Scratching an Itch

Monday, Week 1

Twenty-six high school seniors sat quietly on edge, waiting for four fellow students to show up for their last class on Monday afternoon. They were quiet and jittery because Miss Bledsoe ran a tight ship, and the four missing boys were putting her science class behind schedule. They were now seven minutes late for class and the rest were left to watch Miss Bledsoe pace the length of her chalkboard like a caged lion. She was constantly fiddling with her wristwatch, circling it around her wrist, and checking it against the room clock. Miss Bledsoe was so adamant about keeping things on schedule that a common joke amongst her students was that her watch most likely read in military time.

"Does anyone know where Messrs. Floyd, Ramsey, Chandra, and Curnow might be, they are not on the absentee list for today?" asked Miss Bledsoe.

The first to raise a hand was Shelly Chipowski. The senior class's number one snitch and faculty kiss-ass. If there was anything you didn't want the administration to know about, Shelly was the person to avoid.

"Yes, Miss Chipowski?"

"Um, on Mondays, I think they all have gym class right before this one, Miss Bledsoe."

"Thank you, Miss Chipowski."

"No problem, always glad to help."

A minute later, the four MIA boys came trotting into class, sweaty and out of breath.

"Well, gentlemen, I'm so glad you could find the time to join us. It's now 2:43 by my watch, which makes you eight minutes late for my class. Where have you been?" Miss Bledsoe demanded.

A lone hand raised.

"Please, Mr. Floyd, enlighten us."

"Sorry Miss Bledsoe, but none of the bells in the gym are working, and Coach Wilkins didn't realize class had run overtime."

"Well then, you boys are lucky we weren't doing labs today, but a regular class is just as important and I expect you to be on time. We have a lot to cover today, so let's get started, shall we?"

Ravin Bledsoe stood 5'10" tall, 118lbs, with long, silky, chestnut hair and rich brown eyes to match. She was thirty-six years old, had a brain the size of New Zealand, and was most likely the horny vixen in at least half of her student's hormonally driven sex dreams. Though she was nearly six feet tall, her lithe frame and fluid gait gave her a petite appearance.

Though very pretty, being slender in build, nearly flat chested, and slight of butt, Miss Bledsoe was not voluptuous by any means. However, she conjured thoughts of sex in both males and females as their eyes seemed to follow her wherever she went.

Ravin Bledsoe had taught at Coral Valley High in Miami, Florida for the last six years. She held several degrees in General Sciences, and Biology, along with several others in Human Anatomy and Physiology. Teaching was absolutely the most important thing in her life. Sex was a very close second. She loved expanding the minds of her young students, often going above and beyond to help those who struggled. For anyone to fail her class was simply out of the question.

Now that her classroom was at full attendance, she began reviewing a lesson on the differences and similarities in the central nervous systems of contemporary invertebrates, asking random key questions that would be on a six page practice test that coming Friday. The school year was ending in eight short weeks, and she wanted everyone to be as prepared as possible for final exams.

After posing a question, Miss Bledsoe picked one of her students, appearing more reluctant to raise a hand.

"Yes, Miss Reynolds?" she called.

Chloe Reynolds stood and gave her answer while Miss Bledsoe listened, scanning the rest of her class for daydreamers and phone-fiddlers. When her gaze fell upon Jonathan Ramsey, one of her top students, she stopped for a double-take. Jonathan was among the four boys late for class. Something wasn't right at first glance. Something other than him still wearing his sweaty gym uniform.

Miss Bledsoe removed her black framed, nerdy-girl glasses, wiping them free of anything distorting her vision, then placed them back her pixie-like nose for a second look. A second look in his direction met with Jonathan's pinkish, one-eyed-wonder peaking out from just inside the leg of his shorts. He sat in the front desk of the first row, closest to the door, and to the left of Miss Bledsoe's own desk.

Distracted and titillated, Miss Bledsoe failed to notice the long silence following Chloe's answer, standing speechless in a haze of disbelief and voyeuristic curiosity.

"Is that correct, Miss Bledsoe? Uh, Miss Bledsoe?"

"What? Ye..., Yes, Chloe. Well done. Thank you."

Ravin hadn't a clue if Chloe Reynolds had given the correct answer, or the winning numbers in the New York State lottery. Her mind had gone blank as her pulse quickened, breath shortened, and the room's temperature seemed to jump ten degrees. It'd been somewhere in the neighborhood of three years since she relinquished her 'wicked ways', but the 'Sweet Bird of Youth' was presently screaming in her ear.

