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This is a Vintage Erotic, Adult Novel... Full of sexual adventures... Involving a sexy and Seductive girl... Full of Sex, Surprises and Unusual Naughty Twists.
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A Peachy Teach
CHAPTER ONE"Zzzzzhhhhhmmmmm... zzzhhhmmm... "A fat black fly zigzagged across the scarred surface of Principal Harding's cluttered desk, coming to rest between a pile of dime store ledgers labeled "attendance records". It sniffed curiously at a brownish coffee stain, then moved on to inspect a red spiral notebook, its thin legs vibrating above the peeling "Employees" label, before it crawled off in the direction of an obviously brand-new textbook optimistically entitled, "The Happy Homemaker!"Krista Morrisson's gold-flecked brown eyes followed the insect's random path, half-hypnotized by the droning beat of its wings. Its somniferous buzz, Preston Harding's monotone Midwestern twang, and the suffocating closeness of the unventilated room were lulling the twenty-three year old blonde into a dreamy state of lethargy."... happy joining our faculty family, 'Miss Morris'.""Morrisson," Krista roused herself to reply.In a determined effort to stay awake, the curvaceous teacher shook her shoulder-length, honey-gold curls and stifled the yawn that rose in her throat by twisting her mouth into a contorted grimace. Why can't they at least open a window? she asked herself, and as though it had heard the words that rang in Krista's brain, the fly ceased its lackadaisical circling of the shiny pink dome topping School Superintendent Andersen's balding head and began beating its wings against the gritty window pane. It wants to get out of here as badly as I do, she thought distractedly, squirming uneasily on her metal folding chair in futile search of a position in which the sharp edge would not cut into the sensitive flesh of her naked thighs."Uh, Miss Morrisson, of course, of course," Principal Harding cleared his throat several times, then apologized. "So sorry, my dear."Neither of the two dark-suited men seated in the stuffy cubicle which served as the junior high school principal's office noticed anything peculiar about their newly-hired home economics instructor's facial expression, for their undivided attention was directed toward more interesting parts of her anatomy.While the middle-aged principal recited cliche after cliche concerning the merits and rewards of a career at Franklin Junior High School, he kept his beady brown eyes glued to the twin mounds of feminine flesh bulging above the provocative scoop neckline of the young teacher's white sundress. As for his white-haired superior, his bifocals glinted in avid admiration upon the shapely young woman's sun-bronzed, silk-smooth thighs.Dirty old men! Krista abandoned her unsuccessful efforts to concentrate on the pot-bellied educator's laborious proclamations as she felt the men's undressing eyes boring through her lightweight summer dress. Pompous old windbags!For a moment the irritated young blonde wished that she'd elected to wear something other than this skimpy dress with its plunging neckline and short flared skirt, but then she checked herself. After all, she'd put this on because the temperature in Pottawattamie Heights, Ohio, on this early September morning was 97 degrees in the shade. Didn't she have a right to be comfortable? Why should all men treat her so disrespectfully just because she had breasts and hips? She certainly wasn't about to wear a heavy wool suit like their ridiculous, old-fashioned getups - why, they looked like over-fed penguins!All my life it's been the same! The attractive young teacher fidgeted restlessly as Arnold Andersen's grizzled head bent down to assess her sculptured calves and slim ankles. Men are just animals - all they can think about is sex! I'd thought things might be different now that I'm not just another pretty student... but these men are exactly the same as all the others, even they're both old enough to be my father and too ugly for even a wife to love!"... don't you agree, Miss Morris - uh - Morrisson?" the principal's rasping voice broke through Krista's resentful reverie.There was a sinking feeling in the pit of the newly-hired home economics teacher's stomach as she realized that she'd not heard a word the men had said. What in God's name were they going to think of her now - even if she didn't like Harding or Andersen, she did want to make a good impression on her first employers."I - I'm sorry, Mr. Harding," she began in a firm tone that effectively disguised her confusion, "but I don't think I fully grasp just exactly what you meant... "The corpulent white-haired man smiled - or perhaps leered would be a more accurate description - in the direction of the curvaceous new teacher's low-cut bodice."Let me make myself more clear," he paused to pull a box of cheap cigars from his coat pocket, offering one to his older superior who accepted with a sycophantic smile. Both men lit up at once, and the young blonde almost choked as odious smoke filled the tiny office."What I meant to imply," he continued, "was simply that although we certainly do want to