Detention for Kim Ch. 04

Doggy. I had settled on doggy. Granted, I went about my homework in the nerdiest way possible; looking up positions and the various sensations they supposedly focused on, conducting what was likely the most bland and clinical observation of sexual positions ever imagined. My motivation was pure though; in that I wanted to make sure I picked a position that Mr. Poln would not only enjoy, but one that I would find memorable.

It was just one night ago that my history teacher, after taking my virginity on top of his desk in his classroom, had given me the homework assignment of picking what position he would take me next. It had been a gentle demand, like most of Mr. Poln's orders, but laying underneath the seemingly simple request there were layers upon layers of deeper meaning. Choosing a position was a difficult task for a young woman that wasn't terribly experienced; even if she was eighteen. I was still quite naive, and hadn't experienced anything even remotely sexual that wasn't with my forty-something year old teacher. If Mr. Poln was expecting something new and exciting that young people were doing these days he'd be sorely disappointed, but then, I think by that point he had a pretty clear idea of the type of girl he was playing with.

I was up late that night, pouring through information on the Internet, trying to get to the bare basics of sexual positions without being swarmed by pornography. I didn't want stimulating images, I wanted cold, hard facts! The average depth a man can get in one position versus the other, how much leverage he has for an expected thrusting force, testimonials about the female orgasm in comparison to the different positions! I knew that I was absolutely not prepared to try being on top just yet; despite Mr. Poln's clear attraction to me the teenage doubt of my own appearance was still very much present in my young mind. If I was going to choose a position with Mr. Poln, it wouldn't be one where I was necessarily on display, and it certainly wouldn't be one that put me in a position of being the aggressor. And so, as I looked through them all, I ruled them out one by one for various reasons. For the unwanted authority they would lend to me, for the physical limitations of a middle aged teacher and a teenage girl that wasn't particularly athletic, or simply because they didn't arouse me as I read them over at two in the morning, sitting there in my pajamas.

My parents believed in an early bedtime, and by that point they had already been asleep for four hours, distantly down the hall. The house was kept bathed in darkness, save for the dim glow of my monitor, which I knew from experience my parents could see unless I took the precaution of lining the bottom of my closed door with laundry to hide it. The house was still and silent, save only for the creak of it settling, the gentle tapping of my keyboard, and of course...the occasional, aroused whimper as I idly toyed with myself.

My hand was down the front of my long pajama bottoms, fingers and palm curled under the waistband of my panties. I had been toying with myself for the past hour, keeping my arousal on the very edge, and keeping my fingers quite wet and delightfully coated in my nectar. Since my experiences with Mr. Poln began I had been slowly waking up to my sexuality, and masturbation had slipped into my mind much more frequently lately in the still of night when I was alone to let my imagination wonder. As I hooked a single finger into my pussy and gave myself an unfulfilling, but certainly teasing prod, my mind was spinning with the possibilities of what Mr. Poln and I did together. In the past week I had sucked his cock so often that I could still remember the feel of it in my mouth, and how my tongue would dance on the underside of it, making him squirm and throb against my lips. There in my bedroom, my tongue didn't pass by anything more exciting than the metal frame of my braces, but my imagination was livid enough to conjure the sensation of my teacher taking me again. I could almost feel his encouraging hand at the back of my head, or the press of my nose into his lap in the rare instances in which he'd force me into deepthroating him. I started to rock back and forth on my chair, my fingers becoming more eager the more I pondered it.

And the positions, oh the positions, each one was a wonderful thing for me to imagine. Even if they weren't the position of choice for the next time I was with my teacher, I could still enjoy imagining what it would be like to be claimed in them. My head danced with thoughts of me riding Mr. Poln, confident as any beautiful woman could be, thrusting my lap into his own and making him fuck me, and not the other way around. I envisioned him taking me missionary style again, but with both my legs looped around one of his shoulders, letting him have at me with a deeper, more passionate ferocity. Then I thought about him claiming me doggy style, and I knew that would certainly be my choice for the next evening.