Miss Bledsoe posed another question, selecting another student to answer, then began making frenzied calculations behind her gorgeous brown eyes.

"The school has a policy that all gym shorts should extend to a little more than mid-thigh, depending how high or low the students wore them," she reasoned in silence. "So, if Jonathan's are worn correctly, and 'it', was approximately two or three inches inside the leg, then he must packing at least... Holy shit! Teacher's got a new pet, Baby!" she cheered silently.

Miss Bledsoe was the consummate teacher. The hours she spent in school on any given day were dedicated to educating and improving the young minds in her charge. But, when Jonathan Ramsey's slightly generous appendage appeared within her field of vision, certain proclivities of her lifestyle threatened that discipline. She found herself having to work a little harder at being that teacher, and less of a curious voyeur.

About fifteen minutes before class was due to end, Jonathan became aware of his goods being on display, trying desperately to correct it. Wearing only flimsy shorts and no underwear, it proved difficult to keep the apple of his science teacher's eye from flopping back into view.

At 3:28, Miss Bledsoe took up her usual position by the door to issue any last minute lesson reminders, and wish her students a good evening as they exited her classroom.

At 3:30, the bell rang and most of the class leaped to their feet, eager to get far, far away from school. As Jonathan rounded his desk to leave, he felt a firm yet dainty hand pressed flat against his chest, almost pushing him against the wall to the right of the door. Looking down, he saw it was Miss Bledsoe's hand holding him back.

"Jonathan, would you please stay after for a minute? I need to discuss something with you.

"Oh, sure. Is something wrong, Miss Bledsoe?"

"Let's allow the rest of the class to leave and then we can talk privately," she said, smiling.

Most of the class had disappeared in a matter of seconds, leaving a group of four gabby girls who were taking their own sweet time clearing out. This gave Miss Bledsoe the opportunity to breathe in Jonathan's sweaty, youthful, and masculine musk, putting her mind into a whirl of long denied thoughts and ideas. She probably shouldn't have let her hand linger on his chest as long as she had, but his firm, defined pecs were something to admire. Jonathan had played sports throughout his school years, and his body showed the results quite well. Ravin glanced down at his muscular legs, wantonly curious of their power should they be used to pile drive her when bent over.

"Please move along, girls. I need you to be on your way so I can finish my work and leave as well." Miss Bledsoe urged.

"Aw, Jonathan, were you a bad boy?" a girl teased.

With the room empty except for themselves, Miss Bledsoe turned to Jonathan, standing as close as she dared, facing him side-on as he leaned back against the wall.

"Jonathan, I wanted to talk to you about how you're dressed.

"I'm sorry Miss Bledsoe. We were already late, and I was trying to change as fast as possible, but trying to pull tight jeans over sweaty legs just wouldn't happen fast enough, so I just threw my shorts and tee back on and ran up here as fast as I could. Everyone knows you don't like tardiness."

"Well, more to the point, Jonathan. Nudity, or even partial nudity, no matter how slight, isn't normally tolerated in a classroom."

Flustered by both his embarrassment and Miss Bledsoe's proximity, Jonathan tried to explain the situation, apologizing profusely.

"Oh my God! I am so sorry. I hoped no one saw. When I tried to redress after gym, I was in a panic and couldn't find my fresh briefs, so I just dressed without them. I am very sorry, Miss Bledsoe. Class was almost over before I noticed I was, um; exposed. I am so, so sorry, Miss Bledsoe."

"Well, fortunately for me, Jonathan, I noticed it long before you did."

"Please Miss Bledsoe, please accept my apology. I don't know what more I can say.

"No apologies necessary, Jonathan. Believe me, none whatsoever."

"Oh, thank you, Miss Bledsoe."

"I think we've covered this well enough, but let me be absolutely clear. If your sweaty, unencumbered friend here makes another appearance in my classroom, it had better be with my approval. Understood?"

Along with her final admonition, Miss Bledsoe pointed a well-manicured fingertip, poised within three quarters of an inch, to the object in question.

"Ye..., yes, it..., I will..., it will..., I promise Miss Bledsoe. I promise."

"Have a good evening Jonathan. I hope to see you both tomorrow."

"Uh, good night Miss Bledsoe. Thank you!"

