A Crazy Affair / A Taste of my male student
I’m so wet… my pussy feels so soft around his hard cock, taking him in, enveloping him, devouring him as he thrusts savagely inside me.
His right hand worked its way up to my breasts. His fingers went to my nipple, tweaked it even harder than before. A line of pure pleasure shoots straight down between my legs. My muscles involuntarily contracted, and I could feel him fully and completely. It was almost like the hardness and upwards angle of his cock holding me in the air, rather than his hand beneath my ass.
I started to cum.
“Oh God, oh God,” I whimpered in his ear.
“Fuck – oh fuck – ” he belowed, and I cried out on hearing his pained excitement.
We came at the same time. My waves of ecstasy started just seconds before he exploded inside me. I think my moans pushed him over the edge; I knew for a fact that my feeling his cock expanding and contracting rapid-fire inside me heightens my own bliss. I clawed at his back and held on for dear life as I crested a tidal wave of pleasure. At the same time, he kept pressing himself deeper and deeper inside me in rhythm with every pulse of his cock.
As I came down from my Mr. Olympus of an orgasm, and he finally became still, and his contractions died away. We stayed like that: him still inside me, his hands clutching me and holding me up against the wall. We sought out each other's lips and kissed slowly but passionately, a heat dulled only slightly by our mutual climaxes.
Then he raised me up off his cock and set me down. My feet touched the floor. We continued to kiss, our motions softened and gentle now.
Finally, he pulled away. “Okay, now where were we…?”
“I’m not a helpless damsel in distress.” I grabbed his still-upright cock, now wet with my juices, and squeezed playfully.
“Ow – okay, okay!” he laughed. “Let up, Supergirl.”
“Superwoman.” I corrected him.
“Whatever you say, just leave the family jewels intact.”
We kissed a minute more. Then he left the bathroom zips, I selected my hair backward, quickly rinsed myself, then went out of the bathroom like nothing ever happened.
Guilt overwhelmed me when I thought of my sister. What if she finds out? What will happen? I know I can not tell her I fucked her fiancée. She will not hear it from me.
The End.
Title: The Taste of my Male student 001
I have fucked thirty two men in the past four months, and thirteen women, and it’s not nearly enough.
But I’m starting to run out of time: today is the last day of the semester. I just ducked out of the graduation assembly to jot down some notes on my latest conquest, one Mr. Paul Donovan, and I’ve quickly gotten distracted reviewing my notes on the rest of my subjects. I can hear the marching band play outside, the sounds of the assembly drifting in through the half open windows in my big, airy classroom, and the contrast between the light, innocent sounds and the things I’ve done makes me feel a little tingly. The case files strewn about my desk are like trophies only I know about. It’s kinda dirty, and I love it.
That part’s been a surprise to me – how much I’ve enjoyed having a secret agenda as a sex researcher while playing the role of substitute English teacher.
Well, not entirely playing. I’m a damn good teacher. And my students know it.
Especially Danny Donovan, Paul’s son. Danny, and his unique combination of arrogance, athleticism, and occasional sweetness, is actually how Paul came to my attention. When Danny is still a boy, I figured Paul might be a man. Besides, Danny, obviously, is off limits.
That boy was trouble from the start – a total smartass – but I grin when I reflect that his father more than made up for it. Paul fucked like a champ. It’s hard not to wonder if Danny Donovan takes after his father.
God, that’s so wrong.
I sigh and lean back in my surprisingly expensive chair (the Chippewa Valley School District spares no expense), and reflect on what I can’t have. Danny Donovan is a grown man, physically, and he’s one of those naturally sexy guys – not pretty, but just...there’s something. The way he moves, you can tell he knows how to move his body, that he enjoys the feel of it. Just like his dad. Large hands, an athlete’s physique, and with his dad’s confidence, too. But he’s a student, even if he is a graduating senior, and there’s that occasional reminder that he’s an immature jackass. Not that that makes him any different from most of the forty year old men I’ve slept with, but it’s harder to dismiss coming from an eighteen year old.
Let me tell you, I was overjoyed the day Danny turned eighteen. At last I could stop feeling like a total perv, and just feel a little...naughty. He’d stumbled into class wearing dark sunglasses and a grimace of pain that somehow still managed to be smug. Evidently he’d partied hard.
I gave him extra shit that day. Called on him just for the hell of it. I guess I was harder on him than I would have been, otherwise. If I didn’t find him so...
Something.
But he’d have no idea what he was doing anyway, all awkward groping and thirty seconds of jackhammering. And I have some serious fucking to do if I’m going to finish my book proposal on time: The Secret Sexual Habits of the 1%. I’m going to make a fortune, by the way, just as soon as I write it up. The advances will be killer, and I’ll work a few more semesters to get more material.
I have it all planned out.
But I haven’t planned for what happens next. There’s a brief knock on my door, and before I can say “go away”, it opens and in slips Danny Donovan. He closes the door behind him and locks it.
Speak of the devil.
Danny turns and leans against the door, looking at me. He’s in his uniform, but his shirt is untucked, and the top button is undone. I was surprised to see a little bit of chest hair peaking over the top. His jacket is nowhere to be seen, and a thin sheen of sweat covers his brow, a few strands of dark hair stuck to his forehead. His eyes are dark, and he doesn’t say anything. For a second, I wonder if he’s on something.
“Danny, what’s going on?” I say.
And he smiles. It’s that same knowing, smug smile, and that’s when I know he’s in full control.
“I have a couple of questions for you, Miss Bennett.”
He strolls over to my desk, one hand in his pocket. Sometimes his arrogance makes him seem so young, and other times...I can’t decide which it is this time. I consider taking my legs off the desk when I see him eyeing them – they’re incredible legs, and I’m not wearing any stockings today, it’s too hot for that bullshit – but I decide that would be an admission of sorts. Let him look. It won’t change anything.
“You often do.” I answer wryly.
“They’re questions I thought you’d want to answer privately.” He says, and damn if he’s not condescending. He sits on my desk, facing me, his hand gripping the edge about an inch from my leg, and his grin widens. “Questions of a personal nature.”
I try not to betray any anxiety, but I’m sure a hint of it flashes across my face. I bury the impulse to hide my notes, because that would reveal that I have something to hide.
Shit.
“Really?” I say.
“Really.” He says.
And then he lets me squirm, not saying anything at all. Just smiling.
We’re still and silent for a moment, and it’s like the whole world is just waiting. Even the bits of swirling dust that normally dance in the sun, streaming in from those big windows, even the dust has stopped. Everything is holding its breath. He’s forcing me to make the first move.
“So what are they?” I finally ask, and shift my seat, about to move my legs off the desk.
His hand darts out and rests on my ankle, exerting a firm downward pressure. Keeping my legs where they are. In full view.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demand.