Get back to your room

You come to your senses with a rush of cold sweat. What are you doing? Stepping off the stool you head as quietly as possible back to your room. As your bare feet pad softly across the warm grass you go over in your head again and again how crazy what you just did was. You had gone outside to chase off some voyeur, and not only did you fail to apprehend the culprit but you did exactly what you had hoped to stop!

What if Ms. Naylor had looked up and seen you peeping into her bedroom? What if one of the students had been walking by at just the wrong time? Jesus, Hawk! What are you, some acne-covered teenager? The throbbing erection trapped in your jeans seems to be evidence that you are not the man you thought you were. But damn - Diana isn't the woman she pretends to be either.

Once back in your rooms you collapse on your bed in a cold sweat. The jeans are quickly dropped to the floor and you try to put away the searing memory of the hour-glass figure of the brunette masturbating on her bed like a webcam doxy.

Just five hours ago you had deflowered a teenaged student on your desk, forcing your cock into her unbelievably tight pussy. Who would have thought that you'd find the prim and proper Ms. Naylor so much more desirable than the innocence and wide-eyed wonder of Sally Mathewson when you made her a woman. Of course, you now know for certain that Diana is nowhere near as proper or reserved as she pretends.

Your fingers wrap around the thick shaft of your cock and slowly stroke as you recall every detail of what you saw. The worn romance novel had a picture of a crusader and some harem girl on its cover, was that what had Diana so worked up? And what was with that monstrous curved dildo? It was certainly longer and thicker than any real cock you've ever seen and probably bigger than those of the porn stars who make even you look small. As you picture that thick rubber organ slowly entering Diana's pussy, the pace of your strokes increase, and you wonder what she would do if you knocked on her door right now.

If she came to the door wearing that black-lacey number you'd show her that she didn't need that dildo of hers. You'd carry her to that frilly bed and tear away the strap at her crotch ... you could only imagine how good it would feel to drive into her and make her cry out ... your hands would maul those unbelievable tits ... and you'd cum into her sexy- Ahhgghh.

With a grunt of surprise you shoot a jet of cum up into the air that lands three feet away on the floor, the second stream of ejaculate lands on your thigh and the next two or three emissions cover your hand that is still stroking furiously.

Damn! What was that about? This is the woman that you are going to go head-to-head with tomorrow morning and you just beat-off to the mental image of her in that black silk lingerie. You use the same bucket and rag that you used to clean your office to wipe up the mess on your floor and sheets all the while shaking your head and muttering.