Cock Worship

“Well, then, faggot,” Miss Curtis says, serenely, as she looks down at me, “I want you to behave as you would under these circumstances if you had not been brainwashed. Show me exactly what you'd do for your favourite teacher given a chance.”

“Holy fuck! Miss Curtis?!” I ask as my eyes flutter rapidly, behaving as commanded, my eyes dropping from her face to her cock, and widening like saucers. “Holy fuck!” Her cock right in front of my face, her scent flooding my lungs, I stare at her.

Everyone always said Miss Curtis has a huge cock, the kind that will stretch my mouth taut. I'd heard the jokes in school, the rumours of how she'd fucked some of her students into studying so hard they got an A+ so they could earn her fat rod.

I know what she wants me to do, though. I lean into it as her cock rests against my face, and I lick my way up to her crown, lifting my eyes. I grind my tongue against her sensitive frenulum, then kiss the crown, “So the rumours are actually true?”

“Did you think your favourite teacher would debase herself to use a stupid faggot, slut?” Miss Curtis replies casually, not denying the rumours. I moan in the negative as I kiss my way down her shaft, worshipping her cock as she truly deserves.

“If certain seniors, once they're legal, decide they desperately want to be wrecked by their English teacher,” Miss Curtis continues, “so desperately they're willing to offer to study adamantly to improve their grades, to meet my standards ... ?”

I lick my way up her shaft, keeping my dark eyes focused on hers, maintaining eye contact as I slide my tongue up one side of her meat. She smirks, as she continues, “Well, I consider it my duty to see as many students as possible, learn English.”

I kiss her crown, grinding my tongue around the underside of her helmet, against her frenulum. Her expression is steady, but her hips lean faintly into my mouth. “If that requires me to bend Mister Carter over his desk after class ... why not?”

Mom chuckles in amusement while I run my lips down Miss Curtis, kissing my way down to her hilt. Her fingers remain fixed on my head, not stroking, not caressing, not clamping, not yanking my hair. Just confidently controlling my place.

My mouth is exactly where she wants it, at every second, as I draw my tongue up another side of her cock, licking slowly. I kiss the crown when I reach it, before rolling my tongue around, then grinding the tip into my teacher's sensitive strip.

“There's a reason that little slut's grades went from a C- to an A+ after all, faggot,” she tells me casually, even as her meat heats up under my mouth as I kiss my way down, “and sluts like him are the same as faggots like you. Meant to be used.”

I moan softly as I lick her cock, vibrating it as I draw my tongue up her underside again. I can't deny her reasoning, and to be fair, Jason Carter's English improved extraordinarily over the course of our senior year, together, which I hadn't missed.

After about twenty minutes, Miss Curtis flexes her fingers against my head, “Get ready, faggot. I will be providing you milk soon. Do not think to make a request. I will give you my milk wherever I wish. Faggots like you don't get to make requests.”

Author's Note:
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