My ENF stories

[blogomatic]

Hit us with all of them!

[KnightMan]

#8 + F please

[Spathic Swordmaiden]

4. The time I spent a CFNF night with my middle school teacher.

-

This happened when I was in middle school. I do not remember my exact age, but it was either my second or third year, so I was 12 or 13 years old. At the time, I was quite attached to my middle school teacher Ms. Joy (name changed for identity protection, of course).

Ms. Joy was quite young for a middle school teacher, though I don't recall her exact age. It was definitely twenty-something. Even with my early puberty I thought she towered over me, but she had a nurturing presence despite her bubbly personality. I believe I had heard she had been a cheerleader in high school and a sorority girl in college, and had yet to truly grow out of the "college co-ed" mindset. Perhaps that's why she had more of a "big sis" energy towards students such as myself.

Looking back, I was always a very emotionally attached girl but I believe Ms. Joy took extra interest in me because of how much I was teased for being unusually overdeveloped for my age. There were many times where she would take me aside for a moment to give me words of encouragement or ask if I had anything to get off my chest. During moments where I was feeling overwhelmed, she would place a hand on my shoulder, something I think was against school regulations but frankly I was grateful for the comforting touch due to growing up in a large, affectionate family.

I don't remember the exact reason but my mother and I had to go to Ms. Joy's house for some kind of parent/teacher meeting. It involved talking about things written on papers, but for the life of me my tweenaged brain just didn't care enough to commit the exact nature of the meeting to memory. It was later in the afternoon when my mother got a call. Something to do with one of my other siblings, and it was urgent. I was very surprised when she turned to Ms. Joy and asked if she would keep an eye on me while she went out to deal with this crisis. Ms. Joy readily agreed and just like that I was alone with my favorite teacher.

Ms. Joy's eyes lit up and she grabbed both my tiny hands, looking absolutely giddy. "What should we do? Do you like movies? Video games? Want to do our nails? I could give you a pedicure or some makeup lessons?" I felt like I was being overwhelmed by the Energizer Bunny. She reached up to undo the messy bun her hair was in, letting her wavy blonde locks fall free. As I watched this, I noticed her flawless tanned skin and felt something in me warm up over just how beautiful I was realizing she was. Unaware of my sapphic feelings, Ms. Joy simply scooped me into her arms, squealing in utter delight. "Oh, we're gonna have so much fun! I always wanted a little sister!"

One would think hanging out with their teacher, even their favorite teacher, would be immensely awkward. But I had grown up with aunts frequently visiting my home, so it wasn't hard to just see my favorite teacher as similar to one of my younger aunts. Just with blonde instead of red hair and far less Jewish. Ah ha ha ha.

My two sisters were too old and too young respectively to do many activities with me, so while I was a little shy at first, I truly did enjoy the next two or three hours as she showed me how to paint my nails, apply a subtle bit of makeup, and let me do her hair up into different hairstyles. I expected her to order food when 5pm arrived but instead she told me to head to the bathroom and get a shower. I nodded and scurried down the hall. The bathroom was different from ours, but the faucet worked similarly, so a bright kid like me could figure it out. I removed my white sun dress, panties, and glasses, folding them and neatly placing them atop the toilet, then climbed in and rinsed myself off. There were far too many shampoos and conditioners and body washes and other shower products. I think I saw twenty bottles at least, many of which were just different brands or scents of the same kind of cleansing substance. It was a bit daunting to choose which one to use but when I climbed out and toweled off I realized that my clothes were gone.

Embarrassment set in and my cheeks flushed. I wrapped the big powder pink bath towel around my little body and cautiously padded barefoot out into the hallway. It was a simple single story home with only one bedroom and one bath and I idly worried that Mr. Joy might come home and see me in my state of undress. The fact she never wore a wedding band and none of the photos on the walls showed her with a hubby should have clued me in sooner that she was not married. On a related note, she would later marry a woman from the same college sorority she was in.

