/lit/ - Literature

In my middle school, our principal was renowned as a nice person, and the assistant principal, Mr. Grobik, was known as the mean hardass bruiser prone to shouting at students. Tall and lean-athletic. An imposing monster to all the middle school boys. We never saw him smile. This reputation was largely from the beginning of the year where he allegedly (a.k.a. unassailable-fact to midfle-schoolers) chased an 8th grader down the hall for having pot and flying-superman-tackled him to the ground.

Anyway, I was also in 8th grade and I struggled with math, so my parents hired a tutor, Lily. Lily was 26 and, to me, a bombshell. She always sat very close next to me and I could feel the warmth off her body and, even now, have the image of the plumpness of her lips seared into my mind. Every session, I thought of almost nothing else than fantasies of her sexually rewarding or punishing me for my math performance. Naturally, this conditioned me into see math -> daydream about sex.

In math class, the girl who sat in front of me was Rory B., and I thought she was one of the prettiest girls in school, not in small part because 13 year old me felt her rear end had filled out much more quickly and proportionally than her peers.