In the Shed (Non-/tg/)

                                                                  In The Shed

	Behind my school’s science block there’s an area where only school staff are allowed to go. It’s pretty well hidden from all angles and you'd have to try quite hard to see it from any of the science block’s windows. Typically, this would be the favourite spot for the kids who wanted to sneak off and smoke during lunch or hop the fence and skip the rest of the day. At my school those kids had their own place in an alley that ran parallel to the school grounds, so this unknown secluded spot was almost always abandoned. The only person who went there regularly was the groundskeeper because that was where his shed was. The shed was a fairly large tin box painted dull green and always kept shut with a heavy lock. I, however, have a key.

	The day’s maximum temperature had been 35 degrees a little after lunchtime. It was now mid-afternoon and the temperature had only dropped a little outside. Inside the shed it felt like I was standing in the Amazon. The heat and the humidity had me sweating within a few minutes. Already I could feel damp patches forming under my arms. But still, I enjoyed the moment. The shed smelled heavily of damp earth, plant matter and chemicals and the air was heavy in my lungs. I held my breath for a moment, letting myself feel the heat throbbing inside of me and the pressure on my skin. I’ve never been in a sauna before but I can’t imagine it being much different to this. I was waiting for someone but I enjoyed this heavy kind of quiet and isolation I found in the shed and didn't mind waiting a little longer. I could hear the muffled sounds of the school outside, but in here I was totally separated from all that. I was in my own world in here and nobody was allowed to share it with me. All except one…

	My silence was disturbed by the sound of someone tapping on the metal door of the shed. I knew who it was before they opened the door. No one else would have knocked first, but still I jumped a little at the sudden noise. My heart began to beat faster and suddenly the shed’s humidity and heat made me feel like I was in the middle of a very vivid fever dream. I quickly adjusted my hair and agonised at the realisation of how sweaty and shiny my face must have been at that moment. As the door opened I was painfully aware of the sweat patches under my arms.

	The tin door of the shed swung open and the bright light of the outside blinded me for a second. When they adjusted I say the clear figure of Miss Shaw: my English teacher. She was glaring at me with her large, green eyes behind her frameless glasses. Her face locked on the RBF she was known for by everyone in my year. She was dressed in a charcoal suit with a tight pencil skirt that made all the guys in my English class very glad they showed up that day. My first thought was how she could wear that outfit in this heat and not be uncomfortable. She was also wearing her Versace heels that I am eternally jealous of. They made her legs, already long, look ever longer, slimmer and more elegant.

	In fact, elegance was probably the best word to describe Miss Shaw. Though at that moment “terrifying” would have been just as good. Her eyes were strong and so focused she could glare down a Mafioso. In fact, she looked like she could be a Mafioso herself. Her face had the sharp and vicious beauty of a woman who could turn anyone she chose into her loyal servant and send her enemies scurrying without a fight. I always found it hard not to be awed by the way she entered a room and that hot afternoon was certainly no exception. She was wasted as a teacher. She should have been a diplomat negotiating with dictators. She certainly had the eyes for it. Perhaps a businesswoman too. If I owned a company and she wanted to do business, I don’t think I could decline.

	‘Afternoon, Miss Shaw,’ I said politely, holding my hands together in front of myself, at the top of my skirt.

	She didn't say anything back to me but continued to glare at me as she entered the shed and closed the door behind her. I gulped down a mouthful of saliva when I heard her forcefully shut the lock on the door, locking us both inside the small shed. The bolt was rusty and I always had to jiggle it before it would move. She shut it in one motion.

	I didn’t move or say anything as Miss Shaw walked past me and sat down on a stack of wooden boxes pushed against the wall of the shed. When she looked back at me her expression had changed to something a bit softer and friendlier, but still quite stern and authoritative.

	‘Hello, Abby,’ she said finally, allowing a little smile to creep onto her face. I smiled because I like it when she says my name. ‘Did you do what I asked you to?’

	I nodded happily and lifted up the hem of my skirt all the way so my teacher could see the pink panties I was wearing. I’d masturbated in them that morning and they were still damp with my juice and sweat.

	‘Take them off,’ she ordered, licking her lips like she was trying to hide it.

	I did as I was told and slid the plain pink panties down my legs and stepped out of them. She almost snatched them out of my hand when I handed them to her. I could see now that her mask of elegance and cool sophistication was beginning to slip. Maybe it was the heat or maybe it was me. I like to think it was me because this is how she always got when we did this, but we had never done it outside of the shed so I couldn’t know for sure.

	I’m not going to go into the details as to why a 28-year-old English teacher is trading underwear with her 15-year-old student or how it started. Why it started has never been as important to me as the fact that it happened. How it all came about is a story for another day, perhaps…

	‘Now the rest,’ she said, sounding more relaxed now.

	She held my panties to her nose and inhaled from them deeply, letting out a soft moan when she exhaled. She continued this while I undressed in front of her. In no time I was naked and standing in front of her, burning with embarrassment and excitement. I made a small gesture to hide my nakedness but there was no hiding my arousal from her. She could see how wet and flushed I was between my legs and how firm my nipples had become. She’d seen me naked lots of times but I still felt embarrassed every time she made me strip.

