Where's the Free Use? - Sex Stories

Where's the Free Use?

... teachers is the problem?”

“Yes,” Whittleton said with annoyance in his tone. “It’s too revealing. I already said that.”

“So if girls, high-school age girls, come to class wearing tight clothes, that’s a problem for male teachers?”

No one was working on their assignments anymore. Everyone had turned to the tense situation Whittleton had caused.

“It’s a problem for anyone to disrespect the dress code,” Whittleton replied. “We don’t let boys walk around shirtless.”

“Would that make things difficult for the female teachers?”

“Come on, Ariel, you’re being inappropriate,” Whittleton said disapprovingly, shaking his head.

“No, I’m just giving the same example you gave, with the genders swapped,” I replied, holding out two fingers and twisting my wrist to make my point. “If me wearing tight clothes is even noticed by the male teachers, isn’t it kind of screwed up? Shouldn’t people hired to be teachers not care about how sexy young girls look in smaller shirts?”

“Ariel, this is my last warning, sit down,” Whittleton nearly roared, though he still took my bait. “It can be distracting to the boys your age in your classes, and teachers are under obligation to make sure their classes run effectively, and make sure girls behave according to the rules and dress modestly. Those are just the rules.”

“None of the boys here even noticed me yet,” I argued back. “You saw my shirt and immediately, like,

scowled

. All of the boys were working until we started ...

... talking. Are you distracted by me wearing a tight shirt, Mr. Whittleton?” He started to talk, so I talked over him. “Why are you so distracted by a young student wearing a slightly tighter shirt, what’s up with that?”

“Go to the principal’s office,

now

,” he ordered, his face getting redder. “None of what you said is true, and you’re just saying things to avoid responsibility. That’s all this is. I told you the rules, and you couldn’t handle that.”

I looked around at my classmates, shrugged to them, and turned away, walking back towards the principal’s office. I couldn’t help but smirk. Whatever you needed to tell yourself, Mr. Whittleton. Whatever you needed to say, buddy.

I didn’t even hate authority. Hell, when it was a good teacher, I actually had a lot of respect for authority figures, but if they lost my respect, they had to earn it back, and Whittleton was a piece of work, if ‘work’ was even the four-letter word I wanted to use. The dude didn’t even teach us – he directed us to YouTube tutorials when it came time to edit our video projects – and his class motto was “you’re not as funny as you think you are.” He was the posterboy for why some students were fully justified in hating their teachers.

Luckily for me, the principal, Mr. Scott, was the antithesis of that attitude, and the model of what a good authority figure should be. When I got to his office, he welcomed me, and did what every principal should do in that situation.

“Now, I heard from Mr. ...