Something about it made me melt, and I could feel the fingers inside my sex speeding up, coaxing me into even greater heights of pleasure. My eyes were dimly focused on simple line drawings of the position, but in my head all I could see was myself, on hands and knees, being fucked by my teacher on the floor of his classroom. The tile of his floor hurt my knees; I knew that much from all the blowjobs I had given him, but somehow it was even more exciting knowing I'd be completely doubled over, offering myself to my teacher like the animal the position was so named for. There was something ultimately submissive about it, like uttering "this hole belongs to you," without ever needing to speak a word. I would kneel there, and I would be fucked by my teacher until he was finished, and then-

The idea of him cumming inside me flitted into my mind, and at the thought of it I gave a sharp little cry into the darkness of my bedroom. The sudden thrill of it made my walls tense around my fingers, and goosebumps rise on almost every part of me. Just a few hours ago, Mr. Poln had pulled out at the last minute, and showered me with his cum across my pussy, my stomach, even up to my face. At the time I was thankful for it, afraid to get pregnant as every virgin girl is, but in the heat of that moment there in my bedroom...well, my mind spun with possibilities. There had been so very much cum that shot across me hours ago, what if he had instead shot it all...inside of me?

My sex tightened and I hunched forward, bracing an arm against the desk as my other hand started to work faster. I was close now, picturing what it would feel like to be fucked and taken by Mr. Poln, and imagining what it'd be like to be filled with his cream. I had no frame of reference, but I imagined it to be warm and delightful, like a sweet coating for the inside of my sex. My eyes blearily looked at the simple line drawings of people doing doggy style, as if the research was still continuing, but by that point my mind had been lost.

I brought myself to a peak while pretending Mr. Poln was fucking me, cumming inside of me, and then rolling me to the side to let it slowly leak out of my used, and well-claimed sex.

Once I caught my breath, the diligent student recovered, and I almost immediately began to look up information on birth control pills.

If looking up positions was homework for the first day, I considered researching the pill to be working ahead. After all, it might be part of a future lesson.

The next day I met up with Mr. Poln just as I had planned, eagerly counting down the hours until after class. I had been shifting in my seat throughout the entire day, constantly fidgeting with the hem of my skirt, and letting my tongue dance over the front of my braces on so many different occasions. I had been sexually awakened, and was eager for more of it, even if it came from the stiff member of my older history teacher. I wasn't shyly afraid of his cock anymore; I craved it. The sensations it gave me the previous day spun through my mind almost nonstop, and I spent the entire day in class moist underneath my panties, always just at the very edge of immeasurable arousal. I practically skipped to his classroom after the final bell rang, my throat tight from nervousness, but my insides warm and excited.

I tossed my bookbag into my locker before heading to Mr. Poln's class, and paused at the girl's restroom to make sure I was looking to my teacher's liking. Glasses squarely on my face, my black hair straightened down my head. My schoolgirl outfit was just recently cleaned and pressed, and my skirt's pleats were as perfect as ever. I bent down to straighten the lengths of my black socks, forcing them to go taught until they stopped just under my knee, and as I did so I caught one last glance at myself.

Even in my naivety, I knew about the cliche of the slutty Japanese schoolgirl. The mewling, mindless fuckdoll that would lay back and let a man thrust into them, or lay with sealed lips and a cringing face as countless men jerked off onto her face. And as I stood there adjusting my sock, gazing at myself in the mirror, I knew I was closer to those women than I ever would've imagined I would be. I was already eager to fuck my teacher, and I had been servicing him with my mouth with a growing, building hunger. The only difference was those girls in the videos so often looked like they were coerced, or pressured into things. And while my first time with Mr. Poln had certainly come under similar circumstances, since our time together began my interests had grown.

I smiled wide, and I could see my braces in the reflection, accenting nicely with my glasses. I looked every bit the cliche, and I was ready to fuck like one.

I trotted to Mr. Poln's classroom, eagerly dropping my hand on the doorknob and swinging it open, calling out into the room without really looking.

"Mr. Poln, I'm read-oh." My voice was silenced as I looked into the room, and my eyes took in the scene before me. Mr. Poln was there, that was for certain, sitting behind his desk like he always was, like he had been waiting for me. But his expression had fallen and looked taken aback, and I quickly spotted why. Standing across from his desk was the principal of the school, Mr. Lorne.