Jonathan fled Miss Bledsoe's classroom, still red-faced and stinging from the thorns of embarrassment. He was so embarrassed that he hadn't really listened to Miss Bledsoe's well-chosen words in their brief conversation.

Ravin Bledsoe was proud of herself, as it seemed she still had it. Jonathan probably would have attempted flight from one end of the hall to the other had she asked. With very few stern words and piercing eyes, she had him flustered, and on the brink of kowtowing to her over his mid-class penile exposition.

Before she would allow herself to advance to the next step, there was one thing she needed to check. With all the academic qualifications under her belt, Miss Bledsoe was automatically made a member of the school's administration upon her employment. This gave her access to student records. The fortunes of modern technology gave her that access from her classroom computer, away from nosey office personnel.

Miss Bledsoe chortled devilishly to herself as the wheels of deviance were put into motion by her prudent and fruitful query of Jonathan's records. Jonathan Ramsey turned eighteen in late December. It was now the middle of April. "Ravin's got a new gig!" she whispered. It had been a while since she'd 'played' with one of her students, swearing off her favorite inclination after nearly getting caught with the last one.

Three and a half years prior, Miss Bledsoe was within seconds of being discovered giving a member of the graduating class a mind shattering blowjob in Principal Millbrook's office on a Saturday afternoon. A Saturday when most of the student body, their families, and faculty were just one hundred yards away at the athletic field, watching their football team kick the snot out of a fierce rival.

Principle Millbrook had taken advantage of the halftime exercises to retrieve some papers from his office, nearly busting in on Miss Bledsoe and the enraptured young man. Fortunately, his private washroom would serve as their refuge when the principal was heard just outside his office door.

Miss Bledsoe wanted to promise herself that she'd be much more careful this time if Jonathan was inclined to play along. But she also knew her weaknesses, and when certain opportunities presented themselves, she couldn't always resist the temptation to take advantage of an inviting situation.

Jonathan left school rather perplexed, yet relieved at the mild talking-to she'd given him. Extremely mild, considering it was for his pecker's classroom debut. As he walked the seven blocks home, something kept poking at his brain about the whole affair. Step by step, he rewound the conversation in his head, playing it back and forth as if recorded on tape. He remembered her saying 'nudity isn't tolerated' or something of the like.

"Wait a minute, she said, nudity isn't 'normally' tolerated. What the hell did 'normally' mean?" he wondered. "What was it she said, 'fortunately for her'? Fortunate how? That doesn't make any sense. And no apologies. That can't be right. Even though it was an accident, I should've been apologizing my ass off." he pondered.

Jonathan scratched his head in confusion. The more he reviewed their conversation, the less sense it made. Finally, the conversation whirling around in his head came to a halt as one of the last things Miss Bledsoe said to him made everything else register with only one possible conclusion. 'Another appearance in my classroom had better be with my approval.'

"Why would any teacher ever approve of...?" he wondered. "Ho, lee, shit, is Miss Bledsoe making a move? On me? Her student? It can't be, not a teacher of her caliber. No way, no how. But; she did say all those odd things, didn't she?" he asked himself. "Wait a minute, before I left. What was it she said, 'I hope to see you both tomorrow?' I don't even have her for class tomorrow."

That was it. Jonathan was almost certain Miss Bledsoe was up to something. Something with him it appeared, and he was definitely checking it out the next day.

After dinner, Jonathan spent the rest of the evening in his room formulating some way to approach Miss Bledsoe maturely without looking like a horny dumbass. He didn't have science class on Tuesdays, but perhaps he could see her briefly between classes to set a meeting after school. That was the best plan, he thought, and best to play it cool, and see how she acts.

At nine-thirty, Jonathan was nowhere near ready for bed as he let his anticipation of Tuesday get the best of him. He grabbed a bottle of water and told his parents he was going out for a run. His neighborhood was fairly quiet and peaceful, so him going for a run so late in the evening was of no concern to his parents. It was something he often did before going to bed.

Tuesday, Week 1

Jonathan was wide awake, twenty minutes before his alarm was set to go off. He jumped out of bed and showered again, after having taken one before he went to bed. He wavered a bit in his choice of clothing, finally deciding to wear a newer pair of athletic shorts a thousand times nicer than his ratty old gym shorts. With them he wore a well fitting knockoff Polo shirt. It was his usual dress for school on warm Miami days, but handpicked that day with Miss Bledsoe in mind.

