Math Call Memories

I had always fantasized about my math teacher. Miss Morgan. She was not only very good with figures; she had a very good figure, as well. In her class, I would often envision being with her ,..maybe after class, or someplace in woods where we could extract square roots to infinity, with being disturbed. Her bottom was two perfect ellipses, and her skirt would always exaggerate her hypotenuse in a way that caused my mind to wander. I was 4x4 at the time and she was about 6-squared.

She had nicely shaped breasts that served as a fine model for a conic formula.
And the way the word ‘secant’ rolled off her lips would send shiver up and down my spine.

But all that was many years ago. I had married at a prime number 37, had a son pi years later. And I had not thought about Miss Morgan in years. That is, not until my son started having trouble in math class, and I was called to the school.

As if you had not already calculated, his teacher was none other than the same Miss Morgan, as I found out when I entered her classroom office. I often joked with my son that I had a Miss Morgan, at his age as well. But little did I know it was the same lady! I had thought it was just coincidental.

And there she was, standing before me! My adolescent dream girl. And I was there to defend my son. It all added up to what would be an interesting reunion.

When I walked in, I introduced myself. “Miss Morgan, I am Bill’s Dad. I understand that he is having some difficulty in math. Is that true?”

”Yes,” she said, “It seems that he has the same inability to pay attention as did his father.” She came back in response. I had multiple chills on my arms.

”You remember me?” I asked in astonishment. I was a pimple-faced geek back then, with a propensity for always screwing up. I was always the one to drop my meal tray, vomit on desk, or soil my clothes. I was flattered that she remembered.

”As I recall, you would always be looking elsewhere when I called on you. You never had the answer. In fact, most of the time, I doubt if you heard the question!” she laughed.

“Well, I must confess, Miss Morgan.” I started, “I was quite taken with you at that time, and had found you subtracted from my ability to concentrate. I had trouble focusing. And when you would walk across the room… well, a young mind …a young boy’s mind, well…lets just say it added new meaning to extrapolations.”

She laughed. But, I think she felt somewhat uncomfortable at the same time. She shifted in her seat. She then got up from behind the desk at served as a division, suggesting we should sit at the table so that she could go over Billy’s work with me.

I watched as she got up. She still had a nice ass. And her hair, no longer blonde, still rested on her shoulders suggestive of women just awakening, just as I had remembered it. Those old images started to come back in multiple proportions.

She sat and crossed her legs forming an ‘X’. I couldn’t help but look down. And she noticed. Her hands were formed on her lap where I imagined her thighs met to form a ‘Y’. And I wanted to solve for the unknown.

”Still at it, eh?” she chuckled.

“I guess so. Caught me again.”

We looked at the papers that she pulled out. Both of us leaned over to review Billy’s work. I could feel her breadth on my hands, my arms, my face….as we talked. I was beginning to fell a bit antsy. I found myself trying to look down her blouse. Two perfectly formed bell-shaped curves that totally consumed me.

And as she talked, Miss Morgan placed her hand on my bare arm. A simple gesture, but one which caused me to tingle. I dropped my pencil. Yes, that old grade school trick. I dropped my pencil. Teacher smiled.

And as it rolled under the table, I bent to retrieve it. Under the table, I saw Miss Morgan’s knees begin to part. She wasn’t wearing panties. And although it was dark beneath her skirt, I could imagine what my eye could not see.

After what must have been 10 minutes later, I re-emerged from under the table with pencil in hand.

”Got it”, I said.

”I have some lessons that you can review with Billie if you would like.” She asked. Then added, “Perhaps I can show you how to do some special exercises if you have time.”

“Well, sure. I have time. What would you like to show me?”

She got up and walked over to the door. She then locked it. When she returned, I noticed that the top two buttons of her blouse were now undone.

She then walked over to the blackboard, and waved for me to join her.

I stood silently as she faced the board. She began to write with a piece of chalk. And as she did, she backed her bottom into me. I know she could feel my swelling cock. I know she was aware that I was thinking about her ass.

She turned her head and smiled. She then looked down. “I can see by that pyramid that we may need to be working on some other exercises, as well.” She reached down and felt the bulge in my pants.

I pressed my crotch against her bottom as she turned back to the board. She grasped the eraser tray and leaned slightly forward as I moved back and forth, rubbing my cock against her ass.

Oh, how I had dreamed about doing just this when I was in her class. And now, I was living my fantasy.

I pushed against her ass as I slid my hands along her thighs, lifting her skirt. She pushed back and began to grind her hips against me.

Slowly, I lifted her skirt until it was above her waist, giving me full access to her lower body. I reached around and touched her at the X-Y axis. She moaned, and increased the temp of her movements.

Now, she was gyrating in and out. First pressing her ass against my cock; then, pressing her pussy against my hand. We repeated this exercise for about five minutes. “repetition is the best method of learning” She would tell her class.

She leaned lower and spread her legs. Her rear end beckoned me to enter algebra II.

I dropped my pants and slid into her. At first, just the eraser end. But she wouldn’t let me take my time. She pushed back real hard until I was in her up to the hilt. I felt her strength as her lips clutched and sealed me in.

We rocked back and forth in this position for a while. Feeling her heat up, as my cock began to throb. Getting close. I positioned her over the desk without slipping out. Then I opened a drawer to use to balance myself.

Miss Morgan was still at it. Her top right drawer was full of gum that she confiscated from her classes. I as saw a 6’ battery operated vibrator so that I know she didn’t take from any student. “Miss Morgan, you calculating vixen!” I thought.

I reached into her drawer and removed a piece of gum. Here I was, reliving my dream. Chewing gum in class, while fucking the sexy Miss Morgan. I reached up and ran my fingers along the blackboard. Miss Morgan shivered both from the scratching sound, as much as from the our complementary motions.

I was reliving the past. I was a child again. I was back in Miss Morgan’s class. And when Miss Morgan reached to grab my hand to place it on her breast, and instead, pulled my finger… I farted. I was a kid again.

Yes, I was a kid again. I felt as if I was 16, again. Or at least, almost. And she was my teacher. And when I started to giggle, she pulled my finger harder. At my age, it is harder and harder to fart at will. In fact, she pulled it so hard that when I went to fart again, I lost control, swallowed my gum, and shit on the floor….

Damn! What a geek! Some things just don’t change…like the good old days, and, of course,…. Math Class.