Mr. Lorne was a stern man by any stretch of the imagination. Bald, sour faced, probably in his late forties at the time. While most of the other students at the school had nice things to say about Mr. Poln, the same couldn't be said about his employer. Not that he was a bad man, most likely far from it, but he was a no-nonsense educator that wasn't known for throwing up his hands and gently going "kids will be kids" like some of the softer teachers were. When I stepped inside, Mr. Lorne's head turned to me in an angry glare, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes gazing ahead without any trace of emotion. I instantly froze, my mind going blank, and my excitement crashing into fear like the sudden stop of a car crash. My already pale features went even lighter, and I could feel all the burning heat of arousal cease in a sudden, frigid instant.

The moment was incredibly awkward, as the three of us stood there, each trying to read the other's thoughts. I wanted to look over at Mr. Poln, to get encouragement or advice from him, but even if I wasn't too terrified to move my head, I knew that it'd only lend credibility to the worst suspicions that Mr. Lorne could have. Suspicions that, if we're being honest, couldn't be any more true.

"Kimberly..." Mr. Poln used my full first name to break the silence, and it was enough for my head to tilt to him, arching a brow and trying to feign ignorance. Mr. Poln's speech was slow and paced, and I could tell my teacher was being careful. I had heard him talk in similar tones to students that were having a hard time learning, but now, it seemed very clear that he was picking his words to avoid the worst of outcomes. "This is a private meeting between myself and Mr. Lorne. If you need assistance with your studies, I'm available any time during study hall tomo-"

"Oh, for god's sakes, David, I'm not a fucking idiot." Mr. Lorne's voice chirped in, sounding every bit as accusatory, hard, and demanding as I expected. It made us both flinch like we were students caught doing something we shouldn't, and Mr. Lorne saw our shared reaction, which only worked to fuel the fire he was stoking. "Kim Chang is one of the best students we have, I don't think she needs to drop by your office after class to help her remember when the Three-Fifths Compromise was put into effect."

"Seventeen eighty-seven." I chirped up, the good girl reaction triggering so fast that I couldn't even control it. My eyes went wide as I realized what I had just offered up, and I swallowed sheepishly, adding as a quick addendum. "...sir."

Mr. Lorne regarded me with that cold glance of his and reached up a hand, smoothing it over his scalp, which had been bald for as long as I had known him. He was the sort of man that likely went bald just around the top, but fully embraced it by shaving his head entirely, giving him more of a look of authority and power. As opposed to Mr. Poln, who embraced his mane of shaggy, cute brown hair with streaks of gray, aging gracefully and warmly.

Lorne looked back to my history teacher and glared at him, his eyes narrow as he process what was going on. I wasn't known as the bad girl, but then, educators were trained to see this type of mischief, and not be swayed by preconceived notions. I likely wasn't the only good girl that had gone bad, led down a trail of debauchery from a boyishly handsome older man.

"David, are you and this girl-"

"Fucking? Yes we are." This time, it was Mr. Poln's turn to interrupt, and I was so disarmed that I nearly fainted. Mr. Lorne's reaction was priceless; ranging from righteous anger to building curiosity, and then flat out indignation at being interrupted. My own was likely no better, with blushing cheeks, a quivering brow, and a weakness in my knees that required I lean against the doorframe. There was something about Mr. Poln admitting it that made me tremble, and the way in which he owned that fact to Mr. Lorne, with a confident, cocky grin, that made me wish I had him inside right that minute. He continued to make me swoon from across the classroom with each word, dripping with authority and confidence, even over his employer's angry glare. "She came here after class today so I could fuck her, in fact. If you didn't want to talk about how you're fucking me over with the cost of living raise, I'd probably be getting my cock sucked right now. But you're not going to tell anyone about it, Jerry."

"Oh really?" My principal blustered and straightened out, puffing his chest out with authority. I could tell he was ready for a fight, and for a minute I was afraid for Mr. Poln's safety. Mr. Lorne was bigger than him, a former physical education instructor, and I could tell that he still kept in shape. For an older man, there were muscles underneath the suit of an administrator, and he already seemed to be in a foul enough mood to trounce Mr. Poln just for his attitude. "Think you can threaten me, you little shit?"