continue the cooking and sewing lessons in the ninth grade, we also feel that a greater emphasis should be placed on subjects like budget planning, first aid, personal hygiene, baby care - that sort of thing. Maybe it's a little - uh -progressive of us," he gave a rather prissy chuckle as he glanced in the direction of his colleague, "but we think it's wise for our girls to be aware of these matters. I'm sure you agree, Miss Morrisson."Before answering, Krista abruptly stood up and threw open the small window behind her. The fly vanished into the open fields surrounding the new junior high school, and the young teacher stood watching it and taking deep breaths of the faintly smoke-scented air before turning to face the men."I do agree - as far as it goes," her drowsiness was rapidly being conquered by her growing dislike for these portly, self-important bores. "But what about the boys? Don't they need to know about these things, too?"Superintendent Andersen exchanged a glance of tolerant amusement with Preston Harding, who was a carbon copy of his superior minus twenty years and about twenty pounds of fat. Both men drew in on their cigars, sending a trail of evil-smelling smoke spiraling past Krista's distastefully wrinkling nostrils before it drifted out the window."Ah-ha! So we've got one of those women's libbers on our staff!" the older man chortled, and Preston obediently echoed his disdainful laughter. "Next thing we know, our boys will be running around in frilly aprons and taking up knitting instead of football!"Krista's lovely features flushed bright pink with annoyance. Were these crass stuffed-shirts a hundred years behind the times? Although she'd never been interested in joining any organized women's groups, and in fact found most of their literature too didactic and opinionated to finish reading, she firmly believed in the basic principle that males and females should have equal rights and opportunities. Surely every educated person felt that way - at least, everyone at her rather exclusive girls' college had..."Nonsense!" she snapped crisply. "We live in a changing world where the traditional family is being broken up, and by the time these youngsters are adults, the men may very well need to know how to take care of children and prepare food. More and more mothers take outside jobs every year, and surely it's ridiculous to expect them to bear the full burden of the kids and the house, too. It's only common sense!""Well... harumph... well, well," Superintendent Andersen began, but before he could think of a proper reply to the young blonde's onslaught of words, she interrupted him."And as for knitting, I suppose you know that there are certain tribes in Lapland where only men are allowed to knit or weave. It's simply a question of social customs - and I hope America is more open-minded than a primitive tribe and can pull itself out of its old-fashioned ideas about sexual roles!""Of course!" Preston Harding agreed heartily, not really understanding just what she was saying but somehow having the impression that to disagree would be unpatriotic. "But we aren't talking about Eskimos, are we?" he looked toward his superior, who nodded in support. "We're talking about Franklin Junior High School's ninth grade pupils.""My point exactly!" Krista exclaimed.As she watched the two men's beefy faces grow blank in incomprehension, the recent college graduate was tempted to giggle. With an effort, she forced her heart-shaped face into an expression of earnest solemnity.33% of the nation's high schools have co-ed Home Economics classes," she continued, picking a number off the top of her head. "And in higher income areas, the figure's 59%.""Is that so?" Andersen's ears perked up at the words "higher income," for his driving ambition in life was to have the Pottawattamie Heights school district - which also included the neighboring middle-class subdivision of Country Club Hills, and a more exclusive new development bearing the rhapsodic name of Arcadia - be the most prestigious school system in the greater Toledo area. "I hadn't realized that... ""Very interesting," Principal Harding's voice rose an octave to mimic the older man's tone of approval. "No, I didn't know it was more than a passing fad at some of those weirdo progressive schools.""Not at all!" Krista's exuded a persuasive self-assurance now that she could tell they were seriously considering her suggestion. "And, of course, the girls take shop classes, too!"The two men stared at one another, aghast as this new insult to their conservative souls."Girls in shop class?" Preston Harding hedged dubiously. "I don't know what Rex Simmons'll have to say about that."Suddenly the superintendent's pudgy face broke into a broad smile. "I never heard Simmons complaining about being around the girls," he guffawed, then turned to face Krista. "I like your idea, Miss Morrisson. We'll be the first school district in the Toledo area to do this, and it'll be written up in the papers. Increase our prestige and all that. What do you say, Harding?""You're entirely right, of course, sir," the middle-aged educator agreed, but his face was clouded with doubt as he slowly shook his thick neck