I padded barefoot into the kitchen, clutching the towel around myself as I saw Ms. Joy over the hot stove, dressed in a frilly tartan apron that gave her a domestic look despite her tanned, blonde college co-ed looks and valley girl accent. Rather than a mother or big sister though, my blossoming sexuality was instead getting different vibes. "Wife material" is the term I would use nowadays.

Before I worked up the nerve to speak, Ms. Joy looked over her shoulder, doing a double-take. "Oh, sweetie!" she cried, her wooden spoon not ceasing its movements. "You took longer than I thought. Maybe I should have showed you how to work the shower, but I wanted to get dinner ready. I put your clothes in the wash. I'd give you something to wear, but I don't think anything I have could fit you. But that towel is clean and fluffy and your dress and little panties should be ready in two hours, okey-dokey?"

I felt very vulnerable, but... At the same time, Ms. Joy was my favorite teacher, so I knew I didn't have anything to worry about. But being in a new location without my clothes, I couldn't help my nerves acting up. I let out a little squeak as my only response and retreated to the sofa in the living room. I sunk into the cushions and curiously watched Ms. Joy cook.

A storm rolled in seemingly without warning. I didn't even notice the rain battering the house until the boom of thunder hit. Around that same time, Ms. Joy called me into the kitchen, where a square kitchen table with two chairs provided us a dining area. I was surprised to see she had made shakshusa, a traditional Jewish dish of simmering gently poached eggs in a chunky tomato and bell pepper sauce. Ms. Joy looked to have added minced lamb chops, too, as meat was an optional part of shakshusa. I looked at my favorite teacher in amazement and she gave a cheeky grin.

"Surprised? I don't know if your family does that kosher thing so I thought it would be safer to just make something I wouldn't have to guess on. My roomie in college was an Italian Jew and she showed me how to make this," she explained.

Even at my young age, I knew what she was talking about, as I had learned about Jewish ethnic groups in Hebrew school. We were the only Jewish family in town but mom, dad, or one of our grandparents always drove us to the next town over every Sunday to attend. The Italian Jews (or Italkim) were neither Ashkenazim nor Sepharadim nor Mizrahim, but a completely unique Edot that had their own independent culture. The Italian Jews are among the oldest populations of Europe, and had their own subset of cuisine among Jewish culinary tradition. FYI, matzo ball soup should be a year-round thing, rather than just Passover, but I digress.

I also had to give her credit for the kosher thing. While most commonly known as the rule that observant Jews couldn't eat pork or shellfish, kashrut had many other specifications, but was more or less optional to modern Jewish-Americans. My family only partially observed dietary law, since it just wasn't practical to get a lamb or cow butchered by a shochet in accordance with Jewish law in the Deep South. We wouldn't buy and cook pork or shellfish by choice, but our family policy was that we would eat shellfish or pork dishes if there wasn't much else available at the location we had to eat out at or if we were at another family's house as guests. Call it Southern politeness, but we just didn't feel adhering to kosher diet was more important than budget or humble acceptance of Southern hospitality. But to you reading this, please note: Nothing is more annoying to us Jews than when you guys assume every single aspect of Jewish religious practice you've heard about is 100% mandatory for all Jews. You guys don't follow every single practice of Christianity do you? We pick and choose based on how observant we are just like you guys, FFS, so don't always question kosher observance when you see a Jew eat bacon. Even when I try to observe some basic lever of kosher, it takes a Jew of the utmost iron will to be able to resist bacon!

Sorry, bit of a tangent there. Always wanted to get that out of my system...

Anyway, to my further surprise, it was very good. I swallowed my bite and shyly told Ms. Joy that she was an amazing cook. Her response was to just giggle.

It was almost 6pm when we were done with our dinner and after moving my clothes from the washer to the dryer, Ms. Joy joined me on the sofa to put a movie on. As the sky outside darkened, I realized how long I had been there and wondered what was taking my mom so long.

I don't remember what movie we watched and I think that's because something else was taking up my attention then.

