Kelly Asks for her reward

Kelly is on time. She might even have been the first to arrive. You don’t know. You were on a comfort break when she turned up. She’s seated at her desk, looking attentive, while around her, her fellow students are late and absorbed in gossip they only stop exchanging when you ask for silence.

You hand back the homework, and most only glance at their scores. A few look disappointed. The rest appear indifferent. Kelly’s response is the most ****.

You spend the rest of the lesson highlighting the problems you found, in a manner that doesn’t identify which girls had which problems. Most of them had most.

You’re only through half your issues when the bell rings. Which releases all the girls into action. They’re up and out giving you only time enough to dismiss them.

Except one girl. Sitting in her chair watching you.

“Kelly?”

“I handed in my homework, sir. I want…” she pauses, then starts again. “Can I have a reward?”

“You think this homework deserves a reward?” you ask. “I gave it an E.”

Her record is a string of F’s, principally because she hasn’t handed in any homework for over a year.

“But I tried, sir. I tried.”

“Did you?” Her nod is vigorous, making her blond curls bounce. “But it’s still substandard. If I reward this, what will you want in the future for more substandard work?”

“I’ll try harder next time. I only had a day to do it. Next time I’ll start from day 1.”

You make a big deal of considering her offer. Oh, you know what you’re planning. You know you can’t say no to her. She wants her reward. You want to give it to her.

But you don’t have time now. You have a meeting with Mrs Oversight and Abigail to go to.

“Alright, return to this classroom at the end of the day and we’ll discuss whether you deserve a reward then. Understand?”

She nods, but she can’t hide her disappointment. She’s slow to leave. Her green eyes linger on you as she does. Only when she’s gone can you adjust the bulge in your pants.

The meeting this time is in Abigail’s office. It’s identical to yours, just showing a more female touch, more decorated. On her desk is a picture of a couple of old people (you’d guess her parents), and the books in the shelves are all of 20th Century history, centred around the rise of the Nazis and the start of the 2nd World War.

“No problems with Kelly this week?” Mrs Oversight asks.

Abigail has, but you report that you caught Kelly’s misbehaviour early thanks to Abigail’s warning. “After that she’s been on her best behaviour. She even handed in her homework this week.”

“What?” Abigail states unbelieving. “I bet it’s complete nonsense. The last time she handed any to me, it a diatribe against me.”

“No, genuine homework. She clearly tried. I mean it wasn’t very good, but she tried.”

Abigail still doesn’t believe you. Mrs Oversight is impressed.

“You got through to her. What did you do?”

Telling them you fucked her would not go down well. So you come up with some nonsense of showing her discipline. Which goes down better.

After that it’s lunch and an afternoon lesson. The final bell and the Lower Sixth class traipse out, past Kelly, who’s standing there, waiting. When the last girl leaves, she enters.

“You here for your reward?” She nods. “Let’s go into my office.”

She almost skips through the door. You follow, locking it behind you.

“Ok. Kneel. And get out your reward.”

She’s on her knees in seconds, and her hands are straight to your belt buckle. Your trousers and your boxers are down, and your stiffening trousersnake is released. She takes a moment to admire it. Admiration turns into kisses. Her lips slide over its head. Each kiss sends shivers of pleasure up your spine. Blood responds by flowing to her caresses.

“You’re very eager.”

“It’s all I can think about,” she tells you between kisses. “I never knew a cock could be so wonderful. I never knew what I was missing.”

“You’re Teacher’s Little Slut, aren’t you? You love the taste of my cock.”

She nods. Then pulls back. “It’s not as tasty as last time. Still wonderful. Still wonderful.”

She returns to her kisses. Down the shaft. Down to the balls, which she sucks. You close your eyes as your body responds. God, each kiss is tender and intoxicating. Each kiss requires more control. As she works her way back up the shaft, tongue now joining to lick the protruding veins, time loses all meaning.

“Take off your blouse.” She pauses to unbutton her blouse. “Don’t stop. You can do two things at once.”

She can, although the kisses are less tender and her fingers fumble with her buttons. She’s still struggling with them as she swallows the head of your penis in her lips and slides it into her mouth. Deeper. Deeper. Until you reach the back of her throat. By now she’s sliding her blouse off. You take it from her and place it carefully on the chair. Then you turn your attention back to her throat.

You hold her head in your hands. Bring her movement to a halt. Then you thrust. You go deeper than she ever would have allowed. You thrust past her gullet, down her throat. Her response is a cascade of saliva. She gags on your shaft. Saliva bubbles through her lips. It runs down the half she cannot swallow. It slides over your balls. It dribbles down her chin. It splatters on the bare skin of her chest. Her green eyes are red rimmed and full of joy. You plunge as deep as you can and hold it there. Her throat starts to spasm as she tries to breathe around the blockage that is your cock. Her face flushes red. Saliva gushes from her mouth.

It's a torrent when you pull it out. She gasps for breath, as you stand above her, your dick dripping her saliva. Her face is a mess. Her chest is a mess, stickly rivulets dampening her bra. You lean down, unhook it and pull it clear. Releasing her wondering heavy breasts. You reach down and tweak the nipples. They are hard. You lean down and kiss her, a passionate kiss, that sucks out the air she’s still **** for.

She’s still gasping as you tell her to get up. You have to drag her to her feet. You have to push her over your desk. You lift up her skirt. You pull down her knickers. There’s a damp spot on them. Her pale ass demands a smack. You give it. She whimpers with pleasure and pain. Her wet pussy demands your cock. You give it.

She’s wet enough to accept it. You slide in. Her heat welcomes you. Her moan of satisfaction greets you. A moan that rises with each thrust, with each withdrawal. You saw into her sex with abandon.

Her first orgasm doesn’t take long in coming. She shivers and quivers underneath you. Her panties slip further down her legs. Her pleasure doesn’t pause you this time. No, you carry on hammering her, claiming her. The saliva drying on your balls is joined by a wash of her lower juices. You don’t care. You push her into the desk. You keep on thrusting. Your free hand slaps her pale ass again, reddening it, claiming it. She doesn’t have the energy this time to whimper. All she can do is sound a continuous moan, pitch changing with each slap, with any change in your ferocity.

You lean over so you’re close to her ears. “You want your real reward, Kelly? Do you?”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir.”

“Are you fertile, Kelly?”

“No, on the pill.”

“Good girl.”

And that’s all the confirmation you need. You thrust all your cock inside her, as deep as you’ve ever gone. And release.

Wave after wave of your seed enters her. You let out a guttural cry of your own as it does so. She lets out her own wail, to herald her second orgasm. For a while you’re a statue, pushing her into the wood of your desk, dick releasing its pent-up desire into her womb, both bodies shivering with the energy of their release. Then finally you pull out.

Kelly remains shivering on your desk, her knickers round her ankles, her pussy slowly leaking your seed, her moans turning into deep breaths.

“Is that the reward you wanted?”

Her response is like a moan, a satisfied breath released in exhaustion. “Yes.”