and scattered a fresh crop of dandruff on his black suit jacket. "But... well... there's one more problem which-""Problem?" the pretty blonde demanded. "I can't see any problem!" She paused to light one of the Camel Filters which she chain-smoked, then continued, "After all, we discussed this in my education classes at Mount St. Catherine College, and I know better than to antagonize the boys by treating them like sissies. I have all sorts of plans for making them understand that cooking and sewing are fun.""That's fine... but I don't mean cooking and sewing... I'm speaking of the - uh - personal hygiene lessons I mentioned."What's he getting at now? Krista asked herself. Is personal hygiene some sort of euphemism for sex education? Why can't he just say what he means?"I still don't see any problem," she said aloud, staring directly at the embarrassed principal. "Certainly you don't object to young boys learning to take care of their bodies in a healthy way?""W-well... harumph... Miss Conaway - God rest her soul - used to tell the girls about - uh - their monthly difficulties. She showed them a nice movie made by Walt Disney."A sudden vivid picture of herself as a skinny, pigtailed nineteen year old seated in a darkened room full of tittering girls watching that very same educational cartoon flashed before the blonde teacher's eyes. We thought it was silly and childish ten years ago, she asked herself. What must today's sophisticated pre-adolescents think of it? The young teenagers she'd observed hanging around the "sweetshop" and various drive-in restaurants in her week here in Pottawattamie Heights seemed far more mature both in body and actions than she herself had been at that age."I am familiar with that particular film," she began, jabbing out her Camel with unnecessary vehemence. "But don't you think that it's a bit immature for ninth graders? I mean, the average girl's menstruating by the time she's eighteen, and surely these students are interested in learning about other things by now."She'd deliberately emphasized the word "menstruating" in order to disconcert the prissy school principal, and was rewarded by seeing a bright red blush creeping up over his thick neck and long-jowled face. Lighting another cigarette, she continued her tirade."These students aren't children any longer, you know. They're old enough to get in trouble if they don't know the facts about sexual matters. Unwed eighteen year old mothers aren't nearly as rare as they ought to be, and it's mostly due to simple ignorance!"Krista's voice rang with earnest sincerity, for she was remembering the unhappy situation of her own personal life. Would things have turned out so badly with Brian if I'd been taught something about sex? she asked herself. Would I be so confused... so unable to deal with men... ? Isn't sex at the root of most of my problems?Raising her amber eyes toward the principal's ruddy face and the superintendent's lickerish leer, she opened her mouth to explain herself further, but the older man interrupted her before she could begin."Well, well, well," he chortled, winking at his colleague. "Miss Morrisson's certainly a very determined young lady, and I daresay she's more experienced in the subject than dear old Miss Conoway was.""Bless her soul," Harding intoned piously, even as his eyes followed Andersen's intent gaze toward the new teacher's proudly straining breasts.By God, I can see her nipples! he thought in astonishment. He was so bemused by the faint pink areolas peaking pertly through the thin material of the young blonde's smooth-cup nylon brassiere and flimsy white sundress that his attention strayed from the superintendent's next words."I think we ought to give her a free rein and see what happens," the balding educator said. His beady eyes gleamed with lascivious glee as in his mind's eye he saw this haughty young woman reduced to tears by the crude gibes and snickers of the class as she tried to explain about sexual intercourse. "Why don't we assign room 901 to her for the first term, while 902 takes shop, and then switch around second semester?""Wh-what was that, sir?" Preston Harding tore his eyes from the splendor of Miss Morrisson's full breasts with difficulty."Assign room 901, in particular, was notorious for its high percentage of undisciplined pupils, and there was no doubt in Harding's mind but that a couple of hygiene sessions - not to mention cooking and sewing, which these young hoodlums would never accept - would cure the silly teacher of her audacious ideas."A fine idea, sir," he nodded gravely. "Give it a try... ""You'll be able to plan the new hygiene course in time for the first day of school, Miss Morrisson?" Andersen inquired. "Of course, we don't have any material on hand... but I suppose you have enough firsthand knowledge of the subject matter... "As she realized the corner she'd talked herself into, the fair-skinned blonde's pretty face blanched, then flushed a becoming shade of pink. Oh God! her mind whirled. First-hand knowledge?! What does he think I am - a prostitute? I'm sure lots of these kids know more about sex than I do! Yet in spite of her acute dismay, the proud young woman's voice didn't