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A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 01

By: MaryAnderson



This is the first installment of a multi-part series. Draft versions of the other chapters have been completed so I expect, although I can't guarantee, they'll arrive relatively quickly. My next project is a mother-son story inspired by the tenth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina.

As always, all story characters are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * *

As the other students filed out for lunch Andy Johnson walked towards me, a thick yellowed folder under his arm. He laid it on my desk.

"I thought you might want this."

It bore the logo of Brigham Young University. Someone had written Kaminska/Hunter on it. I'd never seen it before, but I knew exactly what it was. I put on my glasses, opened it, leafed through its pages. My hands were trembling.

* * * *

Steven Hunter had been a high school student taking a class in East Asian history at Brigham Young University. I was a senior, an education major, assisting the professor. Steven seduced me. It was wild; it was insane; it was all-consuming; I was addicted. I did everything he asked; we made a sex tape; there were photographs. 

The police walked in on Steven, I, and half-dozen of his pals readying ourselves for a group fuck-fest. The university intended to make an example of me, but John Hunter, Steven's father, said no. He didn't care about me and was far more impressed than angry that his teen-aged son had bagged his hot teacher. But with my looks he knew the press would be all over the story and the disclosure of his son's identity inevitable. That would be a problem for a man of Mr. Hunter's wealth and notoriety. It would be a bigger problem for his wife, whose anxiety, already managed by a medicine cabinet full of pills, had spiraled out of control. The police backed off.

The university insisted on creating a written record. If I ever strayed again it could show it turned over a thorough investigation to the police, who stopped only at the request of the victim's family.

* * * *

"How did you get this?" I tried to make my voice steely and calm, but it was weak and frightened.

"My sister..."

* * * *

Three years ago I'd been hired by a high school in Highland Park, a wealthy suburb of Dallas. It was one of those schools where the students drive nicer cars than the faculty and the biggest problem were the parents, who didn't believe their little darlings were capable of doing anything wrong. For someone right out of college it was an extraordinary position. Emily, Andy's older sister, had been a senior. She was brilliant - class valedictorian, perfect score on the ACTs - and stunningly beautiful. She also seemed to own the place. There were rumors of teachers and staff being fired at her behest, rumors that the superintendent, or her husband, were her lovers, rumors she had videos of all of it. Emily did what she wanted; we got out of her way.

* * * *

"...was auditing a computer lab at Brigham Young. She got bored, hacked into the school's computers, found a list of disciplinary cases, but there was no background information. She figured out there had to be hard copies of the files and, with a little work, located them.

"The university let you down, Ms. Kaminska. I read the agreement in the file, this stuff was supposed to be kept secured, but it was in an unlocked cabinet in the hallway outside the dean's office. The school probably forget it was there. When Emily found the file she remembered you and sent it to me."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"It's your Ms. Kaminska, I'm giving it to you. I have a suggestion, however, don't destroy it. You can't be sure there aren't copies of it, or parts of it, floating around. While most of the stuff in there is damning, there is exculpatory material. Steven Hunter was no novice and I'm betting his father knew all along. You should keep the file, you may need to use it."

How much had he copied? What did he want? Best to address it now.

"What do you want?" I sounded feeble; I needed to get my voice under control.

"I want to see your breasts Helga. You do your best to hide them, but I've admired them all semester..." 

* * * *

He was right. After Steven, at work I obscured the assets. I dressed professionally, usually wore my thick black shoulder-length hair up. My make-up was understated. I wore glasses, partly to give me a studious look, mostly because I liked them. 

I don't want to sound too modest, I was proud of my looks. I spent an hour-plus in the gym every day and paid close attention to my skin, nails, and hair. When Bruce - my boyfriend - and I went out I loved to dress up and when we went into the city I'd wear, over my conservative boyfriend's sometime objections, something slinky and tight. In school, around town, however, I played down my appearance.

* * * *

"... and from what I saw in the file, they're spectacular."

"No." 

He ignored me.

"We'll do it in your office. I'll sit in the chair facing your desk. You'll stand in front of me. If someone walks by they'll see me sitting by myself, they won't be able to see you. If anyone approaches I'll distract them."

He walked into my office. I stared at the file, turned to face him, and in a voice suddenly a whisper said, "Okay, but no touching, you have to promise not to tell anyone, no pictures."

"Helga, you're in no position to bargain, but I didn't say I wanted to touch them, I said I want to see them. I have no intention of telling anyone and as to pictures, well there are plenty of those already. But if you require assurance..." He turned his phone off and laid it on my desk.

"And just this one time?"

"I can't agree to that Helga. What if you wanted to show them to me? No gentleman would be so rude as to say no. Now please, it will be over in a minute."

I couldn't see a way out. I'd do this, go home, figure out what to do. And, hell, what was the big deal? He'd reviewed the file, he'd seen the photographs, watched the movies - he'd seen a lot more than my breasts. I walked into my office, leaned against the edge of the desk and, fingers shaking, unbuttoned my blouse. When done, trying to fill my voice with contempt, I bared my chest and said, "Okay, pervert."

I guess I expected something vulgar, but in a voice not that of a lustful teen, but full of admiration, he said, "Ms. Kaminska, they're beautiful. You should be proud of them, not hide them."

Suddenly I was embarrassed. My breasts flushed a light red, the smallish pink nipples and areolas turned maroon. I said, "You're welcome," before I could stop myself.

"35-23-35? D's, no, large C's." 

"That's correct," I said, my voice subdued.

He kept looking at them, they heated up. Their red blush deepened. I concentrated, tried to shut off the flow of blood, but the harder I focused on them the more alive they seemed. 

"Put on your glasses."

I did.

"It's a good look. Thank you." He nodded his head. I re-fastened my bra and buttoned up my shirt.

"Tell your boyfriend that you want to go to Moe's for pizza tonight. Get there at 7:30, eat in. Do you have any clothes that emphasize your bosom?"

I didn't answer him; I looked at him sullenly. 

"Okay, that lovely Ann Taylor blouse you wear over a white tee-shirt, wear those, but unbutton the blouse, show off the ladies. And let's try your burgundy glasses. 

"Tomorrow wear a padded bra, hook between your breasts, and a loose fitting blouse."

I spat out, "And if don't."

"Helga, I simply do not entertain that possibility." He held out his hand. "My phone please." I handed it to him. He left.

* * * *

I'd been dating Bruce for three years, we'd lived together the last two. He was the opposite of Steven Hunter: kind, considerate, modest, steady, sometimes a bit boring. Sex was good, but never great. It was the way I wanted it. I did not want to return to the days of Steven Hunter, when sex had been all-consuming, when I lost all judgment in the face of it.

Bruce and I talked about marriage, but his mother was ill. He spent a couple of weekends a month with her. He was afraid the strain of our marriage might kill her. He hadn't told her we were living together. 

* * * *

Once home I put on my jogging clothes. I figured a nice long run would clear my head, I'd figure out how to extract myself from this mess. First I sat down with the file, thinking where to hide it. I opened it, started reading, looking at the pictures. Memories flooded back, memories I'd tried to suppress. I'd noticed Steven watching me in class, unrestrained hunger in his eyes. Unlike the others, he didn't look away when I caught him staring. He came to me one Friday, asked me to meet him in my office at 5:00 P.M. I told him my office hours were posted, that he could make an appointment on a Tuesday or Thursday. He said he'd see me at 5:00.

I was waiting for him. He took me on my desk. I swore it wouldn't happen again, but when he showed up during regular office hours, even under the threat that someone might walk in, I took his cock in my mouth and swallowed his spunk. He'd set a rendezvous on campus, in a public place. I'd say no; show up anyway; we fucked. He called me dirty names: cunt whore slut; I loved it. On campus I took to wearing stockings, garters, and heels.

A month into our affair I was to spend the weekend with him: his Dad was going out of town, his sickly mother staying with friends. On Friday I screwed his brains out. Saturday morning, wearing a skimpy maid's outfit, my make-up whorish, cars pull up outside, teenaged boys got out. I prepared them breakfast, reveled in their lewd comments. They pawed me as I served them. I was ready to take them all on.

Steven's mother had been suspicious - her son had been a little too interested in her weekend plans - and she'd asked a neighbor to keep an eye on the house. When cars started lining up she got a phone call and headed home, picking up one of the tony neighborhood's rent-a-cops along the way. I was busted.

* * * *

My reverie was interrupted by the sound of Bruce's car. I'd been reviewing the file for two hours. I buried it in the back of my lingerie drawer. Bruce walked in, kissed my cheek. I was incredibly turned on. 

"You go for a run?"

"I was planning to, but started daydreaming about an artichoke pizza at Moe's. Whatta ya say?"

"Sounds fine."

It was 6:00 P.M. There was time for a quickie. I peeled off my clothes and said, "Hey baby, before we go, how about a little roll in the hay. I've been thinking about you all day."

Bruce glanced at the clock. "I don't know honey. We wouldn't have time to shower and I'd hate to go to dinner all dirty after sex."

* * * *

We got to Moe's on time; I wore the prescribed clothes. In the bathroom I undid all but two buttons of my blouse. My breasts filled my white tee-shirt nicely. When I returned to our table several customers noticed them. It took a few minutes for Bruce to do so.

"Hey honey, you might want to button up."

"I don't know baby, I feel like showing the girls off tonight. Think of it as foreplay."

* * * *

Andrew walked in, right on time. Moe waved, "Your pizza will be ready in five minutes Andy."

"Thanks Moe," then, "Oh, Ms. Kaminska, hello." 

He walked towards me. I started to stand.

"No, don't get up, I don't want to disturb your meal."

He was standing next to me. Could he see down my shirt? Had he'd checked out my breasts? If he had he'd been subtle, his eyes had stayed on mine. He turned to Bruce.

"My name is Andy. I'm one of Ms. Kaminska's students."

Bruce said, "My name is Bruce."

I said, "Bruce is my boyfriend."

Andrew pivoted around the end of the table, took hold of Bruce's hand, shook it, moved closer, placed his free hand on top of top of the handshake. He was now looming over my boyfriend. He locked his eyes on Bruce's.

"You're a lucky guy Bruce. Ms. Kaminska is a great teacher, one of the best, and smart and beautiful to boot."

Bruce started to respond, but Andrew, placing his hand on Bruce's shoulder, talked over him. "What do you do here in Highland Park, Bruce?"

"I'm an accountant at Simon, Reed."

Andrew turned to look at me, his eyes bore into mine. He had instructed me to display my breasts, why hadn't he looked at them? I tried to look away, but I couldn't break his stare; there was something about his eyes. I was getting warm, my breasts flushed.

"I've heard of them, heard they're real good. You must be a smart guy Bruce."

Andrew's stare was intense; it went on too long. My lips went dry; I wet them with my tongue, blushed, straightened my glasses. I needed Bruce to do something. Couldn't he see Andrew was ogling his girlfriend? 

"Andrew, why don't you sit down and join us." 

Looking away from Andrew, I turned my gaze to Bruce. He was slumped forward, arms at his side, looking at his pizza. 

Andrew patted Bruce on the back, took hold of his hand, shook it again. "Thank you Bruce, but I've taken up too much of your time already and I see my pizza is ready. It was a pleasure meeting you."

He looked back at me. Again I wet my lips, my tongue drifted along their length. Andrew stepped towards me, his hand on my shoulder, moved it to my upper arm, squeezed. I offered him my cheek. He kissed it.

"See you tomorrow morning Ms. Kaminska."

He headed for the door, stopping to hold it for an older woman who'd just arrived at the restaurant. Bruce watched him leave.

"He seems like a nice young man."

"Yes, he's among our strongest students."

Barely speaking, we finished our meal. Bruce went to pay. Moe told him Andy had picked up the bill.

* * * *

On the short ride home my mind ricocheted from subject to subject. One of my students had discovered a secret I'd believed buried; he had the fucking file! If it became public I was ruined. I needed a plan; none formed in my head. Instead, there was a slow burn between my legs. Spending the afternoon reviewing the file, showing off my breasts at the restaurant, had left me on fire. I knew this was no time to surrender to my libido, but I needed to be fucked. 

There was a problem. I was pissed at the man who was to do the fucking. Pissed at him for not fucking me earlier, pissed at him for not enjoying my tits, pissed at him for not putting Andy in his place. By the time I got home I was certain of two things: Bruce would fuck me and I'd listen to none of his mealy-mouthed bullshit.

Bruce put the leftover pizza in the frig. He turned to find me dropping my shirt, tee-shirt, and bra on the kitchen floor. 

"I'm sorry honey, I know what I said earlier, but I just had a big meal, I'm full. How 'bout a little later." 

"You said when we got back. We're back. If you're having trouble getting it up, I can help, I can suck your cock."

He'd always been uncomfortable with the word. I didn't care. Topless, I walked towards him, "After I suck your cock, I'll lick your balls."

"Honey, you okay?"

"Bruce, I'm horny as shit."

He glanced at my chest and said, "Is that why..."

"Why I unveiled the girls tonight? Yes. Baby, I have great tits, I work hard to keep them looking this good. Tonight I wanted to show 'em off." 

I had to calm down. This was getting me nowhere.

I winked. "I was hoping to rev up your engines."

I was now standing immediately before him. I reached down. Not hard, but not soft. We were getting somewhere.

I dropped to my knees, unzipped his pants, pulled them past his thighs, took him in my mouth. Although initially surprised by my aggressiveness, as I worked his dick Bruce's jaw slackened, his face softened. Soon he was soon fully erect and I was thinking about my boobs. 

I stood, grabbed some oil from the counter, took hold of his hand, headed for the bedroom. He stumbled; his pants still bundled at his ankles. He was normally meticulous about clothes case. I glared at them; he kicked them off. 

Bruce got on the bed, laying on his back. I smeared oil on my chest until it dripped down my torso, straddled his hips, leaned forward, pressed my tits together, engulfing his penis. I rolled them on his cock, then slid forward, his dick disappeared into the folds of my breasts. When I moved back the head re-emerged with a drop of pre-cum

"What's this?" I swiped it with my tongue. "Tastes like cum."

I turned my tits inward so my nipples slid on his dick. Another drop of pre-cum leaked out. I caught it with my tongue. "Oh baby you taste so good." 

His cock got harder, stiffer, longer. He began fucking my tits. The head expanded, turned a deeper shade of purple. Bruce was whimpering, beginning to dig our obscene play. My tits pressed to his cock, I swiped the cock-head with my tongue each time it poked from boob canyon. Bruce was grunting in erratic bursts. I knew that sound, he was closing in on an orgasm. I rubbed my wet pussy on his calf. 

Then Bruce bellowed and lunged forward. A jet of cum burst from his cockhead, splattering my face and forehead. Then another explosion, less violent than its predecessor, depositing a stream of jism on my nose. It was followed by a final convulsion. Semen oozed from the cock-head, spread onto my tits. I sat up. Cum flowed from my forehead past my eyes, along the sides of my nose to my cheeks. I shivered when the cold air hit the spunk on my tits.

I needed to be fucked, but Bruce's cock was through for the night. He was also a reluctant pussy eater, inevitably complaining about finding pubic hairs in his mouth the next day. "Baby, use your fingers on me."

He stared at my face and tits. "Shouldn't you clean up first?"

This was no time for a fight; the sooner we got to working on my cunt, the happier I'd be. I went to the bathroom; in the mirror I watched cum slide down my face, around my large brown eyes, along the sides of my nose, across my cheeks and chin. There were thick globs, coating my features with creamy white cum. I ran my tongue over my lips, slurped some down. I raised a breast to my mouth, licked the surface, sucked sperm from my nipple. His seed wriggled down my throat. 

My libido had re-fired. I wiped off my face with a towel and hurried back to the bedroom.