As we settled into the soft, cushy couch I found myself sitting in Ms. Joy's lap, though I can't recall how I ended up there. She gently played with my crimson red locks and as her hands moved lower, she found my bare shoulders. I gasped as my towel fell loose to exposed my rapidly developing breasts, but I was too worried about how Ms. Joy might react if I covered myself to adjust my only cover. For you see, she had begun massaging my little tweenaged shoulders and my blossoming sapphic desires didn't want it to stop!

I still remember it vividly. It was definitely up there among my formative moments growing up. My favorite middle school teacher massaging my neck, shoulders, and upper back felt ten times better than my grandfather's back-scratching sessions. I felt hot and I remember making moans and cat-like mewls as she rubbed and kneaded me. Her finger grazed the side of my breast and I let out a gasp. With no resistance from me, Ms. Joy lightly cupped my boobs.

"Oh, sweetie... These are so big for your age, aren't they? Do the boys tease you?" I remember her whispering into my ear, and I could only whimper in response. "Well, don't worry. I was an early bloomer, myself, and by the time I got to college the girls loved my boobies. You're gonna be a really bodacious knockout when you hit high school, I just know it."

I was panting and gasping. The massage was bad enough but having my precocious sapphic crush talk about my breasts like that was overloading my brain with pubescent arousal. I was only snapped out of it when the phone rang. Without getting up, Ms. Joy picked it up, greeting my mother and asking when she would be by to pick me up.

The crack of thunder answered that question. From how Ms. Joy's half of the phone call sounded, a huge storm had rolled in and flash flooding was getting roads shut down. My mom wouldn't be able to make it and asked if Ms. Joy wouldn't mind if I stayed the night. In full teacher mode, Ms. Joy responded that she would make a bed for me and have me ready for mom to pick me up tomorrow. The moment she hung up, she was back into her sorority girl off-duty mode.

I don't remember much about what happened between the phone call and this next part, but a massive crack of thunder occurred following by the lights and TV growing out. And with them, the dryer with my still-soggy clothes in them. I let out a scream, only to feel Ms. Joy wrap me in her arms. I whirled around, letting the towel fall to the floor, as I buried my face in my favorite teacher's ample bosom. Looking back, I think she was a DD-cup, so I had quite the pillows for my use. She was wearing a partially unzipped pink sweatsuit and the feel of her bare cleavage against my face was making my head swim.

"Sweetie, don't worry. I've got a battery-powered lantern we can use. Just let me go get it and-"

"No!" My cry was muffled by her breasts. I don't know if it was the fact the blackout had shocked me out of my orgasmic stupor or if the unfamiliar location had exacerbated my anxiety, but I was scared stiff and wanted nothing but the soft embrace of my teacher at that moment. Ms. Joy understood and wrapped my naked little body in her arms.

"Everything's okay now, little one... Big sis is here to take care of you..." In response to her whispers, I whimpered, my naked body trembling. "Hush, now. Feel my fingers stroke through your hair. Your hair is so soft..." She let out a quiet giggle. "You're such a good girl..." She started to hum a song. A few moments later, she kissed my forehead, making me melt in her lap.

I'm not sure how long I was sitting in Ms. Joy's lap, completely naked and with her arms tightly wrapped around me. The feeling of my face buried in her soft breasts was pure bliss. Her humming soothed me despite the storm raging outside, a veritable safe haven from the chaos outside. But at some point, she stood up and easily hefted my naked body into her arms. I felt very self-conscious of my nudity and covered my prominent boobs with my hands, but the way she carried me like a princess or bride make my face heat up. It was as if my body understood these sapphic feelings before my brain did. Despite the power outage, she seemed to have memorized the layout of her house, as she navigated to her bedroom with ease and laid my nude 12-year-old body on the bed. I lamented it was so dark because I was only able to make out the vague shapes of her moving to her closet and changing out of her sweatsuit into a babydoll.

She climbed into bed with me and pulled the covers over the both of us, drawing my tiny naked body into her embrace. I felt a warm and soft feeling deep in my core as I effectively became my teacher's nude body pillow. She kissed me on the forehead and nuzzled into my cheek, sighing contentedly. I prayed she didn't hear the moan that left my lips as her hand gently brushed against my breast, gliding down my body until it rested dangerously close to my little girlhood. I have no idea how I slept that night, but somehow I managed it. It was such a formative experience for me, to this day, I swear I sometimes remember Ms. Joy's body heat...