quaver at all when she answered Superintendent Andersen."Of course everything will be prepared for Monday," she said as though no doubts had ever crossed her mind. "I'm... looking forward to starting classes.""Good, good!" beamed the maliciously grinning older man. "We're so glad to have you here at Franklin Junior High."Deducing from the ring of finality in the elderly man's words that this was supposed to be her cue to exit, Krista gratefully stuffed her cigarettes into her purse and rose from the chair. She held out her hand to them, uncomfortably aware of their lingering leers at her voluptuous body."So nice speaking with you," she said, shaking their hands. Anderson's palm was damp, the feel of a lizard; the principal's dry, but limp as a kleenex. Repressing a shudder of disgust, the new teacher escaped from the office.The two small-town educators listened to the click of Krista Morrisson's high heeled sandals hurrying down the corridor, and then Superintendent Andersen's round face broadened into a complacent grin."If she can handle those loudmouthed punks in 901," he drawled, pulling his box of cigars from his pocket and staring contemplatively at them, "I'll eat my cigar!"Preston Harding nodded, but made no reply. The young teacher's round high breasts were still dancing across his eyeballs, interspersed with less stimulating images of his overweight, ill-tempered wife Lois, whose pendulous breasts were encased in a size 40-D corset. Never, not even in the time of his wild youth at State Teacher's College, had he so much as kissed a voluptuous female like the one who'd just walked out of his office."Personally," he said, his flabby face slackened into a mask of pure lust, "I'd like to get a mouthful of Miss Morrisson's big tits!"CHAPTER TWOThe front of calm confidence which Krista had displayed before her two new employers remained with her until she had driven three of the four miles which separated the expanding suburb of Pottawattamie Heights from the three year old subdivision called Country Club Hills in which Krista had rented a one-bedroom "townhouse" apartment.I can't do it! a panic-stricken voice inside her mind wailed just as she was passing the rustic-styled buildings of Pottawattamie Emporium, a brand-new shopping center built to resemble an old Western trading post. I can't possibly teach a co-ed sex class! I have to get out of it somehow...The anguished young blonde's hands shook so badly on the steering wheel that she was forced to slow her emerald green Volkswagen to 30 mph and shift into second gear. Exerting every ounce of her willpower, she forced herself to concentrate on the heavy Labor Day weekend traffic until she reached the semi-detached, two-story building which she'd been calling "home" for a week now. The instant she walked in the door and flopped down on the imitation leather couch, however, the full force of her doubts and dread descended on her.By now it was late afternoon, and the row of spindly trees which the developer had planted in Country Club Hills' parkways cast long, thin shadows snaking across the yellowing crabgrass of the small front lawn. To the disturbed twenty-three year old teacher, the wavering silhouettes seemed an advancing host of taunting adolescent males who menaced her with their long slender penises. Shuddering with self-disgust, Krista groped nervously for a cigarette.What's the matter with you? her conscience demanded. Something's wrong with people who imagine perverted things like that! It's dirty... sick...Drawing deeply on her Camel, the young home economics teacher scrutinized the flickering shadows in a futile attempt to dispel the forbidden images. A clock in the kitchen struck five o'clock, and the baby in the adjoining apartment started its chronic colicky wailing, but the young blonde teacher was too absorbed in her own problems to hear anything but the thudding beat of her own heart.Now that I'm teaching this awful so-called personal hygiene class, I'll never be able to get rid of thoughts like that, her tortured mind despaired. I'll never have a moment's peace from sexual filth... and just when I was hoping that this new job would help me forget about Brian and the terrible thing he did to me.A fleeting image of her ex-boyfriend's handsome face flashed before Krista's brown eyes, dispersing the vision of naked young boys but not having the least effect on her low spirits. Brian Degraff's dark eyes seemed to bore to the very depths of her soul, wounding her with his contempt just as they'd done the last time she'd seen him, and his wide, normally grinning mouth was twisted into a scornful sneer."Brian... " she whispered aloud, her voice whining eerily in the rather drab furnished apartment.At the sound of her soft exclamation, the troubled blonde roused her shapely body from the couch and stubbed out her cigarette. You're getting like a lonely old lady, talking to yourself this way, her conscience warned. Pull yourself together!In the past, the sensitive young woman had always found constructive action to be the best antidote to depression, so she now headed for the tiny kitchen which she'd made the most cheerful room in the flat by painting its formerly