As I did I thought about Bruce. Our sex life had become increasingly infrequent. We went at it what, every seven to ten days? When had we last done it? I masturbated frequently, but what about Bruce? He'd shot days' worth of cum on me. Wasn't he pleasuring himself? Was he satisfied doing it three or four times a month?

I got back to the bedroom. Bruce was asleep. Out cold. I wasn't surprised. Orgasms did that to him.

I retrieved my vibrator from my lingerie draw and, on impulse, took a sex tape Hunter and I'd made. I put on my glasses, went to the living room, loaded the tape, turned on my vibrator, spent a perfectly happy hour bringing myself off over and over again.

* * * *

The next morning Bruce woke first and fixed breakfast, an unspoken apology for falling asleep last night. But his behavior was still formal, skittish, a little afraid to engage. Was he uncomfortable with how aggressive I'd been last night? We needed to talk. I wouldn't let Andy endanger our relationship.

"You okay, you seem upset."

His response was a curt, "I'm fine."

I pressed ahead. "Honey, about last night..."

He cut me off. "Look I know you girls have all those hormones and things, some times you get all, y'know." He headed for our bedroom, ending the conversation.

Fucking hormones! No dear, it was not fucking hormones! It was one of my students. He had a file on me that could wreck my life.

I stopped, took a deep breath. Better not to fight with Bruce, I already had enough problems. And how could I expect him to understand? I'd given him no reason to believe there was a demon in my past. I swallowed my anger, breathed deeply, got dressed. Yesterday I'd expected to have a plan in place to deal with Andy, but I had nothing. There was no alternative to playing along for another day. As instructed, I put on a loose fitting blouse and padded bar with the clasp between my breasts. 


A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 01



* * * *

Andy was standing by my classroom holding a small book bag. He checked his watch. "You're late."

Trying to signal my contempt, I spat out, "Is that going to affect your little game?"

His response was even-toned. "No, I built in some dead time. How was Bruce's performance last night?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When you and your boyfriend got home, how'd he do? Did he satisfy you in the sack?"

"What happens between Bruce and I is none of your business."

"I didn't think so, you looked hot-to-trot, he didn't look up to it." 

I glared at him. He walked into my classroom, I followed. He sat in my office, in the chair facing my desk, ensuring he'd be fully visible to anyone walking by. I sat behind my desk trying to assert some authority. Andrew pulled a jewelry box and thermal bag from his pack.

"Andrew, what are you after?"

"That's not the right question, Ms. Kaminska. I'm interested in the journey, we'll see where it takes us."

"What kind of zen bullshit is that?"

He didn't seem bothered. "Put these on." He slid the jewelry box across my desk. I opened it. Inside were two small gold metal objects.

"What are these?"

"Nipple clamps, Ms. Kaminska, for your breasts."

"You're insane. I will not let you do this."

"I'm not going to do it, you are. I'll stay right here."

I considered proclaiming the game over. He could tell whomever he wanted, I'd live with the consequences. But I thought about Bruce, my parents, the effect on them. 

I said, "You stay right there and no pictures." Nodding, he turned off his cell phone and placed it on my desk. I unbuttoned my blouse and unsnapped my bra; my hands were steadier than yesterday. I picked up a clamp. I'd heard of them, but had never seen one. There was a small screw in the middle and the part that fit over the nipple was covered with a pad. I touched it, the material was surprisingly soft.

"Before you put them on, its best that your nipples be hard and erect. Get them ready."

I looked at him for the first time since I'd bared my breasts. "You must be out of your mind."

"Don't think so, but if you're not up to it I can help."

"No!" I covered my breasts with my hands. Shit, they were already warming up. I ran a thumb over a nipple. It sprang to attention. I suppressed a moan; I didn't want Andrew to know what I was feeling. He noticed anyway. 

"Ms. Kaminska, you lucky girl, lovely breasts and sensitive nipples. Keep going."

I thumbed my nipples. My breasts swelled, glowing a sweet pink; my small nipples and areolas grew stiff with blood. My mouth slightly ajar, I was breathing more deeply.

"The problem with most nipple clamps is that they cut off the blood flow, rendering the nipples numb. These are state of the art; they solve the problem. They have an internal spring. Every fifteen minutes or so they recalibrate. It takes about a minute and during that time the pressure on your nipple decreases, ensuring the flow of blood."

He was unemotional, analytical. I felt like an experiment. I had to get us back to reality. I looked at the clamp, then glared at him. "This is insane. You'll never get away with it."

He went on. "Think about it. Standing in front of your students with your nipples bound. Only you'll know what's happening, that the breasts of the cool professional woman entrusted with the care of America's youth are bound. You've been good for so long, it will feel good to be a little bit bad."

His words bore into my skull. He was right, part of me was tired of playing goody two shoes. Fuck, what was I thinking. I re-booted, I had to get a grasp on myself. He was trying to manipulate me. There was real anger in my voice when I said, "Just tell me how to put these fucking things on you bastard."

He didn't blink. "Place it over the nipple."

I did.

"Turn the screw, a quarter way around."

I twisted the screw with a fingernail; the clamp grabbed my nipple. The pain was sharp, but not overwhelming. I put the second one on. Same thing. I would survive. Then they started to move. He had said they'd recalibrate, loosen, then tighten. What exactly did that mean?

I found out. The clamps moved, then squeezed down hard. My first urge was to scream, my second to tear the things from my breasts. The former would bring unwanted attention; the latter might damage my nipples. Instead, my eyes shut and gulping in air I hissed, "What the fuck. Are you out of your fucking mind? I can't stand in front of a classroom like this."

He was absolutely calm. "You'll do fine Helga. Give it a few seconds, you'll adjust."

He drew a Starbucks' Caramel Machiatto from the thermal bag and handed it to me. "I know you like to grab a cup of coffee in the teachers' lounge before class, but that's ill-advised today. You'll need a few minutes. I believe this is your favorite."

He was right. Had I mentioned it in class?

Andrew leaned back, began a discussion of the day's lesson: the opening of Japan to trade by Matthew Perry. It was designed to distract me, but I offered no resistance. I needed to be distracted. The pain in my breasts receded; it would be manageable.

There were sounds in the hallway. Kids were filtering into school.

Andrew said, "Button up. Be careful, the pressure of your bra on the clamps will intensify the sensations. Avoid sudden movements. You're giving your first class a test, that will give you time to accustom yourself. Before saying anything think it through, then focus. It will help get you through the morning."

I wanted to scream, but I listened. I needed help and Andrew seemed to know what he was talking about. I re-snapped by bra, re-buttoned my bouse. When the material moved against my breasts, ripples of pain washed though me. He was right, I'd need to move carefully.

Andrew studied my chest. "Excellent, they don't show at all. I'll see you in third period."

The first class ushered in. After handing out the tests, I took Andrew's advice, delivering the instructions in short, succinct, well-thought out paragraphs, then sat behind my desk, grading homework. About ten minutes into the class the pain in my breasts abruptly decreased. I closed my eyes, hoping the clamps had slipped off. Then they tightened, biting into my nipples. It was what Andy had warned me about, the springs had recalibrated. I crumpled the paper in my hand, gave out a low short moan. Kids in the first couple of rows looked up. One of them, Patricia, stylish as always and wearing granny glasses, said, "You okay Ms. Kaminska?"

"Yes, back spasm."

Over the course of the hour I learned that Andrew was right, I gradually accommodated myself to the pain, found I could function despite the intense sensations buzzing in my brain and chest.

I steered the second class into a discussion, prompting the students to talk and lessening the burden on me. Christie, the principal's daughter and captain of the cheerleading squad, was saying something. Fred, a football player, had his hand up. I didn't like the kid, he was far more interested in my breasts than anything I had to say. Even now his eyes kept slipping to my chest. When Christie was done I pointed to him.

The clamps began recalibrating. 

"Fred, what do you ..."

I sucked my upper lip into my mouth.

"... think about ..."

The clamps tightened, sending waves of pain though me. I grabbed the back of my chair and stopped talking. Freddie, confused, raised an eyebrow. I took a deep breath and finished.

"... about Christie's point."

He started talking. I sat down, the pain slowly receded, then I felt it. It was tiny, dwarfed by the discomfort, but it was there. A small happy buzz in my cunt, a flutter deep in my vagina. I was getting turned on.

Freddie finished, someone else followed up, the bell rang, the kids filed out, Andrew's class entered. He fixed his eyes on me; I nodded, showing him I'd make it. I began my lecture on Matthew Perry, trying to foment a class discussion so I could focus on the pulsating sensations in my chest, which were now feeding directly into my cunt. 

Andrew understood. He raised his hand, made an open-ended point, one that invited a response. Another hand went up, I called on her, a third student joined in. Andrew caught my eye, smiled, taking obvious delight in the dirty secret we shared. I'd look away, but my eyes always drifted back to him.

The class discussion went on; I barely listened, thinking about my tits and swollen pussy. There was a lull, everyone was looking at me. Somebody must have asked a question. I hadn't heard it. I stared dumbly into space, then Andrew made a point, something about the roles of the Shogun and Emperor in Perry's efforts, not a topic covered in the day's reading. He'd been studying on the side. Someone responded, the class discussion took off again.

That left me free to think about my tits and cunt, about how I shouldn't be getting turned on, about how damn turned on I was. With about fifteen minutes left in class the clamps began to recalibrate. I steadied myself, looking forward to the moment they bit down. When they did I closed my eyes; a shiver ran through my body. I opened my eyes, Andrew was staring at me. He knew exactly what had happened. He brushed his hand against his chest, looked at me, nodded.

I shook my head slightly, no.

He nodded yes.

Hands shaking, I reached to adjust my glasses, dragging my forearm across my breasts in the process. An explosion, terminating at my sex, rumbled through me. I pressed my thighs together, prolonging the sensation.

Andy smiled and brushed his hand over his chest. I couldn't even pretend to refuse him this time. I ran my forearm across my chest. My nipples tingled, my pussy erupted. I gasped, several students turned towards me. Andrew addressed some point made by some student - I no longer cared who - and drew everyone's attention back to him.

The bell went off. The class left. Andrew approached. He handed me a small tube. 

"Go to your office, masturbate. I'll make sure you're not disturbed. When done, take off the clamps. When you do so make sure to take a deep breath and slowly exhale. Your nipples will be sore. Lick them, then use this cream."

I knew I should object, but I was helpless before my rampaging desire. I muttered thanks, disappeared into my office, brought myself off, quick and hard. I removed the clamps, licked my inflamed nipples, applied the lotion. They felt better. 

My libido satiated, I put on my game face and returned to the classroom, faced Andrew. I said that this was insanity, it had to stop, but I sounded weak. I was asking, not telling. 

Andrew was non-plussed. "It will Ms. Kaminska, soon, but not yet. We're still on our journey."

"And if I refuse to co-operate, tell the world about Hunter, resign, you'll have no power over me. What then?"

"Helga, I don't want that, neither do you. It will be over soon."

I glared at him. It made no difference. 

He continued, "Tomorrow wear panties and your Nine West purple dress."

I knew the one he wanted. It was modest, sleeveless, hung loosely past my knees.

* * * *

During the course of the afternoon I couldn't stop thinking about my breasts and the pleasure they could bring me. My tortured nipples tingled when they rubbed against my bra, sending jolts of pleasure to my damp pussy. Before the last class I ducked into my office, squeezed my breasts, considered dismissing the kids and masturbating, but how to explain it? Andy would also hear about it, figure out what happened. I couldn't give him the satisfaction.

So I soldiered through the class. On the way home I reached inside my shirt and played with my breasts. My reverie was interrupted by a car horn. I was at a stoplight. An attractive young couple, sitting in the car next to mine, gave me the thumbs up.

Once home I hurried to the bedroom, stripped, pulled on my nipples, loving the sensation - equal parts pleasure and pain - and frigged my clit. The orgasm was like a run away freight train, on me almost immediately. Then, the urgent need between my legs addressed, I lay there, looking at the sky outside my window. What the fuck was wrong with me? How could I get out of this? I decided to go for a run. It would refresh me, help me devise a plan to escape Andy.

It didn't. Instead, I thought about sex. I figured Bruce, after falling asleep last night, owed me a good fuck. I showered, did my hair, put on a yellow tank top and a short skirt. Attractive, but not over-the-top, the way Bruce liked it. I went to the supermarket.

* * * *

Bruce dragged in, looking tired.

"Hey baby, hard day?"

"Brutal, had to skip lunch, big rush to finish the Johnson returns. We signed them while the Federal Express guy was waiting in the lobby."

"Well then, I have some good news. I'm making your favorite tonight, steaks, asparagus, new potatoes. Want something to drink?"

"A Coke would be great."

I brought him his drink. He settled in front of the television, becoming engrossed in Wheel of Fortune. I set the table, lit some candles, cooked, shouted some comments from the kitchen, trying, unsuccessfully, to get him to engage. The show ended. Bruce walked in, said, "I figured we'd eat in front of the television." Then he paused, as if seeing me for the first time, and said, "You're all dressed up. What's the occasion?"

"Do I need an occasion to dress up for my man?"

Over dinner he recounted his day. I had a little trouble empathizing - it consisted of sitting in an air conditioned office for eight hours and eating lunch at his desk. He asked about mine. I decided to leave out the part where I wore nipple clamps and a student guarded my office door while I jerked off. I smiled, ran my foot up his leg, and said, "My day was a bit dull baby, I'm sorry you had such a hard time."

He smiled, taking pleasure in my concern.

By the time I returned from the kitchen with dessert - chocolate chip ice cream - he was back in front of the television. I joined him, leaned against him, touched him; he was oblivious. I stuffed my anger; I did not want to fight and end up like last night, playing with my vibrator. I tried the direct method.

"Hey baby, I thought you and I could go to bed early tonight, get some cuddling in."

He looked at me. "You've been in a mood lately."

Shit, his girlfriend's a hot bitch who wants to fuck and that's what he says, "You're in a mood."

"Well, baby, you put me there." 

He looked at the television, noted it was a re-run, flipped off the set. In the bedroom he went to the window, pulled down the shade, started stripping. He looked at me, waiting for me to do the same. Wishing he'd rip the clothes off me, I undressed.

We lay down.I kissed him. Bruce licked my breasts, smooched on my neck; his hands roved over my skin. It felt good, it was nice, but I needed something more. I considered asking him to go down on me, but he was never an eager pussy eater and I didn't need an argument over lackluster cunninglingus. He rolled me onto my back, ready to enter me, but I was barely wet. I needed to draw out the action.

"No baby, get on your back, I want to be on top."

He was mostly a missionary man, but he shrugged and rolled over. 

I straddled his thighs, moistened my lips, looked into his eyes, moved slowly forward on my knees, showing off my body. I dropped down, trapping Bruce's balls between my pussy lips, rubbing against him. He sighed. I raised myself, took hold of his dick, dragged it over the folds of my cunt. I was getting wetter. I flicked the cock-head against my clit.

"Bruce, that feels so nice."

I lay his dick down, scooted forward, sandwiched his penis between my pussy and his stomach. I reached back, placed my hands on his legs, and thrust my hips back and forth, jacking Bruce off with my pussy lips. I was getting wetter. I took hold of his cock, rolled the head over and around my sex, pushed the tip into my hole, scooped out some liquid, used the lubrication to slide his cock over my clit.

I was enjoying myself, putting on a little show. I coated his cock-head with my juice and dragged it along my perineum. I'd never been ass-fucked; how would he feel about being the first?

"Baby, have you ever done it in a girl's behind?"

"No, I mean, it's dirty back there."

I angled forward, catching his cock between my ass cheeks, and teased, "I don't know, I've heard guys really dig it, some girls too."

Using three fingers, I transferred pussy juice to the valley of my ass, then slid back and forth, fucking Bruce with my ass checks.

He remained unconvinced. "I'm not sure it's natural."

