Miss Appleby is a middle school teacher who has been teaching for 7 years. Other than eating at nice restaurants on occasions, and collecting ceramic tea cups when she travels, her favorite is to pick on the pretty girls in the class, a hobby that has slowly been cultivated through the years. Her aim is not exactly to make them uncomfortable, but just to make them open their mouths in her English class.As they talk, those pink glossy lips and pearly white teeth, occasionally accompanied by the wet tongue in between them, she gazes at them with a shameful lust and desire. Sort of like masturbation.
She never really thought about the connection between that and
her favorite part on her body. But they definitely have something in common, other than the fact that they're both source of pleasure, they are also aesthetically pleasant to look at. However, Appleby isn't a person with good dexterity, therefore, she never attempted to paint either of them, but admire them afar or occasionally pleasure them.
As the years passed, she has been more and more bold about her desires, and would even find time to release herself in the girl's room. And with the occasional bursting in through the doors of chatty girls, putting on their make-up in the mirror, Appleby would peep through cubicle cracks. All these images and action have made it all the more thrilling and realistic than being in bed with her own drab memories in her printed sheets.
Then one day, as she was preparing her usual stunt in the third period when she's free, she noticed a red print on the door saying: Appleby's a pervert. The ruby colored words smeared against each other, but carefully sculpted, as if the writer sounded sincere if she were to say it. Appleby felt a shiver down her spine, having no idea who has seen what, she quickly gathered her nerves and walked out of the bathroom.
The shame and guilt surged in her just like her desire a moment ago. But next, her curiosity emerged with great vengeance. Her secret guilty pleasure seems to be not so much of a secret anymore, and there is an admirer out there who watches her too. That night, she had the best orgasm in her life.
2 comments:
Oh, what to make of such a ribald tale, Ms. Hsueh? The high-brow critic in me wants to lambast the writer for treading in such over-heated sexual cliché, perhaps even call it a desperate attempt to shock. The much more gallant and whimsical emotional spirit within me wishes to exalt in the unvarnished honesty of the piece. The meat inside me, that which I refer to as my exuberant heterosexual core, responds with thumping blood and knowing groan. I accept all three as correct.
Thank you Mr. Gamboa. I'm well honored to have such critical critics by my side, especially one that's with so many layers. ;)
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