The English teacher's mentally challenged son

*Ring ring...

* "Classover."

"Stand up."

"Thank you, Teacher Li."

A series of listless voices echoed from the classroom of Class 3, Grade 8. No wonder; two consecutive periods of English test analysis, accompanied by my displeasure and stern attitude, had certainly been enough to put them through.

There was no way around it; the monthly exam results were truly terrible. The entire class, including the average and highest scores, had dropped. Especially my silly son, his performance had plummeted, making it impossible for me not to be angry.

During the last two periods of test analysis, he kept spacing out. Experienced teachers say that Grade 8 students are the hardest to manage, and I've certainly experienced it firsthand. After tidying up my things, I saw my son talking to two other students in the far corner of the classroom, so I called out, "Liu Chen, come here." My son hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Oh, coming, Mom... Teacher Li," and ran over with his backpack. I've always told him not to call me "Mom" at school, but "Teacher." I saw he was holding a DVD and asked, "What's that?" "Oh, it's a sci-fi movie Zeng Cong recommended." I felt a surge of anger. This brat did so poorly on his exams, didn't pay attention in class, and was still thinking about sci-fi movies after class. I frowned and said, "Liu Chen, what are you thinking about? No wonder your grades have dropped so much. Give it to me!" My son, terrified by my scolding, handed me the DVD. I saw that the DVD was titled "Ex Machina."

The background showed a girl with a robot body and a human face. I initially thought of confiscating the DVD, but then I reconsidered. I needed to talk to him properly and understand his thoughts. If I confiscated it, he would probably sulk and not speak to me for days. My husband was at sea, and I couldn't talk to him about it.

So I gave the CD back to him and said, "You're not allowed to watch it tonight. We'll go back and review the problems from this monthly exam. I have a meeting later, so you go home first. Have dinner on your way. Understand?" "Okay, okay." Perhaps because I didn't confiscate the CD, my son seemed a little surprised, and his answer was more cheerful than before.

After saying that, I picked up my bag and went straight to the small discussion room. Our grade has 11 classes, and in this monthly exam ranking, the class I teach has seen a significant drop in scores. I'm bound to get a scolding from the grade leader later. The grade leader, Ms. Zhao, is an older female teacher who has been making things difficult for me ever since I first joined the school a few years ago.

What I remember most vividly is when I first started working, I wore a business suit every day, with skirts that only went a little past my knees. She told me not to wear that, saying that the students at the school were going through puberty, and that what I wore would make them have inappropriate thoughts. I told her a few times, and I gradually changed to wearing trousers or knee-length business skirts, which I wear now.

It was mainly because of her nagging; actually, with my figure, I could make people have inappropriate thoughts no matter what I wore.

I've been a dancer since childhood. Standing at 1.67 meters tall with long limbs and fair skin, I'm quite alluring, especially to these kids—they're just too easy to look at. Since having children, my breasts and hips have developed in reverse, giving me an aura of unapproachability. This is evident in the overly attentive behavior of the male teachers. However, I usually keep a straight face when I'm with my students, probably to restrain myself.

The one-hour discussion ended, and as expected, I was relegated to the role of chief critic, receiving a torrent of criticism from the old woman. I packed my things, left the school, and prepared to take the subway home. It was already 8 PM.

Suddenly, a car stopped by the roadside, the window rolled down, and a middle-aged man's smiling face appeared inside: "Ms. Li, you've had a hard day. If it's on my way, could I give you a ride?" I recognized him as Mr. Chen, my physics teacher, and said, "No need for that, I can get home myself." "No problem, no problem, it's on my way." I knew it was getting late, and taking the bus home would probably take an hour. It was too late to have enough time to talk with my son, so I decided to ask Mr. Chen for help. "Thank you, Mr. Chen." I opened the door and got in, plopping down in the front seat. I was wearing black capri pants and a black fitted suit jacket over a white round-neck shirt. After getting in the car, Mr. Chen and I chatted casually about the monthly exams. I noticed him glancing at me frequently, and I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed.

I was dressed like this, so nothing could be seen underneath my clothes, and Mr. Chen had never seen my body before, yet he was still so aroused. It's clear that the sexual repression of middle school teachers is no exaggeration. Thinking about this, I couldn't help but think of myself. At 37, I was just like him. My husband was only home a few times a month because of work, and sometimes when he was home, we didn't have sex.

Women at this age need someone to rely on, both emotionally and physically. But perhaps no one in real life can fulfill my fantasies, so I've poured all my energy into my work, and even my old style of dress has become so rigid.

As I was talking, we arrived home. I thanked Teacher Chen and got out of the car to go home. Unexpectedly, the scene in the living room that greeted me when I opened the door terrified me.

On the 75-inch TV, a naked man and woman in pajamas were dancing. The man was European, and the woman was Asian, slender and tall, clearly a model. They were dancing strangely to music. The person in front of the TV was none other than my son.