"Shame." I rotated forward, my ass hovered over his balls. I lowered myself, trapping his shaft between my pussy lips and slid my clit down his cock, closing my eyes, focusing on the feeling. I thought about the old joke: that women were merely life support systems for pussies. Maybe men were life support systems for cocks. I smirked, then moaned. It felt good.

I slid back, dragged his cock-head over the entrance to my pussy. I was finally wet enough. I took hold of his cock, pointed it skywards, took him inside me. When I reached bottom I ground my groin against Bruce, spreading my lubrication around. When Bruce tried to thrust into me I lay an open hand on his chest. "Give me a second baby, I need a second."

I continued grinding into him; it was working; my juices were flowing. I looked at the mirror, admired my sleek body, dark brown eyes, thick black hair, lips painted red. I was hot, sexy. I understood why Andy targeted me.

I nodded my head, let Bruce know I was ready. He pushed into me. We soon found a steady enjoyable rhythm, but something was still missing. I was digging it, but I didn't feel that surge, that drive towards a climax. I looked at my boyfriend, his jaw was beginning to lock into place, a sure sign he'd soon empty himself inside me. I needed a boost. I thought about my breasts, how incredibly sensitive they'd been all day.

I planted my hands besides Bruce's head, my tits slapping against his face, and said, "Suck my tits baby." Bruce's eyes popped open, he was not much on dirty talk, but he saw the look of determination on my face. His tongue came out, he licked a nipple. Electricity shot through me; I needed more.

"That's it baby, suck, suck them hard."

He wrapped his lips around an areola, sucked and licked my nipple. It was sore, the sensations sharp, jagged, intense. My pussy juiced up, my clit throbbed. This was more like it.

"That's what I need, harder, baby suck my tits."

Bruce complied. Bolts of pleasure and pain shot through me, my pussy quivered, I needed more.

"Bite my nipples, chew on them."

He sucked harder, but no chewing, no biting. I flashed anger. Couldn't he just do what he was told? 

"Come on baby, bite them." 

Bruce opened his eyes, my breast fell from his mouth. He looked confused. In retrospect, the entire evening must have seemed odd to him. He was not used to me being the sexual aggressor, not used to changing our sexual routine, not used to me taking control. 

"Honey, I can't do that, I might hurt you."

He was a sweet boy and I did need him to stay focused, his dick to stay hard. I backed off.

"You're right, it's just that you've got me so hot tonight."

I sat up, flexed my cunt muscles, lifted myself on my knees. He groaned, his eyes drifted shut, his mind returned to his penis, where I wanted it.

I caught my nipples between my index fingers and the back of the knuckles of my thumb and pressed hard. Raw from the day's events, they sent sharp stings of pain through my body. My cunt spasmed.

"Unnnhhhh."

My moan was harsh, guttural. Bruce, who rarely opened his eyes during sex, did so now.

"Am I doing good honey?"

"Oh yes baby, you're so good."

He closed his eyes. I twisted my nipples.




A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 01



"Uuunnnnnhhhhhhhhh."

I looked between my breasts to my lover's face. Did I detect a special look of pride? Was he especially impressed by his studliness this evening? I wasn't sure, but one thing was clear. His eyes were tightly shut and his jaw locked. He was rushing towards an orgasm, which meant he'd keep his eyes closed, which meant I could get away with...

I brought a breast to my mouth and bit the nipple. A searing sensation ripped through me.

"Uuuunnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

I bit again, harder this time.

"Uuuuunnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

Flames flared through me. My pussy quivered, spasmed, juiced. I ground my sex into Bruce, dragged my clit over his pubic bone, rolled my aching nipples between my fingers.

"Uuuuuunnnnnnnnnnn hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

My tits had taken on a life of their own, every nerve ending burned with a cacophony of sensations; their vibes echoed through me. I could no longer distinguish pain from pleasure, both were intense, both were wonderful.

"Uuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnn hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

I twisted my nipples; a blinding light exploded in my brain, morphed into shimmering sheets, cascading colors, rippling rainbows...

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK... I'M COMMINGGGG..."

My body convulsed and spasmed and shook and contorted. Bruce whimpered and dumped his load inside me. Quivering, sucking in air, I squeezed my nipples again and was walloped by another orgasm. Immersed in the aftershocks of my twin climaxes, I collapsed. I couldn't remember when I'd last come this hard. I lay there, in a featureless timeless haze. The toilet flush. Bruce came out of the bathroom, wearing pyjamas. He sat on the bed.

"You okay honey?"

"Fuck yeah."

Well, I didn't actually say that. What I said was, "Yes baby, why do you ask?"

"You've seemed wound up the last few days."

Wound up? Shit, I'd been a bitch in heat. Why wasn't he celebrating?

"You've been turning me on even more than usual. Kiss me baby."

He kissed my lips, a gentle peck. Too tired to get up, I slept blissfully naked that night.



A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 02



Thanks to those who read Chapter 1; I hope you enjoyed it. I anticipate telling this tale in four chapters, so two more to go. The plot is derived solely from my imagination; Helga Kaminska, however, is based on a real lady, Bruce on a real man.

* * * *

I dressed the next morning as Andy had instructed. I still had no idea what to do about him. I didn't even know what he wanted. Was he just playing, seeing how far he could push me? If so, if I offered no resistance would he get bored? What was his end game? Surely this culminated with him between my legs.

Yesterday I'd been purposely late, but that had only amused the kid. Today I was on time.

"Good morning Ms. Kaminska."

I gave him a half smile, and unlocked my classroom door. He went to my office, sat in the chair facing my desk, turned his phone off, placed it on my desk. I sat down. He pushed a small box towards me. Inside was a tube of lotion and a red, spear-shaped object, about two inches in length with a flat base about an inch wide. I picked it up; there was some kind of gel inside.

"What's this?"

"It's a butt plug. You work the lubricant onto your anus, push some inside, then coat the butt plug. It will slide in easily. There will be no repeat of yesterday's discomfort." 

I'd always liked anal play. Past boyfriends would bite my ass cheeks, lick my butt, slip a tongue or finger inside. I'd do the same to them. There were a couple of guys who, if they'd asked at the right time in the right way, I'd have let in the back door, but the stars never quite aligned. Hunter would have certainly taken my anal cherry if our affair hadn't been interrupted. I thought about last night, teasing Bruce about my backside.

Then I realized I should be objecting. "Look, I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing here, but...," I stopped. He was looking at me, his gaze imperturbable. I picked up again, but there was a whine in my voice when I added, "What do you want from me?"

"As I said Ms. Kaminska, we're on a journey. It'll be over before you know it. Now insert the butt plug."

I gave him my best withering stare, suppressed a childlike urge to stick my tongue out -that would only confirm my helplessness - and stood, back to the wall. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of watching. I worked the lubricant over my anus, pushed some inside. It was thick, creamy, and warm; it felt good. I picked up the plug.

"Ms. Kaminska, you forgot to lubricate it."

Dismayed by my first impulse, to thank him for reminding me, I coated the plug with lubricant. I remembered the nipple clamps. I was a virgin back there. Would this hurt? 

As if he could read my thoughts, he said, "It'll be okay, just push it inside, nice and slow."

It slid in easily.

I felt, well, full. I wiggled my ass, the plug shifted position; I clenched my asshole, felt a tingle back there. I closed my eyes, focused on the sensation. The thing felt good. Imagine me, prudish Ms. Kaminska, standing in front of class, butt plug up my ass. Were there students, fellow teachers, wearing them? I felt wicked, wanton; my nipples hardened, my face flushed. The sound of students in the hallway hauled me back to reality. I opened my eyes. Andrew stood up to leave. 

"It's top of the line; you'll love it. The gel inside is heat sensitive; it moves around."

I went to the teacher's lounge. Principal Johnson was there. A forty year old black man, conservative, professional, married, a bit overweight. Christie, his daughter and captain of our cheerleading squad, was one of my students. We chatted. What would he do if he knew there was a butt plug in my ass.

The plug, due to the heat sensitive gel, kept squirming inside my ass. This felt great. On the way back to my classroom I put an extra wiggle in my walk, enhancing the effect of the plug.

Yesterday I'd taught with half my attention on my breasts. Today was much the same, when a student went on too long or the class discussion wandered into the inane, I let it go; my mind was on my rectum. When sitting I ground my ass on my chair; when standing I leaned against the corner of my desk, driving the plug deeper inside.

By the time my second class ended my pussy was wet, my tits swollen. When Jon, one of the class studs, approached me with a question I turned to face him, arched my back, touched his shoulder. Was the gossip true? Was he big-dicked and great in bed? Did he fuck his girlfriend up the ass?

The third class filed in. My eyes had dilated; my breathing flattened out; I was aglow with concupiscent desire. Andrew, as he had the day before, led the class discussion, allowing me to focus on my backside. The class ended; the students headed for lunch; Andrew stayed and guarded my office door while I brought myself off. 

I wrapped the butt plug in Kleenex to return to him. He handed me it's box.

"Keep it, there are instructions about its care inside. Make sure to keep it clean.

"Tomorrow we begin the second, and final, part of your journey. It gets more intense. Shave your pussy, wear panties, no hose, and a skirt that is either short or you can work up your legs to the same purpose. "

I started to object, but what was the point. I would do it; I had no choice; I had to ride this thing out. I gave him a sullen, "Okay," hoping he was telling me the truth, that we were almost done.

* * * *

On the way home I hit the gym, trying to burn off my anger at Andy, my shame about how I'd been reacting, and my libido, which was again racing out of control. I worked hard, but it wasn't enough. I went for a run. Still not enough. By the time Bruce got home I was ready for action. 

Because my aggressive behavior the night before had made him uncomfortable, I decided to play the seductress, to let him feel like he was in control. I was solicitous, coquettish, flirty. It worked; we got in bed, we kissed. I stroked him, touched him, smooched on him, straddled him, ran my fingers up and down his tool, placed it at the door of my vagina.

He said, "I want to be on top." I rolled off him, guided him inside me.

We started slow. It was nice, but only nice. My anus kept intruding into my thoughts; it was empty, craving stimulation. I reached down, fingered my butthole. Good. I scratched it with a fingernail. Better. I pushed a finger inside. Even better. Bruce noticed my odd movements. 

"You okay honey?"

The butt plug was in my purse. Could I get away with it? Its gel filling made it soft, pliant. Bruce was unlikely to feel it. 

"Yeah honey, I just need to, you know..."

Bruce knew, or at least thought he did. In the bathroom I lubed up my ass and the plug, pushed it inside, then flushed; I had to maintain the fiction. I hurried back to bed. "Come get some Tiger."

The butt plug twisted and wiggled as his cock rode in and out of me. I pushed my hips into him; the plug pivoted. Our short break had moved Bruce back to the starting line. That was good, I wanted a long fuck.

I loved the double penetration, the plug thrilled twat and tush. I pulled him tight. I felt like yelping and yelling, but after last night I needed to be a bit more demure. I slid my arms through his, held on to his shoulders. 

"Baby, that feels so good."

I lifted my legs to wrap them around him, then dropped them back to the bed. Remember: demure.

He kept fucking me. I humped into him, emitting a soft grunt each time his cock bottomed out inside me. He was making mewling noises. I twisted my hips; the plug jerked.

"EEEEEEEYYYAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Bruce picked up the pace.

"That's it baby, you feel so good inside me. You're so big and hard."

Bruce moaned, his hips began jerking spasmodically; he was getting close.

"Oh baby, you're so good, you're so good."

I flexed my cunt muscles on his cock; the movement tightened my asshole, pushing the butt plug deeper inside. Damn, it felt good. I repeated the action, squealed. He kept going; I was grunting in short hard explosive bursts. 

"Uunnnhhhh, uunnnhhhh, uunnnhhhh, uunnnhhhh, uunnnhhhh, uunnnhhhh, uunnnhhhh."

Bruce started to wheeze. He was ready. I wasn't, not quite yet. I reached underneath, twisted the butt plug in my ass. That was what I needed. My cunt spasmed and shook and contracted; I went sailing over the edge. As I came the plug wiggled in my ass, intensifying my orgasm.

Bruce wailed, "Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," and came.

I was hit my a second orgasm, "FUCK YES!!"

Surprised by the intensity of my yell, Bruce lifted himself on his arms. When he did I arched my back and stabbed my backside into the bed, impaling myself on the plug. My cunt and asshole melded into a single pit of explosive power; shockwaves pounded my body; I was consumed by another orgasm. I dragged my ass across the surface of the bed; the plug undulated inside me, sharpening, prolonging my orgasm. My body twisted and shook; obscenities speckled my incoherent babble. 

Finally I was quiet, still. Bruce was staring at me. He'd never seen me like this. I stroked his face, pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

"You've got me so hot lately baby; I feel so sexy when I with you."

He fell asleep. I went to the bathroom, removed the plug, found a hiding place.

* * * *

I woke early the next day, brought Bruce coffee and a whole wheat bagel.

"Breakfast in bed. What's the occasion?"

"Do I need one? But last night was real nice. Wanted to say thanks."

"Yeah honey, your sex drive's way up lately."

"Its from living with such a special man." 

Now to the reason I was buttering him up. "How would you feel if I shaved my pubic hair? I've been thinking about it."

Bruce's response was cautious; he didn't want to say the wrong thing. "I never thought about it, but if it's something you want, you should go ahead." 

I kissed his head. "Thanks baby."

Bruce left for work, I ran a bath, then taking my time - I had a thick full bush - shaved my pussy. I dried myself off, studied my sex in the mirror. I liked the new look; I felt sexy. I stepped back, scanned my body. I was a lovely woman at the height of my sexual powers. If I'd been oversexed the last few days, Bruce should be celebrating. 

My mind turned to school. What did Andy have in store for me? He'd said we were half-way though. What had he meant when he said it would become more intense? Was he finally going to fuck me? I sighed, I knew no way out of this mess. I seemed destined to complete his journey. 

My nipples were hard, distended. I glanced at my pussy, the lips thick and swollen. There was no time to masturbate. Donning the prescribed clothes I headed for school.

* * * *

I was unlocking my classroom door when Andrew said, "Good morning Ms. Kaminska. You look lovely today."

I turned towards him, crossed my arms on my chest, tried to look defiant. 

He glanced at my hips. "How did Bruce react to your shaving?"

That was going to far. "You may have something on me, but you have nothing on him. Leave him out of this."

He took a second, pondered, nodded. "Fair enough, I will. Remove your panties, bring them to me."

I took them off in my office, returned, handed them to him. I was afraid he'd bring them to his face, smell them, discover my arousal, but he slipped them in a plastic bag, then put it in an envelope. "You'll get them back at lunch."

"As I told you, its going to get more extreme. In a couple of minutes you'll get a text from Principal Johnson. The Mayor's Office contacted him yesterday. You're to be a guest of honor at a fund raiser at the Mayor's mansion Saturday night. Very expensive affair, $5,000.00 a head, $10,000.00 a couple. The press got a hold of the guest list - all high rollers - and started talking about buying influence, so the campaign committee decided to appeal to the hoi polloi by honoring some city workers, including you. He'll give you the invitation, tell you what he knows, which I just did.

"Now here's a little secret about our principal. He's got kind of a thing. There is a certain woman, and she's not the first, who visits him each morning - you don't need to know who - flashes her shaved pussy, then sucks him off while he's making his announcements. She arrives like clock work, at five minutes til eight. 

"Ask him about the fundraiser, work that dress up your legs, flash your cleanly shaven self. He'll get turned on, but he'll also get antsy, fearing you'll interfere with his routine. By seven, eight minutes to the hour he'll be checking the clock, trying to get you out of there. That's when you tell him she's not coming, you're today's substitute. Then suck him off."

I was incredulous. Principal Johnson was a conservative family-oriented guy. "That can't be true."

