First aid for the beautiful teacher

In my freshman year of college, our art teacher was a young and beautiful teaching assistant, around twenty-five or twenty-six years old. I heard she was a master's student at the university and, supposedly, the campus belle—1.60 meters tall, with long hair, fair skin, and a curvaceous figure. In short, she was the type of girl we boys couldn't help but stare at. So, during art class, not a single boy slept. We all stared intently, our eyes wide, lecherously at the teacher's beautiful face, because only then could we legitimately stare at a beautiful woman without being seen as a pervert. Being a student had so many advantages.

One Friday morning, the beautiful teacher arrived in a hurry, looking tired. As usual, our eyes followed her every move, watching the beautiful subjects unfold on the classroom floor. This was a long class, 90 minutes long. Halfway through, the teacher said she was tired and everyone should take a break before continuing. I'm short, so I sat in the front row. Coincidentally, my deskmate had stayed up late playing games and hadn't come to class that morning. So the teacher sat down next to me. My heart was pounding. In our rural area, things are very traditional. From elementary school to high school, I had never been so close to a woman. I could faintly smell the teacher's delicate fragrance, which made me feel lightheaded. Perhaps the teacher was really too tired, because she fell asleep on my desk.

Suddenly, her body swayed and she fell to the ground. "The teacher fainted! The teacher fainted..." Several timid girls in the class immediately burst into tears, and a few boys rushed to the principal's office. As for me, I don't know where I got the courage from, I laid the teacher's body flat on the ground, then placed my hands flat on her soft chest and pressed down hard, once, twice. Then I pinched her ivory nose with one hand, puffed out my cheeks, and blew into her cherry-like mouth. "The teacher's lipstick tastes so sweet," I thought to myself. "What are you doing?" At this moment, the principal hurriedly entered the school. "He's giving the teacher CPR," a student answered. I didn't care about the principal; I just wanted to blow as many times as I could. I pretended to be very skilled and blew air into the teacher's mouth again and again. Artificial respiration wasn't enough; emergency treatment was needed. Without a word, I ripped off the teacher's shirt buttons, then, ignoring everyone's astonished gazes, reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. This was to ensure unobstructed breathing and reduce pressure on her chest. Then came the climax: I pressed my hand directly onto the beautiful teacher's left breast and began performing CPR. The feel, especially the slight touch of the breast flesh against my palm—oh my god, in a different environment, I probably would have already ejaculated all over my pants.

Just at this moment of enjoying life's high, the principal arrived. "Everyone, open the windows to keep the air circulating," the principal began issuing orders. "Get up. Have you been professionally trained? Let me perform artificial respiration on Teacher Chen." As he spoke, the principal squatted down next to the art teacher. The principal was nearly 70 years old; perhaps people of his generation didn't brush their teeth, as his teeth were yellow, like they were covered with a thick layer of plaque. The principal puffed out his cheeks, about to kiss the beautiful teacher on the lips. We all closed our eyes, unable to bear it. Then, we heard a loud slap. "What are you doing?" The principal was slapped hard across the face. Unexpectedly, at that critical moment, the teacher woke up and, seeing a foul mouth coming towards her, instinctively slapped it back. "I... I was giving you CPR," the principal said, looking aggrieved. Just then, the paramedics arrived. As they were about to put the teacher on a stretcher, the teacher hurriedly said, "I'm fine, no need to go to the hospital. I've been working on the website template for 'My Love Story' website these past few nights and haven't been getting enough rest. I didn't expect to fall asleep as soon as I sat down." "I'll be fine after a rest. I'm sorry for the trouble." "I'm sorry, Principal, I didn't mean to," the teacher said, blushing and bowing apologetically to the principal. "It's alright, it's alright, welcome to faint again next time," the principal said, at a loss for words. "No, be careful and rest, don't faint again next time." "Haha..." We couldn't hold back anymore and burst into laughter. The principal realized he had said the wrong thing and ran away as fast as he could.

Whether the principal had said the wrong thing or accidentally spoken the truth... But I still hope the beautiful teacher faints again. Haha, the university president really gave me a chance to get intimate with a female teacher.

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First aid for the beautiful teacher

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