MILF Teacher: Becoming a Present - Sex Stories

MILF Teacher: Becoming a Present

MILF TEACHER: BECOMING A PRESENT SUMMARY: A widowed white straight teacher is dommed by a black teenager. Note 1: A thanks to the legendary Estragon who edits all my work. MILF TEACHER: BECOMING A PRESENT For me, growing up in the south in the eighties, racism wasn't as rampant and blatant as it was in the past, but the undercurrent was there. I grew up in a very racist upper class family where my father believed that whites were superior to blacks in all ways. Even though we had a black maid, a black chauffeur and I grew up with a black nanny...I know it is ironic to allow a race supposedly inferior to feed you and raise your children; alas, no one else seemed to notice. That said, Aretha was like the mother I never had, because as I grew up with a diva mom who didn't really raise me...Aretha did. Unlike the rest of my family, including both of my older siblings, I grew up with a great respect for Aretha and therefore I refused to treat anyone based on race. She was my mother figure growing up and the person I respected more than any other. When Aretha died two years ago after a long bout with cancer, I was way more devastated than I was a year earlier when my birth mother died. Aretha understood me and respected my shyness, unlike my family that kept trying to make me into something I was not. My dad was a very powerful judge, my mom a lawyer as well and both my older siblings followed in my parents’ footsteps. Me, on the other hand, I became a teacher. My insecurities ...

... were many but one was my body. My breasts were pretty much non-existent and even today they are a tiny 34b. On the other hand, Aretha and her children all had large breasts. I grew up very self-conscious about my breasts, although I never told anyone...even Aretha...of my insecurity. This insecurity never completely faded away as I often had students whose breasts were much larger than mine. My breasts were a constant reminder of my imperfections. I married a fellow teacher, and I would have lived happily ever after if my husband hadn't died last winter in a drinking and driving accident (no he was sober, it was some rich kid running a red light that hit him). I was left a widow with two teenage daughters, one eighteen and in grade twelve, the other sixteen and two grades below her. The life insurance policy was enough to pay off our mortgage and guarantee my daughters’ college expenses, so many people thought I was crazy when I returned to teaching after taking a year's leave. But I had missed it immensely and working with teenagers was the most rewarding job in the world. It was the third day back when I realized this semester would be a challenge. Latoya was a black student in my English class with a real hatred for me. Her tone was snotty, her attitude terrible and her mouth lippy. Yet, I liked her. She was actually incredibly articulate and academically strong, although she often handed in her assignments late. I hoped I could help her reach her full potential...if only I ...