"I know you're surprised, but once you're in there you'll see. And wear your glasses. He digs glasses."

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Principal Johnson asking me to come to his office. I was wearing my black Layla B glasses when he met me at the door and directed me to the chair in front of his desk.

He started talking. I listened, wondering, had Andy told me the truth? Did our staid principal had a daily debauch in his office? I took off my glasses, sucked on the ear piece, crossed my legs. My dress tipped up over my knees. I looked to the side, keeping Principal Johnson in my peripheral vision. His eyes followed the downward progress of my dress. I turned back towards him, stretched, parted my legs, rubbed my eyes. He glanced at my open thighs.

I felt an unexpected surge of desire. Flashing was fun.

I shifted position, pretended to watch a school bus drive by, spread my legs further. He focused on the gap between my legs. I felt a slight chill; it was the cool air on my pubes; I was getting wet.

I looked back at him.

"Are you saying me it's for me only, that Bruce can't go?"

"Bruce can go, but he'll have to buy a ticket."

Dropping my head back, I put my glasses on, ran my hands through my hair, arched my back, pushed my hips forward. My pussy must be visible. I peeked at the mirror on his wall; he was staring right at it.

I leaned forward, giving him time to avert his gaze, and drummed manicured fingers on my thigh. "You know we can't afford $5,000.00."

His face was flushed; his breathing had slowed, deepened. He was ready for his morning blow job. 

"Ms. Kaminska, I know its an imposition, but its something we can't say no to."

I looked to the side, as if pondering what he'd said. My legs drifted further apart. I checked the mirror; he was staring at my cunt. My breasts were warm, nipples hard. 

I turned back, ran a finger along my lips, touched the fingertip with my tongue. "I see your point sir. Of course I'll go. I guess Bruce will have to skip it."

He glanced at his clock. It was time for his secret admirer. 

"Thank you Ms. Kaminska, I knew I could count on you. Now, if there is nothing else?"

I took my glasses off and twisting them in my hand, sauntered his way, lay my palm across his shoulder, leaned on the corner of his desk, picked up the invitation, brought it to the corner of my mouth, carefully surveyed his body.

"Sir, do you know why, or how, I was chosen?"

He looked at the clock; his voice flashed impatience. "No Ms. Kaminska, I do not."

I was flirting, but Principal Johnson was ready for me to leave. Not like a man. Andy was right, something was going on. I wouldn't able to listen to his morning announcements again without imagining a head bouncing up and down in his lap. Who was it? Today I'd follow Andy's instructions, today that head would be mine.

I went to his door, locked it, sat on the corner of his desk, let my leg bump against his. He leaned back, unsure of how to respond. I ran the heel of my shoe up his leg. 

"I'm sorry sir, I thought you knew. Your usual girl can't make it this morning. I'm here to take her place."

I kicked off my shoe, placed my foot on the inside of his knee, moved it up his thigh, traced the outline of his cock.

"Ms. Kaminska."

I nudged his chair back with my feet, kicked off the other shoe, stood, pushed my glasses up my nose, ran my tongue over my lips, gave him a wicked stare.

"The way you've been looking at my pussy sir, I think you can call me Helga."

"Ms. Kamin..., Helga, what are you talking about?"

He wanted to know what I knew. Fair enough.

"Well sir, what I'm talking about is this. The girl who sucks your cock every morning can't make it today. I'm her replacement." 

I lifted my dress, revealing my naked pubes. "I shaved this morning, just for you."

He stared. He was not ready to say yes, but, as evident from his bulging erection, not willing to say no. Sometimes a girl's got to take the initiative.

I knelt, flattened my breasts on his legs, pulled down his zipper, took out his cock, curled my fingers around it. It was uncircumcised, Bruce-sized, with a strong dark odor. I kissed the head.

"I can leave if you want."

"No, its okay, Helga, its just that no one told me." 

Someone entered the outside office. Turning my head to the sound I saw a picture on his desk. It was of him and his family. I was on my knees at school, preparing to suck my married boss' dick. It was wrong; it was wanton; it thrilled me.

He reached down, caressed my boobs though my dress, tweaked my nipples. I gasped, ran my fingertips through his dense pubic hair, undid his belt, pulled down his pants and boxers. His prick was stiff and throbbing and thicker than I'd first given it credit for. I curled my fingers around the shaft, took a deep breath; I enjoyed his stark masculine odor. 

"Do you like it?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Squeeze it."

I trapped the shaft between my palms, rolling it back and forth. A drop of pre-cum emerged; I caught it with my tongue. Principal Johnson took hold of my hands, freeing his dick; it swayed and bobbed in the air.

"Wet a finger, run it up and down my cock."

I licked a finger, slid it down his tool.

"Use your nails!"

I fluttered my red manicured nails over his fuck-stick.

"Harder!"

I dragged my nails up his pulsating shaft; a gush of whitish cream oozed from his piss-slit.

"Squeeze it."

I gripped his cock, squeezing hard. Cock-cream ran down the shaft. Some reached my hand. I licked it off.

He groaned; I looked up at him; he was grinning. He enjoyed giving me orders, enjoyed having one of his teachers comply with his obscene commands.

A buzzer went off. It was time for the morning announcements. Barking, "Suck my dick," he grabbed a microphone.

I teased, "Now?"

"Of course, now. Suck my dick slut." 

Well, he was the boss. I licked up each side, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum, then lashed the head with my tongue. More drops of juice spilled out. I licked them up, then danced my tongue over the crown, saturating the cock-head with saliva. His free hand went behind my head, his fingers entwining in my dark hair. He began his announcements. 

"Good morning all..."

I pushed the tip of my tongue into his piss slit; licked under the knob; dragged his cock-head across my moist lips, my tongue flicked out for quick licks.

When he finished his introduction he took his finger off the send button, turning off the microphone, and imprisoned my head in his hands.

"Suck it."

I flexed my jaw, opened my mouth, and he drove his cock into my face. The head bounced off the back of my mouth. I closed my lips around it. He sighed, resumed his announcements. With four inches already in my mouth I moved forward. When it reached the back of my mouth I clamped my lips on his shaft and pulled back, working the crown with my tongue.

Principal Johnson took his finger off the send button, cradled my head, and lurched forward, plunging his dick to the entrance of my throat. I suppressed a gag and his hand dipped inside my shirt; two fingers forced their way between bra and tit, pulling hard on my nipple.




A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 02



He started talking again, something about the vacation schedule. I undid the top buttons of my blouse; he fingered my other boob. His cock grew larger and harder; I whipped my tongue up and down the shaft. He took his finger off the microphone's send button and a groaned erupted from his lips. I chomped on his dick; saliva ran from the corners of my mouth. He was on another topic, mid-term examinations; his finger left the send button. 

"My balls, play with my balls."

I ran my fingers over them.

"Good, but harder! Don't be afraid to hurt me."

I dug my nails into his scrotum and moved his cock-head into my cheek; it popped from my mouth with a sharp smack. I licked the shaft, took it back in my mouth, bobbed my head up and down. His hand went to my shoulder, urging me to suck harder. I shoved my head down; he reached the entrance of my throat. I raced my lips up and down his dick.

His legs began shaking as he wobbled through his final announcement. I felt a frisson of excitement; my mouth had reduced this articulate man to a stumbling school boy. 

"The girl's basketball team..., playing for championship..., conference championship..."

I sucked like a mad woman, slurping loudly. Could anyone hear the unusual background noise?

"In our gym..., winner state tournament..., Friday night.., want everyone attend. Good day."

He dropped the microphone - it bounced on his desk - and wrapped his hands around my head. Without concern for my comfort, he plunged his dick in and out of my face. His ball sac slapped against my chin; his balls withdrew into his body; the head of his cock banged against the opening of my throat. Then he bellowed, "Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," let go of my head, and dumped his cum in my mouth.

Jism gushed down my throat. I loved the taste and feel of it, loved reducing this proud man to babbling incoherence. After he blasted his last drop of jizz into my mouth he sagged in his chair. I bathed his softening prick with my tongue, swallowed his final wad of spunk. His cock slid from my mouth. I licked my lips, pressed my tits to his knees, gazed up at him. My glasses were askew, the lenses dotted with his spunk. He gestured to his private bathroom.

Inside I straightened out my clothes, cleaned my glasses, brushed my hair. My pussy was on fire. I wanted to masturbate, but there was no time. I re-entered his office. Principal Johnson struggled to his feet. Under his grateful stare I re-applied my red lip stick.

"If you'd like a regular gig..."

I considered confessing. I could tell him a student had disinterred a long buried secret, that I was at his mercy, that I was here today at his instruction. Maybe Mr. Johnson would help me; maybe he'd help for regular blow jobs. But no, once he'd learned what had happened he'd have to tell the school board. Andy might get in trouble, but my career, my relationship with Bruce, would be over.

I thought about Principal Johnson's question. Whether I'd be back on my knees sucking his cock? That was up to Andy, not me.

"We'll see."

Employing his office's private entrance I merged into the crowded hallway, arriving at class a couple of minutes late.

* * * *

During classes the last two days I'd been intensely aroused, letting the students teach themselves while I struggled to deal with my raging libido. Today, the taste of the principal's cum an omnipresent reminder of my debauchery, my cunt was once again aflame. However, I found that, despite burning with concupiscent need - my newly-shaven pussy pulsated, my breasts throbbed - I found I could focus and teach. It was as if I had become acclimated to a heightened state of arousal.

When the third class drew to a close I looked to Andrew. I needed him to guard the classroom while I masturbated. He approached. 

"You're doing much better today."

While he was correct, I responded petulantly, annoyed by his presumption that he knew me so well. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ms. Kaminska, who are you kidding, you're on fire, exuding sexual energy. You'll be the feature in plenty a schoolboy fantasy tonight."

I didn't want to argue; I looked to my office, signaling what I did want.

"I'm sorry, but before you masturbate I've got a quick assignment. Coach Greiner is running the girls though drills. Go to the gym, tell her you're thinking about going to the game Friday night. She'll be gratified, ask you to sit behind the bench, give you a tee-shirt to wear."

"I can't go to the game. Bruce hates sports."

"Ms. Kaminska, that's not gonna be an issue. Earlier this semester, when you were lecturing about changing norms for care of the elderly, you said that Bruce visits his mother every couple of weeks. I saw the two of you in town last weekend. How long has it been since he saw her?"

"Three weeks."

He went on; I felt like a child listening to a parent's explanation. "Perfect. After you tell him about the Mayor's invitation for Saturday, that he'd need to buy a $5,000.00 ticket to attend, and that the principal leaned on the faculty to go to the game Friday, he'll decide it's the perfect weekend to visit Mom. If there is any hesitation, encourage him."

I wanted to say something to put him in his place, but Andrew had Bruce pegged. 

* * * *

While walking across the courtyard to the gym, cool air swept across the wet lips of my pussy. It felt delicious. Was Andy right, was I giving off a sexual energy? Were there more young men's eyes on me than usual? I thought about my students, in bed, jerking off while images of me played in their heads.

Inside the gym Coach Greiner was tossing basketballs onto the floor. Although barely five feet tall, word was that she'd been the best high school point guard in the state, compensating for her stature through quickness, smarts, and ruthless aggression. Now in her late-40's, her short hair displaying a smattering of gray, she remained in top condition, her build stocky and muscular.

Coach made no secret of her sexuality. Over the last couple of years, at school functions, I'd met a few of her lovers. None lasted long and there were rumors of a carnivorous sexual appetite, of a bottle of wine and numerous women, some prominent in the community, some on the faculty, who'd visited her bed.

The team, led by its two stars - six foot five Imogene Holden and six foot one Trecia Smith - came jogging out of the locker room. Imogene our center, Trecia our point guard, one white, one black, both headed for Baylor, and unabashedly in love. They gathered around coach; Imogene's hand rested on Trecia's back.

The girls started running drills. Coach wandered over.

"Hey Helga, I didn't know you were a basketball fan."

"Can't say I know much about the game, but I thought, after listening to the announcements this morning, that I might come Friday, show some school spirit."

An eyebrow went up. "Bringing Bruce?"

"No, I expect he'll be visiting his Mom."

Coach pondered this statement, then said, "I reserve a few seats behind the bench, you can sit there. I had tee shirts made up to show support for the team. I'll have one of my girls drop one off."

I thanked her and hurried back to my classroom. Andrew stood guard as I, for the third time that week, brought myself off in my office.

Later in the day Britney Jones, our shooting guard, brought me a shirt. She gave me an openly sexual stare. I kinda liked it.



A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 03



Welcome to the third installment of A Teacher's Sin Uncovered. There is a fourth (and, for now, final) chapter drafted, which should follow shortly. I left the story open ended. If anyone has any thoughts for another chapter or two, please send. I can't say I'll have the skill or imagination to write them, but I'm always interested.

Coach is based on a good friend who is not, by the way, a coach. 

I am currently working on a Hurricane Katrina story and another chapter about Sam and Bella.

I wish all a Merry Christmas and, as always, all story characters, if they were actual people, would be eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * 

On the way home I stopped at the gym; once home I went for a run. I finished a few blocks short of the house, walked back, taking the time to think. Andy was always two steps ahead of me, nothing I did or said affected him. He seemed to enjoy playing with me. Would I be less interesting if I surrendered, stopped resisting? Would he lose interest?

He also had me in a constant state of arousal. Was that his plan, to reduce me to a sexual frenzy, then fuck me? After that would he keep his word and let me go?

I had no plan to deal with Andy, I had no option other than to trust his assurance that whatever was going on was short term, then I'd be free.

I was turned-on. I'd need to induce Bruce back to bed. He was, however, already concerned about my raging libido, wondering what had gotten into me. I felt a sudden resentment. I was a babe; why didn't he just fuck me silly? Not a helpful thought; I pushed it from my head.

I sent him a text, "Can't wait for my man to get home, let's cook out tonight," threw two potatoes in the oven, filled a pot with water to steam broccoli, and lay two defrosted steaks in the sink. Red meat might get his motor running. 

After showering I put on panties and a gray skirt he liked and, topless, did my make-up. At ten minutes to six I put on a bra, turned on the grill, heated the water. I was sitting in the living room, blow-drying my hair, when Bruce walked in.

He put his stuff down. I flipped off the blow dryer, hooked a finger under his belt, gave him a kiss. 

"I turned the grill on baby; the steaks are in the sink; throw the broccoli in the steamer."

He pecked my lips, ducked into the kitchen, headed outside. I resumed blow drying my hair, making sure he could see me through the plate glass window while acting as if I didn't know he was following me with his eyes. When done I leaned forward and poured two glasses of wine, providing him a grade-A view of my butt, slithered into a yellow tank top, loaded two plates with broccoli and potatoes, joined him.

We ate on the patio. I ran my foot up his leg. I leaned forward, displayed some cleavage, checked his crotch. He was erect. When we finished he started to pick up his plate.

I stood, glided around the table, motioned for him to turn his chair to face me.

"Why don't we leave that for later?"

A bit uneasy, not one to delay cleaning up, he said, "Okay."

I knelt before him, undid his belt, reached inside.

"Honey, are you sure, out here, what if somebody sees us."

"Well, I hope they'll enjoy the show." 

I didn't actually say that, I just thought that. What I said, not really caring whether it was true, was, "Don't worry baby, I checked, no one can see us."

I wrapped my fingers around his prick and pulled it out, stroked it. My tongue darted out for a quick lick.

"It's, it's so big baby. My baby's got a big," and, delaying for effect, added, "cock."

