Bad Teacher (Erotic Collection) (Erotic Lessons) (3 page)

“You’re
gonna
come again,” he pants. “Fucking come, Miss Bennett.”

And he lifts my ass up, drilling me so deep that he hits my
cervix.

I think I black out. I might have blacked out. The next
thing I know everything is fading back into color from a blank whiteness, and
my whole body is on pins and needles while wave after wave of pleasure racks
through me. My pussy is contracting in time, milking Danny’s dick, and I can’t
help how strong I am, how much I clamp down on him. I can hear him grunt in
surprise, and he grabs onto me, steadying
himself
. I’m
convulsing now, twitching, and I’m almost scared of what’s happening to me. The
pleasure is so intense, but it’s not a release; somehow it’s still building,
still growing, still swelling inside me, and I think it’s going to kill me.
There’s not room for both me and this feeling, and when it finally pops,
Christ, all I can say is that it’s like those videos of nuclear explosions,
just wave after concussive wave, leaving nothing in it’s wake. I could be a
totally different person when this is done, a blank slate. I might not remember
my own name.

I’m jelly now, twitching occasionally, splayed out on my
desk like I have no control over my body. I feel Danny pulls both his thumb and
his dick out of me, and I just barely manage to lift my head to look back at
him – he pumps his cock, holy shit his beautiful, big cock, once, twice,
and then he comes, thick ropey shots of come shooting out all over my notes and
my bare ass.

It’s a sight to remember.

A short moment later – I can’t believe that
eighteen year old
recovery, it’s ridiculous – I can
hear him opening and closing drawers in my desk. I don’t figure out what he’s
doing until I feel him wiping the cheek of my ass, and then I remember that
I’ve got tissues around here somewhere. He’s cleaned me off.

I still can’t move. Just bent over the desk, completely worn
out.

I feel a hand on my ass, and he squeezes my cheek briefly. I
can tell he’s smiling when he bends over me to whisper in my ear.

“Be sure to take good notes.”

And with that he kisses my shoulder, slaps my ass, and
leaves a pen on my ruined desk.

Cheeky bastard. Just like his father.

THE END

Teacher Gets
Caught

(Erotic Lessons: Spanking and Discipline)

When my name crackles over the PA system, I can be forgiven
for being a tad confused. After all, I’ve just been fucked into boneless brain
dead jelly by one of my own recently graduated students, on my own desk –
which, along with my notes for my secret sex book, is now covered in eighteen
year old
splooge
– and no one’s supposed to be
in the building, anyway. Everyone should be at the graduation appreciation
assembly or whatever it’s called, outside on the field.

At least, I’d assumed the coast was clear when I’d let Danny
Donovan drill me into oblivion on school property. Perhaps that wasn’t the
wisest choice.
I mean, I was still half-naked.

“I repeat, will Miss Erica Bennett please report to the
headmaster’s office immediately. The matter is urgent. Thank you.”

Nope, didn’t imagine it. That’s definitely old Griffin’s
voice. And he definitely sounds pissed, even over the ancient PA system.

Well, I’m screwed. I have to try to clean up. For a while
I’d just kind of lay on my desk, in a sex haze, after Danny left – I
mean, no one was more surprised than me that an eighteen year old guy could
fuck like a sex Olympian, and my brain was still trying to wrap itself around
what had happened – but now I could feel anxiety descending upon me like
a wet blanket. Danny had discovered that I was secretly writing a book on the
sexual habits of the 1% while subbing here at Chippewa Valley High, and while
he’d used that info to get into my pants (and give me an excuse to finally fuck
him), I couldn’t be totally sure he’d kept it to himself. And I could lose my
job.

Possibly even get sued, depending.

And Danny had
jizzed
gleefully all
over the notes for said book, which included notes on his own father’s
performance. I guess it’s not too hard to read into that – it’ll
definitely get a mention in the book proposal – but now I have to try to
clean up and hoof it over to the headmaster’s office.

Shit.