-

The storm broke come morning. I woke to find myself still in Ms. Joy's arms, though she was awake and looking at me with a smile on her face. She giggled and booped me on the nose. "Morning, little one. How'd ya sleep?"

I only let out a squeak in response, causing my favorite teacher to giggle again. She threw the blanket off us, causing me to let out another squeak as I abruptly felt very exposed. But Ms. Joy only showed amusement at her student's nudity.

"I'll go make breakfast and get your clothes through the dryer again. Join me when you're done with your morning rituals, okay little one?"

I noted she had started calling me "little one" ever since my little storm phobia episode last night. It felt good though I misinterpreted it. At the time I had deluded myself into thinking my favorite teacher was returning my crush, but now I realize she was just indulging in her fantasy of having a little sister. It would be inappropriate for a teacher to sleep in the same bed as her naked 12-year-old student, but an older and younger sister? It was nothing sexual to her, and I don't know if I should feel relieved or disappointed to know that now.

I was definitely more at ease as I padded naked to the kitchen table and sat, awaiting breakfast. As we ate our bagels with jelly and cream cheese, I saw Ms. Joy glancing at my overdeveloped breasts now and then, causing me to straighten my back in a brief spike of boldness, though she didn't show any reaction. I suspect she was curious just how busty I would be at her age if I was already that big at age 12 or 13.

When the dryer dinged with my clothes, I just shook my head when Ms. Joy glanced at me. She giggled and, popping the last bite of her bagel into her mouth, she stood up and gestured for me to follow. I did as she led her nude charge to the bathroom. I wondered what she would do and was surprised when she began filling the bathtub. My mind flew to fantasies of married couples bathing together but I'm sure this was just Ms. Joy having always wanted to bathe the little sister she never had. I eagerly climbed into the hot water once the tub was full. Ms. Joy added bubble solution and I nearly purred as she scrubbed my naked little body. Perhaps the only thing making me doubt her platonic and familial view towards me in her off-duty mode was the fact she scrubbed my breasts clean despite me being able to reach them. But she avoided washing my girlhood so perhaps it was just her having less standards about breasts being private parts due to topless antics on her old college campus. She was definitely the type to do topless sunbathing on college grounds.

When I was squeaky clean she held open another powder pink fluffy towel and I nearly jumped into it. She dried me to the tune of my ticklish giggles and, completely okay with my nudity now, I followed her to the sofa to watch morning kid's programs, either Nick Jr. or some equivalent at the time. I laid face-down on my teacher's lap, my bare butt facing up, and moaned periodically as Ms. Joy massaged my legs and back. Even now, looking back, I'm surprised how comfortable and defenseless I was acting.

After a call from my mother, I reluctantly got dressed. When my mom arrived she thanked Ms. Joy for watching over me, who assured mom that I was a little angel the entire night. She knelt down and gave me one last hug, a forehead kiss, and a ruffle of my hair before we parted ways. Curiously, just before we left, she advised my mother that they should look into shopping for my first bra soon. I blushed as my mom and teacher shared a laugh at my expense.

Despite what one may think, I did not rekindle my childhood nudism from this. Once removed from the intimate situation, I was back to my self-conscious self, though I think this helped me feel more comfortable being nude in more intimate settings. I never met Ms. Joy outside of school again, so I only ever saw her in teacher mode, but that night with her is something that keeps me warm to this day as a huge step towards realizing I liked girls. I also suspect it laid the seed for my full realization towards my nudity fetishes.

[Freesub]

Fantastic! The whole CFNF and the way she viewed it as a little sister, but to you the touching of your breasts and her seeing your pussy causing your crush to intensify was fantastic to read.

P.S. I'm starting to get really curious about just how over developed you were at that age. Ms. Joy didn't take a picture, did she?

