A lot of you guys are going to be appalled by what I am about to share here. Take it as a horror story, my life story, or just a warning of who I am and the likes of me in Nepal. I know who I am and I hate me for being who I am, you will too when you get done with this, but I cannot stop myself and apparently there is no one else to stop me either. I an old man now and I do not have a lot of good years left in the school I principal right now, but I have to get this thing out of my chest.
I started out long time ago in ***** High School in *****, Kathmandu as an English teacher. If some of you might remember me as that creepy teacher with the wanna-be Judd Nelson look, that is if you have seen me or Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club. The same ‘Sir’ that you thought gave punishments too often, mostly to girls for a change and the boys seemed happy about it. I remember I started out with a pat on the back for a job well done and a well-intended spank for what I saw needed more work. Most of you would assume that spanking was more sought that pat on the back, but I had a different feel for both of them. One was more of foreplay and the other the ultimate climax, and this was when I first started. A well done assignment would mean a nice pat on the back, which was mostly the case. The foreplay, that imagination running wild; the feeling of that bra strap underneath that none existent white sheet of shirt, it is just the warmest feeling on earth. At least until someone did not do their homework, or for random reasons at time. Then came the spanking part; it is the climax. Spanking is an art too, especially when my hands slip under the skirt and feel the warmer. The feelings were monstrous and uncontrollable at times, and Kathmandu was a little more wary than what I would have liked. While my ‘styles of feeling’ were subtle and discrete, I felt that Kathmandu was not safe to advance with my feelings, especially after 98 when the rumours began to spread around. It did not get much wind, and it was not about me, but how could I wait for it to be about me? That and the fact about my affair with a ninth grader, who turned obsessive on me: crying about getting married all time, faking pregnancy, led me to a nice little school in Kavre district.
That same nice little school, which is not that little anymore, is where I am the principal today. As with the earlier, I started as an English teacher in the early millennium. I have expanded the school to accommodate +2 and have more than 1100 students now, from 400 when I took over. This school felt home as soon as I got in my first class. The students were more naïve, the parents more ignorant, and other teachers rather impressed with me. I could do a lot more than those occasional pats and spank here, however, I sticked just to those for a while. After sometime the freedom got into my head, those feeling of the bra straps and under skirts was just not cutting it. I had to punish the girls more severely to discipline them.
Most of the time when I was feeling the girls, I wondered how it would feel to actually see what I was feeling, which I could now. I could see the all-encompassing rainbow of colourful panties while spanking, now I was longing to see the just blossoming twins with that purple skirt still clinging, which eventually would ‘wear off’ too. Thus started the tradition of detention or as I explained as after school tuition for extra attention to the ‘needy’ ones. The parents were happy and so was I that I was taking care of their girls, boys too sometimes; had to stay as unbiased. I remember the first girl in detention: a seventh grader class topper who according to me was slipping downhill. She was probably tenth grader by Kathmandu standards and by other ‘maturity’ standards too. Her eyes were like of those ‘naagin’ in hindi movies, luscious black hair, and a milky white complexion as you would taint it by touching. With Adam starting the trend from the forbidden fruit, how could I not?
You all should know who I am by now without going further into my exploits and will start again with a brand new day tomorrow. It only seems that the array of things I can do is just growing wider, and I am being rewarded for being the person I am. We hear thousands of cases like these in other developed nations, but nothing in Nepal. Is it only me in Nepal and those other developed nations have more pervs than in Nepal? I am the only one I know of but I am already 54 now, and the things I have done and continue to do make me feel bad but not bad enough to make me stop. I fear God sometimes, but if he really wanted to punish me, he would have done it by now. I am writing this because I do not think this is going to cause much stir, even if it does, the chances of getting to me is next to nil. I just want you all to know that I am here, and probably thousands like are everywhere, not just limited to schools.
Last edited: 28-Apr-12 01:41 AM