I took it in both hands, gave it a tight squeeze, massaged it, first with my palms, then my fingertips. I licked up its underside, kissed the cock-head, then let it go to toss aside my tank top and bra. I took several inches into my mouth and after throughly wetting it, leaned forward and captured it between my breasts. Looking into his eyes, I carefully rolled my breasts up and down his prick. At first he had glanced around, uncomfortable about being outdoors and being caught, but step-by-step his discomfort surrendered to the power of my mouth and tits. He leaned back, rested his hands on my shoulders, began humping my breasts.

"Do you like it baby? Do you like fucking my tits? Would you like to come all over my big fat titties"

Dirty talk wasn't Bruce's thing, but he didn't object.

"Maybe I should blow you. Imagine my lovely lips wrapped around your thick cock."

I released him from my tits, lowered my head, kissed the cock-head. 

"So nice and big baby."

I closed my mouth around his dick, lashed it with my tongue, let it slowly slide out between compressed lips and pressed it to his belly while licking the shaft. Then I took about half of it back into my mouth, bobbed my head up and down, flicked my tongue on it, lubricated it with warm slippery saliva. 

I definitely did not do this enough. 

I ran my tongue around the blood-engorged head and stroked the shaft with my hand, then cupped and massaged his balls, my fingers groping with a firm but gentle touch. His testicles were big, the most impressive thing about his equipment. I let his dick slide from my face.

"Your balls are so full baby. Do you mind if I suck them?"

I didn't wait for an answer. Taking my time, making sure Bruce enjoyed every hot wet sensation, I licked a testicle with the tip, then the flat of my tongue, before enveloping it with my lips, sucking on it. I let it slide from my mouth and grasping his dick with my left hand, I cradled his ball sac with my right, opened my jaws wide and sucked both testicles into my mouth. I worked my tongue under each, slid it to the opening of my throat, hummed, imparting the delicate vibrations to his balls.

Bruce moaned,"Mmmmh...."

Saliva seeped from my mouth. My chin was wet, his groin was wet, my pussy was soaked. His balls started to tighten.

I pushed them past my lips, replaced them with his cock. It pulsated in time with his heart beat. I moved forward until it reached the entrance to my throat, then pulled back and licked the knob. Underscoring the obscene event with obscene noise, I lapped and gulped, then raised myself on my knees and took his entire dick into my mouth. I bobbed my head up and down.

I found myself hungry, desperate for my boyfriend's cum. I'd always loved sucking cock, loved filling my face with man meat. Why had I let it slip from my life? 

Bruce took hold of my shoulders, stiffened and moaned; he was ready. I tightened my soft slippery lips over the head, lathered it with my tongue, twisted my hand on the shaft. Bruce grunted, jerked, exploded, filled my mouth with his hot warm thick cum. Longing for every salty sweet drop, I adjusted the angle of my head, but I was out of practice. Cum spilled past my lips, dripped down my chin.

I let his cock slip from my mouth, looked into his eyes, gave the cock-head a few last licks, stood. He was staring at me, mild disapproval in his eyes. I realized my face was wet with saliva and cum; he was not a fan of cum shots. I wiped my chin with my forearm. 

I'd sucked his cock; it was time for him to eat my pussy. Bruce wasn't a fan of cunnilingus; something about getting hairs between his teeth. Well, that was not going to be a problem; I was clean shaven and in no mood for excuses.

"Come on dear, my cunt needs tending to."

Discarding clothes, I headed down the hall. While Bruce didn't like the word cunt, my stride and demeanor brooked no dissent and pulling up his pants, he stumbled after me. In the bedroom I lay down, spread my legs.

"Eat my pussy."

"Honey...."

"I need my cunt eaten, I need it eaten now. Don't give me any pubic hair bullshit, I shaved it clean for you.'

That was not actually true, but he didn't need to know that. I will confess, however, it was not my most romantic overture.

Bruce stripped, laid his clothes neatly over a chair, knelt between my legs. I arched my back, offering him my pussy.

He licked my clit, once, tentatively.

I squealed, "Oh, my."

He did it again.

"Ooooooooffff, harder baby, harder."

Again, still tentative.

"Put your finger in me."

He did.

"Wiggle it."

He did.

"Harder!"

He did, but not much.

I was a bitch in heat walking my boyfriend of three years through Cunnilingus 101. He licked me some here, stroked me some there. It was nice, but I needed him eating me like a starving man.

I wailed, "C'mon baby, eat my horny cunt." 

He started munching, but not like a starving man, not even like a particularly hungry one. It was time to take things into my own hands. I pulled on my nipples, pain and pleasure combined into a single joyous sensation. Now we were heading in the right direction. Then he stopped and wiped pussy juice from his chin.

Anger welled inside me. I'd given him a superb blow job, sucked his nuts, swallowed his cum, let his jism roll down my face. Now he was objecting to a little cunt juice?

No, blowing my top would do my pussy no good. Shit, did a girl have to do everything herself?

"Baby lick my vagina."

He did. I reached for my clit, worked it hard. That felt good.

I gasped, "Oh baby, so good." 

I trapped my clit to my body, moved it in hard wide circles. I yanked on my nipple. Bruce pushed his tongue inside my vagina. My hips started to shake. I thought of the last few days: about showing Andy my tits, about the nipple clamps, about the butt plug in my asshole, about the principal's cock and cum in my mouth, about Andy guarding my classroom while I masturbated. I pressed my clit to my body and squeezed a nipple. Damn, it was on me out of nowhere.

"Unnnh, uuunnnnnnnhhhhhhh, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, fuck fuck fuck, I'm cominggggg."

My body shook, rocking the bed. I continued working my clit, gradually slowing the pace, decreasing the pressure, guiding myself through another sweet orgasm. I reached between my legs. Bruce's head was no longer between my legs. I didn't know when he'd stopped.

I opened my eyes. Bruce was at the foot of the bed, stark amazement on his face. I held out my hand. "Come here baby." He crawled forward and lay next to me, nestling his body to mine. He was a good man, just not much of a pussy eater. I lay an arm over him, complimented him. It felt good to have him close.

Then I remembered Saturday night. 

"Oh baby, in all the excitement, I forgot."

Naked, I bounced from the bed and headed for the living room, returning with the invitation. I explained it as he opened the envelope. 

"There's a fund raiser at the Mayor's Mansion. He's going to honor some city workers, firemen, policemen, etc. I've been selected as the teacher."

There was genuine enthusiasm on Bruce's face, "Honey, that's wonderful."

I frowned. "There's a problem. I get in for free, but you'd have to buy a ticket. Baby, they're $5,000.00."

His tone said he didn't want to hurt my feelings, "Honey that's a lot of money."

I leaned against him, touched his face with a finger. "Yeah, I know. There's something else. Principal Johnson's asked the faculty to go to the girl's basketball game Friday night. If we win we're in the playoffs."

He didn't need to tell me he hated basketball. 

He started to say something, then stopped. I knew what he was thinking.

"You're wondering whether I'd be angry if you took care of your Mom this weekend?"

"Mind reader. Yeah."

"No problem." I kissed him.

We got dressed, cleaned up the remnants of dinner. Bruce scraped the grill, showered, we crawled into bed. He was soon asleep. I stared at the ceiling, wondering what Andy next had in mind for me, chastising myself when I realized I was more curious than angry.

* * * *

For the first time since our journey had begun Andy had not instructed me on what to wear. I dressed conservatively. Waiting for me at my classroom, he complimented my outfit, then said, "Nothing at school today, you have the day off. At the game tonight sit behind the bench. Wear the tee shirt Coach gave you, gym shorts, sneakers. She'll invite you back to her place to celebrate the win, pour you some champagne, ask if you've been with a woman, try to seduce you. Go with the flow, but when she gets you to her bedroom tell her no, you're not sure, you're thinking about Bruce."

"You're nuts. I can't do that." I sounded churlish. I took a breath and in a more measured voice said, "How do you know this will happen?"

"Let's just say she's got a history. Don't worry, we're almost through. This is the penultimate stop on our journey."

The day was, on its surface, uneventful. The kids were restless, looking forward to the weekend, but generally attentive; they gave me no trouble. My libido, however, had grown a mind of it's own. I was seeing my students through new eyes, wondering who was the best fuck, who had the biggest dick, which girls put out. At the end of third period, when Andrew got up to leave, I suddenly panicked. I had expected him to stand guard while I brought myself off.

I blurted out, "Andrew."

He, and several other kids, stopped and turned. I was flummoxed; what should I say? What wouldn't arouse suspicion? Andrew rode to the rescue.

"I'm sorry Ms. Kaminska, I forgot. I was supposed to show you that reference book from my father's library." He patted his bag, "It's right here."

He walked towards me. The other kids left; he pulled a finger vibrator from his bag. I grabbed the toy, rushed to my office, real nice orgasm, cleaned myself up, thanked Andrew, and headed for the teacher's lounge.

* * * *

That evening I skipped the gym to pack Bruce's things. Andy had said our journey would be over this weekend. He hadn't lied to me yet. By the time Bruce returned I'd, once again, be his devoted sweet girlfriend; no more lying, no more secret second life. How would Andy claim his final prize, my body? He didn't lack for imagination. Whatever it was, it would be original. 

I kissed Bruce goodbye and put on red gym shorts, white socks, sneakers, and a bra. I examined the shirt I'd been provided. In school colors, it proclaimed my allegiance to the Panthers. It was also small, real small. I pulled it on, looked at myself in the mirror. A snug tank top, it clung to my skin and barely reached my waist. It wasn't obscene, but close. 

The gym was packed and, thankfully, there were plenty of women dressed just like me; I wouldn't stand out. I heard a familiar voice. It was Principal Johnson, standing with his cheerleader daughter and an attractive middle-aged lady he introduced as his wife. I wondered how she and I compared as cock-suckers. I excused myself after a few moments polite conversation. 

The lights dimmed and Coach, followed by the team, jogged out. She stopped in the middle of the floor; the girls huddled around her. Then she led them to the bench. She thanked me for coming.

* * * *

I ended up feeling sorry for the other team; our girls destroyed them. The Panthers were in constant motion, hounding their opponent on defense, flying down the court on offense. Coach pulled the starters at the beginning of the second half, but the second team was as well-drilled as the first and the lead expanded. And while Coach provided me occasional insights into the game, what I focused on was the beauty of these young women moving as a unit. I'd been forced to attend the game, but ended up enjoying myself.

As the game winded down Coach, as Andy predicted, asked me to join her for a celebratory glass of champagne. I said yes and followed her to her condominium. It was located in a renovated warehouse near the school. We took an elevator to the top floor, turned left. While her apartment was small, the exposed beams, high ceilings, arched french doors and windows, and skylight gave it a spacious feel. The furniture was mostly leather, which imparted its odor to the room, and the decorations sparse but tasteful; the emphasis was on the space itself.

I liked it. It reminded me of Coach, direct, to the point, no bullshit.

While Coach busied herself in the kitchen, I stepped out on the balcony, looking at the city's lights. Music came from hidden speakers, then I heard Coach's voice.

"You like the view?"

She stepped onto the balcony, handing me a glass of champagne.

"It's lovely." I held up my glass, touched it to hers. "To you, congratulations on the win."

"Thank you," she touched her glass to mine, "to my girls."

Pride in her team shone on her face. "To your girls," I echoed.

The champagne was excellent.

"So, what did you think of your first girl's basketball game?"

"I really enjoyed it. There's a beauty to basketball that doesn't come across on television."

Coach was genuinely pleased. "That's what I tell my girls, that when they're playing at their best, as a team, they're beautiful."

We sipped our champagne, talked. She was funny, brash, profane, her sentences liberally sprinkled with "son-of-a-bitch." When I spoke she, with intense green eyes, focused on me. She was genuine, comfortable in her own skin, making no attempt to hide what she was, from her unabashed sexuality to the gray in her hair. I found myself talking about Bruce, my frustrations with him evident, if not in my words, in my tone. Coach picked up on it, validated my feelings. I shivered, it was getting cold; she suggested we move inside for another glass of champagne. I agreed, said two was my limit. 

She opened the door for me, then walked to the kitchen. I watched, her stride was strong and athletic. I could feel her confidence. We both knew why I was there. She would try to seduce me; I was, at least, curious.

She returned, handed me my glass. I sat on the couch. She sat next to me in the lotus position.

"Have you ever been with a woman?" 

The directness of her question startled me; I stumbled through an answer. "No, no, I haven't."

She took my hand in hers, turned it over, ran a thumb across my palm. "Helga, I've wanted you from the moment we met. Do you remember? It was at a faculty party before the school year began three years ago. You were wearing a yellow pants suit."

I recalled the event; I was surprised she did.

"I remember, you were so...," I stopped, not sure of the right word.

"Gay?" she said.

I laughed. "Yeah, gay. I guess I was brought up thinking it was something you kept, well, private."

"Not me honey. Why should I?"

Squarely facing me, she slid close. She stroked my hair. Her short fingers were strong, her touch gentle. She kissed me. Just a peck. Heat simmered in my belly. Coach held my hair back, pressed her lips to my throat, just below my ear. My skin was sensitive; a light whimper escaped my lips.

"I'll stop if you want me too."

"No, I'm not sure, I mean this is all so new."

Coach moved closer. She ran a finger down my neck. I was certain she could feel my speeding pulse. 

"You're sensitive here, aren't you?"

She leaned in, ran a series of kisses and nips up my neck. Her lips were forceful, her touch knowing. In three minutes she'd mastered an erogenous zone that had escaped Bruce's attention for three years.

I murmured my approval, "Aaaaahhhhhhhhh."

She touched my lips, whispered, "Shhhh." I whimpered. She kissed my neck; her lips leaving a small fire at each spot they touched my skin. She grazed on my earlobe; I let out a high-pitched shaky sigh. Her tongue caressed my ear, then traveled slowly, sensually, down my neck. 

She bit my pulse point. I moaned, "Oh God."

My head dropped back; my body was going limp; new, unexpected sensations surged through me. Coach was so masculine, so direct. I'd expected the all-out assault of a horny boy, instead she played me with the care and understanding of a virtuoso; I felt appreciated, cherished.

She pressed her body to mine, licked my neck, jaw, earlobes. Her kisses were wet, expert, wonderful, exciting. 




A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 03



Her lips moved up and across my cheek, towards my lips. I was ready, suddenly rigid with anticipation. I considered pulling her mouth to mine, but so far she'd read me perfectly. She was in control. I'd do nothing to derail her. 

Coach turned her body towards me, her face hovered before mine. Our breath mingled; our lips drew closer. Her scent was light. She paused. I reached up, caressed her cheek, said, "You're beautiful," meant it.

Coach's eyes lit up. She took my face between her hands, her thumbs stroked my cheeks. "It probably doesn't speak all that well of me, but I like being a woman's first."

I smiled; I don't know why. Coach's directness, her honesty about sex, was refreshing. Staring into my eyes, she took my hand in hers and pressed it to her lips, kissed my fingers, took the tip of my index finger into her mouth, rolled her tongue against it. No longer able to resist, I pulled her mouth to mine. 

I expected Coach to maul my face, to take possession of my mouth like a frenzied teenager. Instead her kiss stretched my imagination. Her lips and tongue danced with mine, somehow both gentle and intense, pushing everything from my mind except the woman in my arms. At some point, I'm not sure when, we began kissing passionately, kissing lovingly, kissing desperately. I gripped Coach's thigh. She shuffled forward, straddled my legs, pushed her small powerful body against me.

She pressed her knee to my sex. I cried out. She rocked it on my pussy. It was unlike anything I'd ever known. Arching my hips and back, I pushed against her knee. Coach's hands became more aggressive, roamed up my back and arms, set my skin afire.

Then, to my dismay, Coach stood. I lunged for her, but she was too quick. She gave me a coy smile and pulled off her shirt and shorts, bra and panties. Her body was tight and muscular, her breasts small. There was a small tattoo on her side. She reached out her hand. I grabbed it and, effortlessly, she hauled me to my feet. We started for her bedroom.