[Spathic Swordmaiden]

Fantastic! The whole CFNF and the way she viewed it as a little sister, but to you the touching of your breasts and her seeing your pussy causing your crush to intensify was fantastic to read.

P.S. I'm starting to get really curious about just how over developed you were at that age. Ms. Joy didn't take a picture, did she?

Ah ha ha. No, she didn't take a picture.

I did not get my first bra until I was almost 14. When I did it was either a C-cup or a D-cup. That should give you an idea of how overdeveloped I was barely a year earlier.

A bonus fact that I could not fit in the story is who Ms. Joy married years later. It was, in fact, the Italian Jew roommate she had in college.

[Freesub]

Fantastic! The whole CFNF and the way she viewed it as a little sister, but to you the touching of your breasts and her seeing your pussy causing your crush to intensify was fantastic to read.

P.S. I'm starting to get really curious about just how over developed you were at that age. Ms. Joy didn't take a picture, did she?

Ah ha ha. No, she didn't take a picture.

I did not get my first bra until I was almost 14. When I did it was either a C-cup or a D-cup. That should give you an idea of how overdeveloped I was barely a year earlier.

A bonus fact that I could not fit in the story is who Ms. Joy married years later. It was, in fact, the Italian Jew roommate she had in college.

I'm guessing the time leading up to your first bra was quite enjoyable for your male classmates and friends

[Spathic Swordmaiden]

Fantastic! The whole CFNF and the way she viewed it as a little sister, but to you the touching of your breasts and her seeing your pussy causing your crush to intensify was fantastic to read.

P.S. I'm starting to get really curious about just how over developed you were at that age. Ms. Joy didn't take a picture, did she?

Ah ha ha. No, she didn't take a picture.

I did not get my first bra until I was almost 14. When I did it was either a C-cup or a D-cup. That should give you an idea of how overdeveloped I was barely a year earlier.

A bonus fact that I could not fit in the story is who Ms. Joy married years later. It was, in fact, the Italian Jew roommate she had in college.

I'm guessing the time leading up to your first bra was quite enjoyable for your male classmates and friends

Yes, I got many stares in middle school. Some blatantly would take actions which allowed them to get a better look at my bustline from certain angles, or were quick to try and get a glance when I had to bend over for some reason. You would think this was exclusive to boys, but even some of the girls would do this, albeit not as many would as the boys did.

I was bullied a bit but most of the girls were jealous in a complimentary way rather than a cruel way and most of the boys only looked and teased with words rather than physical actions. But I still found it embarrassing regardless.

I theorize the reason for the lack of stereotypical cruel, sadistic bullying towards me in my middle school was either my family's good reputation around the town, our friendly relations with the town police force, my uncle's position in the local town government as a town hall official, or our Jewish lifestyle making kids afraid of being seen as anti-Semitic after history class lessons on WWII taught them about Jewish persecution.

What is interesting is that when I moved on to high school, the bullying grew in intensity, but lessened in quantity. Perhaps because of the boys and girls fully awakening to their pubescent sex drives, I was seen less as a spectacle to comment about and look at as if a tourist attraction and more as a target of sexual interest to pursue for libidinous reasons. I believe some of the girls in my school even had their lesbian or bisexual awakenings because of seeing my breasts bare in the locker room and asking to feel them, but that is just my personal theory.

Admittedly, when the girls in the locker room suggested that it was my kosher diet which fed my breasts to grow so large, I genuinely laughed and still find the joke funny to this day. It was some levity about my body that I think helped me not be as ashamed of my breasts as I potentially would have.

[Freesub]

Ah ha ha. No, she didn't take a picture.

I did not get my first bra until I was almost 14. When I did it was either a C-cup or a D-cup. That should give you an idea of how overdeveloped I was barely a year earlier.

A bonus fact that I could not fit in the story is who Ms. Joy married years later. It was, in fact, the Italian Jew roommate she had in college.

I'm guessing the time leading up to your first bra was quite enjoyable for your male classmates and friends

Yes, I got many stares in middle school. Some blatantly would take actions which allowed them to get a better look at my bustline from certain angles, or were quick to try and get a glance when I had to bend over for some reason. You would think this was exclusive to boys, but even some of the girls would do this, albeit not as many would as the boys did.

