Teacher's Night Off

Teacher's Night Off

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Tags

sex, etc

Summary

Fuckery This is just random wordporn. Dirty stories. That’s what we’re here for, yes? ‘The Fisherman’s Wife’ I wrote after a conversation with some old ladies in a hotel in the Western Highlands of Scotland. I love the way the old like to be naughty! No-one in The States got ‘Bennet’s Brother’ – it was way too English in every way. I had a hoot writing it and its companion piece (now lost, ‘Battle at the Regatta’). I was attempting Wodehouse with added fellatio… ‘Teacher’s Night Off’ – good idea – not so well executed. I didn’t quite get what I wanted with that one. Horny enough, mind. ‘On The Eve of All Hallows’ – again, not quite right. I wanted to write a story using a student of mine, an Indian girl, as muse (obviously her name was not Krythika!). I wrote it in a hurry for Hallowe’en and it shows. It’s a bit clunky. ‘A Christmas Kiss’ was also written for the holidays. This is a better story. A true story, although it didn’t happen quite in the way I tell it. The girl involved is now a senior partner in a law firm in Birmingham and I learned from Facebook last week that she has become a grandmother for the third time! ‘Katie’ is also based on truth. I’ve known Katie for years and years. Our families are still close and, were it not for lockdown, I’d be visiting her next month. Obviously, her name isn’t Katie – or mine would be shit. ‘Yes or No’ is a story I am, or at least was, quite proud of. I wrote it in reaction to a news story about Ivy Leaguers ‘protesting’. I was very angry. Sadly the news story will be forgotten, so the story will lose its punch. Still good, though.

Tags

sex, etc

Summary

Fuckery
This is just random wordporn. Dirty stories. That’s what we’re here for, yes?
‘The Fisherman’s Wife’ I wrote after a conversation with some old ladies in a hotel in the Western Highlands of Scotland. I love the way the old like to be naughty!
No-one in The States got ‘Bennet’s Brother’ – it was way too English in every way. I had a hoot writing it and its companion piece (now lost, ‘Battle at the Regatta’). I was attempting Wodehouse with added fellatio…
‘Teacher’s Night Off’ – good idea – not so well executed. I didn’t quite get what I wanted with that one. Horny enough, mind.
‘On The Eve of All Hallows’ – again, not quite right. I wanted to write a story using a student of mine, an Indian girl, as muse (obviously her name was not Krythika!). I wrote it in a hurry for Hallowe’en and it shows. It’s a bit clunky.
‘A Christmas Kiss’ was also written for the holidays. This is a better story. A true story, although it didn’t happen quite in the way I tell it. The girl involved is now a senior partner in a law firm in Birmingham and I learned from Facebook last week that she has become a grandmother for the third time!
‘Katie’ is also based on truth. I’ve known Katie for years and years. Our families are still close and, were it not for lockdown, I’d be visiting her next month. Obviously, her name isn’t Katie – or mine would be shit.
‘Yes or No’ is a story I am, or at least was, quite proud of. I wrote it in reaction to a news story about Ivy Leaguers ‘protesting’. I was very angry. Sadly the news story will be forgotten, so the story will lose its punch. Still good, though.

Content

Submitted: July 31, 2020

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: July 31, 2020

A A A

A A A


Rachael Kelly was a diligent respected teacher, most nights she marked work, prepared lessons then curled up with a good book. But some nights, when the urge took her, she prowled the lowest of bars looking for casual nasty sex.

This story is based on an urban legend, the one that went ‘if you look at your teacher’s boobs long enough she turns into a sex-beast’. Try as we might with our short but well-endowed French teacher, no one ever witnessed her transformation! I thought this was just a thing in our school, but when I moved to England, I heard the same tale! Bizarrely, an acquaintance told me the same story about a teacher friend of mine (he didn’t know we were well acquainted); we had a bloody good laugh when I reported what had been said about her. With this in mind, I’ve based the character, Rachael Kelly, on my friend, a fine teacher who needs no additional stimulus to be sexy!

 

 

It could have been the heat, it could have been the tightness of her blouse and the fact that she’d popped a button and was showing way more cleavage than was professional, but most of all it was Simon Ritson.

She’d felt his eyes on her throughout the last lesson. Her senior class were supposed to be reading in silence while she marked some work, but she could feel the eyes of the boys on her prominent bosom. Stupid! She shouldn’t have worn that blouse. It was too tight. And then the button popped. She was asking for this attention! Every boy in the class staring at her breasts.