I roared, "Liu Chen, what are you doing!" Without even changing my shoes, I rushed towards my son sitting on the sofa.

"No, no, it's nothing, Mom... This is a sci-fi movie Zeng Cong gave me today." "Sci-fi movie? Is this a sci-fi movie? Sci-fi movies don't show people wearing clothes?" "Really, really... Mom... If you don't believe me, fast forward and watch..." My son eagerly grabbed the remote and started fast-forwarding and rewinding to prove he wasn't lying. I glanced at the rapidly changing scenes on TV and realized it was indeed likely a sci-fi movie. Most of the scenes took place in a serene hotel, without the nudity I'd seen when I entered. As an English teacher, I realized this was probably just one scene, not even a sex scene, and my son probably didn't know.

Still, I was unhappy, but my tone wasn't as aggressive as before. I said, "Didn't I tell you not to watch this when you get back? You did so badly on your exams, and you're still thinking about movies. Turn it off and go back to your room to study!" My son said with a sigh of relief, "Okay, okay."

Then he turned off the movie and got up to go to his bedroom. The moment he stood up, I saw a small tent sticking up in his loose school pants. Suddenly, those three words from before popped into my mind—sexual repression!

I suddenly realized that my 14-year-old son had officially entered puberty, and he was probably starting to have sexual curiosity. No wonder he didn't react when I came in; the naked scene earlier was probably too shocking for such a young boy, so he didn't even notice me coming in.

Considering his recent listlessness, I was even more certain that this was due to sexual repression during puberty. But what could I do? Should I, as his mother, find him a girlfriend to relieve his urges?

Thinking of this, I couldn't help but chuckle. I went back to my room, quickly changed my clothes, and went to my son's bedroom, knocking on the door. My son's voice came from inside: "Come in." I opened the door and went in, ready to talk to him about the recent monthly exam. My son had dropped from over 20th in his class to 40th, a dramatic decline. Based on my years of teaching experience, this could only be due to dating or being addicted to online games. Online games? No, the computer at home has a family mode; if he were secretly playing games, I would definitely know.

It didn't seem like he was in a relationship either. It wasn't that I was his English teacher, but rather that with his 1.6-meter height and skinny build, although he inherited most of my good looks, his unkempt appearance made him rather unattractive. I doubted any girl would like him.

As I chatted with my son, my eyes darted left and right, and I noticed a small wet stain between his legs on his school trousers. A thought flashed through my mind—this wasn't a wet stain; it was prostatic fluid.

I'm now certain that my son's problem is indeed related to sex. His school trousers are quite thick, and I could see prostatic fluid on them, so there's probably even more in his underwear. I guess he's been secretly watching porn on his phone in his bedroom. The phone was a reward I gave him last semester for being in the top ten of his final exams; I never expected it to cause him this.

After talking for half an hour, I left his bedroom to rest. I know that as soon as I leave, he'll definitely pick up his phone again to watch porn; kids at this stage have no self-control when it comes to sex.

I'm feeling a bit helpless now, not knowing what to do with my son. He'll be in his final year of junior high in a few months, and if he continues like this, I feel like all my previous efforts will be wasted. Sigh, I have to think of something.

Back in my own bedroom, I looked at my lesson plans and realized it was getting late, almost 11 pm. I got up and went to the bathroom to wash up. The warm shower water washed over my body, washing away the day's fatigue. My master bedroom's bathroom is particularly large; we made adjustments during the design phase, and the mirror on the vanity is especially big.

**********

...

Thinking about all this, I felt a slight itch in my lower body. I took off the showerhead, adjusted the water flow, and rinsed my genitals. The slightly tingling water washed away my loneliness. I knew I couldn't possibly take off my clothes for my son, but perhaps I could offer him a little something to encourage his studies.

I shifted my gaze to my long, beautiful legs in the mirror. My weekly running routine had given me beautiful leg lines—slender calves and full thighs. My husband wasn't my first man. I had several boyfriends during college, before I had my son, and my breasts weren't nearly as big as they are now. My legs were the most alluring part of my body, always managing to drive my men wild with desire.

When I first married my husband, he bought me all sorts of stockings. He was always particularly excited whenever I wore them with 10cm stilettos. Thinking about all this made me feel a little lost. It's possible that I haven't changed, but he's gotten tired of me. Maybe that's just how marriage is. Looking at my 100cm long legs, I thought maybe I could start from there.

The next day, I didn't have many classes, only one class a day. I sneaked into the classroom a few times to check on my son. He had no energy or spirit in class; it seemed he'd been watching too much porn on his phone the day before. I became even more convinced of my suspicions, but I wasn't sure if my son knew his mother was so sexy and alluring. After all, what child would think of their mother in that way?

