Author: Tor Kung (pseudoynm for two authors, opinions vary as to exact identity.)

About: Published in 1968, and possibly earlier, this book had the honor of being our most-requested title (after the addition of My Mother Taught Me, the other legitimate Tor Kung, which earlier held the rank).

An amazing story about schoolboys, led by Paul and the devious but cowardly Rick, who at the end of the schoolyear find themselves holding a young geometry teacher... right where they want her. Also a subplot involving Paul and his new home.

Additional:Strangely enough, the story was set in Pittsburgh. These days, Ashcroft's trying to nail L.A. filmmakers on obscenity charges in Pittsburgh Court (where community standards might be different.) If only he knew...

Excerpt:

The back gate pushed open. Louise stood perfectly still, except that one hand was stroking her breasts. She dimly realized it had been doing so for some time. Which was another terrible habit she was developing. She put the hand down. A dark figure moved cautiously to the box. Her hand crept back to her breasts and played with them. She did not notice; she was too intent on the man climbing the box. The box was uneven and it swayed. She held her breath as he slowly lifted his face toward the light. There was something fascinating in the idea of seeing the man who was going to look on your body.

It was Paul! She almost laughed. Dear, beautiful Paul— risking such danger just to look at her. She felt happy all over at the sight of the beatific expectation on his face. When it changed to heart-broken disappointment, she felt the greatest tenderness she had ever known. But what was she to do now? She obviously could not walk in there and take her clothes off. A decent woman, and especially a teacher, did not strip herself naked when she knew there was a Peeping Tom at the window. Particularly a student. Even if it was Paul, and even if the sadness on his face wrung her heart. She could not.

Paul had built up such expectancy that for a minute his mind could not accept the room's being empty. Pure pain racked him when he realized. Then came absolute sorrow. His anticipation had reached impossible heights. But finally, he understood she would soon be back and so turned his greed on the room itself. To his eyes still full of the dark, her bright secret bedroom was like an enchanted place. Especially the bed with the welter of silks scattered across it like petals from great satin roses.

She came in. He had never seen her without glasses, and now she had her soft golden hair down as well. She was beautiful. More than beautiful. With the heels accentuating her height and throwing her forward into a special posture, she was a goddess walking in that shining light. Her blond hair and white blouse blazed. But she was a shy, timid goddess; even alone here in her home. She moved nervously and self-consciously around the room before coming to a stop in front of a long mirror. She looked a long time at herself motionless. Then she went to the table by the bed and picked up a big picture of an old woman. She looked at it intently, and set it back on the table so it was watching her. Then she picked up a skimpy brassiere and half-fitted it around her huge breasts, posing with it in front of the picture. She dropped it and picked up a fancy pair of red pants. She carried them and the picture back to the mirror. After putting the picture on a bureau so it faced her, she stood in front of the mirror stretching the lacy pants against her. It was highly obscene. She looked from the picture to her image in the mirror and then back to the photograph. After another long pause, she carefully hung the red pants over the old woman's face.

Then she looked at herself differently; almost as though she had never seen herself before. She touched herself wonderingly with the tips of her fingers, as though she were some expensive gift: her hair, her eyes, her mouth. She stroked her arm deferentially, then moved tentatively up to her breast. Softly she caressed the splendid fullness of one, then the other. All the time her eyes watched in the mirror. The hand went to the top button of her blouse. Paul's heart hammered: it was beginning! Something in him began shouting, “I'm going to see her tits. I'm going to look at Miss Bennett's big tits!” Her hand dropped from the button. His stomach cramped. Then her hand returned. Dreamily she opened the buttons, then slowly pulled the blouse wide open. He could see the immense breasts straining against the delicate white brassiere. He could see the faint pink where her nipples were! Somnolently she let the blouse slide down her arms and fall to the floor. Her right hand leisurely came around to the brassiere clasp. She just stood there like that, watching herself. Paul felt himself choking. He was going to see! Her breasts would be in the open, right out in the light. It was not the same as seeing Michele. It was natural to see Michele: she was licentious. But this was Miss Bennett, his geometry teacher! This was far more dirty because he was spying on her; and because he was in love with her; and because she was so timid and proper about her body. It was a real violation to look at Miss Bennett's breasts.