But although she hated being stared at, there was a tiny part of her, deep inside that loved it. Like a little flame that was stirred by this attention, a flame that would burn through her whole body until she found the right hose to put it out.

She might have been able to control it but for Simon fucking Ritson.

“Oh Miss Kelly,” he had chirped, “Do you like birds? Because from where I’m sitting, I can see a pair of Great Tits.”

“Oh really, Simon,” She said in her most sarcastic voice, “Where are these specimens, so we all can look?”

“On the breast of that hill Miss,” he replied, then in a cocky voice added, “and we’ve all had a right good look at them already.”

The insolent confirmation that a class of boys had been ogling her boobs made her blush crimson. But her breasts tingled at the thought, she felt her nipples stiffen. Why did she have to have such sensitive breasts? The slightest touch could get her going. She’d had boyfriends that could give her a screaming orgasm just by the right touching and teasing of her breasts and nipples. The right man could make her wet just by the way he looked at her bust.

At the end of the day, the class was hastily dismissed and Rachael drove home intent on a cold shower. The shower did not put out the fire. As she dried herself she found her fingers lingering on her fleecy pubis. Would masturbation work this time?

She lay on the bed and let her fingers slide into her sopping slit. God, the heat! Without thinking her other hand squeezed her breast and reached for a hard nipple. No, this would make it worse. Excite her so much she couldn’t think. Fucking was the only solution.

She’d need to get dressed for the occasion. A skirt that barely covered her hold-up stocking tops, that tight tank that showed a bit and promised more. High heels – she didn’t particularly like them but they were a man-magnet – and that leopard print thong some ex-boyfriend had gifted her. No bra – no point. She applied make up like it was war paint. It was desperate, but she needed a result. A quick one who could fulfil the burning desire that now over whelmed her.

Why did this have to happen to her? Okay so it didn’t happen often, maybe only once or twice a year – but when she felt that fire it just took over and only sex would do. Hard sex. Rough stuff. She was like a junkie needing a hit. It was the only way to get herself back on track.

She decided to drive to Hollins Crossing, leave the car and walk the last mile or so into town. As she strode along in her high heels, her nipples tingling and her quim almost dripping, she cursed Simon Ritson! She could have finished her marking by now, finished her supper and be curled up with a good book. But instead, here she was, dressed like a cheap whore about to start trawling the bars for some stud to fuck!

The first bar was dead – just a couple of old gassers and a barman half asleep with boredom.  But she put the first part of her plan into action here. She ordered neat gin, which she used as mouthwash before spitting back into the glass. Now, although she was stone-cold sober, she stank of gin. If men thought you were drunk they’d be more likely to try and take advantage. Good. Let ‘em take me, Rachael thought.

The next bar was just as dead…why did this have to happen to her on a Tuesday? There’s no-one out. But when she arrived at the Anchor she saw some young men playing pool…possible. She sat on a high stool and ordered a club soda. In no time at all she felt the eyes of the three men on her, nonchalantly, she stretched a leg, giving a lacy glimpse of stocking top. A glance in the bar mirror showed her that the three man were having an animated discussion, very probably about her. Oh God, were they tossing a coin? She hated the way they thought, the way men saw her as a thing, yes a thing to gamble on. Well, needs must, she reminded herself.

The man who had obviously ‘won’ sat on the stool beside hers, his buddies left the bar slapping his back as they went, giving mock cheers and making suggestive noises. He was young, maybe 20, 21.

“Hey little lady,” he began, “Buy you a drink?”

Rachael threw back her club soda, and grimaced like in was alcohol. “Gimme another gin,” she slurred. She was pleased by the boy’s reaction to her feigned drunkenness, his whole body language suggested that he won a victory already. But of course he didn’t even know the game.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” He began as the barman served them.

What a lousy line, thought Rachael, but said, “I’m from out of town.”

“Really? Staying long?”

“Nope, just tonight.”

“Hey, that’s great because if my girlfr…oh shit.”

“You’ve got a girlfriend, buddy?” Great, she thought, he wouldn’t come looking for her, “Is she around tonight?” She tugged at the neck of her tank-top, exposing additional cleavage. The boy’s eyes popped as he stared.

“N…n…no” he stammered.

“Then I’m sure she won’t mind you having a bit of fun, eh?” Lasciviously she opened her legs, giving him a glimpse of creamy white thigh. God, those panties were soaking. Carelessly she let a hand travel over her breast, she could see that the boy was looking at her hard nipples, the feeling made her squirm. She was sure this boy was getting excited by her. One last ploy…

She faked a slip off the bar stool and ‘accidently’ poured her gin over the young man’s groin.

