Call Me BJ
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I was a first year teacher when the sexiest woman I had ever seen took a seat in the front row of my class. It was going to be a long, hard year. I wanted her, but I knew it would be wrong to have her. I was her teacher and she was my student. She was my forbidden fruit and I was willing to do anything to take a bite, absolutely anything.
My classroom was slow to heat up, but when the students crowded in I quickly realized that the cold weather was not always a bad change. The young girls on the brink of womanhood were in sweaters that fit their bodies like gloves. Eager to show off their perfect and perky forms, the more daring young women elected to forego the restrictions of a bra. It was technically against the rules, but I was certainly not going to complain. No one looked better in a sweater than Brenda. She glided in that Monday morning as if she were floating on air. She dressed simply in jeans and a deep red sweater that set off her tanned skin perfectly. Brenda was one of the girls who elected not to wear a bra and all I could do was stare. A lot was left to the imagination and I was definitely imagining.