My mind was clouded with desire, but I recalled Andrew's instructions. Part of me wanted to ignore them, but I shuddered at the consequences of disobedience.

When we reached her bedroom door. I stopped, turned towards her. "Coach, I'm not sure about this. I keep thinking about Bruce."

She stopped, looked at me, evaluating my statement. I continued, trying to justify myself.

"Coach, I mean, its just that, well Bruce and I have been together for years. I'm not sure I should do this." 

She tilted her head to the side and said, more in determination than anger, "Bullshit girl, you're on fire, you want this. You're a cunt-teaser. I don't like cunt-teasers."

I started to move away, but she pressed her hand to my chest, pinning me to the wall. Fear rocketed through me.

"It's just that...."

Before I finished the sentence Coach stepped towards me, placed her hand on my back, and without apparent effort tossed me over her hip onto the bed. Grabbing several pieces of nylon cord from atop her dresser she sprang forward on top of me. I struggled, futilely, while she looped a length of cord around my wrist and tied my arm to the bed frame. Sitting on my chest, she did the same to my other arm. Then, launching herself from her knees, she spun 180 degrees in the air, landing on my stomach and knocking the wind out of me. Taking hold of my shorts, she rolled to the foot of the bed, dragging my shorts to my ankles. I pulled hard on the ties, trying to free my arms. She grabbed a leg, yanked it, straightened it out, looped the cord over my ankle, and secured my foot to the bed. I kicked at her with my other leg, but she bobbed to the left, lassoed it, and, pulling hard enough to stun me, tied it down. I was roped and spread-eagled, helpless.

I was also winded, breathing heavily. Coach, on the other hand, showed no signs of exertion. I would not panic. In an even tone I said, "Charlotte, are you out of your mind? Let me up."

Calmly, methodically, Coach opened a dresser drawer, pulled out some scissors, sat on the bed, and cut my tee-shirt off. 

"Helga, I do not know what kind of game you're playing, but you're fucking with the wrong person. You ditch the boyfriend, come on to me, get me all hot and bothered, get yourself hot and bothered, then try to back out." 

She cut off my panties.

"Naked pubes! You nasty little thing." 

She cut off my bra, licked the tip of a finger, ran it across my breast. It exploded with goose bumps; the nipple hardened.

"My theory," she continued, "is you've heard how I tie girls up, have my way with them, and wanted the same treatment." An eyebrow arched. "Am I wrong?"

"If you don't untie me now I'll start screaming."

She stood, opened a drawer, pulled out some bundled silk stockings. 

"If you do no one will hear you, but on general principle I'll fill your mouth with these. But you won't. Bruce and your little world could never stand the scandal."

She was right. I yanked on the straps securing my arms.

She sat back down, licked a finger, dragged it across my other breast. It blushed; my nipple jumped to attention.

Then, nonchalantly, as if there was nothing unusual about our situation, she perched herself between my legs, ran her tongue over her thin lips, smiled, and leaned forward. Her cheeks brushed against my inner thighs and she lashed her tongue across my pussy lips. She did it again, took hold of my breasts, winked, and said, "Honey, you ain't fooling nobody."

Sitting on her knees, looking down at me, she squeezed and kneaded my breasts, fingered my nipples. Her hands were strong, her touch wise, and electric shocks spread through my body. She winked and dropped her head to my sex. Her hand were still working my breasts. Staring into my eyes she forcefully licked my vulva, gradually moved up to my clitoris, leaving a trail of spittle behind. She never took her eyes off mine. I wanted to match her stare, but couldn't. Instead I closed my eyes, dropped my head to the pillow, imagined I was somewhere else, not strapped to a bed in a colleague's loft.

Coach was patient and meticulous, exploring my entire sex, sometimes licking, sometimes kissing, sometimes sucking, sometimes nibbling. It went on and on. She was a woman who loved eating pussy, who could spend hours with her face buried between a friend's legs, delivering hours of relentless delight to whomever shared her bed.

Why was I thinking this? I wasn't sharing her bed, I was tied to her fucking bed. I yanked on the ropes, then tried to concentrate on the humiliation, on the way I'd been restrained against my will, on Bruce, but Coach wouldn't stop and subject to the relentless assault of her talented mouth I'd relax, focus on the lips and tongue making expert love to my sex. My pussy lip swelled.

Coach understood what was happening to me. "Pretend all you want, you love this."

She french kissed my vagina; its growing secretions confirmed Coach's statement. She wiggled her tongue inside me, spread my pussy lips with her hands, took a deep whiff, then whipped her tongue over the pink folds of my inner vagina.

I tried to dredge up anger, build a mental defense to what was happening. Coach had ignored my request that she stop, had attacked me, manhandled me, tied me up, taken possession of me. But she'd called me a cunt-teaser and she was right, that's exactly what I'd been. I'd been turned on, been willing, I'd said no because Andy had told me to. He sent me to her apartment with the express instruction to tease, then refuse her. Andy knew this would happen, that Coach would tie me up and eat my pussy like no one had before. On each stop on our journey Andy had foreseen what would happened; he knew how I'd react to what Coach was doing. The pleasure erupting between my legs was part of his plan.

I moaned.

Coach pushed her face deeper into the slit between my legs, kissing and licking and nibbling cunt-flesh. She moved back to my clit, flicked her tongue over the tiny bud, clamped her lips around it, sucked it into her mouth, rolled it between her lips, lathered it with saliva. She soaked it in her spit, then sucked the spit away. She lashed it with her tongue and nibbled it with her teeth. She blew on it, sucked on it, worshiped it. 

She was so unlike Bruce. Coach loved eating pussy, loved using her mouth to pleasure a woman, loved the taste and smell of cunt. Her unalloyed enjoyment was exciting, intoxicating. To her I was a sexual being who would eventually surrender to any joy her body could bring her.

I pulled on the ropes binding me to the bed. I was helpless, resistance was futile. Why fight it? It was pointless to fight. My sex was bubbling. Coach, her talented mouth, her obvious delight in my pussy, her strength and determination, were breaking down my will. It would feel so good to give in, to surrender, to let her take over. I pulled on the ties one last time, confirmed my helplessness, then moaned and squirmed, acknowledging my capitulation. 

I raised my head, looked between my tits. Coach, gazing into my eyes, dragged her lower lip back and forth on my throbbing clit. She moved back down, pushed her tongue inside me, slurping up the flow of pussy cream that affirmed her victory over me. She opened her mouth wide, guzzled on my wet cunt. 

I was a waterfall of lust; juice poured from me, washed over her face, flowed into her open mouth. Coach sucked it all down. Her hands went under my ass, lifted it; she dragged my bare pussy across her face. I thought how smooth her skin was. It was nice, Bruce would have stubble by this time of day.

She stopped. I looked at her; my juice covered her face.

"You dirty little whore. If I'd known how easy you are, I'd have seduced you a long time ago."

She plunged her face back in the marshy trough that was my pussy, fucking her seemingly inexhaustible tongue ever deeper in my cunt, feasting on sweet pussy cream. I was edging towards an orgasm; Coach slipped two fingers into me, effortlessly honed in on my g-spot, sucked my clitoris into her mouth, rolled it between her lips, battered it with her active tongue. I yanked on the ropes, loving the feeling of helplessness. I whipped my head back and forth, baying like a bitch in heat.

"Unnhhh, uuunnnnnhhhhhh, uuuuuunnnnnhhhhhhhhhh...."

She stopped. I jerked up my head. Her face was framed by my tits; my nipples and areolas hard, swollen, dark in color. Pussy juice covered her cheeks and lips. Why had she stopped? Was she punishing me? Should I beg? I was about to when she smiled, satisfied by the desperate look on my face, winked, and dropped her head to my pussy. Two strong fingers went back inside, palpitated by g-spot; her pinkie fingered my anus. She sucked my clit into her mouth, freed it from its hood, attacked it with her tongue. She made war on it, a relentless bombardment, coming from every angle, at every speed.

I strained at the ropes; the restraints had become intoxicating. Something about being helpless, at someone's mercy, deprived of choice. Now I could be myself. I pulled hard against them, felt them tighten; my pussy spasmed.

My body was an extension of my clit. My muscles spasmed; my pulse raced; my blood pressure spiked; my skin flushed; I gulped in air.

And then it all blew apart. My vagina contracted, strong and fast, trapping Coach's fingers inside me My uterus followed, irregular contractions starting at the top, working their way down. My sphincter repeatedly closed on Coach's pinkie, which she'd pushed inside me. Muscular tension flooded me, starting in my pelvis, going everywhere, neck, arms, hands, legs, feet. My pulse rate spiked; an orgasm ripped through me; the sudden powerful release of muscular and nervous tension blinded me to everything but my own body. Intense physical pleasure flooded through me; cream poured from my cunt.

I howled, I whimpered and whined, I cooed, whispered, gasped. Coach decreased the intensity of her attack, guiding me through a second, a third, then I lost track. The orgasms, which had started out mind-bending and powerful, ended gentle and flowing. I was panting, relaxed, at peace with the universe.

Coach got up on her knees, observed my spent body. My pulse, then my breathing, drifted back to normal. My pussy lips shrunk; my nipples softened.

I opened my eyes, looked at her. Her short powerful body was intoxicating and no one had ever eaten my pussy so well, no one had ever made me come like this. I started to say something, but Coach put her finger to her lips, instructing me to be quiet, then walked forward on her knees and lowered her very hairy pussy to my face.

I'd never given cunninlingus, but I knew better than to say no to Coach. I started out slow, avoiding the clitoris – I figured Coach would let me know when she was ready for that – and explored the nooks and crannies of her sex with my tongue. She moaned. I must have been doing something right.

She rocked forward, offered me her butt. I licked her anus, tried to force my tongue inside, but she was too tight. She moved her ass back and forth and I licked up and down the crevice. She returned the brown anal bud to my mouth. I licked it hard, but couldn't get my tongue inside. Wanting to spread her ass cheeks I pulled on the restraints, but couldn't reach her. I considered asking her to untie me, but she'd shushed me, instructed me to be quiet. Obedience seemed advised.

Coach, however, understood. She reached down and spread her ass cheeks. I licked her butt-hole and, after several tries, pushed my tongue inside. Coach groaned; it felt good to please her. Her anus was tight, her musculature well-developed, and soon my tongue was numb and my jaw ached, but Coach had given me a blindingly powerful orgasm, had shown me the joy a woman's mouth could bring. She was masterful and strong. She was the boss; she was in control; I owed her; I licked away. 

She lifted herself up, pivoted back; her pussy dangled inches from my mouth. It was the perfect pussy. Why would she deny me her perfect pussy? I lunged for it, my tongue swinging in a wide arc, but she moved to the side.

"So Helga, you like my cunt?"

"Coach, it's beautiful."

She lowered her sex to my face. I explored every nook and cranny, licking, nurturing, worshiping. She centered her vagina on my face; I licked the lips, felt them swell, pushed my tongue inside, wished I could go deeper. Her juice covered my face, flowed down my cheeks, seeped into my nose.

She took hold of the bed frame and leaned forward, pressing her clit to my lips. I started slow, waiting to give her the same mind-bending pleasure she'd given me. I teased her clit with the tip of my tongue, licked it with the flat of my tongue, rolled it between my lips, sucked it into my mouth, swatted it back and forth.

Coach's movements became stronger, her groans more guttural and intense. I tracked her responses, determined what she liked best, delivered more of it. Her sounds took on a regular staccato pattern; I attacked her clit with sharp hard licks. She bucked and hunched on my face.

"That's it honey, eat my cunt, eat me."

She was jabbing her hips into my face. It hurt, but I deserved it. I'd been a cunt-teaser. I'd make up for it, show Coach I was a good little girl, an avid pussy-pleaser. I pressed my face to her sex, licked and sucked her clit. My tongue ached, my jaw hurt, but I wouldn't stop until Coach came and bathed me in her juice.

And that's what I did, and what she did. With a powerful grunt she pushed down, driving my head into the bed, then issued a long sweet sound, something between a groan and a wail, and flooded my face with a cascade of juice. I opened my mouth, let it wash over my tongue, drank it down. She covered her face with her hands, arched her back, babbled her joy, "Son-of-a-bitch, so good, so good, so fucking good," before sinking onto the bed. Eyes closed, breathing hard, she was inert. I was soaked in sticky pussy cream; in was in my hair, on my face. I looked at her, basking in the serene joy written on her face.

Finally she opened her eyes, rolled to her side, propped her head on an elbow, and played with my nipples, stroked them, pushed them into my breast, let go, watched them pop back up.

"Son-of-a-bitch, that was wonderful. Where'd you learn to eat pussy like that you hussy?"

"Don't know, it was my first time."

"Oh my, girl you're a natural. You did it just right and made me feel sooooo good. And I do so love breaking in a rookie."

Coach leaned in to kiss me; my open mouth joyfully met hers. 

"Ready to be untied?"

"Yes ma'am."

We made love deep into the night.

* * * *

I woke; Coach was caressing my breast, sitting on the bed, dressed for the gym. I was groggy; it felt like I'd barely slept. 

She handed me a cup of green tea. "Good morning."

"What time is it?"

"Six A.M. Sorry to wake you so early, but high school association rules forbid practices within 72 hours of a play-off game. Our first game is set three days from today, at noon. I'm getting the girls in for an early practice."

I sat up, the sheet fell to my waist, my breasts were exposed. I noticed I was not embarrassed.

I turned my back and leaned against her. She ran her fingers through my thick black hair, played with the ends. 

"Any time you want to get back together, let me know. And by the way, half the girls on the team have a thing for you. We could get a group together without much notice."

"I don't know, this is all so new."

* * * *

On the way home I thought about Andy. Would he offer me to the team? The idea had appeal, but no, he'd said it would end this weekend. Then I thought about Bruce. His mouth did not equal Coach's, he did not understand my body like she did, but he was a sweet man. I loved him.



A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 04



I hope you enjoy the final (for now) chapter of A Teacher's Sin Uncovered. Next up is mother/son story set in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. 

I wish all a Happy New Year.

As always, all story characters, if they were actual people, would be eighteen years of age or older. They have experienced a much briefer existence in my word processor. 

* * * * 

A note from Andy was stuck in my door jamb. A limousine would arrive at noon, take me to Spa V. It would provide my dress for the evening. 

Spa V. I, like everyone else, had heard of it, but had never dreamed of going there. Not on a teacher's salary, not on ten teacher's salary. I showered, dressed in jeans, sandals, and a tee-shirt, and fell asleep in Bruce's Lazy Boy. Woken by a knock on the door, I followed a handsome chauffeur to a limousine. He opened the door for me.

At the spa I was welcomed by an exuberant red-headed woman, maybe five years older than me, quite lovely, clothes and make-up perfect.

"It's good to meet you Ms. Kaminska. My name is Roda, I'm your facilitator today. Andrew told us how beautiful you are; he said we were to take the best of care of you."

The spa was an experience unlike any I'd known. It started with a private Hammam, then the Vichy Shower Room. Full body exfoliation, firming mask, hydrating lotions that would tighten and lift my body. A full-body massage, private facial and body treatment; manicure and pedicure. Wine that exceeded my understanding of what wine could be. I'd never felt more cherished.

My dress was sexy and elegant. Cayenne in color, it's form fitting skirt skimmed my curves and ended in a full-length hemline gown that drifted to the floor. The top was sheer; two asymmetrical patches covered my braless breasts. My red sandals - 4 1/4 inch heels with a ½ inch platform - strapped at my ankles. My only jewelry were round diamond earrings. I wore my hair down. The spa applied my make-up, a sexy glam look. I'd never been this beautiful.

Roda walked me to the lobby where Andrew, wearing a tuxedo, met me. "She's magnificent Roda."

