Modesty Shorts

Sam had no classes to give after the afternoon recess so he'd grabbed a bunch of papers he needed to correct and found an empty classroom to work in while he did them. He could have worked in the staffroom but there'd be too many interruptions. He'd get twice as much done this way.

After half an hour of working on the papers with an emotional ride ranging from unqualified approval to shocked despair Sam was ready to stretch his legs a little. Getting to his feet he stretched and then ambled to the back of the classroom to see the art various students had left pinned to the board there. Some of it, he had to admit, was quite good. He was about to head back to the table and get back to work when Melanie came prancing into the room.

Sam smiled as he considered the girl. Young woman, really, he supposed, seeing she was a senior and over eighteen. She was a fit and pretty young thing, both these assets currently enhanced by the outfit she was wearing.

Now that he considered the matter Sam recollected that the senior classes had sport that afternoon. Melanie, it was plain to see, was in the netball team. An easy deduction to make seeing she was wearing the netball uniform, what there was of it. Why, Sam idly wondered, did they make those netball skirts so short? Not that he was objecting.

Melanie hadn't seen him, being busy typing on her phone, even while she flung herself down onto the nearest desk.

"Miss the turn and get lost, Melanie?" Sam asked, his voice oozing sympathy.

To his amusement she screamed and bounced back onto her feet, looking around to see who was there.

"Oh, Mr Sanders," she said. "I didn't see you there. Ah, what did you say?"

"I was wondering if you'd got lost," Sam explained. "You know, turning right after leaving the change room instead of turning left. This is a classroom, not a netball court."

"Oh," she said, sounding slightly flustered. "Ah, I've been sent off and told to rest my ankle," she explained, pointing to a very shapely ankle. "I twisted it on the court and the coach said I had to sit out the rest of the session."

"Ah, that explains the way you were limping and dragging one leg when you came in."

"What? No I wasn't," she said, confused. "It's feeling a lot better now."

She lifted her foot and rubbed the ankle a little.

"Oh, that's good. Ah, you're rubbing the wrong ankle."

"Excuse me?"

"You pointed to your right ankle as being twisted. You're massaging your left one."

Melanie dropped her foot back to the floor and glared at Sam.

"I twisted both of them when I came down from a jump," she stated. "My right ankle twisted as I landed and threw me to the side which caused my left ankle to also get twisted."

"Oh, poor you," Sam sympathised. "Do you need your ankles rubbed? A proper massage is excellent treatment for mildly twisted ankles. I'm sure I can do a marvellous job fixing them."

"No, thank you," she said quickly. "I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Pity. You've got lovely legs. I wouldn't mind massaging them. No excuse needed."

She looked at Sam askance after that comment.

"Please remember that you're a teacher," she said primly.

"What did I say?" asked Sam, spreading his hands and looking bewildered.

"Ha. You don't fool me. You were flirting. Teachers aren't supposed to flirt with students."

"They're not? I can't remember reading that in the teacher's handbook," Sam said with a grin. "However, I think you'll find that teachers do a lot of things that teachers aren't supposed to do. The same applies to students. The big difference is we don't get detention if we get caught."

"It's the principle of the thing," Melanie insisted.

"Ah, yes, but that only applies if someone has principles. Personally, I leave mine at home, locked in a magic bottle."

He smiled as Melanie gave him a female type look and there was nothing childish about that look. It was more adult to naughty boy, than student to teacher.

"Sometimes you'll find that the things that a teacher should or should not do conflict with each other. What is one supposed to do in a case like that?"

"What? I don't believe it. Give me an example."

"That's easy. As a teacher I'm supposed to keep an eye on the students to make sure they wear the correct uniform. Correct?"

Melanie nodded cautiously.

"But, as a teacher, I'm not supposed to lift up the front of your skirt like this to confirm that you're wearing the approved modesty shorts, but how can I check your uniform unless I do?"

Melanie's mouth fell open as Sam lifted the front of her skirt, showing off a pair of skimpy, lacy, panties.

"There, you see. Conflicting duties. Ah, these don't look like modesty shorts to me."

"They're not and you know it. I only need to wear the shorts if I'm playing. I have them in my pocket."

"No," said Sam. "I'm pretty sure you're supposed to wear them with your netball uniform at all times. These," he started rubbing the front of her panties lightly with a couple of fingers, "while pretty, are the sort of clothing the school doesn't want you flashing at the boys. Um, I suspect that they're not even regulation approved panties."

"Yes, they are," Melanie said quickly, her breath coming slightly harder. "Um, you're not supposed to touch my clothes, you know."

"Would that be a gentle hint that I should stop rubbing your panties?"

"Ah, I thought it might be," he continued, seeing Melanie's frantic nod. "No problem."

His hand moved up slightly and then dipped, slipping inside her panties to continue rubbing her mons. His hand seemed to be brushing against her mound, as well. Melanie froze, confused. He was a teacher. He couldn't possibly be doing this. She gasped as a finger eased between her lips, throwing off her frozen state.

"Your hand," she gasped.

"What about it?"

"It's inside my panties," Melanie said in a restrained voice.

