Stories Hub / Erotic Couplings / High School Harem Ch. 04

High School Harem Ch. 04

by fittucker87 04/09/09

(Author's Note: All characters, whether described as such or not, are all over 18 years of age. This is a continuing series of fantasies harbored since my own high school years. I welcome any and all feedback. It's why I write! Enjoy.)

Chapter 04: Miss Fisher

"Mr. Thomas? Would you stay after class please?"

Lounged in the back of his sixth period Social Studies class, holding court, with three starry eyed sophomore girls around his desk vying for his attention, 18 year old senior Rick Thomas thought he had misheard his teacher, Miss Lisa Fisher.


Miss Fisher looked at him over the top of her slim, tortoise shell glasses, her brown eyes stern, and no quarter given. "If you had been paying attention, Mr. Thomas, you would have heard me. After class please." She turned back to the blackboard. "Turn around girls. This isn't the social hour!" The three young girls giggled and turned away from him, but not before sliding their phone numbers to him.

Rick blushed furiously and pocketed the slips of paper. Not that he was going to call them. He didn't have time for the underclassmen anymore, not with every senior girl with a pulse clamoring for his attention. My how things change, Rick thought, putting his hands behind his head, his eyes directed forward, but unfocused, the lurid scenes of the past month replaying like a XXX peepshow in his mind.

Barely a month ago, Rick Thomas was the stereotypical teen wallflower: shy, unassuming and trying his best to fly below the radar. His previous 18 years were ones of rejection, isolation and humiliation. He was a frequent target of ridicule from the boys in his class and was roundly ignored by the girls, which was on some level, even more hurtful.

This past summer, however, Rick had matured significantly, if not mentally, then definitely physically. His thin, frail frame had filled out doing summer labor and had now matched the heretofore unseen attribute which was the reason for all the attention he was getting. To be blunt, Rick was hung. Like they say some major league baseball players have been touched on the arm by God? Well, Rick's blessing was further south. He'd always known he had it, but no one else had. The towel snapping, ass slapping arena of the PE shower was something he'd avoided at all costs, but he'd seen the other boys and knew they just didn't measure up to what he was packing. Introvert that he was, he kept his 'light under a basket', not wanting to draw attention to himself.

That all changed the week before school, when an older girl had shown pity on the shy boy, showing him attention at the drive-in when she saw him all alone. What were innocent overtures of friendship, quickly turned to lust when she and her friend had realized what they had on their 'hands'. This was parlayed into a wild four-some with some classmates and that in turn put him in the position of fucking the head cheerleader and punching out her quarterback boyfriend. Since the last episode, Rick had been inundated by the females of the school. Some tip toed around the reason for their sudden interest, but others were more forthright. Not to give you the impression that Rick was suddenly the Don Juan Romeo Tom Cruise of his high school. He was still painfully shy, but realized that the meat between his legs was his ticket to a much more enjoyable senior year.

For instance, just this morning Carrie Moore had offered to "suck his big dick" at the time and place of his choosing. She claimed to give good head, you know, lick the bone, cradle the boys, and eat the gravy, so he'd timidly taken her up on it. They were supposed to meet after school behind the gym and Rick couldn't wait. He'd only jacked off 4 times this week and the pressure in his swollen nuts was mounting.

Normally, Rick would Prell up in the shower before school, throw out some ropes in the afternoon and then see how high he could shoot in the air at night in his bed before passing out with his cum crusted belly. He was starting to think of his cock as a gift to the girls of the town and who was he to waste what, he'd been told, was "the tastiest spunk in town"? All in all, Rick was living the teen dream. He had an always ready cock and scores of girls lining up to empty it for him. He just wished he was more confident around them. Every time they approached him, he found himself talking to the floor or their chests if he was feeling particularly brave.

The dismissal bell rang and the students sprang as one for the door, eager to start their weekend. Rick hung back to see what Miss Fisher wanted. He watched her as she wished the other students a good weekend.

Lisa Fisher was new to his school. She had come here from out of state, the rumor being that she'd left her previous posting after only three years and not with a good recommendation. She was 25, single and lived in an apartment complex not far from Rick's house. He knew because he'd seen her out jogging in his neighborhood before. Rick had side swiped a mailbox with his Huffy at the sight of his prim and proper teacher running down the street.

