A good teacher is dedicated to her students

When I stepped through the threshold of the classroom, I grit my teeth and felt an immediate, smoldering warmth in the pit of my stomach. There she was. My toy. My plaything. Gray leggings hugging her hips and ass and slender legs as she sat there on that cute, small butt. An off-white hoodie that was a little too big for her, its long sleeves ending just before her fingertips, those on her right hand absently clasping and rubbing the cross that dangled from her slender neck. When she noticed me, her nervous eyes didn’t linger, quickly darting down with an adorable look of embarrassment. As if suddenly remembering what today promised. No doubt also remembering what happened on these grounds just yesterday.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to remember what it felt like when I blew my load in her mouth. The soft sound of her swallowing it. I subtly smirked, opening my eyes again. Her cheeks flushed pink, as if I sent the memory to her, and she blinked repeatedly, lips parted slightly, eyes slightly wet with whatever nervous and shameful emotions that had probably kept her awake most of last night.

The look on her face was obvious only to me, as all my classmates went about their final period routine, anxious to end their school day and get home. They had no idea what happened on this very property yesterday. I looked around casually at several of their faces, an excited thrill coursing through me when I thought about our little secret, and of course, what was to happen today.

I was living a dream, plain and simple. And if it was even possible, I felt more confident than I’d ever felt in my life. That was saying something.

I took my seat and watched her, my eyes taking her in, already picturing her bent over in front of me. Her desk. The unused hallway in our secret spot. Her car. My car. Her house. My house. I let out a silent, deep breath and eyes her like a predator watched its prey, imagining what that tight ass would feel like wrapped around my thick shaft. My God, it’s good to be me.

She briefly took a chance and glanced at me, unable to stop herself. I could see it on her face. She didn’t want to look. Wanted to ignore me. Wanted to go about her day and life as if I didn’t exist. As if we hadn’t met. Hadn’t enjoyed what we’ve enjoyed from each other. But she did enjoy it. And there was no going back. No fucking way. She made a subtle face of disgusted revulsion, either at the fact that I’ve used her like I have, or that she’d let me. Or she was remembering the taste of my cum in her mouth. The aftertaste when she sent it sliding down her warm throat.

I smirked. That’s right, Miss Laura. You did. And you can’t un-swallow my load, can you? She closed her eyes, suddenly flustered, thinking about something. Her eyebrows wrinkled up with…worry? Regret? Anticipation? Guilt? Maybe all of those things. Maybe none. I couldn’t know exactly what she was thinking, but it was adorable. And it made my dick stir pleasantly, already primed and ready for her. Waiting patiently for that final bell of the day. She didn’t look at me again for the rest of class.

When the bell did go off, the feelings we experienced were no doubt polar opposites. She seemed to be in disbelief that class was already over. I felt it too, albeit in a different way. The heavy, smoldering arousal that weighed my dick down almost kept me planted in my seat. I wasn’t hard, but I was swollen. Ready. My eyes bored into hers, silently commanding her to look at me.

Her eyes were unfocused as she softly and slowly wrung her small hands together, but when they momentarily darted to mine and then back down just as quickly, a brief wave of butterflies drifted through my gut, reminding me I’d have to take charge in a few moments. Which is how it should be. And how she likes it. Don’t you, Miss Laura?

I slowly stood up and casually zipped my backpack up, slinging it over my shoulder as I took my time blending in with the rest of the class, making sure to walk slower than the rest of them as they filed out the door. When the door gently closed, the latch clicked loudly into place, signifying the start of the game. I suppose the game was always on, but that sound was simply symbolic. Like a starting gun. I was facing away from her, but I was sure the sound made her flinch, just a little.

When I turned around she was on the far side of her desk. Still facing the class as she had been, but she’d taken apparently taken a few steps further away from me while my back was turned, no doubt an **** gesture meant to distance herself from me mentally as much as physically. I smirked, and confidently strode over to her desk. Her shoulders rose and she hunched a bit, as if dreading even the sound of my quiet steps.

I slid my backpack off my shoulder and set it down in front of her desk, then let out a gentle sigh, pleased with it all. The privacy. Her body language. My growing arousal.

When I got within a couple of steps of her, she nervously looked up at me but not at my eyes. Suddenly panicked, she started nibbling at her lower lip with wide, anxious eyes darting around the classroom, searching for something she couldn’t, and wouldn’t find. All that she needed was right here, if she would only realize it.