“Oh hey, sorry,” she yelped, “let me help.” And grabbing napkin from the bar she dabbed the front of the boy’s jeans, lingering just a bit too long on the penis hardening in his pants.

“Let me get you another,” he gasped.

She leaned into him, “I’m already hot, you don’t need to buy any more to get lucky.” She crooned into his ear, touching it with her tongue before drawing back, “Let’s go, tiger.” He had better be, she thought.

Outside of the bar in the cool air, the young man turned to Rachael and said “I can’t really take you back to my place, I still live with my folks…should we get a cab to your hotel?” Shit, thought Rachael, it’ll have to be outside, again.

“Nah, they don’t like us to have ‘guests’. What’s down here?” She led him into the alley behind the bar, pulled him against the wall and planted a huge kiss on his mouth. Ugh, mistake, this guy had seriously stale breath.

“Here? In the alley? What if someone comes?” he said in a panic.

“Don’t you like to play these games with your girlfriend?” she teased, pulling up her tank to expose her naked breasts, “I won’t be shy if you won’t,” she added playfully, pulling at her nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through her body.

“Great boobies,” the guy muttered. Boobies? Jeez, who is this guy? Rachael thought, but played along. Let’s just get to it, please.

“You like my boobies, big boy? You wanna suck on them?” She held her breasts out to his eager mouth. The boy latched onto her nipple and sucked like a huge dirty baby, pawing her tits the whole time. Rachael groaned in pleasure. He squeezed her breasts together, pushing them so the nipples were close as he tried to get both in his mouth at once. Rachael pulled him towards her, panting in lust. God she was on fire!

“I want to feel your body,” she said, pulling off his shirt and throwing it far along the alley.

“Hey” he protested, but she quickly distracted him.

“Let’s go baby,” she murmured to the young man, “Right here.” She pulled her skirt over her hips. The boy could see her patterned thong, “Oh yeah,” he said, “Oh yeah.”

With a deft movement she pushed her panties to her knees. The boy suddenly paused…

“You got…hair…down there?” Fuck! Rachael groaned internally, I should have shaved, so many guys expect it now! But, Rachael thought, there was nothing worse than trying to get a class to understand Shakespeare when you were desperately trying not to scratch your itchy twat! She quickly rescued the situation, by pulling his hand to her wet sticky quim.

“Hairy, and wet as a fucking lake for you, big boy!” The guy’s fingers probed her dripping sex. “Oh yeah,” he grunted, “oh yeah.”

Rachael fumbled with his zipper, and pulled out a hard sticky cock. Not as big as she’d have liked, let’s hope it works. She lifted her leg so he could enter her, as soon as she felt his penis touch her labia she wrapped her legs around his back and her arms around his shoulders, leaning against the wall as he began to move inside her. His cock felt good as it began to slip in and out of her soaking snatch, the teeth of his zipper scratched at her tender cunt-lips, but she was beyond caring. This was what she wanted, what she needed: a good hard cock that she could fuck until she could fuck no more. She clenched her cunt, gripping his shaft, riding him hard. She could feel the orgasm building inside her, the orgasm she needed to release her from this dreadful heat of lust. She humped the boy who thrust against her manfully. Good, this would do it.

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah,” the guy was muttering. What was it with the ‘oh yeah’? Rachael thought as the boy continued his mantra, then she remembered a boyfriend insisting they watch porn together. That’s what they did when the fucked in the movies! Say oh-fucking-yeah! Was she in this guy’s porn movie? She realised that this stupid thought had put her off her stroke. She had to get back in the zone or it would never work!

“This good?” she crooned in his ear, “Do you like my cunt? My fucking sexy wet cunt?” The boy redoubled his thrusts “Oh yeah,”

“Tell me,” demanded Rachael, “tell me you like my cunt. Say you like fucking my sexy hairy cunt!”

“Cunt!” the boys gasped, “Your cunt….your hairy, sexy cunt” Ah this was better, thought Rachael, much more of a turn-on than fucking ‘oh yeah’. Rachael bore down and fucked with a fury, ready to ride the wave that was coming.

“Your cunt….sexy … wet ….fucking… cunt! Ahhh fuck!” The boy ejaculated forcefully, deep into Rachael’s hole. Fuck, thought Rachael, too soon, too soon. She clung on, frantically pounding, but to no avail. She could feel the young man’s cock slacken inside her. Oh well, she hated this with strangers, but desperate measures.