dirty pink walls a sunny shade of yellow. Krista enjoyed cooking, and for the next hour or so she busied herself with concocting a new casserole."Lots of vitamins and protein," she murmured as she sliced onions and grated cheddar cheese. "Ought to make me feel better. After all, I do believe in educating teenagers about sex - I just don't think I'm the right one to be teaching them. But if I can act cool and scientific about it, maybe it won't be as bad as all that... "The home economics teacher's mood improved while she worked, but plummeted the moment her nutritious cauliflower au gratin was browning in the oven and her hands were again idle. Wandering disconsolately back into the silent living room, she stared out the window at the uninspiring view of a row of semi-detached houses exactly like her own, except that each one was painted a different insipid pastel shade. The sun had just set, and the figures of children playing some game with a ball in the street were hazy, unreal apparitions.Why did I ever think I wanted to teach? she asked herself as gloom sank over her. I'm so mixed up myself that I can't possibly do my pupils any good...Again, an unbidden stabbing memory of her erstwhile boyfriend, Brian Degraff, speared through the lonely blonde. What's he doing now? she wondered. Which law school did he get into? What kind of girl is he going with?Yet even as she indulged in a moment of regret for her departed pinmate of three years, Krista knew deep inside that she would rather be here alone in this solitary apartment in one of Toledo's newest bedroom subdivisions than living with Brian as he'd so often suggested. Certainly, it would be nicer to have someone to talk to in the long evenings, someone to eat dinner with and discuss the events of the day; but then he'd want to go to bed and... and...Stop it! the young teacher's mind commanded. Don't think about what he did to you again! You're starting a new life now - forget about him!Walking with firm, determined steps, the pretty blonde headed for the tiny cubbyhole which served as the dwelling's bedroom, and dug out some college textbooks from a suitcase in the miniscule closet. Perhaps planning the classes she would be starting on Tuesday - three days from now - would blot out these unwanted memories.Sighing under her breath, Krista lugged the heavy volumes back to the outer room and dumped them on the white, synthetic leather couch, then headed back into the kitchen. And some wine should cheer me up, too, she decided. I'll open that bottle Mother gave me.Although a caretaker actually managed most of the chores and the large tobacco fields, the energetic mother spent much of her time and energy on her small vegetable garden and orchard. Her chief pride and joy was her grape arbor, and her homemade wines had won blue ribbons at the county fairs for as long as her daughter could remember."Poor Mom," Krista muttered as she uncorked the bottle and poured some of the ruby red liquid into a tall glass. "She couldn't understand why I suddenly didn't want to marry Brian... and of course I couldn't tell her the truth."The engagement had been broken in April, shortly before the young couple's graduation from college, and when Krista returned to the farm to spend the summer with her mother before moving north for her first teaching job, she was still in a state of depression. Although her mother hadn't nagged at her about Brian, the young graduate had not been able to relax as she usually could in the country because the questions were constantly in her mother's eyes, if not on her lips.Only once had the graying widow attempted to discuss the situation with her dejected daughter."You know, honey," she'd begun tentatively, "I wish you'd talk to me about Brian. I understand a little more about men than you do. They're not like us - they're rough and unrestrained, even the best of them, even your father. They can't help it."Krista had looked away, blushing in discomfort. Her mother's comment had hit embarrassingly close to home, and she felt loathe to discuss her boyfriend's brutish behavior with her normally reticent parent."Maybe I should have talked to you about... these things... before," her mother began again.Oh no! Krista groaned inwardly. Not a discussion about the birds and the bees!Although in principle the college girl believed in the merits of sex education, the situation with her mother was somewhat awkward. Once, toward the end of a rather drunken party celebrating the marriage of one of Brian's cousins, she'd learned some very interesting facts about the father she scarcely remembered. Otto Dregraff, her boyfriend's uncle, had filled her in on the lurid details while he polished off half a bottle of straight bourbon."Liked the women, your Daddy did," the intoxicated man had slurred. "And he liked the bottle. Wine, women, and song - that was his motto, though like all good Southerners his poison was bourbon. Good man, your Daddy. But like they say, only the good die young. And what a helluva way to go too! Speeding down the highway in a new Jaguar with a belly full of booze and a beautiful, willing dame beside you."
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