I take care of the notes as best I can before stuffing them
away in a drawer. Next I give myself a quick wipe down, and hunt around for my
panties. I can’t imagine what Danny did with them, and I’m just about to give
up when I find them tossed in a corner. Perfect. But I don’t have much choice.
I’ve just finished putting them on and straightening my skirt, and I’ve started
frantically running my hands through my sex-hair when the PA crackles again.

“Miss Bennett! I said immediately!”

Oh, shit
shit
shit
.
No time to find my bra. I button my blouse and grab an empty file folder to
hold in front of me, just in case, and trot out the door, careful to lock it on
my way out.

My black heels click with every step, and the clicks echo
accusingly down the empty halls of this posh high school. Normally this trip
would be making me nervous, but right now I’m so relieved not to see anyone
else that I don’t have time think about what Headmaster Griffin has in store
for me.

That’ll turn out to be a mistake.

The giant oak door to his office is closed. I knock on it
tentatively, already deciding to play up the helpless, clumsy newbie angle
that’s worked so well with the Headmaster in the past. Mr. Griffin was so
conscientiously helpful my first few weeks, checking up on my progress, giving
me helpful pointers and the inside knowledge on the intensely competitive
social landscape. I guess he didn’t want me to get lost or devoured out there
– the social community surrounding this high school, with it’s husband-hunting
teachers and crazy rich helicopter parents, is intense.

His help had been invaluable. And he’d never been angry or
displeased with me.
Until today.

“Come in!” He thunders.

I open the door and slip inside, closing it meekly behind
me. He’s sitting in his leather chair, his desk bare. Headmaster Griffin is a
big man, even seated. He’s what you call salt-and-pepper gray, I guess? Very
“distinguished,” but not in a wimpy way.
There’s
all
sorts of photos of him in various sports uniforms all around the office. I’d
always thought he was sort of staid and boring.

Right now he looks
pissed
.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Griffin?”

It’s a formal environment. The teachers all refer to each
other as Mr. or Mrs. or Miss – never Ms. – and the students just cower
in fear in front of their headmaster.

“Come closer.”

I do, a little nervously. The light isn’t great on this side
of the building in the afternoons, and his office is mercifully dark. I’ve been
hoping the bad light will hide my
freshly-fucked
look,
but if I have to get so close, there’s nothing for it. I stand at the side of
his desk, close enough for him to see the flush on my skin. I clutch the empty
file folder to my chest, and wait.

And wait.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s just staring at me, and working
the muscles in his jaw. After a moment I notice that his fist is clenched
tightly on his armrest, and I begin to wonder just what the hell is going on.

Finally he looks me up and down. Really, really obviously,
he looks me up and down. I press the file folder closer to my chest
defensively.

“Give me that.” He says.

What? I panic a little, very, very conscious of the fact
that I don’t have a bra on under my blouse.

“Why?”

He inhales deeply, and narrows his eyes.

“It is school property, Miss Bennett.” He says, pointing to
the embossed logo on the front. “Give it to me.”

I try to give him my best
bambi
expression, and it’s not entirely an act. I really don’t want to expose myself,
at least partially because I’m getting a little turned on. I know this blouse.
It doesn’t do such a great job of covering up without some help, and if my
nipples get fully hard...

He looks at my face, at my big, brown,
bambi
eyes, and
..
.
he
grins.
In satisfaction.

I’m really confused now.

“Give. It. To. Me.” He says. “Or you’re fired.”

What the fuck? I can’t tell if he’s serious. I mean, he
can’t be, right? But he looks deadly, deadly serious. I decide to shrug it off
and, you know, own it, as much as I can.

“Oh, ok, Mr. Griffin.” I laugh, and place the file folder on
his desk, rather than hand it to him – one small act of defiance –
and then stand erect before him, proud, as though there were nothing at all
shameful about a mostly see-through blouse and no bra.

Or semi-hard nipples.

Mr. Griffin is smirking a little. He looks me up and down
again, lingering appreciatively on my chest, before his expression goes cold
again.

