He loved to watch her. He saw her cross the quad every day, her coffee cup in one hand, her bookbag in the other. She was one of the older students, a mum, even. He’d eavesdropped on her conversation with one of the OsO Girls, as he called the “One-the-same-as-the-0ther” younger students. This one, this woman, stood out. She stood taller, prouder, perhaps. Her personality made up for any lack of height she had. Those sox! They were tall, over the knee. Black and white. And today? Today she wore fingerless gloves to match. A black miniskirt, one so short it must’ve shown an acre or more of bare thigh between the hem of the skirt and top of those wonderful sox! He ached to see even a passing glance at her cunt, but alas, she didn’t sit on the wall today. Her white tank top showed her lovely shoulders, dotted here and there with fairy freckles. Her dark hair hung below her shoulders, drawing his attention to her perky tits. If he looked really hard, he imagined he could just see the aerola surrounding fantastic nipples. Whenever the breeze had drifted across to where she stood with her classmates, her nipples rose accordingly, as the wind chilled her. He cheered the wind. He followed the dancing leaves across to where she was laughing. Her face just lit with her smiles.
“Miss Greenwood,” he called to her. She glanced up at his approach. He was her teacher. And he planned to teach her many, many things. Including sharing that dazzling smile, as she knelt between his legs. Wearing those sox. Only the sox.
And maybe those matching gloves.