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They Ran My Teacher Out of Town

Another story from a client.

The year was 1986. I was a high school girl in a small town in Oregon. The school was correspondingly small. For instance our two gym teachers, a man and a woman, were also our History and Math teachers. We had coed gym classes, but of course separate showers and locker rooms.

It fell on our gym teachers to teach sex ed, which became required just that year. It was my senior year. Frankly, by then, it was already too late. Most of us kids learned about sex by then, some even with actual experience, if you know what I mean.

So one afternoon, we arrived for a gym class, after the usual changing into T-shirts and shorts. Mrs. Forester had us all sit in a semi-circle on the floor for some sort of lecture. The 30 boys and girls in the class were all looking at each other like, “What, no exercise?”

Then Mrs. Forester launched into a lecture on sex. Mr. Johnstone, the other teacher, sat on the floor along with us, looking like he really didn’t want to be there. He stayed quiet as a mouse the whole time. The kids were all tittering and she had to shush us several times so she could go on. The poor woman was red in the face, talking about condoms and such, but I had to give her credit for frank, and dare I say, naughty, straight-forward information.

She then announced that since the sex ed was brand new to the school, they had not yet received any materials. I believe she meant charts, pictures, maybe instructional videos. So she called for two volunteers. I had no idea what she wanted, but I’m kind of crazy in that I’ll volunteer for just about anything. I always believe new experiences are good for me, and that by volunteering, I’ll have the best opportunity to experience new things, compared to just watching. The other volunteer was Jay Cranston, a tall, cool guy that loved baseball. I often fantasized about Jay. I won’t tell you exactly what I fantasized about him. Let’s just say it was X-rated.

I figured the teacher would have us stand next to each other and point out that boys are generally taller, maybe show that girls have the second layer of fat that makes us a bit rounder, and so on.

She did have Jay and I stand up next to each other. Then she matter-of-factly asked us to remove our T-shirts. Of course he was OK with that, but whoa, what about me?! Glancing at me like ‘Is this for real’ he did remove his T-shirt, so after a moment, I did too, revealing my white bra. Mrs. Forester said, “bra too” as if this was an everyday request.

Naturally, I hesitated. Mrs. Forester explained that the point was to show the boys, and perhaps the girls too, about the sexual organs. She then added, “But Judy, you don’t have to. We probably have someone else who will volunteer.”

As I said, our school is small, and everyone knows everyone else. To this day I can’t explain why, but I didn’t want anyone else to have to do it instead of me. Was I protecting the other girls? Did I have an exhibitionist streak? Was I proud of my rather large breasts which were still rather new to me?

Plus, it wasn’t like she was asking me to pull down my shorts or something. It was only my tits. I have always felt that it is unfair that boys don’t have to wear shirts, but us girls do. What’s wrong with people seeing breasts? Everyone has them, even though the breasts and nipples on boys are much smaller. My thinking was totally intellectual. I’d never actually do anything about it. But geez, this was really weird. I continued to hesitate. I’m pretty sure I was blushing in front of everyone.

Mrs. Foresteter interrupted my hundred-mile-per-hour thought processes by repeating that I didn’t have to do it. She’d get someone else.

So I did it. In front of every kid in the class, and even Mr. Johnstone, I twisted my bra around, released the clasps, and there I stood, topless. At that moment, I couldn’t believe I had done it, and wanted to run out of the room. The fact is, I probably couldn’t have. I was feeling feverish and woobly, basically scared to death.

Mrs. Forester didn’t miss a beat. “You’ll notice, class, that Judy’s nipples are larger in diameter than Jay’s. What you may not know, is that although Judy’s nipples are sensitive to a very light touch, a good practice in foreplay, so are Jay’s. Yes, women can excite men’s nipples as one of the many techniques in sexual foreplay.

While she was doing this, she was using a yardstick as a pointer, and kept lighly poking the side of my right breast, and then my nipple. I should have found that terribly objectionable, but instead, I found it electrifying.

Sandra Berkley raised her hand and asked, “Can you tell some other techniques in foreplay?”

“I will,” the teacher answered, “but that will be next Tuesday. Today, we’re just going to introduce the comparative anatomy.”

Suddenly, I panicked. ‘Comparative anatomy?’ Surely Mrs. Forester wasn’t going to have me and Jay show everything. Surely not! Right?

She did! As Mrs. Forester requested it, I felt even more scared than I had been already. Really scared. I mean all jittery and with weak shaky knees. Why? I have no idea. Worse, I felt like I might not be able to keep my pee inside me. I don’t know what was happening with Jay. I couldn’t even look at him. I couldn’t look at anyone. I’m sure my gaze was fixed on the floor.

Suddenly, the class went crazy. First a dead hush, then a whole bunch of murmering. Everyone was looking at Jay. The fool had removed everything but his socks. Standing not six feet away from me was a totally naked 18-year-old boy. I later came to find out that Jay is quite an exhibitionist. He actually likes being seen in his entirety, and will show off at any opportunity.