“Oh baby,” the man was saying, “that was so good,” But Rachael was already on her knees, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them to his feet. She gagged at the smell of his cock and balls. This guy could really use a shower. But I need more. I’m going to get it. She took his cock into her hand and started licking it like a popsicle, trying to ignore the tart taste of her own juices and avoid the gobbets of sperm dripping down.

“Mmmm” she moaned, “what a sexy cock, a big, big cock. You gonna come for me again?” she wanked his shaft all the while rubbing her clit, trying to keep her flame alight. She could feel his thing thickening, it wouldn’t be long now. She took the mushroom head into her mouth and let her tongue slide sensually over it. Then, trying not to gag she began to move her mouth further down the shaft, slurping and licking as she went. He held her hair and thrust at her face. She fucked his stiffening cock with her mouth until it was hard again. Her free hand was rubbing her pussy-juice into her asshole, there was no other way, she thought as she stuck in a couple fingers, to try and loosen as well as lubricate her dirt-box.

“I want to come on your face,” Yes, she knew the script, she’d been waiting for this. She slapped the sticky head of his cock on her cheek.

“You’re gonna come on my face? Hmmm?” she teased, as her fingers worked her cunt and arse, “Or would you rather come on my..” (what was the fucking word he used.? Oh yeah) “Boobies!” she pushed her tits up at his cock, her arse was as ready as it was going to be. “But I know what you’d really like, big boy…..you’d like to fuck me in the ass.” She spat on the end of his cock, stood up and turned her back on him. One hand straying between her legs to guide his throbbing gristle.

Anal with a stranger, especially a young and inexperienced stranger was risky. But it was the only sure way she’d come tonight. She rubbed the wet heat of his cock with more of her own juices and placed it against her tight, brown opening. Yes, that felt good, she backed into him, letting the tight rubbery muscle open slowly, gradually. He grabbed her hips and made a push. The pain was immediate and excruciating, but the pleasure was beginning to build. She pushed against him, again he thrust. She gave a gasp of pain, but followed that with a moan of pleasure. Yes, I can do it, she thought. She felt the walls of her anus clench forcibly on the thrusting cock. It was the young man’s turn to cry out in pain. But his thrusting got harder and faster.

Rachael flattened herself to the wall, the cinderblocks were scratching her breasts, scraping her nipples raw as the boy humped at her arse like a randy dog. It hurt like hell, but she was close, so close.  The cock was sliding freely now, in and out, the harder she pressed against him the harder he pumped.

She could feel her orgasm build like the start of a thunder storm, rumbling and rolling until it exploded deep in her being. The shock waves coursing through her every nerve like lightning. She howled like an animal, her scream ending in a low growl and an overpowering desire to laugh. She was glowing, her whole body filled with warmth and her mind clear, at last.

Her reverie was dispelled by a voice. “Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah…” she pulled her tingling arsehole slowly away from the boy and as his cock-head slid from her hole, he spunked briefly on her buttocks and thighs. He sat heavily on a beer keg and stared at Rachael.

“I have to go now,” she said officiously as she pulled her tank top over her scratched and bruised breasts, and straightened her skirt. “Goodbye.”

“Hey,” he said, “your ….panties.” Indicating the thong crumpled on the ground.

“If they’re a good fit, you can keep ‘em.” She smiled and she walked to the end of the alley.

“But…Hey,” the boy called after her, “I don’t know your name!”

Rachael turned in anger, “You never fucking asked!”

Then she turned on her heel and strode down the street away from the alley, away from the bar and away from a boy who she hoped never to meet again. She knew he wouldn’t follow her, once he’d done up his pants he still had his shirt to find, and besides, he had girlfriend, didn’t he. Jerk.

As she walked back to her car she started to organise herself. Morning-after pill – top priority. Trip to the clinic? Well it’s got to happen. Some lotion or antiseptic on her scratched bosom? After the bath she’s going to have as soon as she gets home. Maybe she’ll take a sick day tomorrow. Relax, recover. But then a thought struck her: she’d have senior class tomorrow. Simon fucking Ritson….

“Did you see that pair of Great Tits, Simon Ritson? You know you can always tell the male from the female, because the cock is so small – but you’d know all about that wouldn’t you.”

Yes, bring them on. Now the fire was out she could think straight.

“They’re up on that bramble hedge, Simon Ritson, but careful if you get too near, you might get a tiny little prick…oh Simon, I forgot, you’ve already have one!”


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