So I decided to test him first. We didn't go to school together in the morning, but we usually went home together in the evening if we had nothing else to do. That day, on the bus, I said to my son, "Son, have you noticed that Mommy has gained weight lately?" "No, Mommy's about the same every day."

"I weighed myself yesterday, and I've gained two pounds. Don't you even care about Mommy?" "I didn't notice, Mommy..." I smiled charmingly. I said, "Can't you notice? You should look at Mommy more often." I emphasized the word "look" a little. My son probably hadn't seen me smile so charmingly before; he was a little stunned and didn't know what to say.

At 10 PM, after finishing my lesson plans, I called to my son in the bedroom, "Son, want to go for a run with Mom?" After a while, he replied, "No."

"Okay, then Mom's going. You'll be home alone." I said, turning to go to my room to change.

I think I slammed the door shut a little when I called him earlier, so I opened it again. But I didn't close the door properly. There are ten aisles leading from the master bedroom door. I checked myself and adjusted the angle. Of course, no one from the doorway could see me changing, but if I raised my hand, they could see my hand, not my body.

However, if someone was at the door, I could tell from the shadow cast by the living room light. Peeping at Mom changing, hehe, I wonder if my son thought of it, or even dared to.

Thinking about it, I felt a little naughty, scheming against a 14-year-old boy like that. I started changing out of my black and gray work suit, taking off my cotton bra and underwear, and putting on a sports bra and sweatshirt. I figured I was changing slowly, otherwise it would only take a minute if I were quick. I wanted to give my son some time.

Unfortunately, I didn't see a shadow, nor did I hear him open the door. Could it be that the little guy really couldn't see his beautiful mother? I was a little angry and disappointed that my carefully planned scheme had failed.

But I didn't give up. I ran every day for the next few days. Normally I run twice a week, but to test my son, I ran every day, so I changed clothes slowly each day, leaving the bedroom door open. Finally, on the fourth day, I heard a soft sound of the door opening while I was changing.

My heart started pounding. My son was here? I didn't expect to be so nervous; I didn't dare move. I was afraid he would actually be looking from the doorway, because from that angle, I couldn't see anything. I saw a tiny shadow flicker at the door. Had my son sneaked in to watch his mother change?

I wasn't sure, so I made a bold move. I turned around and lifted my right leg, pretending to put on my athletic pants. But I did it very, very slowly. From that angle, if my son were at the door, he could see my entire calf and a bit of my thigh.

Although it wasn't anything particularly revealing, I was confident that any man who saw my smooth, beautiful legs would be moved, let alone a boy just entering puberty. As I slowly raised my right leg, my son could gradually see it. Suddenly, I heard a swallowing sound. Sure enough

! My son had taken the bait. A charming smile appeared on my lips as I withdrew my leg. I called out,

"Son, Mom's going out for a run." A shadow flickered at the door, followed by light footsteps—probably a hasty escape. ********** ... Last night, I quietly tidied up the wardrobe, hanging up all my stockings instead of locking them in the drawer as usual. I took the opportunity to chat with my son casually, and then naturally opened the wardrobe to start cleaning inside. As soon as the wardrobe was open, my son noticeably slowed down, his eyes constantly glancing at the stockings I had hung up. I laughed, "Sweetie, mop properly, what are you looking at?" "Oh, oh..." My son shifted his gaze like a thief and continued mopping. But a moment later, his eyes were drawn back to the stockings. I had actually finished cleaning the wardrobe long ago, deliberately ignoring the door. I coughed lightly and said, "Still looking?" "Oh... I'm sorry, Mom... I just saw so many stockings in the wardrobe, I was a little curious," my son stammered.

I was secretly delighted and said, "It's normal for women to wear stockings." Using the word "woman" was somewhat of a sexual innuendo for my son.

"But I've never seen Mom wear many of them..." my son said again.

I laughed,

"Yes, you have. Look at these on the left, don't you wear them every day?"

I pointed to the several pairs of 100D black pantyhose.

"But I've never seen those on the right." My son stopped hesitating and stared intently at the stockings on the right.

I was even more pleased and said, "The grade leader doesn't allow us to wear these stockings." "Why?" "They're too thin! You see, Mom usually wears 100D, these on the right are 50, 30, and the one on the far right is 15. They're all too thin for school. And some flesh-colored ones, gray ones, and ones with flowers are also not allowed, otherwise the grade leader will scold me to death." I playfully explained the stockings to my son.

"Oh, I see. No wonder Mom always wears black, opaque socks. I didn't know there were so many kinds of socks." "Of course! Mom wants to wear thin stockings too, they're breathable!" I laughed, touching a pair of 50D black pantyhose, and tentatively asked my son.

"Then Mom can wear them at home!" my son excitedly replied.

