Chapter Description: Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home
As we departed a very unproductive math class, I stood and took a good whiff of Madeline Dazilme who was sitting next to me in my line of sight the entire period. She smelled nice … somewhat neutral, but nice … a fragrance probably leftover from her shower this morning. That was a pleasant thought.
I remembered that I had to rush to my locker to retrieve a supplemental workbook for my period two Spanish class. But when I got to my locker, I started daydreaming about Madeline. I was drifting off mentally.
I’ve heard that teenage boys, and I guess pre-teen boys too, have a sexual fantasy every thirty seconds. I was having mine now. I figured that Madeline was probably out of my league, but there was nothing stopping me from thinking about her.
In my fantasy, I’m imagining that Madeline and I were invisible to the rest of the students and faculty in the school. They were walking right past us. I went up to the girl and said, “Hey, Madeline … Would you mind if I feel you up a little bit?”
Since this was my fantasy, I could direct the action myself. Madeline turned and looked at me with her classic girl-next-door smile and answered, “Oh, how sweet. I’m wearing a loose sweat shirt so you can go right ahead.”
I inserted my hands under the bottom of her sweatshirt and ran them up the sides of her torso. “Your body is so smooth, Madeline.”
“And you’re not wearing a training bra?”
“Well, I’m kind of a late bloomer. I wear the loose sweatshirt so people can’t see the outline of my nipples.”
“Your training boobs are just erupting, Madeline.”
“Yeah, but they’re still more like mosquito bites right now.”
“So is it true you have a vagina?”
“I do … yes.”
“Can I touch it?”
“Oh, how sweet. Yes, but let me loosen my belt first. It will probably be easier for you if you stood behind me.”
With our jeans still on, I rubbed my crotch against her posterior and reched around with my right hand. I felt her tummy and then slithered under the waistband of her panties. Every part of her was so smooth and soft.
“Madeline, you have a little hair on your twinkie.”
“It’s just a little for now, but I’m wondering if I should shave my muff?”
“No, I think you should probably leave it alone. You don’t want to get razor stubble … You’re vulva is soft too. Do you play with your clitoris sometimes?”
“It’s kind of embarrassing, but yeah, every once in a while. My mom would not approve.”
“Hold on … Let me go a little deeper … Right now, you’re a little dry … There, did I find it?”
Having my middle finger inside Madeline’s nicely textured pussy was something I compared to mining for unobtainium, an element so rare that it could never be obtained.
In my mind I sang her a short verse.
“Nothing could be finer than to be in your vagina in the morrrrrrrrrr- ning …….. Nothing could be sweeter than for you to suck my peter in the morrrrrrrrrr- ning.”
I rapidly built up speed in rubbing her clit and she responded in way very similar to Meg Ryan’s female orgasm in the movie “When Harry Met Sally.” But instead of pounding her fists on a table, Madeline was pounding on my locker.
“Ohh, ohh, oh god, yes … oh God! Ohhhh , ohhhh … Oh God! … yes! yes! Yes! … YES! … YES!! … YESSSSSS!!!!!! … OHH!!! … Ohh … ohhhhhhhhhh.”
Then I mumbled the classic followup line from the movie, “I’ll have what she’s having.”
Before we split, I asked her, “Madeline, would you mind if I thought about you in my fantasies when I jack off tonight?”
“Actually, Derrek, I wouldn’t mind watching you when you do it.”
“That would be super except my mom said I’m not allowed to have any seventh grade girlfriends this year.”
“That’s too bad, Derrek, because I’ll be wondering if your penis is as cute as I imagine it to be. Do you have any hair on your twinkie?”
My face turned a little red. “Well, actually, guys don’t call their equipment a twinkie, but no, I don’t have any hair yet down there. I guess I’m a late bloomer too.”
“Derrek, you’re a sweet boy. I hope you don’t change. Without asking, Madeline gave me a little peck on my lips and reminded me … “Don’t be late for your next class.”
Fortunately, no one could hear the audio in my head, and when my fantasy ended, I could feel a little pre-cum on the tip of my penis.
Then I looked up and realized that, back in reality, I was alone in the hallway. The bell for second period had rung two mintues ago. Now in panic mode, I opened my locker and retrieved the workbook. I slammed it shut and ran to my next class.
I knew this was going to be awkward. The door was locked shut and I was late on my first day. I knocked softly and a student close to the door was kind enough to let me in.
In this classroom, the door was in the back, so I paraded past all the eighth graders and took my empty student desk in the usual spot … front and slightly left from the teacher’s viewpoint.
When I first glanced up at her, I was somewhat shocked. I wasn’t sure if she was a real teacher or a high school student. She was extremely young looking … as young as Kitti Power … and just as cute … but as a college graduate, she was probably more like 22 … in her first year of teaching. The name she wrote on the board was ‘Senorita Suave Gato’, which I suppose could be interpreted as ‘Miss Soft Pussy’. I kind of liked that name.
