Crum

Chapter 13

119 Chapter 13 Miss Thatcher was short, plump, plain, clean and smelled good. She also had the most delicious tits we had ever seen, which she strapped tightly to her chest underneath long-sleeved, high-necked blouses that didn’t show a thing. But there was no way you could completely hide a pair like hers, and Miss Thatcher knew we liked to stare at them. They led the way down the hallway whenever she left the classroom, and they were the first things to enter the room when she returned. They were magnificent. They pressed against her blouse, straining to burst free into the room. We spent whole days admiring them. When we stared too hard, Miss Thatcher would get so uncomfortable that she would leave—that was unheard-of delicacy for Crum. I liked Miss Thatcher a lot, but my liking was nothing compared to the way Benny liked her. Benny liked tits, all tits, but he liked Miss Thatcher’s most of all because he thought they liked him. He wanted to let Miss Thatcher know that he wanted them and he figured it was just a matter of time before he was rolling them around in his hands and taking little naps all snuggled up between them. The problem with Benny was that when he liked a girl, he announced the fact by whipping out his dick and pointing it at her. That was probably the way Miss Thatcher was going to be informed and we eagerly waited for Benny to declare his love. Miss Thatcher’s subject was English and Benny wasn’t exactly entranced by it. He was in the class only because the school told him he had to be. Actually , Benny could hardly read, which is one reason he spent most class time with his dick in his hand. 120 It was a winter afternoon and just after noon and the sky was so dark that it looked like evening. It was one of those God-awful winter days when the sky just doesn’t press down against the mountaintops , it presses down against your chest. There was a permanent dampness about the winters in Crum—the air was wet, but it wasn’t raining. The worst thing was that there was no color. Everything was gray. Flat. The sky seemed to pick up off the floor of the valley and rise in a gray sheet, hiding the tops of the hills. Cars would enter Crum out of the ghostly gray, and they would leave the same way. For all I knew it could have been the same car, just coming and going , gray, gray, gray. I used to pray for rain or snow, just to have a change. The lights were on in the gray damp classroom and Miss Thatcher was teaching us about something. I don’t remember what, but she was teaching us something and working hard. And Benny decided it was time to do it. I don’t know why he waited so many months. He must have really loved her. He got his dick out, just sort of waving it lazily back and forth in his hand. Miss Thatcher was up at the front of the room and Benny was trying to decide how to get her back where he was sitting without letting her know what he had for her. Miss Thatcher was very involved in whatever she was teaching us, and she swept back and forth across the front of the room, her favorite textbook in her hand, her voice rising and falling as she floated on the lines. She lost track of us completely and was in a world of another time, another place, a world where men were gentlemen and didn’t stare for hours at a lady’s tits. She went on for a full ten minutes, now and then brushing a stray lock of her light brown hair back away from her forehead. Suddenly she stopped. There wasn’t a sound in the classroom. She realized that she had gotten carried away and that she was 121 breathing in sharp, short rushes. She had sweated dark moisture stains under her arms and around her stomach. She closed her book and carefully laid it on her desk, turned and walked slowly down the aisle toward the back of the classroom. As she walked, she commented on the lines she had...