I turned to Roda, kissed her cheek. "Thank you, its been a wonderful day."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed yourself. Have a wonderful time tonight."

The limousine was waiting. As we rode across town Andrew poured me a glass of wine. Upon arrival Andrew walked around as the chauffeur opened my door. I slipped my arm into his and we started up the steps. I had the oddest realization. This was the first time that Andrew and I had touched since he'd given me the file.

"You look luminous."

"Thank you Andrew, it was a wonderful day. What are your instructions for me tonight?"

"Go with the flow, you'll figure it out."

The Mayor and his wife met us at the door. He grasped Andrew's hand and said, "Good to see you Andy. This must be Ms. Kaminska, our honoree. It's nice to meet you. This is my wife Maureen." He kissed my cheek.

"Thank you, Mr. Mayor, Ms. Jeter."

She had to be sixty but looked fifteen years younger. Pure class, inarguable dignity. Her posture was erect; she wore her silver hair up. She leaned in, kissed my cheek, and in a precise voice said, "Please Helga, Martin and Maureen."

We went inside. Everyone was impeccably dressed, the men handsome in formal wear, the women perfectly coiffed in gowns of grace and style. Initially I felt intimidated, but Andrew was completely comfortable; his conversation natural and unforced and I felt at home on his arm. The Mayor and his wife, I mean Maureen, came over to talk to us. I complimented them on their home. 

Maureen replied, "After the ceremony we'll give you a tour."

We drank excellent wine, feasted on superb hors d'oeuvres. People congratulated me, complimented my dress, told me how beautiful I was. I was enjoying showing off, something that always made Bruce uncomfortable.

Then the Mayor, standing behind a podium, called for everyone's attention and asked Serena, who worked in the fire department, to join him. I'd wondered about her; she could have been an Amazonian warrior. Jet black skin, strong eyes and mouth, her hair a carefully-crafted disorganized mess. Her musculature was superhuman, but she avoided the flat chest of some body builders. Her breasts and ass, in fact, were over-sized and gravity defying; her legs were like columns. She moved with the grace and strength of an athlete. I bet she could go for hours. Shit, what had Coach unleashed in me last night?

Elin, the police department's representative, was introduced next. She was Serena's opposite; a model of Nordic beauty. Thin and tall, long blonde hair, small chested, blue eyes and gentle features; she was breathtaking.

I was asked to join them. 

The Mayor had all a politician's charms; he praised us as a group, then rolled out a personal anecdote about each of us. Andrew must have been his source. After a round of applause I was presented with an envelope containing a $1,000.00 Agent Provocateur gift certificate. I'd never been able to afford to shop there. How would I explain it to Bruce?

Maureen approached, waved the Mayor over. "Are you ready for your tour, dear?"

"Yes."

Their home was lovely, tasteful, and had all the amenities. We visited the sauna, wine cellar, and exercise room. Next we entered a guest bedroom. Like the other rooms in the house, it was beautiful - high ceilings, cornice moldings, buffed wood floors, wainscoting - stopping just short of ostentatious. The furniture was mahogany.

Maureen turned to me, placed her hands on my face, her fingertips lightly stroked my cheek. Her touch was gentle, sweet. 

"Andy told us how lovely you are. He did not exaggerate. Your skin is flawless."

The Mayor's hand was on my back, his touch was confident, appealing.

I hadn't been sure what my role was tonight - Andy's instructions were vague - but now the answer was clear. I was to make love to the Mayor and his wife. Well, why not, they were perfectly attractive people. 

"Thank you Maureen."

Deftly, the Mayor unbuttoned the back of my dress. It fell away from my breasts. I ran my hand down the front of his pants, traced the outline of his hard, over-sized, prick. Maureen covered my hand with hers, pressing me to him, and said, "I hope you like them big darling," and brought her lips to mine. Her tongue explored my mouth. The kiss was gentle and ladylike.

I was wildly aroused.

The Mayor, his hand on my neck, turned my head and kissed me. His wife took an areola in her mouth, licked the nipple, worked the surrounding flesh with lips and teeth. I bought my hand to the back of her head, held her in place. She worked my dress over my hips; it descended to the floor, pooling at my feet. 

The Mayor and his wife stepped away, looked at me. Except for my shoes I was naked. I basked in their admiration, imagining myself a poor country girl taken in by a wealthy couple, ready to start life as their concubine. 

"Helga, wait for us on the bed."

I sat on the bed, crossed my legs. The Mayor and his wife undressed, laying their clothes neatly to the side. Although both were in their sixties - I'd never had a lover their age - they were trim, fit, attractive and, more than anything else, dignified. 

The Mayor also had the biggest cock I'd ever seen.

I licked my lips, ran a finger down my body, across a breast, to my cunt. I was very very wet.

They approached me, rolled me to my back, and then four experienced talented hands, two experienced talented mouths, explored my body. They caressed the inside of my thighs and the sides of my body. Strong fingers ran through my hair and my scalp; my pelvis was stroked and kissed; soft lips played with my ear lobes and neck. The palms of my hands, the backs of my knees, the small of my back, my collarbone, my neck, every part of me capable of receiving pleasure was kissed, nipped, stroked, touched. By the time they finished with my breasts I was soaking wet. They rolled me onto my stomach and lifted me to my knees. Although I had never known a penis as big as the Mayor's, he slid in easily. His wife guided my mouth to her sex, the hair there the same elegant silver that sat atop her head.

It was as if the Mayor and I had been my lovers for years; he brought me to orgasm after orgasm, all strong, but none so powerful as to render me incapable of longing for the next. I sucked on Maureen's clit - huge, long, and distended - and dragged three upcurled fingers along the roof of her vagina. Stomach undulating, she purred through serial orgasms. 

The Mayor, who had been quiet, started moaning, a deep sexy baritone. He picked up the pace. I pushed against him and redoubled my efforts on his wife's sex. The three of us moved in perfect harmony. Then the Mayor shook, grunted - a single powerful sound from deep within his solar plexus - and filled me with cum. A moment later Maureen's pussy, accompanied by her quick excited gasp, clamped down on my fingers and squirted pussy juice onto my face. Then it was I who was coming, a deep satisfying soulful orgasm that left me curled up on the bed in the fetal position.

I looked at my lovers through half-lidded eyes. "That was wonderful."

Maureen said, "Were always happy to be of service to a constituent," then added, "Remain here." No argument from me. I was happy laying there savoring my body. 

The Mayor pressed a button on the wall and two servants, seemingly oblivious to my naked form, entered and helped Maureen and he dress. When fully clothed she said to her husband, "Do you think she's ready?"

"Based on what just happened, I'd say yes. And Andy says she is. He's never been wrong."

Maureen walked over, kissed my lips, "You're a lucky girl."

They left, I rolled onto my back, admired the room. What else did Andy have in mind?

It didn't take long to find out. The door to the bedroom opened and through it walked a group of men. I wasn't sure how many; I was too scared to count. Was I expected to service them all? I felt a moment of panic. I couldn't do this. Then I remembered what Andy had said, that I was on a journey. I'd pooh-poohed it as new age bullshit, but he'd been right, it had been a journey. At every step I thought Andy was asking for a degrading impossibility: show him my breasts, teach while wearing nipple clamps, then a butt plug, suck off the principal, make love to a woman, be the third in a menage-a-trois. But I'd loved them all. I knew now that if Andy suggested it, I would love it. He had said our journey was almost over. I surveyed the roomful of guys. He must be telling the truth, how much more could he ask?

Wearing my heels, I stood, feet at shoulder width, proudly displaying my body. My pussy was swollen and wet; the mayor's cum dripped down my leg. The men stopped and stared, unsure of what to do.

I bit my lip. "Hey boys. The fleet just come in."

They laughed and started to advance. The first man who reached me - the president of a local bank - lowered his face to mine. I opened my mouth. His tongue stroked my lips, then entered my mouth and danced a sensual gavotte. He held me gently but firmly; his kisses became more urgent; they were sensitive and sweet and an oddly romantic way to begin an orgy. I undid his belt, pushed my hand inside. He was hard, big, and pulsating; my heart was pounding. I was ready. I wanted to be fucked.

His kisses moved to my neck. I pulled his belt free, unzipped his pants. He placed his hands of my shoulders, pressing downward. I knelt, pulled his pants to his ankles. He dragged his dick across my face, pressed the cockhead to my lips. Imagining myself the star in an old fashioned X-rated flick, I stretched my jaw, licked the head of his erection, swallowed his cock. My nipples and cunt bubbled with desire. 

He sat on the bed. "That's it my little slut, suck me, suck my cock, fondle my balls." 

Squeezing the slick head of his tool I ran my tongue across his scrotum to his perineum. He took hold of my head, brought it to his testicles. I suckled on his balls. Pre-cum oozed from his cock, coating my hand. I licked his prick clean; his pre-cum was delicious. His hands went under my arms, lifting me to the bed. He took off his shirt, kicked off his pants, kissed me; his tongue was facile and strong. I wanted him inside me.

He crawled between my legs, penetrating me with a single deep hard thrust. I dug my fingers into his back; my cunt contracted on his hard cock, gripped and massaged his shaft. Wave after wave of obscene pleasure coursed through me; an orgasm pounded my body. I screamed in joy.

He fucked me hard, like an animal. His cock was of average size, but he knew how to use it. He shoved his rigid dick in and out of my snatch. I spread my legs, offered him my body. I shut my eyes, focusing on the fire in my cunt, sucking in air through my open mouth. 

Someone turned my head to the side; lips were pressed to mine. My eyes jerked open. It was not my lover's face, but that of a beautiful blonde man I'd noticed earlier. Our tongues intertwined; I orgasmed again. 

My lover thrust his dick into me; his cock pulsed; he groaned, he filled me with sperm; he rolled off of me. The blonde man moved on to the bed, straddled me, kissed my lips, kissed down my body; he caressed my hips and belly, ate my swollen cunt. I was eager to cum on his voracious tongue, but he rolled me over, picked me up on my knees, raised my butt in the air, then kissed the small of my back, licked along the crevice of my ass. When he reached my anus he rimmed my asshole, pushed his tongue inside me.

The bed moved. Another stranger sat before me, his hard cock slapped against my face. I opened my mouth and took him inside. Then another set of hands, pulling on my nipples.

The bed shifted; the blonde man was on his knees, the tip of his cock pressed to my asshole. Fear and trepidation flared through me; I was a virgin back there. Then another thought: I'd offered my asshole to Bruce just two days ago. He'd turned it down, now it would be taken by a stranger. I heard a new voice, from whom I couldn't identify, "Stop, it's the brunette, her asshole's reserved."

"Shit, you're right, thanks." 

The cock-head slid across my perineum, into my vagina. He was big, but after the Mayor's enormous instrument I could handle it. Soon we were fucking at a steady strong pace. There were new hands on me: rolling my clitoris against my body, pulling on my nipples. The man sitting in front of me pulled his cock from my mouth. I bathed his testicles with my tongue. An orgasm cascaded through my body. My lover cried out in ecstasy and the cock buried in my cunt exploded, shooting pulse after pulse of hot cum into me. 

I was exhausted, but I was there to be a trophy at an orgy and a trophy at an orgy I would be. I sucked in air and took the man's cock back into my mouth. He pulled my hair to the side and watched his dick slide in and out of my face. I tongued the head, then let his cock slip from my mouth, pressed it to his belly, licked up it's underside with the flat of my tongue. It was hot, hard and thick with distended pulsating veins.

A black men, the city attorney, sat on the side of the bed and ran his hand down the length of my body. 

"Wish I had a pretty white girl like you teaching me when I was in high school."

He was well built; his touch was gentle and knowing. He covered my swollen pussy with his hand, his long elegant strong fingers entered me, withdrew, pushed in again.

"The way you're humping my fingers teach, I think you need more dick."

He was right, I needed more.

I let the cock slip from my mouth. "Yes, cock, I need cock, I need hard cock, yes please, more cock."

Moving behind me, his strong hands took hold of my hips.

"Your cunt is beautiful. Open and wet, coated with the cum of other men."

He made me feel like a whore; it turned me on.

The man before me was masturbating; seconds later he came. Jism leaped from his tool and splattered my face and hair. It was a massive load; sheets of jism slid down my face. I licked my lips; he tasted good; sweet and salty at the same time.

My newest lover rolled me onto my back, pushed my legs to my chest, held them in place, shuffled forward.

"Hey pretty white girl, you ever been fucked by a black man."

I looked at him with eager eyes. "No."

"You're gonna like it."

Although not as long as the Mayor's, his dick was about as thick. I wasn't sure how he'd fit inside me. He entered me in a corkscrew motion, slow and gentle, but also firm, insistent, and strong. I felt stuffed; he stretched my cunt to new limits. He started fucking me. I felt a spark, then a fire in my belly. He plunged into me and degree by fucking degree, the flame inside me grew hotter, more intense. Finally he locked his hands to my hips and rolled onto his back, effortlessly moving me so I was now sitting astride him. 

"Okay white girl, do your thing."

I rode his cock hard, bouncing up and down, impaling myself on his stiff fat meat. Men surrounded the bed to watch the show. One stepped forward. I had no idea who he was; I took him in my mouth. He held my head in his hands and fucked my face in time with the cock plowing my pussy.

I was a shameless piece of fuck-meat. The cock in my pussy twitched, exploded. I yanked the cock from my mouth, came, screaming my delight. The man jammed his cock back between my lips, fucked my face hard, near brutally, and filled my mouth with thick heavy sperm. It dribbled down my chin, on to my tits.

I was lifted to my feet. Excited men groped and pawed my flesh. Fingers were in my cunt, fingers thumbed my asshole. My breasts were fondled, my nipples pinched. They talked about me like I was horse flesh: "fine tits," "good ass," "firm cunt," and mocked my morality "brazen-hussy," "slut-teacher," "dick-addict." I was laid back down and one-by-one, half a dozen men crawled between my legs and fucked me. I loved it, the different widths, lengths, angles. I came again and again, multiple wonderful intense orgasms. 

I was rolled over and placed on all fours. A well-endowed man slid his cock into my pussy. Another man sat before me; I recognized him, a respected heart doctor. He stuffed his cock in my mouth. I wrapped my fingers around a third dick. The man in my mouth came first, followed by the one in my hand; he sprayed his cum onto my back. The third man kept fucking and a young man sat before me. I was about could take him in my mouth an orgasm rocked me. The man with his dick in my cunt joined me, he jerked, groaned, filled me with cum.

I fell forward, resting my head on the mattress, my ass in the air. A dick, long and slender, was jammed inside me. It swirled easily within me; my cunt was full of cum. Whomever he was he took his time. The crowd urged him on, encouraging him to keep fucking my hot twat. Their words thrilled me; I climbed back up the mountain and was soon bouncing from orgasm to orgasm.

After he came another man entered my pussy, another cock was shoved into my mouth, my fingers were wrapped around another shaft. I was drained and exhausted but the men were relentless. When one man shot his wad another took his place. It seemed like I'd been fucking for hours and still, somehow, I kept coming. Then, at some point, I don't know when, I'd satisfied them all; the room emptied. I was sore and spent, sperm was splattered on my skin and hair, cum oozed from my cunt; my belly and cunt were raw and filled with semen; every part of my body ached. I fell asleep.

I was having a dream, my pussy was stuffed with cock, big fat wonderful cock, people were fucking me, I didn't know who. An unworldly groan interrupted my slumber. I opened my eyes; Maureen was on her knees, leaning on a pillow, sucking her husband's dick while Andrew fucked her from behind. Her hair hung in disarray. The look of calm refinement she'd worn all evening, even when I'd eaten her to several orgasms, was gone, replaced by raging animal lust.




A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 04



I heard the Mayor's rich voice. "Fuck him dear. Fuck him."