I was bullied a bit but most of the girls were jealous in a complimentary way rather than a cruel way and most of the boys only looked and teased with words rather than physical actions. But I still found it embarrassing regardless.

I theorize the reason for the lack of stereotypical cruel, sadistic bullying towards me in my middle school was either my family's good reputation around the town, our friendly relations with the town police force, my uncle's position in the local town government as a town hall official, or our Jewish lifestyle making kids afraid of being seen as anti-Semitic after history class lessons on WWII taught them about Jewish persecution.

What is interesting is that when I moved on to high school, the bullying grew in intensity, but lessened in quantity. Perhaps because of the boys and girls fully awakening to their pubescent sex drives, I was seen less as a spectacle to comment about and look at as if a tourist attraction and more as a target of sexual interest to pursue for libidinous reasons. I believe some of the girls in my school even had their lesbian or bisexual awakenings because of seeing my breasts bare in the locker room and asking to feel them, but that is just my personal theory.

Admittedly, when the girls in the locker room suggested that it was my kosher diet which fed my breasts to grow so large, I genuinely laughed and still find the joke funny to this day. It was some levity about my body that I think helped me not be as ashamed of my breasts as I potentially would have.

I think it may just have to do with the stereotypical bullying being a bit exaggerated from reality. Kids are cruel, but not for the sake of being cruel.

And yes, it's easier for girls tk realise they are bisexual/lesbians because they have a lot more opportunities to see each other's tits post-puberty and act on it.

Even though the guys have the opportunity in the locker room, acting on it is "gay" (which it actually is, indeed) and often leeds to being ostracised much more, not solely for being gay, but more so for being someone who is watching them naked while being sexually aroused by it.

If you were a C/D cup at that age, what size did you finally end up as, if you are comfortable saying?

P.S. : Hope the next story comes out soon

[Spathic Swordmaiden]

If you were a C/D cup at that age, what size did you finally end up as, if you are comfortable saying?

I try to be a bit vague about that.

If it is relevant to the story, I will allude to my breast size at a past age.

But my exact current size now is something I prefer to be coy about due to being hesitant to reveal certain bits of personal information regarding myself.

I will at least say that I am larger than a K-cup but smaller than a P-cup. If it is not obvious from that, I can only wear bras that have been custom-ordered and they never look pretty. At times I am often forced to go braless because the two bras I own from custom ordering them were so expensive that I worry about wear and tear on them over time. I only wear a bra if strictly necessary as a result.

My doctor believes I may have some form or level of hyperestrogenism. This is a congenital condition which causes one to have an oversensitivity and/or overproduction of estrogen. The idea of me having macromastia has been suggested, but I have never been formally diagnosed with that, and I lack many of the other symptoms generally associated with macromastia. This combined with my breast growth having been remarkably steady (barring a growth spurt here and there during puberty) further suggests it is hyperestrogenism affecting my overall body development, as I show many of the other symptoms associated with hyperestrogenism. For example, I had a precocious puberty and even in my first year of high school I was extremely womanly because of my body's estrogenic activity effectively feminizing me to a logical extreme. I also experience irregular menstrual cycles and have ever since my first period, something also common with hyperestrogenism. I have not experienced any cysts but I do make sure I am always up-to-date on breast cancer screenings, both being common with hyperestrogenism. I also have fertility issues as a result of my estrogen dominance, which one would think I would be sad about but really I see it as a blessing. Unprotected sex is much easier when you have fertility issues.

P.S. : Hope the next story comes out soon

I just tried my hand at an original ENM story, actually.

[TeenFan]

Wow, what a post about body issues.
TMI isn't something we worry about in this anonymous writer community, but dang...that was a lot of info.

Have you written fictionally about a young teen girl who is experiencing what you describe for early development?
The girl having to see a doctor because her breasts are way too big and other things are happening, that might be humiliating for a
twelve year old.