Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 1 - Sex Stories

Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 1

Prologue “Miss Granger, may I ask a question?” Oh shit, here we go. Class smart-ass, Craig Wellman. It was the last week of school and the Year 12s were getting feisty; we’d spent the school year preparing them for life after high-school, treating them like adults, loosening the apron strings and encouraging them to engage us as peers, if not as equals. It worked for most of them; at eighteen they can legally drive a car or drink a beer; though preferably not at the same time. Heck, they could fight in a war; they’re adults after all. But there were always exceptions. Not every kid matured at the same rate; some of them were little more than overgrown twelve-year-olds with side-burns and hair on their chest. I know that sounds sexist and maybe it is; the girls for the most part were fine. But the boys? Oh my goodness, the boys! For a young teacher, check that; for a young female teacher; 5’4” in sensible heels and 54 kilograms (118 pounds), some of these boys were double my size; it was challenging to give them a little adult responsibility and still maintain enough respect to keep control of the class. And dick-heads like Craig Wellman did not help matters. “Yes Craig.” Audible sigh from me. “Miss Granger,” he began in a refined British accent, snorting back a laugh before he could deliver the punch-line. “Can you give us the third unforgivable spell?” Raucous guffaws from most of the boys; rolling eyes from the girls. Harry Potter jokes were nothing new to me; I’d shared a ...

... surname with J.K Rowling’s famous girl-witch, Hermione Granger, for over half of my life and believe me, I had dealt with worse than Craig Wellman’s dull wit over the years. A LOT worse. “Well Craig,” I chirped brightly, not wanting to let him see that he had hit a tender spot. “They’re ’Unforgivable Curses ’, not spells.” That deflated him a little bit. “I’ll have to consult my ‘Goblet of Fire’ first-edition, but I believe the third Unforgivable Curse is Broomenema .” That stopped him dead. A look of confusion crossed his face, momentarily stifling the giggles. “Broom-what?” “Broomenema,” I smiled. “That’s when you turn the head of your broomstick into your ass. It’s not so much unforgivable as ill-advised.” The class dissolved into screaming chaos. Bazinga! Gotcha, Craigie-waigie! I’d taken a bit of a chance burning a student with a relatively ribald joke like that, but Craig was the class clown after all. It took him a few extra seconds to get it and then he was laughing out long and loud with the rest of them. I walked through the rows of desks and used my physical presence to restore order; giving Craig a smile and an ‘I’m watching you’ two-fingered salute at my eyes as I passed him at the back of the class. Just as the laughter was dying down, a voice chimed in from near the front. “If I was you, Craig, I’d give the bristle end a miss as well.” More laughter from everybody, although I was pleased to note it wasn’t quite as raucous as for my joke. I did a quick scan to ...