He bucked forward - his cock must be down her throat - driving her onto Andy's cock. Her eyes rolled back in her head; her tits jiggled and jumped; she jerked her ass back and forth. Pulling her head from her husband's cock she howled like a coyote. 

The Mayor urged her on. "Fuck him! Fuck him!"

She pushed back into Andrew. I touched my nipples. They were sore, swollen, about to pop. I squeezed them, enjoying the pleasure and the pain.

Maureen was muttering, her sounds more animal than human.

Then the Mayor's voice again. "Andy fuck her up the ass."

I pushed a finger inside my pussy, said, "Yes Andrew, fuck her up the ass."

Andy pulled his cock from her pussy. Maureen dropped her face to the Persian rug, arched her back, spread her legs, thrust her butt in the air. Oily slime dripped down her thighs. 

"Shove it up her ass Andy," the Mayor commanded. His hand was flying up and down his cock.

Andy dipped two fingers into Maureen's soggy cunt, applied the juice to her butt, pushed some inside, planted his cock-head on her small brown asshole, paused, pushed forward.

Maureen, her face pressed to the pillow, wailed. It must have felt like having a baseball bat shoved in your rump. Her legs almost buckled, but she forced herself back, heaving against the determined prick.

"It's going in. Harder! Harder!" the Mayor demanded. 

Andy's bloated purple cockhead, veins flaring, drove between her ass cheeks.

Maureen grunted into her pillow and pushed into Andy.

Something gave, the hot ball of his cockhead drilled into her asshole. Maureen clamped her eyes shut and bit the pillow. Her fists clenched.

I watched the head, then two, then three inches of Andrew's shaft disappear inside Maureen. I urged him on; another couple of inches of bloated cock rode up inside her.

Maureen whimpered, "Nnnnnnn, nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn, nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn."

Andrew pressed on, not stopping until fully embedded in Maureen's backside. Maureen, the satin cheeks of her ass pressed against his pubic hair, lifted her head, arched her back, stared vacantly into space. A few drops of spittle leaked past her lips and with unmistakable determination she said, "Fuck me."

Andrew began bucking, ramming his cock in and out of her asshole. He took hold of her hips, pulling her into him as he lunged into her ass. She fondled her clit, repeating, "Oh my God, oh my God," as his cock bulled in and out of her, the look on her face an unworldly combination of lust and pain and wonder.

Andrew reamed Maureen again and again, burying himself to the hilt, pulling back until only the cock-head remained within her, slamming back to her anal depths. His movements were fast and steady; her body trembled under the relentless onslaught. Her tits swayed; he slapped her butt.

The Mayor forced five inches of his cock into his wife's dazed face. Mumbling, "Gggmmmfff," Maureen sucked. The Mayor shoved another inch into her mouth

I was on fire. I said, "Suck it slut. Suck his cock while Andrew fucks your ass." 

This unflappable queen of society, this grande dame, was an anal whore. Her face was twisted, her make-up smeared, her pretty features almost unrecognizable. She pulled her mouth from her husband's cock, screamed, "Up my ass! Shove your big cock up my ass and fuck me! Split me in half," and humped into Andrew's prick. I trapped my clit between two fingers.

The Mayor's hand flew up and down the tree trunk he called his cock.

Maureen stiffened, her face turned upwards, and in a quavering voice, somewhere between a song and a wail, she started repeating, "Akiii, akiii, akiii. Akiii, akiii, akiii..."

It was the strangest sound I'd ever heard. It did not seem human, more the voice of a wounded bird or feral mammal. She got louder, her voice mounting up on itself, it was a sound filled with pleasure and torment. Ecstasy, it seemed, could be excruciating.

I fixated on it; I was unable to disentangle myself from the sound of her voice. It sounded like barbed wire was being pulled from her throat.

Then the Mayor bellowed, "I'm coming, fucking coming," and cum jetted from his cock, spraying across his wife's face and hair, sliding down her face. 

I rammed three fingers into my cunt, humping like a mad woman. 

Maureen dropped to her elbows, braced herself, and yelled, "Up my ass! Shove your big cock up my ass! Kill me with your cock!"

Andy pushed into her hard, shuddered. His jaw locked and he came, lodging jet after jet of steaming hot spunk in her asshole. Her mouth fell open, the muscles of her arm tightened, her back arched, her face tensed, white-hot jolts of pleasure shot through her. She let out a guttural groan that filled the room, "Oh god yes, I coming."

She shuddered, collapsed, lay on the rug. The orgasm echoed through her wracked lovely form; her body kept shaking.

The tension inside me let loose in an explosion of gut wrenching intensity. My consciousness disappeared into a maelstrom of hurricane force. I lay there, only half way back from comatose, when I heard the Mayor say, "Andy no one cornholes my wife like you."

* * * *

A servant helped me put on my dress. It was torn, dirty, and tattered, but wearable. Andrew offered me his arm, we left the bedroom. The party was winding down. I saw Elin, naked, lolling on a couch, covered with cum. Her tits, asshole, cunt, and mouth were red and swollen. 

"She did well, but you were superb."

I felt a perverse pride. "Thank you. Where is Serena?"

Andy steered me down a short hall and opened a door. A gorgeous red head, host of a morning news show, was on her knees sucking the fat dildo hanging from Serena's crotch. Women lay all over the room, looks of exhausted satiation on their faces. I found myself hoping Andy would command me to join them, to let Serena have her way with me. But he closed the door and we continued down the hall. "No one outfucks Serena."

In the limousine I eschewed my seat belt, leaned against Andrew, draped his arm across my chest, looked out the window. The moon was full. Something had snapped in me tonight. I needed sex, constant unbridled sex. Roger was a good man and he'd make someone a lovely husband, but he was a denial of what I was. Andrew had been right. We'd been on a journey to my true self.

Andrew walked me to my door. I asked him inside.

"Thank you, but no."

No reason to be subtle. "Please, I need you to make love to me."

"You're not ready yet."

How could he think that? I was so fucking ready. I couldn't be more ready. 

"Wasn't that the point of this whole thing, the blackmail, the threats, to fuck me."

"Helga, I didn't blackmail, I didn't threaten you. I never said I'd tell anyone. In fact, I told you I wouldn't."

"But the file, you made a copy, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't and I never said I did. I gave you the original."

He was right.

"I don't understand."

"Helga, monogamy, Bruce, once-a-week-with-the-lights-out, that's not what you are. After Hunter you tried walking away from your sexual-self. When I gave you the file, I gave you raw material. With it you built an excuse, telling yourself you had to do what I asked. It freed you, allowed you to re-embrace your sexual sex. I'm guilty of manipulating you, when I gave you the file I expected you'd take the path you've chosen, but not of threatening you, not of blackmail."

My mind raced through recent events. He was telling the truth.

I took a long breath. "I still need you to fuck me."

Gently, he kissed my cheek. "You're not ready yet, but will be soon. When you are you'll know."

I wanted to argue, but it would have been pointless. He was in charge. I kissed his lips, just a peck, said good night. Inside I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. My dress was ripped and tattered; my hair a mess; what little make-up remained was smeared. Dried cum spotted my skin and hair. My lips were swollen. I touched my breasts and pussy. I winced. They were raw, battered, and sore.

I'd never looked more beautiful.

I needed a bath, but I was exhausted. I sat down. Just for a minute. And with images of Andy's cock pumping in and out of Maureen's ass filling my head, I fell asleep.

* * * *

I woke the next morning to Roger shouting "Ohmigod, what happened."

He rushed to me. "They raped you. I should have gone with you. Have you called the police? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

He went on in the same vein. He was concerned, worried. He was a sweet boy. I held a finger to his lips, quieting him.

"No Roger, I was not raped. It turned out to be an orgy. I participated. Fucked dozens of men. Loved every second of it."

There was a moment's incomprehension, then his face twisted in anger and he spewed out a string of obscenities. He said I'd changed, that he knew something was up. He called me a tramp, a slut, a harlot, a whore. He went on and on until he was exhausted; he started crying. I put an arm around his shoulders, held him. Sans names, I told him about Hunter, about the butt plug and the nipple clamps. I told him I sucked off a colleague, made love to a woman, serviced a roomful of men. I told him he was a wonderful man and he deserved a sweet faithful woman, but I was not that woman. The fight had gone out of him. When I suggested he stay with his brother for a few days while we made arrangements for him to pick-up his stuff, he agreed, shuffled to the door, left.

I ran a bath. The warm water felt good on my body. I lay there, ruminating over the last few days. Andy was right. He had not blackmailed me, he had not threatened me. I assumed he did, then used that as an excuse to follow his instructions, loving everything he asked me to do. 

I thought about Roger. He was such a sweet boy. Maybe I should have given him a blow job as a going away present. I'm sure would have approved. 

I ran the names Roger had called me through my mind. Tramp? I sucked a married man's dick in his office, most certainly a tramp. Slut? I would have fucked whomever showed up last night. Check. Harlot? It's meaning, promiscuous woman. That was me. Whore, well I hadn't charged for it yet, although if my Master asked me to...

I sat up; the last six words ground to a halt in my head. Andy had said I'd be ready soon and when I was, I'd know. Over the last days I'd followed his commands, ceded him control of my life, loved it. When he read the Hunter file he discerned what had evaded everyone else, that I wanted to be sexual property. During my affair with Steven I'd never felt so alive, so vibrant. Those feelings had come back. 

I finished my bath, did my hair and nails, carefully applied my make-up. I went to my closet. That Agent Provocateur gift certificate was going to come in handy; I was going to need a new wardrobe. I put on my highest narrowest heels and a full length coat. Nothing else.

I thought about what I'd heard last night, understood what it meant. I spent some time on the internet, studied up on it, found Andy's home address in the school's data bases. 

* * * *

There was a note on his front door: "I'm out back, walk around."

He was on his back porch with his computer. I started towards him, catching his attention by clearing my throat. I stopped, dropped my coat, standing, except for my heels, naked. "Master your property is here."

I closed the distance between us, knelt. 

"I understand now Master."

I pulled down his shorts, licked his dick, recounted the day's events. When he was ready - he was hard, drops of pre-cum drizzled out - I stood, turned my back to him, leaned over a table.

"Last night I heard them say my asshole was reserved. It was reserved for you, wasn't it? You'll be the first, no one has ever been there before."

I inserted a finger into my pussy. The lips were swollen and drenched in juice. I pushed my wet finger into my asshole, moaned, long and low. I'd be the best little sex-toy I could, serving all of Andy's fantasies and demands. There was no better way to initiate my submission than by giving him my virgin asshole. I spread my ass cheeks. 

"I want you come, deep inside my ass." 

Andy smiled, "You're not afraid it might hurt."

I smiled right back. "A little pain might be sexy."

He went to one knee, ran his strong hands over my thighs, my hips, my ass. I'd taken pride in how hard I worked to stay in shape, unknowingly preparing myself for this moment, when I gave myself to my perfect master. Widening my stance, I lowered my upper body and raised my backside. He dug two fingers into my gushing pussy and slathered the juice over my asshole; I moaned. 

"Yes Andy, take me."

He grinned, knowing how intensely I wanted to surrender this dark forbidden delight to him.

"Relax Helga, do exactly what I tell you,"

His hand planted on one ass cheek, he placed a thumb on my asshole. I moaned, pushed against it. His thumb slipped inside me; a powerful electric jolt went straight to my clit. My wet pussy got wetter. He pushed his thumb deeper, stretching me, then slid it in and out of my butt. I marveled at my good fortune; my Master was sweet and kind. Instead of just shoving his dick into me, he was thoughtfully preparing my virgin asshole.

He removed his thumb from my asshole with a loud pop. I was gasping, ready for his cock, but he knelt, rolled my clit against my body, licked my anal bud, pushed his tongue inside me, wiggled it, ramping up the intense pleasure burning between my legs.

He stood. I looked back. Pre-cum was dripping from his dick. Using a small tube sitting next to his computer, he lubed his tool, then spread the lotion over my butt and, with two fingers, pushed some inside. My asshole buzzed in delight.

He fit the head of his dick to my anus

"Okay Helga, relax."

His cock-head set against my anal bud, he stopped a moment, pushed. I balled my fists as the fat crown drove pass my sphincter, coming to rest inside my ass. I whimpered; the pain was severe. He stopped, ran his hands down my sides, gave me a chance to adjust.

"Hang on teach."

His hard cock throbbed in the opening; I'd never felt so full. I focused on the sensation, embraced its painful intensity. The pain began to morph into pleasure and an acknowledgment, an affirmation, of my new role. I moaned, stirred, pushed back a little, squeezed my sphincter on my Master's cock. 

Andy groaned, "Oh, fuck yes, yes, Helga, yes."

I reached back, spread my ass cheeks, flexed my ass muscles. My brain was flooded with new feelings, sensations that were shocking, unbelievable, unexpected. A warm, dirty pleasure spread through me, leaving me weak and full of wonder. I moaned and squirmed, celebrating the army of nerve endings hidden inside my rump.

"Master, more, more, give me more."

He pushed inside, kept going. My asshole yielded, became soft, receptive, pliant. When he hit bottom he let out a deep satisfied moan. I joined him, groaning my own pleasure.

His cock was now fully embedded in my sweet, tight, sexy ass. He bent over me. "I'm gonna fuck you, nice and slow."

He pumped his hips, thrusting in and out. He then took hold of my hair, pulled my head up and back. My hand went to my clit. He changed his motion, moving inside me in a twisting cork-screw manner, and brought his mouth to my ear. He told me how good he felt, how tight and soft and warm I was, how he was going to fuck me, use me, own me; how I loved him, worshiped him, adored him; how I'd never known such pleasure, how I loved being his toy, his property, his bauble. 

A hot wet liquid pleasure occupied my lower body. It was unbelievable, I'd given myself, submitted, to one of my students. I moaned and moaned; I loved it. I wrapped two fingers around his cock shaft as it moved in and out of my anus. Juice drenched my hand; juice ran down my thighs. My fingers returned to my clit. I closed my eyes, imagined Andy taking me like this in front of the school. I shook through a quick intense orgasm. 

He was so hard; the walls of my asshole so sensitive; I felt every pulse of his magnificent tool. I wiggled my ass, pushed back, gasped when his hips slapped against my butt cheeks; I wanted more and more. I grabbed the sides of the table and rocked into him.

Andy understood. One hand locked on my hips and he drove into me harder and deeper. I grunted and screamed; I clutched the edges of the table; I dripped cunt juice.

He leaned over and whispered, "Your body belongs to me; I will show you all the wonderful things it can do and feel."

I knew that with this man I'd become the sex machine I was meant to be, cock-hungry, cunt-lapper, orgy-bait, cum-bucket, whatever he decreed. I squeezed my ass tight. 

"Cocks and cunts galore, endless orgasms, dicks and dildos in all your holes, forever fucking."

I rolled my eyes, moaned in delight. I'd denied myself for too long. Andy was sweet and dirty and perfect. I would serve him, obey him, fuck him. I would be his forever.

"You are my slave. Cock-slut, cum-rag, fuck-bunny."

My stomach knotted, my legs started shaking, my grip on the table tightened. An orgasm started, grew, matured, tore up and down my ass and into my pussy. My asshole and cunt merged, there was intense fireball of pleasure, it all went supernova. My hips bucked violently; I howled in absolute all-consuming ecstasy.

"Oh, fuck, Andy yes. I'm your girl."

My asshole wildly pulsating, I thrashed like a hooked fish out of water. Andy's cock swelled, the bloated cockhead was hot, fat, and intense. Then it exploded, pouring cum into my violated rectum. I screamed in joy and pain and need as stream after stream of hot cum washed along the tight walls of my ass. It was wonderful.

Andy pulled out, leaned against the table next to me. Standing on shaky legs, I kissed his perspiring face. 

"Master, I will be the best sex-toy ever."