“I-” she quietly cleared her throat with a high-pitched voice. “I have to go.” She hesitated, then tried and failed to move. I knew she wanted to leave, but anxiety kept her rooted to the floor. I smirked at how adorable she was. How timid. How sexy. I licked my lips and decided to take charge, beyond turned-on with anticipation.

“Get on your knees,” I said casually as my eyes drifted down her body. Her hands wrung nervously, and she made a face, worried and almost angry with herself for not leaving when she had the chance.

She quickly shook her head, but it was so subtle I didn’t know if she was shaking it to say ‘no’ or if her nerves were shaking it. She didn’t move. I smiled. She really knew how to get me going, playing the part of **** participant, unwilling or unable to obey.

I stepped up to her and put my hand on her chest, my large, strong hand against her left breast, pushing her backward. She gasped and whimpered pitifully, **** to submit, reluctantly allowing me to push her back against the wall. Her hands shot up to mine as I gripped her breast through her hoodie, clasping at my hand, fingernails and fingertips trying desperately to free her from my strong grasp. Yet she was almost silent, the only sounds she made were those of a fruitless struggle. Soft whimpers and breaths as she tried to pry my hand away.

“I’m not asking,” I said, my voice husky. Deep. I pressed my palm against her, mashing her breast as I squeezed it, letting her know I could do what I please. She let out a series of sharp, panicked breaths as my left hand unzipped my jeans, then I clasped the button. “On your fucking knees.” I tugged my jeans and underwear halfway down my thighs, gritting my teeth as my cock sprung free.

I leaned in close and she turned her head away from me. She smelled so fucking good. So clean. So feminine. I knew this was turning her on. As much as she would never admit it, even to a diary, a trusted friend, and therapist, or even herself.

I casually stroked my cock a couple of times, then dragged the side of my index finger over the tip, squeezing my shaft as a bead of precum smeared itself on my finger, then brought my hand up to her face. She closed her eyes tight and kept her head turned away from me, letting out a disgusted, soft moan as I wiped my finger across her lips. She pursed her lips to keep my finger out of her mouth, making noises of unease as she frantically swallowed the lump in her throat again and again, sharp breaths escaping out of her nose.

She inhaled sharply and whimpered when I suddenly pressed my lips to hers, parting her lips with my tongue and forcing it into her mouth. My left hand shot down to her crotch and her legs bent and closed a half second too late, her back arching against the wall in a **** attempt to keep my hand from molesting her crotch in all the ways she loved. Craved.

She moaned as my tongue assaulted hers, licking it deeply. I let go of her breast and slid my right hand down to her ass, wedging it between the wall and her left ass cheek, scraping my knuckles against the painted concrete wall as I squeezed her, kneading her tender flesh with a tight, hungry grip.

She inhaled sharply again and whimpered a high-pitched moan, as if she were surprised either at my strength, aggression, or how much she liked it. How much it thrilled her, to be wanted this badly. Her tongue briefly touched mine as she moaned, my left index and middle fingers digging in to feel the warmth of her pussy through her thin leggings.

I squeezed her ass cheek hard and grunted, feeling my cock flex powerfully into the open air of the classroom, quickly hardening at the wet, warm, amazingly erotic feeling of her tongue against mine. The warmth of her pussy against my fingers. The feel of her tight ass in my hand. I quickly brought my right hand up to the back of her head and gripped her hair, turning her head to make her face me as I licked and sucked on her tongue. That tongue. I wanted to feel it on my cock. I grit my teeth and pulled her hair, tilting her head back. She winced and grunted a high-pitched sound, and I broke the kiss to let her know what was expected of her.

She bared her teeth and winced again at the pain of my tight grip, eyes still shut tight. “Get on your fucking knees and suck my cock, you dirty bitch,” I growled, **** to feel that hot little mouth around me. Her mouth opened as if my rude demand were a tongue that licked her naked pussy from hole to clit, shuddering as her body trembled. Pink cheeks flush with shame. Flush with excitement. With arousal. Her thighs clamped tight around my hand, keeping it there, almost painfully.

When she didn’t move I yanked her head back and down, forcing her down to the floor onto her knees. She gasped loudly at how I manhandled her, keeping her eyes shut tight as her ass hit the floor, on her knees in front of me as she panted the way I loved to hear her pant, ready for me to have my way with her.