Somehow, it made me feel better. I mean, even though he’s a boy, I felt something kindred with him, and when Mrs. Forester asked me for the second time to take off my skirt and underpants, I just did it. Like ripping off a bandage. A big, important bandage!

So there I stood, stark naked, with a naked boy right next to me. I can’t tell you how many emotions I felt at once. Fear for sure. Naughtiness, as if I had done something terribly wrong and was going to be punished any moment, even though it was Mrs. Forester who had commanded it. But something else, too. I felt an odd sense of pride. I feel my breasts are, well, let’s say prominent. I had actually had masturbatory fantasies of people, including some of my classmates seeing them. Now, it was happening for real, and they were seeing the rest of me too. Oh, not the way I dreamed of, but, well, geez!

Now, Mrs. Forester broke through all boundaries with her next request – as if things weren’t crazy enough already. She wanted me and Jay to turn around, bend over, and show everyone our anuses. Really! Even crazier than that, I wanted to do it. I can’t tell you why. I just did.

So, I complied. Jay also turned around and showed his anus. He balked, but then he did too. So there we were, side by side, bent over, and holding our ass cheeks apart so the whole class could see our buttholes. I glanced over, and momentarily marveled at how this big boy had such a skinny little ass.

Mrs. Forester poked me lightly in the right buttock with her yardstick. Then the unthinkable happened. She touched the end of the stick right against my anus. You know what? It felt like a surprisingly wonderful electric shock. I wanted her to do it again, but no such luck. She was saying something about how boys’ and girls’ anuses are nearly identical in appearance, function, and the response of the nerve endings.

She had us turn back around and face the class – and Mr. Johnstone. I’m sure I blushed when I noticed him staring right at me.

My thoughts went briefly to Jay, and he was really red in the face. He looked like he was about to run out of the room. You want to know why? His penis, the first one I had ever seen in person, was erect. It was sticking up at a 45-degree angle.

Mrs. Forester just kept right on talking and poking us occasionally with her stick. As she was explaining something I don’t quite remember about erections – my mind was a mess at this point – she pushed the stick lightly against Jay’s penis, pressing it fully vertically against his belly.

Guess what happened to me? Seeing that, I orgasmed. I don’t think anyone noticed, and fortunately, I wasn’t wet enough to start dripping. I was so fucked up, I mean wobbly legs and all, that I had to sit down on the floor.

But the weirdness wasn’t over yet. Now, Mrs. Forester asked me to show the class the inside of my vagina. And I complied! Without thinking it through, using my fingertips, I opened up my lips, and let everyone have a good hard look. I noticed Mr. Johnstone was staring as hard as anyone. He almost looked like he was drooling.

Suddenly, it was over. We were commanded to dress, the bell rang, and the class was over.

We were to have another sex education session on Tuesday. I could only imagine what Mrs. Forester had planned.

As Tuesday approached, I couldn’t hardly think or sleep. Every waking moment was filled with ‘What’s going to happen next?’ Would I be volunteering again? I really didn’t want to go through anything like that again, and at the same time, I really, really hoped she would pick me.

Finally, finally, it was Tuesday afternoon, and time for gym. The thirty of us were surprised to find that Mrs. Forester was not there. Neither was Mr. Johnstone. Instead, the principal, Mr. Henrickson, led the class. It was super disappointing. Basically, he said it’s OK to masturbate, explained the birds and bees as if we had never heard that a thousand times before, and that was that.

The school board, consisting of my mother and two other members of the community held an inquiry. Jay and I were the witnesses. We both told what happened, but as minimally as possible. You see, we liked Mrs. Forester, and wanted to protect her. It did no good, they fired her. And, they fired Mr. Johnstone too. Why him also? I think they felt he could have stopped it, but didn’t make any effort to do so.

So that’s it, they ran our teachers out of town.

Jay and I got together a few times. We enjoyed talking about what happened. Together we decided we weren’t traumatized, although we weren’t entirely sure about that. He and I did get naked together one more time. This time it was in private, in the treehouse in his parent’s back yard. We kissed, and kissed, then we wanted to have sex. But neither of us had a condom. It turned out weirdly, we kind of briefly gave each other oral sex. He didn’t orgasm. I didn’t orgasm, then we went our separate ways.

I liked him, he liked me, but somehow, nothing ever became of us. We went to separate colleges. We have kept in touch, maybe emailing each other once or twice a year. He became a farm-league baseball coach, and I work at the very same school as the History, Geography, and Economics teacher. I can tell you that sex education in that school these days is very profunctory, basic, and nothing like that day back in 1986.

2024 Update: Jay wasn’t making enough money as a baseball coach. He moved back to Oregon, and since he had a degree in education, took a job in our school. He teaches the sciences and, you guessed it, gym class.

Last year, my husband and I amicably divorced. We just weren’t that into each other any more. Jay and I became an item, and yes, we do fuck like rabbits, often reminiscing about our sex ed class in 1986.

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