On the way to school, Jonathan planned the best time to stop in and set up a time to talk with Miss Bledsoe. Between his third and fourth classes, he'd be in the same hall as the science lab and would have a couple of extra minutes to spare.

Miss Bledsoe conducted her first three classes as professionally as always. Preparing her students for upcoming exams and making sure things were ready for the next class period. Occasionally she caught herself looking at Jonathan's desk, remembering what she had observed on the day prior.

After his third class, Jonathan walked past Miss Bledsoe's classroom just to see what she was up to. Upon a second pass, she was still seated at her desk, writing something. With a deep breath, he made his way to the side of her desk, leaning his muscular thighs against it.

"Good morning, Miss Bledsoe."

"Oh, good morning, Jonathan. How are you?"

"Fine thanks. Um, you?"

"Just wonderful. We don't have class today. Is there something you need?"

Miss Bledsoe went back to her writing, waiting to hear his answer.

"Well, I was wondering if I could talk to you sometime today. Uh, if you have the time, that is."

"Don't grovel, Jonathan. If you need to meet with me, just ask."

"Yes Miss Bledsoe."

"Well, I don't know. Let me check my schedule and I'll get back to you, okay? Wait, why don't I check now? Maybe I can fit you in after school. Would that be okay?"

Miss Bledsoe switched her pencil to her left hand, then paged through her daily planner to see what her agenda was like for the day. She knew her schedule inside and out, but wanted to see what Jonathan's response to her next move would be.

As she perused her schedule, her left hand drifted towards that edge of her desk, poking the front of Jonathan's shorts with the smooth, rounded end of her pencil. She hummed and mumbled to herself, checking different pages while tracing a haphazard path around his crotch, inciting a pleasing bulge to appear.

The front edge of Miss Bledsoe's desk was lined with double stacked paper trays for class work and extra credit assignments handed in by students from different classes, serving well to obscure what was going on behind them.

"Well, Jonathan. It looks as though the only time I can have you today is after school. It'll be late though. I have a faculty meeting after classes. They usually run about an hour or so. You could either wait here for me or return around 4:30 or so. Her pencil stroked a more defined path, tracing the length of his pronounced bulge. To conclude their brief meeting, Miss Bledsoe dropped the ball in Jonathan's court with a low, sultry voice and a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.

"So, it's all up to you, Jonathan. Whatever you want to do; is fine with me. I'll be here, waiting for you."

Jonathan sat down in his fourth period class, not remembering if he'd walked there, or floated through the halls. However, all his doubts had vanished. Miss Bledsoe was definitely up for a little mischief.

"Teachers don't normally draw invisible lines over your hard-on with the end of a pencil, and in a room full of your unwitting classmates no less." he reasoned.

The rest of the day's classes trudged on forever, but as more questions popped into his head, Jonathan welcomed the seemingly slow pace. Questions about making the first move, where would they go to be together, 'what do we call each other'? Suddenly, a thousand little questions erupted in his head.

After a bit of reasoning, it seemed Miss Bledsoe was a little too calm and cool about the whole situation. There was no way it was a passing fancy she chose to act upon. "This can't be her first time at bat," Jonathan surmised. He chose the calm approach to see how things went at their meeting after school.

After his last class, Jonathan took his time putting his books away. He then took out a small paper bag and headed for the lavatory. In the bag were toothpaste and brush, mouthwash, and deodorant. He figured a small bottle of cologne would be a bit presumptuous, leaving it at home. After sprucing up a bit, he wandered around the school grounds trying to kill the hour or so he had to wait before meeting with Miss Bledsoe.

By 3:45, he was bored with walking around and headed to the science lab to wait like Miss Bledsoe offered. Reaching the door, Jonathan was surprised, and pleased to see his lovely science teacher seated at her desk, partially facing the door with her moderately tanned legs crossed and exposed in the open gap of her wrap-around skirt. Her boho style muslin blouse was now open to the third of six buttons, where it had been buttoned to the neckline that morning.

Miss Bledsoe was famous among the male students and so inclined females for her small breasts and eternally stiff and protruding nipples. Though she was very serious when it came to her job, she seemed well aware of her statuesque attributes and appeared to dress to accentuate them while still retaining an air of modesty. Any blouse she wore offered hints of her pointed nipples dancing underneath as she moved about.