I made my way to my class room moving through and weaving my way in and out of the crowd of the young men and woman that made up Johnson High School. Most of them greeted me by name favoring me with a kind smile and a good morning. I was something of a favorite in the school not that there was much competition to begin with. Still it was one of the few things that made me smile nowadays besides my music.
The frog’s comments dogged me as I made me way down the white halls and faded gray corridors. With my wife having left me for…. Younger flavor the temptation to do the same was always in the back of my head.
It didn’t help my class was all seniors… filled with eighteen-year-old fresh faced young women just like the frog had made sure to mention.
Women who were just waiting for a man like me to show them around….
That was pig headed and egotistical but a thought I couldn’t quite shake. Was there a girl like that in the school? A girl on the cusp of adult hood just waiting for a sexual awakening?
I shook my head dispelling the thoughts as I made my way up to my class room on the second floor. Those were the perverted fantasies of men like principal frog.
And they were simply the dreams of dirty old men.
I reached my class room coming in just behind the final two students that made up my class of fifty. I closed the door behind me nodding at several of my students as I made my way to my good old wooden desk. I patted it fondly setting my guitar case down and pulling my tweed jacket off. I pulled at my tie loosening it and rolling my shoulders as I took a step forward.
My wife liked to say this was my work up to the main event. By her own words the only time I truly became the man of her dreams was when I was in a class room. If she was drunk enough she would even rant saying it was undeniable proof I only cared about my students. I was too good at my job she would say pouting and slurring her words.
Funny enough I never tried to make her feel better about that.
I picked the ball off of my desk tossing it in my hands as the class quitted down and paid attention. I took a few minutes to stare them down back promising each of them with my eyes before I made my decision. When the throw came it came fast whipping out my hand and sailing to the back of the room.
Barker caught it just barely with the tip of his fingers. He held it up triumphantly the football player celebrating as if he had just scored a touchdown. I liked that, I liked that everyone in my class wanted to be there.
“Alright Mr. Barker” I said smiling as I went over to the old record player on my desk and carefully set it up “What are we listening to today?”
“Let me get my man Sinatra” Came his reply followed by some whoops.
“Sinatra it is” I chuckled pulling out the vintage record and sliding it in. I dropped the needle and turned humming and waving my hands to the beat as the smooth decadent jazz and swing music rushed into the class room. My long graceful fingers began to pluck at the air playing on my imaginary guitar as I moved around the class room.
“Life Love Death and Music” I called out smiling at the class as they pushed their text books back into their bags.
“Don’t forget sex!” Someone called from the back accompanied by some more whooping
“Yeah well they don’t let me teach that” I replied back chuckling with the others. My eyes swept across the young females around the class room once more and one thought strayed into the back of my mind as I began to teach the days lesson.
If only they did….
That wasn’t anything new of course. I wish I could say it was but I wouldn’t have fooled anyone. Absentminded they called me, forgetful, hell my wife would have just said I was an idiot plain and simple. Back in the day I laughed it off even would have gone so far as to flirt and remind her she had married a so called “idiot”…..
We were far past that
It was her fault I was late. At some point in the night she made the choice to leave our bed and go see her “boy toy”. Her car was in the shop which meant mine was elected to ferry the lovebird over to the fucktards apartment. My having to work the next day was nothing more than an afterthought a minor speed bump in her plan.
Imagine my surprise when I woke the next morning greeting the day with my usual explosive “fuck” before uttering another one when I found out what transpired. I liked to get as much sleep as possible before greeting the day so my morning became a mad dash to get ready and get myself to the bus in time. I barely had the time to give her a proper cursing! So far my only message to my darling was a simple F U text message that didn’t do my anger justice.
“Keep the change Bob” I murmured pushing a few bucks towards the bus driver as I grabbed my beat up old guitar case. Me and Bob were old friends the kind of friends you could only be after seeing one of you at your worst. The man had seen me in all sorts of different flavors, drunk, angry, and hungover.
He even served as my priest sometimes……
I hopped down the faded yellow steps of the buss and out onto the crisp fall air. A few leaves floated by falling from the great big oak tree that marked the entrance to the high school I had worked at for almost 15 years. My tweed petticoat flapped in the window licking my long legs as I moved my guitar case from one hand to the other. I ran a hand through my salt and pepper hair wincing as I realized that in my haste I didn’t shave the rough five o clock shadow from my face. I picked at my simple white button-down shirt frowning as I noticed the way it hung on my body evidence that I hadn’t been taking proper care of myself again.
“Need to eat better” I murmured to myself though I somehow knew that wouldn’t stick.
Some students passed me by murmuring a good morning Mr. Oakman before continuing to chat amongst themselves. I didn’t bother to answer back instead reaching out and clasping my wire rimmed glasses with my long fingers. I sat my case down reaching into my coat and ignoring my pack of cigarettes as I pulled out a simple cloth and began to clean my glasses. I hadn’t had a chance to take a breath and enjoy the scent of fall so I did it not breathing in deeply and closing my eyes….