Then he just stares. Forever. I know this: it’s an
intimidation
tactic,
sometimes they use it in
negotiations or whatever. And you know what?
It freaking works.
I’m nervous and intimidated as hell, and afraid to look away from that iron
stare, and, worst of all, I’m starting to get a little...wet. Again.

Finally he speaks.

“Do you think your attire is entirely appropriate, Miss
Bennett?” He asks, leaning back in his chair.

Shit. There’s nothing I can do about the bra, but I thought
I’d cleaned myself up.

“I often wear a skirt and blouse.”

He raises an eyebrow, and somehow I know what he wants to
hear.

“...Sir.” I finish.

“You often wear short skirts and suggestive blouses, yes.
And I often wonder why.”

Uh oh. About a million questions are running through my
mind: how long has he been in his office? With no one else in the building,
could he hear me screaming my orgasm at the top of my lungs all the way in my
classroom? Why does he look so fucking pleased with
himself
?

What does he
know
?

“I like the way I dress.” I say with a shrug. I hope it
comes off as nonchalant, and not, you know, terrified. “I haven’t had any
complaints.”

“I’m sure you haven’t.”

And he pushes his chair slightly away from his desk, turning
towards me so I can see...holy shit, he’s packing something significant. And he
looks half hard.

He wanted me to see this.

“What have you been doing this afternoon, Miss Bennett?” He
asks, his tone shifting to something more relaxed. He opens one of the drawers
in his desk and takes out two glasses and two mini bottles of tequila, and
pours two drinks. Um, this is unexpected, totally. Did not peg him for a
tequila-in-the-middle-of-the-day kind of guy. What else have I been wrong
about?

What the hell is happening?

“Answer the question, Miss Bennett.” He says, pushing one of
the glasses towards me. “And drink your drink.”

I’m the kind of control freak who gets nervous when she
doesn’t know what’s going on, and, frankly, Mr. Griffin is hinting that I have
all sorts of reasons to be nervous. But I can’t help it if
I’m
kinda
liking
this unpredictable, in-charge
change in the headmaster. It’s sexy.

And the tequila will help me relax, that’s for damn sure. I
take it all in one shot, and slam the glass back down on the desk.

“I was just, you know, going over some papers.”

It’s not a total lie.
I was getting
royally fucked by the captain of the lacrosse team on top of those papers
.

Suddenly he slams his hand down on the desk.

“Don’t lie to me, Miss Bennett!” He barks. I’m stunned into
silence, my back going rigid. The untouched tequila in his glass is still
swirling around from the force of his blow. I’m suddenly very afraid that I’m
in trouble.

“What happened to your bra, Miss Bennett?”

Oh, shit, I’m definitely in trouble. For a moment all I feel
is dread. Obviously he knows what I was doing; I’m totally up shit creek. It’s
like being a little girl again, having been caught sneaking out or lying about
something, and just knowing what’s coming is almost worse than whatever the
punishment is. For a second I’m right back
there
as a
girl, squirming under his gaze, knowing there’s no way out.

But then I take a closer look at Mr. Griffin, leaning back
in his leather chair, staring at me. He’s not actually pissed off. He’s happy
about something, though he’s trying to look stern.

And he’s got a chubby.

Oh. My. God.

I’ve never actually done anything like this before, but I
can kind of see where it’s headed. And holy hell, does it turn me on.

I feel my nipples go hard under my see-through blouse.

I see Mr. Griffin look at my chest, and his expression
changes just a little. He clenches his fist, and I bet he’s getting harder.

“I asked you a question.”

“I don’t know where it is, exactly.” I say, blushing.

“How well do you know Daniel Donovan, Miss Bennett?” His
voice is stern, but his eyes are smiling. I have no idea how to answer this, so
I don’t.

“I’m sorry?”

“Was he the one who removed your bra?”

I shift my weight from one leg to the other, and bite my
lip. This has gone too far now. I could be in serious trouble.
Unless it’s all part of the game.
Unless...