Holstered

The sensation of Miss Curtis using me is unexpectedly pleasant. I can feel her thick cock sliding down my throat with each slow, calm drive. Her movements aren't hesitant, they're controlled and smooth, the motions of an experienced partner.

I moan soft, each time her hips slide backward, drawing herself from my mouth. I inhale deep, as soon as her meat leaves my airways unblocked, breathing in the warm aroma of her. Her eyes remain focused on me, as her hips sway against me.

The moment her meat starts to pulse, her fingers relax, then tighten anew. I can feel her preparing to change something, deciding how and where to release. Twice more, she drives herself into me, even as her cock continues to pulse, steadily.

On the third lift, her hands shift, taking a two-handed hold of my skull. My eyes flutter, and she laces her fingers against the back of my head. Then, with a smooth roll of her hips, she moves, an unmerciful thrust and a hard shove of my head.

My mouth slams down to her hilt in one hard, swift move, so forceful her balls slide into my mouth. I blink, staring at her hips, for only a heartbeat before my mouth reacts. I flex my tongue wide and start to suck, caressing Miss Curtis' jewels.

I swallow around her, every muscle in my throat stroking her thickness from hilt to helm, the entire length lodged utterly in my throat. I can feel the thick cream flooding the lowest quarter of my throat. Her phallus sets at a considerable depth.

Miss Curtis, above me, only breathes slow and calm, with the faintest colouration of pleasure. The scarcest little humming tells me of her satisfaction as she unloads. I swallow, every time she pulses, and between every pulse, milking her for it all.

“There's a good faggot,” the words come from her in a sort of silken coo, a benediction of praise the sort I always loved to hear in her class, albeit with far different words. I almost lived to hear Your grammar is exemplary, Mister Grennan. Fine work.

“You are a marvellous cocksucker,” her tone is identical, now, and I'll never be able to think back to time in her class now without remembering this moment. My eyes flutter as the pulsation ends, but I continue to swallow, focusing up on her.

“That's it, slut,” Miss Curtis praises, “Milk me thoroughly, whore. You know what you are, you know where you belong.” Her words make me shiver, and motivate me. After a few more swallows around her, Miss Curtis starts to slowly withdraw.

She slides my mouth off her balls, and I moan on her cock as she slides my mouth up her shaft. I breathe in sharply when it leaves my throat, filling my lungs with her warm aroma. Once her cock leaves my mouth, she uses my hair to dry it off.

When I start tucking her in, she turns her attention to Mom. “You have a wonderful faggot, Misses Grennan. This has been a wonderful surprise, and an excellent gift. I greatly appreciate the gesture. Your boy was always amongst my favourites.”

Then Miss Curtis bids Mom farewell, but not me, once her cock is tucked neatly away. She turns and leaves without saying anything more to me. Mom jerks her head toward the kitchen, and I obediently comply with Mom's unspoken command.

Author's Note:
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Here the story converges in Chapter 23: Family Dinner.