my teacher's titties

When I was in kindergarten, I remember having a blast peeking through my teacher's blouse to have a look at her titties. Before you conclude that I have been a maniac since I was five, let me tell you that it was nothing sexual for me. I didn't have a boner while watching her bosom jiggle as she bent over to pick up books and stuff. Besides, doing it with a woman 40 years my senior isn't exactly the kind of thing that would make my blood do the boogie up and down my penis shaft. It's like making out with your own mother. Oedipus Complex is just not for me. And it wasn't boob-envy either, if there ever is such a concept.

I just enjoyed looking at her breasts. That's all. The fact that it was taboo made the experience more exhilarating. It was like conquering the unconquerable.

She wasn't a bombshell or anything. Far from it. Aside from being fairly advanced in age, she was probably the worst teacher I've ever had. I was so afraid of her that I would rather pee in my shorts than ask for her permission to go to the bathroom. I used to cry a lot in the classroom, too. I was the type of kid who would wail hysterically if my father so much as left the parents' waiting area to go pee. I just couldn't stand the thought of being alone in a room full of strange kids herded by a terrible teacher who exposed her titties every time she bent over. And she didn't even wear a decent bra. It was yellowed and tattered at the edges.

She had this strange habit of dismissing her pupils' brilliant answers as sheer luck. I had no idea why she did that. All I knew was that I grew scared of her day after day. Being the only pupil who required a guardian to be always present during class, I, naturally, was already marked by this teacher. She had nothing but disdain for me and my behavior. She sneered at me most of the time, which caused me to clam up even more, and, of course, gawk at her titties longer.
Strange how kids have such dirty thoughts. Or was it dirty at all, considering the lack of sexual intent? It probably was my way of getting back at her. Surely, having some pupil ogle at your titties is a small price to pay for traumatizing kids who peed in their shorts. Since she was my very first teacher, she became the epitome of what a teacher should be. I had the impression that all teachers were monsters who were always ready to growl at you and then show you their titties. This made me become an introvert all throughout gradeschool.

Things might have been different if she hadn't been like that. If she had only worn a blouse that wasn't too loose, or a bra that could actually conceal what it promises to conceal, then I wouldn't have probably turned out the way I did (a horny bastard, that is). Of course, it's much too simplistic to blame everything on my teacher's boobs. That's totally unfair to mammary glands in general. At any rate, I sort of enjoyed seeing her ancient bosom (yes, go ahead, you can cringe now). I just wish she had already outgrown her old habits. Otherwise, we would eventually have kids who would associate titties with gall bladder problems.