"Well, that's stating the flaming obvious," Sam pointed out. "We both know that."

"You can't put your hand under my panties. You just can't."

"Um, I can and I have. I assume you're saying you don't want my hand inside your panties?"

"OK. No problem," smiled Sam as Melanie nodded.

"Mr Sanders," she wailed as she felt her panties being pushed down, leaving her exposed, her only covering his hand, which had once again claimed its prize.

"Stop worrying about it," Sam told her. "Just go with the flow. It's more pleasure than pain, is it not?"

"But. . ." was all Melanie could say.

"Oh, dear. Poor Melanie," sympathised Sam. "Hear am I being a brute and you're stuck there. You can't even run away, what with your sore ankles."

Melanie glared at him. Sore ankles be damned. There was nothing wrong with her ankles and they both knew it. She'd take a step back and bolt in just a moment. Damned if she wouldn't. Well, she'd take a step to the side and bolt she amended, finding herself backed up against a desk.

Sam took a step back smiling at Melanie. She felt confused. Her pushing him away and bolting she could understand. Him just stopping touching her? That was harder. Oh, no it wasn't.

Melanie's opened wide as Sam casually unzipped and reach inside his fly. If they could they'd have opened even wider when he pulled out his erection. He surely didn't expect her to touch that thing did he? No way was she going to do that.

Suddenly it dawned on Melanie that her suspicions hadn't gone anywhere near where Sam's intentions. His hand was reaching for her again, his cock coming nearer.

"Mr Sanders," she gasped. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What do you think I'm going to do?" he countered. "Lift your leg."

"W-why?"

"Ease of access," Sam said calmly.

Swallowing nervously Melanie raised her leg, dragging it out of her panties, finding Sam capturing it and lifting it higher. Looking down at herself she could see she was totally exposed, wide open to the man. As she watched he adjusted the position of his cock, brushing it back and forth against her lips before coming to a halt where her lips seemed to have pursed and protruded. He eased forward and she could feel his cock pressing against her.

This wasn't happening, she told herself, finding herself incapable of moving away from him. No way can I be just standing here, letting him do this.

"Wrap your leg around my waist, there's a girl," came the quiet suggestion and Melanie found herself doing so. At the same time she found it meant that she moved closer to him. He wasn't going to have to stick that thing in her, she decided. She was doing a fair job of impaling herself. She went still again, feeling his cock trespassing within her. Not very far inside her but certainly there.

Sam laughed silently at the way Melanie had started pressing herself onto him when hooking her leg around his waist. He wondered if it had been accidental or not. Still, she'd gone very still now - time for him to take up from where she left off. He pressed against her, his hands closing around her bottom to help draw her to him.

He watched her face as he pushed deeper into her. She was staring back at him, looking rather nervous but not trying to stop him. Not a virgin he decided, knowing he was well past that point. Moving steadily he sank deep into her, not stopping until he could feel her groin rubbing against his.

Melanie was breathing deeply and feeling confused. Why the hell hadn't she stopped him? It didn't really matter, because she hadn't and he now had his cock inside her. Well and truly inside her. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

The answer became obvious when Sam started to move. There was nothing hasty about what he did. No frantic energy in his movements. He just started a nice gentle rocking motion, one that Melanie found herself adapting to with no problems. Certainly with no thoughts about not doing so.

Sometimes, slow and easy was better than fast and passionate, decided Sam. It was certainly proving so in this case. Melanie was entranced with the way she was feeling, her eyes closed and a dreamy look on her face as she gently swayed in time to him. He settled down to enjoying himself, quite willing to take as long as required.

When Melanie finally started showing signs of restlessness Sam was ready. More than ready. His gentle loving had been quite a test of his willpower. Now that Melanie was wanting more Sam was going to do his best to supply it. He built up the pace of their rhythm. Not all at once but taking his time, letting little increases multiply.

Melanie's eyes popped open. She was breathing hard, gasping even, sharply aware of Sam and what he was doing to her. What they were doing to each other, truth be told, because she was quite sure she was giving as good as she got. And she was getting quite a lot, now. That nice easy rhythm had gone, being replaced by a hard driving need. She just wasn't sure which of them had that driving need.

Sam could feel Melanie responding, reacting to him. He could sense the excitement, the passion, within her. She was, he decided, ripe to rumble. He thrust in harder than ever, feeling the fire building within him. Then he let it out in a wild burst, groaning as his need was assuaged, watching Melanie climax against him, clinging to him, needing him.

Sam watched amused as Melanie hastily pulled on her panties and then fished the modesty shorts out of a pocket and put them on as well.

"I'm quite sure there's something in the teacher's handbook about that sort of behaviour," she muttered.

"There is," admitted Sam. "You'll find the same message in the student's handbook."

She looked at him, suspicious.

"Don't get caught," said Sam. "It's the cardinal rule built into every book on how you should behave."

Melanie couldn't help herself. She giggled. And then she got the hell out of there, still wondering if she'd lost her mind.

Sam watched her go, wondering how to get her alone for a second bout. He did not rate his chances very high but one never knew.