	Miss Shaw had undone the buttons of her jacket and taken it off. Her breasts were far larger than my humble B cups and were straining against her work shirt. She looked at me hungrily, drinking in the sight of my naked body as she inhaled the scent of my underwear.
Still holding my panties tightly in her hand, she stood up and walked towards me. With one arm wrapped around my neck, pulling me close to her, she smelled the perfume on my throat. Her other hand was gently rubbing me up and down between my breasts. I loved the way her hands felt on me. I wanted her to touch me more. I wanted her to caress me. I melted in her arms, giving myself to her completely, as I always did. She bit my neck and lashed me with her tongue, groping me roughly. She pushed a finger inside of me, forcing an embarrassed moan to escape my lips. I could feel the sweat on my skin forming into droplets and running down me.

	Without warning, Miss Shaw pushed me against a cabinet, pressing her body firmly against me so I was squashed between her and the metal. She held my face in her hands, pulling me into a kiss. Her tongue invaded my mouth immediately, exploring boldly and claiming all that it touched. I could hardly breath but never resisted, even when her hand tightened around my neck. When I spluttered and choked, she released me. I slumped to the floor, gasping for air as she stood over me. My, thin, pale body cowering beneath her mighty eyes, she gave the order.

	'Use your mouth.'

	I licked my lips and nodded. I knew what she meant and did not need any more details. By now I was more than willing to do anything she wanted. I was hers. I belonged to her; mind, body and soul.

	I kissed her legs. Starting with her feet and those Versace shoes, I planted small, delicate kisses on her flawless, smooth skin. When I reached her thigh, she grabbed a tuft of hair from the back of my head and pulled it back. With her other hand she lifted her skirt up past her waist, exposing the silk panties beneath. She pulled my head forward, burying it against the gusset of her expensive underwear. I kissed and licked hungrily at the hot, wetness I found there. I could taste her through the fabric and my mouth began to water. She pushed me hard into her pelvis so I could hardly breath. Still, I kissed and licked her obediently. She was moaning and grinding her hips against my face, her nails scratching the back of my head. I tapped her thigh frantically when I ran out of air and she gave me a second to breath before pulling me back into her. I hated her panties. I wanted them gone so I could please her properly. This continued for several minutes with a few breathing breaks in-between. Her breathing grew louder and more frustrated. I knew she was teasing herself with my face. She couldn’t cum through her panties the way she wanted to but she was building up to a climax.

	Finally, she let me go. I fell onto my back and lay on the dirty floor as she pulled her panties down her legs and dropped them on me. I could see how swollen and wet she’d become. My eyes grew wide as the fluid running down her thigh and licked my lips eagerly. I didn’t have to wait to taste it because she was on me in a moment. Her thighs now either side of my head, holding me still, she lowered her juicy pussy onto my mouth. I licked and sucked hungrily, like I was starving for her. Her taste filled my mouth and flooded my mind. Her cum was on my lips and over my tongue. Her scent filled my nose and her moans and cries of orgasmic bliss rung in my ears. When I looked up she was all I could see. She was looking down at me, cooing support. Taste, touch, scent, vision and sound. She filled all of it. Before I even realised it I was cumming too. She grazed my clit with the back of her hand and I came immediately. After that, she stroked me into multiple orgasms until she felt I was spent.

	She stood up off of me and looked down on me. I must have been a mess. Pale, skinny, dirty and my face a sticky mess. She helped me to my feet and pulled me into a hug. My mind was still whirling and I gladly accepted her embrace, like a child hugging her mother. I rested my head on her breast as I caught my breath. She led me over to the wooden crates and sat me down. I let her open me legs and kiss me pink slit tenderly. I leaned back, letting my brain swim in the ecstasy of her tongue lashing my little pussy. She did it so tenderly and lovingly that it was like being massaged into bliss. When she kissed up my body and slipped her tongue back into my mouth, I took her face in my hand and welcomed her.

	What I said next was quite by accident. Even know I don’t know if I actually said it or not. Maybe I just imagined saying it, or breathed in a way that sort of sounded like I said it.

	‘I love you,’ I whispered, or mouth, or whatever.

	Miss Shaw pulled away from me slowly. I panicked and watched for her reaction, but she gave none. Instead, she retrieved her silk panties from the floor and stuffed them gently into my mouth then kissed my forehead. I stayed like that; naked and with her panties hanging from my mouth, as I watched her dress herself. This time she wore my pink panties. She fixed herself quickly and in a moment she was almost exactly as she had been when she first arrived. If only I could be so effortlessly elegant. I was so far the opposite: dirty, naked, sweaty, dishevelled, humiliated and entirely dominated.

	She waited for me to dress myself before she yanked the bolt open and cool, fresh air rushed into our little shed. I was wearing her panties, damp and warm against my throbbing pussy.

	She stood in the doorway, glaring at me again.

	‘Friday. Same time,’ she said.

	I nodded.

	She blew me a kiss and was gone.

	I stayed in the shed for a little longer. It was quiet again. It was peaceful and silent and heavy, just as it had been earlier. The only sign she had even been here was the lingering scent of her perfume and juices. I admit, I almost cried. I sniffled a little and choked back tears but I’m not sure why. Maybe because she was gone. Maybe because she hadn’t reacted to what I may or may not have said. Maybe I just wanted her to stay a little longer.

	I left the shed, locking it behind me, and headed home. I wanted a shower and to add these new panties to my modest collection.