Mature Teacher Seduces Student

Mature Teacher Seduces Student
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A MARRIED high school teacher who romped in her classroom with an underage “stud” pupil has walked free from jail after only a year.
Disgraced teacher Jessica Langford, 33, had intercourse and oral sex with a 14-year-old boy before lessons started on the last day of school in Ohio.
The sleazy half-hour session ended when the principal knocked on the locked door and Langford told the boy to hide under a desk, he told a court.
The mum-of-one then left before returning and telling the teen to “stick to the story” that he had been stacking tables at Miamisburg Middle School.
The boy's father - a policeman - called for her to be locked up for more than a decade after she admitted: “I’m ashamed of my actions.”
Langford - said to have also shown students an X-rated photo of her having sex with her husband Matthew - called herself a “model prisoner” during her 12 months sentence.
But she failed twice to get out earlier to be a “comfort to her young daughter and ailing mum”, according to court files.
Langford must now register as a Tier III sex offender - the “most serious” of the state’s categories, usually given to rapists.
I should have never abused my power as a teacher and never developed a friendship with a student."
She will also be on five years probation after her release from the Ohio Reformatory for Women.
The blonde fought back tears as she told Montgomery County Common Pleas Court in May, 2018: “I wish I could go back and undo all that happened.
“I am completely responsible for my actions and should have never abused my power as a teacher and never developed a friendship with a student.
“I take responsibility for my actions that were unbecoming a teacher.”
Prosecutor Michele Henne said after sentencing: “It was the first time we heard her accept any remote type of accountability for it.
“She still did not - in our perspective - take full accountability of what she did.
“She did say she was sorry for a number of things. But it seemed like she was more sorry for herself.”

Langford, whose husband stood by her, was convicted in April last year of six sex crimes against the student, described by a prosecutor as a “stud.”
But Judge Timothy O’Connell said three of them - unlawful sexual conduct with a minor - were “aligned” and sentenced Langford on the sexual battery charges.
Langford had also made some of her 14-year-old students “uncomfortable” by showing them a snap of her having oral sex with her husband Matthew, police reports said.
We started kissing, she went in for a kiss and it escalated from there."
One boy, who said Langford also showered him with gifts, felt “awkward” when he saw the lewd image.
He “described his relationship with Mrs Langford as closer than other teachers and that she helped him with his Spanish and math,” the document says.
Other students felt “weird” as she used the picture with hubby Matthew to create “a more casual atmosphere” in her classroom.
Flirty Langford also gave them presents, including a restaurant gift card, shoes and an iPhone.
The bombshell report emerged as she waited sentencing and was not introduced as evidence at her trial,
reported Dayton Daily News, who obtained it through a freedom of information request.

A second damning dossier revealed Langford was warned not to get physical with pupils 15 months before she romped with the “stud” in May of 2017.
The explosive so-called “red file” shows education bosses had serious worries about her back in February, 2016.
Nine listed concerns of parents, teachers and other students included Langford sitting on a pupil’s lap during class.
She was also accused of having daily closed-door lunches with two other boys and flirting with students.
But Langford was never formally disciplined - just talked to and told to “refrain from physical contact with students,” the document says.
She was said to have started texting the classroom-tryst boy after they got to know each other on a school trip to Washington, D.C.
“We started kissing, she went in for a kiss and it escalated from there,” the teen, now 16, told a court.
He initially lied about his relationship with Langford for fear his girlfriend would dump him for cheating on her, he said.
Langford’s lawyers asked for a light sentence because she was “a first-time offender with no previous criminal history.”
Her husband said in a letter to the court: “She's my backstop and the cornerstone of our family and this household."
But prosecutors pushed for a tougher sentence as she had not shown remorse and “begs for mercy due to the implications and consequences for her husband and young child.”
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By Adrienne West
Updated April 30, 2018