I couldn't help but laugh. Who wears stockings at home? Only my son, who's completely captivated by me, would think that. I said, "Wear them at home for you to see? You little idiot." My son didn't know what to say for a moment, and lowered his head, looking at the floor.

I continued, "Showing them to my good son isn't impossible, but Mom has two conditions." "Ah, really? What conditions, Mom? Tell me quickly!" I laughed, "What's the rush? You don't even know if you can do it. First, you have to go for a run every night. And because you have to go for a run, you have to finish your homework an hour early. Then you can let Mom check it." "Really? I'll go do my homework now!" My son hurriedly prepared to leave my room.

I stopped him and said, "Hang in there for a week."

"Ah... another week, Mom?"

"Of course! You think it's so easy to get something like this? But if you stick to it well, Mom might consider wearing these for you." I pointed to the second-to-last pair of black 30D bodysuits on the right.

My son's eyes widened; perhaps he hadn't expected to be able to skip straight to even thinner stockings. He nodded excitedly and said, "Mmm." ************ For the next week, my son indeed started studying and exercising as I instructed. When I checked his homework, I discovered that his actual academic level wasn't as drastically declining as his exam results suggested. It was indeed sexual repression causing him to think about random things every day.

A week passed quickly, and it was Friday night. My son finished his homework early and went for a run. Still a little sweaty, he came to the living room, sat on the sofa, wanting to say something but hesitant to. I couldn't help but laugh; it felt like a teenager was being controlled. I coughed and said,

"Chenchen, what are you doing? Aren't you going to take a shower?"

"Mom...it's Friday today," my son stammered.

"Hehe, little guy, you want a reward without even asking Mom how you did this week," I teased.

"Mom, I can do everything you say," my son said anxiously.

"Mom is very satisfied with things at home, but you still need to work harder in school. But, Mom will definitely keep her promises. 10 minutes, only 10 minutes." "Okay," my son nodded vigorously.

"Then you wait." I lazily got up and walked towards the bedroom.

********** ...

I went back to the bedroom, took off the 30D pantyhose, and changed into them. Although my overall outfit remained the same, the change to ultra-thin stockings instantly made me look much more alluring, and I felt a slight thrill. I walked out of the bedroom in my slippers.

My son, who was on the sofa, saw me leave and his eyes were immediately locked on my beautiful legs, but he didn't dare stare. I couldn't help but chuckle and said, "Let's start the timer, only 10 minutes." Then I gracefully walked to the sofa next to him and sat down, casually crossing my legs. This position caused my knee-length skirt to ride up, revealing my entire calf and a little bit of my thigh. I kicked off my slippers, alluringly looking at my delicate feet. Under the living room light, the already sheer stockings became even more transparent, revealing my entire beautiful leg. I could even see the pink veins protruding on the instep.

Needless to say, my son was no longer looking furtively at my crossed legs; his eyes were now fixed on them. I slowly swept my hands from my toes down to the hem of my skirt, drool dripping from my mouth.

I said with a smug grin, "Aren't Mommy's feet pretty?"

"Yes...pretty..."

"Hehe, Mommy's only size 35." Saying this, I crossed my legs, switching the crossed legs, my two stockinged legs rubbing against each other, making a "sss...sss..." sound. Coupled with my seductive smile, my son stared wide-eyed, barely daring to breathe. I noticed a small tent in his sweatpants and laughed, "Ten minutes is about enough." Then, I gracefully stood up, my bare stockinged feet disappearing into the unlit master bedroom. My son could see my deliberately swaying hips from behind, accompanied by the sound of the stockings rubbing together, slowly disappearing into the darkness of the bedroom corridor.

Back in the bedroom, I found myself a little wet. I was very satisfied with my performance; I thought that now my son probably only had eyes for me, his beautiful teacher.

I took off my stockings, put on my long-sleeved shirt and trousers, and returned to the living room. My son was still sitting blankly on the sofa, seemingly still reeling from the cigarette scene. Similarly, the little tent that had formed between his legs was also there.

I had been so focused on seducing him that I hadn't noticed, but now, looking closely, I realized his penis wasn't very big, nothing compared to his father's. But perhaps it was still developing, I thought.

"Are you satisfied with this treat, son?" I asked with a smile.

"Satisfied, satisfied," my son said happily.

"Can we see it again next week?"

"No, not next week," I said.

"Why?" my son asked anxiously. "I'll work extra hard this week, I'll pay close attention in class." "Next week is the monthly exam. What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, right, next week is the monthly exam again," my son said dejectedly.

"How about this, if you get into the top 25 in your class this time, and regain your previous grades, Mom might consider promoting you." "Promote?" my son asked blankly.

I got up, leaned close to my son's ear, and whispered sweetly, "15 days, 20 minutes, knee-length skirt." Then, blushing, I quickly walked back to the bedroom, leaving my son sitting dumbfounded on the sofa.

[The End]

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The English teacher's mentally challenged son

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