As a 28 year old Derrek, I would ‘do’ her in a heartbeat. That unfortunately reminded me that I still had a boner leftover from my fantasy about Madeline and I needed to rush to my seat before it became noticeable. And I also wondered if she would have better classroom control than Mr. Victum. It wouldn’t take long to figure that out.
“Lo siento, professora,” I said quietly. (I’m sorry, teacher.)
“Como te llamas?” she asked me. (What is your name?)
“Me llamo es Derrek,” I answered. (My name is Derrek.)
“En Espanol es Diego.” (In Spanish, it is Diego.)
“Si, professora, me llamo es Diego.”
Now the teacher decided to bring the entire class into the private conversation. With two fingers, she started banging on her wrist watch.
“Repetan, clase.” (Repeat what I say, class.) “Diego, por que llegaste tarde a clase?” (Why did you arrive late for class?)
Then the whole class started banging two fingers on their left wrist even if they weren’t wearing a watch. And they were all looking at me. The whole class said quite loudly (((“Diego, por que llegaste tarde a clase?”)))
My long-lasting fantasy about Madeline was causing me an embarrassing nightmare.
I tried to choose my words carefully. “Professora, tengo un problemo para abrir mi locker.” (I have a problem to open my locker.)
“Locker es ‘casillero’ en Espanol?”
“Si, professora … mi casillero.” (Yes, my locker … although I had never heard of a casillero.)
“Repetan, classe … Tengo …”
(Oh Christ, now she was making them mimick my words too. I was an object of public ridicule.)
Whole class ((( “Tengo un problemo para abrir mi casillero.”)))
“Todo a clase …” (all of the class)
Then Senorita Gato balled her hand into a fist and rubbed her right eye, pretending that she was crying in empathy for me. All the students did the same.
Then she pointed at me and said, “Awwwwwww …Que lastima … Lo siento” (Aww, what a pity … I’m sorry.” … which the class repeated.
She continued, “Por mala suerte, quiero dar un regalo.” (Because of your bad fortune, I want to give you a gift.)
Whole class (((“Por mala suerte, quiero dar un regalo.”)))
“Un regalo?” (a gift?) I reacted with surprise.”
“Un regalo?” they mimicked.
Senorita Gato took a pad of paper off her desk and began writing on it. “Si, Diego … Tu regalo es el primero detencion del ano.” (Yes, Diego … Your gift is the first detention of the year.)
The repetition of every line by my eighth grade classmates was starting to really annoy me.
I responded with a plea, “Pero professora …Tengo mi primera practica de futbol hoy.” (But teacher, I have my first practice for football today.)
She raised a balled fist and said, “Awwwwwww …Que lastima … Lo siento.”
Whole class (((“Awwwwwww …Que lastima … Lo siento.”)))
I really wanted to slug the closest eighth grader to me in the face, but I knew I had to maintain self control or this whole school experiment would be prematurely cancelled.
Senorita Gato handed me my detention slip and added, “Trae tu culo en este cuarto en dos, cuarenta y cinco hoy.” (Bring your ass to this room at 2:45 today.)
By now, my eighth grade classmates were roaring with laughter, not because I received a detention, but because a few of them knew Spanish slang and spread the word that the instructor had just told me where to park my ‘ass’ after school.
Senorita Gato finally cut off the class repetition and asked me personally, “Diego, Crees que llegaras a tiempo manana? (Do you think you will arrive on time tomorrow?)
I sighed, “Si, professora.”
“Es verdad que solo estas en septimo grado?” (Is it true you are only in the seventh grade?)
“Entonces, por que estas en la clase por octavo grado?” (Then why are you in the class for the eighth grade?)
I explained, “Hablo un poco de Espanol. Y quiero un clase que es mas dificil que Espanol Uno.” (I speak a little Spanish and I wanted a class that was more difficult than Spanish One.)
“Entonces, Diego … Este dia ha sido mas dificil par ti?” (Well then, Diego … Has this day been more difficult for you?”)
“Si, professora … muy muy dificil.” (Yes, teacher … Very, very difficult.)
I didn’t make any amigos, or friends, in this class. When the bell rang a few of the native speakers had some choice words for me which I tried to translate later on:
Estupido, Bobo, and Idiota were self explanatory.
Hijo de perra (son of a bitch)
Pelotudo de Mierda (fucking dumbass)
Vete al Diablo (go to hell)
Chupamelo (suck my dick)
La concha de tu madre (mother fucker)
Come mierda (shit eater)
Que te folle un pez (You should get fucked by a fish) (I didn’t get that one)
Surprisingly, none of this bothered me in the least. I was much more concerned with pleasing la professora.