“Jimmy!”
“Shit” I murmured reluctantly opening my eyes and watching as our fat fuck of a principal run up. Mr. Olson always reminded me of a frog stuck halfway between animal and human. The way he jumped when he moved to his fat plump body and distinct lack of hair on his head. When he burped (which he did often) he damn near croaked!
“Riding the bus again huh?” Olson asked a knowing gleam in his eyes I didn’t care for as he huffed and puffed and moved to stand next to me “How are things at home?”
“Oh same old same old” I responded the same response I gave him EVERY time he asked.
I wasn’t one for sharing my business especially when said business made me look like a sad washed up man.
“I see” Olson said not believing me but not calling me out on it. I guess he thought he was doing me a favor…..
“Mrs. Kramer bothering me again” He murmured rolling his eyes as he stood next to me “Bemoaning about her back again how she can’t move up all those steps in this weather”
“So, move her” I replied watching the students and not really paying attention.
“And have the bitch closer to me? I don’t think so” He remarked his eyes zeroing in on a pair of girls walking by in short skirts and tapping away on their phones.
“Fucking A…. They sure don’t make young eighteen years old like they did in our days huh Jimmy?”
I wanted to remind him I was at least fifteen years older than him and therefore didn’t know HOW they made them back in his day. At the same time, however I knew what he meant. In the day of texting and YouTube and all the other electronic noise there was a new breed of young women. The breed of “if you got it flaunt it”, the breed of women who flaunted and celebrated their sexuality instead of repressing it, and the day where a man didn’t need to search very far to find an eyeful to look at.
The romantic and English teacher in me couldn’t help but imagine how the men of old would handle it. If men were willing to kill and go to war for women in demure dresses what would they do for the women of today? Would they have even been able to handle it?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about” I finally said reaching down and picking up my case.
“Yeah yeah sure you don’t” Olson chuckled shaking his head as the warning bell began to toll “Says the man with the all eighteen-eighty percent female class”
“Best be getting to said class Jimmy” Olson remarked clapping my shoulder before he began to follow after the throng of kids “Come see me on your lunch break I got something I want to talk to you about”
“Sure” I said mentally groaning my plans to go track down my wife and get my truck back going out the window.
I made my way to my class room moving through and weaving my way in and out of the crowd of the young men and woman that made up Johnson High School. Most of them greeted me by name favoring me with a kind smile and a good morning. I was something of a favorite in the school not that there was much competition to begin with. Still it was one of the few things that made me smile nowadays besides my music.
The frog’s comments dogged me as I made me way down the white halls and faded gray corridors. With my wife having left me for…. Younger flavor the temptation to do the same was always in the back of my head.
It didn’t help my class was all seniors… filled with eighteen-year-old fresh faced young women just like the frog had made sure to mention.
Women who were just waiting for a man like me to show them around….
That was pig headed and egotistical but a thought I couldn’t quite shake. Was there a girl like that in the school? A girl on the cusp of adult hood just waiting for a sexual awakening?
I shook my head dispelling the thoughts as I made my way up to my class room on the second floor. Those were the perverted fantasies of men like principal frog.
And they were simply the dreams of dirty old men.
I reached my class room coming in just behind the final two students that made up my class of fifty. I closed the door behind me nodding at several of my students as I made my way to my good old wooden desk. I patted it fondly setting my guitar case down and pulling my tweed jacket off. I pulled at my tie loosening it and rolling my shoulders as I took a step forward.
My wife liked to say this was my work up to the main event. By her own words the only time I truly became the man of her dreams was when I was in a class room. If she was drunk enough she would even rant saying it was undeniable proof I only cared about my students. I was too good at my job she would say pouting and slurring her words.
Funny enough I never tried to make her feel better about that.
I picked the ball off of my desk tossing it in my hands as the class quitted down and paid attention. I took a few minutes to stare them down back promising each of them with my eyes before I made my decision. When the throw came it came fast whipping out my hand and sailing to the back of the room.
Barker caught it just barely with the tip of his fingers. He held it up triumphantly the football player celebrating as if he had just scored a touchdown. I liked that, I liked that everyone in my class wanted to be there.
“Alright Mr. Barker” I said smiling as I went over to the old record player on my desk and carefully set it up “What are we listening to today?”
“Let me get my man Sinatra” Came his reply followed by some whoops.
“Sinatra it is” I chuckled pulling out the vintage record and sliding it in. I dropped the needle and turned humming and waving my hands to the beat as the smooth decadent jazz and swing music rushed into the class room. My long graceful fingers began to pluck at the air playing on my imaginary guitar as I moved around the class room.
“Life Love Death and Music” I called out smiling at the class as they pushed their text books back into their bags.
“Don’t forget sex!” Someone called from the back accompanied by some more whooping
“Yeah well they don’t let me teach that” I replied back chuckling with the others. My eyes swept across the young females around the class room once more and one thought strayed into the back of my mind as I began to teach the days lesson.
If only they did….
