A Story I Found On.....

Story by Chadwickster

A Story I Found On http://dwstudios.bloobunni.com/choose.html it is a really good story.....here it is, it is called

An Apple for the Teacher,

And A Whole Lot More in Return

by ASH

School. The children forced to go there call it prison, while the adults who run the establishment

refer to it as a center to promote the mental well being of all developing young minds. Yeah whatever.

A bright and cheery day in spring. The semester is almost over and summer is near. It's a day that

makes the kid in anyone want to run outside and just enjoy life. Unfortunatly today Alex had to view the

wonderful blue sky and brilliant sun light from within the confines of a poorly air conditioned and crowded

class room, with uncomfortable desks and chairs, most of which were ready to fall apart in the first place.

Armed to face the rest of the day with only his notebook and pencil, he waited for 5th hour to start.

With lunch over he began to feel sleepy and generally depressed. A 45-minute break from the grind was nice, even

if you did end up spending it eating the crappy food that the nearby fast food restraunts wouldn't feed to their

regular paying customers, or surfing the internet on the horribly outdated computers in the library, where

everyone was on the same 56k modem, so that the connection ran like molasses in winter. Aside from things like

that, jeez school could be just dandy.

5th hour was Alex's favorite, because it was his favorite subject, English, specifically, Literature &

Creative Writing. He always had his notebook and pencil around so he could write whenever something particularly

creative popped into his head, and now he had a class where he could actually get credit for doing it.

As a high school junior, he was still going through all of his prerequisites. He'd already gotten P.E.

out of the way...yeah, P.E. as a requirement, like they'll check that on your resume or application to college

("Let's see, first in your class with straight A's...but you never took Racquet Sports and can't do a pull up!?

I'm sorry sir we have no place for you here."). He personally hated science and math, sure they were interesting

at times, but they were so, set in stone. There was no life to them, they were bland, black and white

mathematics and facts. History, while not to different from math & science, held a certain appeal because you

obviously can't write too much good material if you don't know about any history or past events to base it off

of.

But now he was in a class where he felt he could let his mind go in a creative river that could run like

the Mississippi on a good day. However the class didn't feel complete until the teacher arrived.

There was no mistaking her entrance.

"Ms. Johnson..." He sighed to himself.

She was very tall for a lady her age, a good head taller than some of the football players, with long

brown hair that fell down past her shoulders, and glasses which perfectly framed her beautiful face and deep

forest green eyes. Despite her size she always had a graceful stride and an aura of pleasentness that always

seemed to draw quite abit of attention.

She was dressed in the usual today, thin-fabric beige button down long sleeved shirt, and an ankle

length blue skirt. He had no idea why fortune had smiled on him and the system had put him with this specific

teacher.

Ms. Johnson, was not only tall by the way, but also, well, well endowed. Her bosom could almost be

described as near collosal. They didn't even make bras to fit things like that, so everyone could often see the

outlines of her nipples and areolas through the material of what she wore on top. She also looked very strong,

like she could very well wrestle any one of the boys in the room. There was also one thing, some thing only Alex

knew of.

He had only felt it by accident one time. Getting from place to place during passing time was insane,

the hallways were packed like Communist China during rush hour, with idiots standing in the middle of the

hallways, and others walking too slow, while some of them blatantly walk on the wrong side of the hall way

making things ever more complicated. Well, one day he was on his way to Ms. Johnsons classroom, and he happened

to bump in to her, quite by accident, it was more like he was shoved toward her by an over agressive teen who

probably hadn't gotten his nicotene fix that day. Well when he bumped into her, his hand accidently brushed

against something that didn't quite feel like her leg. It felt thicker, warmer, and seemed to pulse for a bit

before he was giving Ms. Johnson her space, apologizing for bumping in to her, then dashing off to class trying

to figure out just what he'd stumbled upon there.

Ever since then he couldn't help but remember what he'd felt, especially when Ms. Johnson would somehow

sneak up on him and check what he was working on.

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