Since the first of school, Rick had wondered what Miss Fisher was like outside of school; mostly because you don't see many 25 year olds who wore their hair up like she did in a tight bun or dressed like she did. Lisa seemed to have 10 different versions of the same business suit: conservative cut, neutral color, high necked blouse and simple black flats. On the day he spotted however, an entirely different creature was revealed.

Miss Fisher was wearing a scoop neck running singlet, high cut wind shorts and a jog bra, that if it hadn't already failed entirely, was definitely not up to the task of restraining the lurching softballs rebounding on her chest. From the jiggle of the large for her frame melons, Rick could tell they were natural, not the store bought ones that were beginning to show up even in the small towns of the late eighties. His eyes had just started to consume her lithe legs when he impacted the mailbox, sending him head first into the Anderson's flower bed. Thankfully, Miss Fisher was distracted listening to her Walkman radio and didn't see the embarrassing accident. That night he'd sent up six frozen ropes while imagining Miss Fisher, skirt pulled up above her waist, glasses askew and brown hair jostled out of her bun by Rick who stood behind her pumping his oversized midget's arm into her womb.

"Mr. Thomas? Mr. Thomas!"

"Huh!" Rick had been daydreaming and looked around confused. Miss Fisher cocked her finger and gestured him forward. In a move put to use many times over the years, Rick stood from his seat and discretely covered the big bulge in his jeans with his books. She pointed to the front row chair and sat behind her desk, opening the grade book. Rick groaned inwardly.

While he was no Einstein when it came to school, he usually managed to maintain a C average, with the occasional B. Since coming into his own socially, his grades had been slipping and he surmised that this discussion was going to touch on that. Miss Fisher looked up at him, her hazel eyes big behind the glasses.

"So, what's the problem Rick? Your grades in my class have really been slipping. At this rate, you are going to fail social studies."

Rick's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't fail, he thought. His parents would kill him! The Thomas' knew they didn't have a college kid on their hands, but Rick's uncle had promised him a job laying pipe (huh, huh...laying pipe) after graduation. If he failed Social Studies, he'd have to repeat it in the summer, as it was only offered in the fall semester. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened and hung open at a loss for words.

You are an evil woman, Lisa Fisher, the teacher thought. It was true that Rick was not performing well in class, but she didn't think anyone had ever failed the "gimme" coursework in Social Studies. Her intentions were not pure, dear reader (as if you were surprised!). You see, the lovely Lisa Fisher was a size queen and had been since her senior year when the basketball team had choo-chooed her after practice. Since that time, she had spent as much time as possible scouring the globe in search of the biggest womb brooms she could wrap her lips and legs around. Her obsession had even dictated her vocation. High School teacher? Please! Ready access to scores of horny senior boys was like a dream "cum" true. She had woven a nice little web at her previous job; that is until she snared a senior boy, still in the closet, who apparently liked big dicks as much as she! Her hasty resignation was the only thing that kept her from a full-blown scandal. After all they were adults: all aged at least 18 years like a good scotch. And that's how she found herself here.

She'd been a good girl in the four months she had been in town, satisfying herself with her extensive assortment of dildos and vibrators. She had even tried to change her ways, hitting the singles scene, but that only left her exhausted. Older guys seemed to think they had to play it cool, play the game, whatever! Lisa just wanted to be fucked: frequently and forcefully. When she'd first heard the rumors about the unassuming Rick Thomas, she felt like raising her hands in praise. It was like manna from heaven! Rick seemed like the type who'd keep his mouth shut and what inexperienced teen boy wouldn't jump at the chance to learn at the feet, or between the legs, of the master?

Lisa hoped that Rick would stumble upon the answer to his current situation all on his own. That way, her seduction wouldn't have to be so overt. She loved the hunt and knew she would make a fine cougar one day. Lisa interrupted his mumbled excuses.

"It seems to me that someone is paying more attention to the girls in school than their studies. Would you agree?"

Rick blushed furiously from the tips of his toes to the follicles of his scalp. It was hard enough to talk to his own contemporaries, but Miss Fisher was definitely on an entirely different plane of existence. He couldn't meet those sparkling hazel eyes so he merely stared at her desktop.

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