By Adrienne West
Updated April 30, 2018

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“Blood, sex, and death.” Those were the three things Mr. Fitzpatrick taught us were part of every gothic horror novel. He was the high school english teacher I hopelessly crushed on, and I couldn’t help but notice that his eyes lingered on me when he said the second word. Sex.
I was a senior then, about to graduate. Glued to my seat even in the late, late spring when my classmates were terminally zoned out, focused on graduation, the summer ahead of them, college. But I still had unfinished business here, and today he was wearing a black tie over a light blue button-up and jeans that were just snug enough to drive my imagination wild. When he perched on the edge of his desk reading from The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde , I let my eyes wander up and down his body, imaging a new use for each part.
He was the new cute teacher this year, the one the girls whispered about between classes. Mr. Fitzpatrick is looking good today. I’d tried to pretend I wasn’t one of them before, it’s not interesting to have the same crush as everyone else. But his charm was undeniable, who else could make the classics so sexy? Every day when he taught his inflection would bounce up and down with passion as he taught us about Bram Stoker and Shirley Jackson.
When he taught Dracula he became brooding and obsessive, delving into each character. Even in the clinical, fluorescent-lit classroom it was sexual. I spend the 50 minute class period imagining his lips — his teeth — on my neck, finding me in secret, lusting after my “life force” as Stoker says. The week he spent on, The Haunting of Hill House , was one of the most oddly erotic of my life. The text was thrilling, I was in a constant state of suspense and I held myself to not reading ahead, and being completely present in class when he talked about the role adrenaline plays in our bodies physiological state as we read. I didn’t ask, but I was sure my increased interest in him was one of those byproducts he was talking about.
When graduation was only a few weeks away, I felt bolder. Surely I should make a move, if the consequences of being rebuffed were so low? What could they do? I was almost gone. And so I became consumed with the idea of hooking up with Mr. Fitzpatrick.
At first, I thought I could be subtle. Mr. Fitzpatrick certainly noticed when I wore something low-cut or a little more form-fitting. Once I entered his classroom in a dress that particularly accentuated my curves and I could have sworn I heard him groan. But understandably, he never did anything more than cast a lingering glance my way.
He’d get in too much trouble , I reasoned. I’m going to have to be the one to do something . So I put my mind into creating the perfect plan: I’d just have to present him with an opportunity he couldn’t say no to.
The senior end-of-year dance was coming up, and I inserted myself into the planning committee long enough to serve as an official liaison and ask Mr. Fitzpatrick if he would be a chaperone, apparently we were in desperate need of one (I didn’t ask anyone else). A light flickered in his eyes as I carefully enunciated the word desperate . Hopefully that was a look of comprehending my agenda. He agreed to the task.
I bought new lingerie, black and red and lacy. I wore it under a loose-fitting white sundress, pure and virginal like a gothic heroine, but dark and carnal underneath.
At the dance, I added a note to the clipboard waiting for him as a chaperone. It was the regular list of rules to enforce and emergency contacts. My note was underneath, it was a line from Dracula along with his room number:
“No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.” CLC 345.
I never went to the dance. Instead I made my way through the dark and empty corridors of the school until I let myself into his classroom. I brought with me one candle to break up the darkness without relying on the fluorescents. Lighting it and setting it on a desk in the front row I climbed into Mr. Fitzpatrick’s seat behind his desk, pulled the straps of my dress down so the top of my lacy bra was revealed, and crossed my legs with my heels resting on the edge of his desk, waiting.
It was a long wait. He didn’t find my note right away, but it became pleasurably agonizing, every tiny sound I heard in the hallway seemed like it could be him approaching. I got excited and then mellowed again when I realized it was my imagination. When he did come, I didn’t even hear him approach.
It was a guess he made as he entered the classroom, it was too dim to see my face but I had made sure the glow illuminated my nearly bare legs. I was glad he was expecting it to be me.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick.” I acknowledged him and removed my legs from his desk, slowly crossing them in front of me.
“This note… what are you doing here? We shouldn’t be here.”
He was saying the words, but even to someone who wasn’t engaging in wishful thinking they sounded unconvincing. He didn’t want them to be true. I stood up and leaned against the edge of his desk, facing him, opening my legs a bit so he could imagine himself between them.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick, I’m sorry if you’re misunderstanding. I just wanted to discuss Dracula more.”
When he was close enough that I could touch him, I grabbed his tie and pulled his body into mine. I could feel he was already hard as he pressed against the loose fabric separating us. The situation excited him as much as it excited me. “You’ve always been my favorite student, Adrienne, but I could get in a lot of trouble for being here right now.”
Pulling harder on his tie, my mouth found his neck. “I’ll just have to make it worth your while then.”
He groaned and his hands found the undersides of my thighs, pulling me closer to him and moving us both back so I was resting on his desk. I slide back farther and wrapped my legs around him.
“I just wanted to experience this before graduation,” I told him, “I’ve been trying not to make a move all year.”
Even in the low light, I could see the smile that spread across his face. He says he loves the way I look lying on his desk. I respond by feeling the bulge in his pants, attempting to grip him through the fabric and feeling him grow.
“We need to make this quick. They’ll look for me if I don’t come back.”
“Perfect.” With the suspense building as long as it had, I wouldn’t last long in his arms anyway.
I heard him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants but I didn’t look away from his face. Even in the dark he looked handsome, brooding. I wanted him to tell me more about sex and blood and death but I also just wanted to experience it with him — all the parts of being human, all the things worth writing about.
I was happy there, to be a willing participant in a fantasy I was sure he had. Happy when he slid the lace panties I’d brought for the occasion off, happy when he didn’t bother to remove my bra but instead pulled my breasts free from it, and especially happy when his body met mine.
While forging a path with his mouth from my neck, down to my collarbone, and then landing on my breasts he pulled me closer to him and entered me. The speed with which he poured himself into me belied his eagerness. I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him to. As much as I’d fantasized about him wanting me.
Lowering himself so his face was next to mine he whispered, “Adrienne, if you want to be a great student you’re going to have to finish me off with your mouth.”
Kneeling before him I skipped the niceties and began blowing him full on right away, working my hand around his shaft in tandem with my mouth. His hands worked their way through my hair, separating it into two ponytails he held firmly as he used them to guide my head onto his cock, increasing in rhythm until I felt him tense up, his hands clenching my hair. Pulling my head down on him, he held me there and emptied himself into the back of my mouth. I could taste the saltiness as I removed myself from him, licking my lips.
It was the perfect end to my senior year.
Best read in the bath. A girl with an imagination ought to do something with it. Find me on Twitter and Facebook.

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