"Threaten?" Mr. Poln just grinned, and leaned back in his chair. I continued to watch the exchange with interest, my eyes going wide as my teacher and principal argued over the fate of my forbidden relationship. I bit down on my bottom lip, my excitement and arousal returning as I watched my beloved Mr. Poln operate with confidence. "Lorne, I'm not a violent man. I figure you'd know that considering I never want to chaperone those fucking football games. I'm going to bargain with you."

Mr. Lorne seemed intrigued; his brow raising and his arms coming to cross over his chest once more. He gave Mr. Poln an appraising look, as if expecting a bribe in dollars, likely already figuring out in his head what the cost of his silence would be.

"Obviously I can't offer you money, since my dickhead boss fucks me over on raises every year," Mr. Poln smirked, Mr. Lorne fumed, and I couldn't help but giggle. My giggling stopped when Mr. Poln gestured towards me; however, and his words echoed in my mind, stunning me to my very core. "But if you forget about this shit, Kim will suck your cock."

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Mr. Lorne looked down at his lap, from his position seated at Mr. Poln's chair. His fly had already been undone by my hand, and his member was out, hanging before my face. I blinked; kneeling there on the floor, a place that I had come to know very well from my time with Mr. Poln. At the moment I was simply kneeling on the floor, my skirt dusting the tile, my gaze fixed a few inches before my nose at Mr. Lorne's cock. It was...well, frankly, a lot larger than I had anticipated.

"Yeah...me neither." I heard my own voice pipe up curiously, and at the sound of it Mr. Poln gave a little laugh. My history teacher stood near his desk, watching his prize student kneeling before his boss, waiting for her to take the older man into her mouth. I still wasn't sure why I had accepted Mr. Poln's terms that he had set for the principal, why I had agreed to do this. But as Mr. Lorne's member bobbed closer, and my own trembling hand reached up to wrap fingers around his shaft, I soon remembered.

I hadn't.

Never did I give my agreement, never did I say that I was all right with this arrangement. It had simply been assumed that I would, naturally given that I would do what my teacher told me, even if it was to suck off another married man. I had either complied without even thinking it through, or Mr. Poln's influence over me was so great that the man could get me to do practically anything.

When my head leaned forward and my mouth opened, I knew which one was accurate. My eyes closed as I took my principal's cockhead into my mouth, and for the first time I tasted a prick that wasn't my history teacher's. I heard him give a hiss of contentment almost instantly, and I remember wondering at the time if he was yet another frustrated middle aged man, one whose marriage had long since lost any element of passion or contact. I had a growing sympathy for men like that, thanks in part to Mr. Poln, and because that errant thought slipped into my mind, I was drawn in more into the act of servicing Mr. Lorne's cock.

The wheels of the office chair squeaked as Mr. Lorne adjusted in it, spreading his legs wider so a student could work her lips around him better. Before long I had a fist wrapped around his shaft, which was growing slick from my spit and throbbing from his own excitement. I worked with techniques that Mr. Poln had shown me, twisting my grip as I started to take him, teasing the underside with my tongue, making sure that I delighted the most sensitive parts of his sex. It had a taste different than Mr. Poln's and yet wasn't unpleasant, though it was still very apparent to me that it was not, in fact, the cock I had grown accustomed to.

The knowledge made me even more excited, and despite my hesitations I could feel the wetness returning, feel my pace quickening.

"Good little slut, isn't she?" I heard Mr. Poln ask, and as if to prove my teacher's words I began to bob my head up and down quicker on my principal's cock. The sound of wet stroking began to fill the room, accented randomly with the noise of Mr. Lorne's hissing gasps, or my own muted, ashamed moans. In response to Mr. Poln's question my principal just gave a chuckle, and before too long I could feel hands thread into my hair; hands that were not my history teacher's.

"Can't believe you've been fucking her after class," his hips started to thrust forward, his cock growing thicker from the excitement. I suspected that the taboo nature of the arrangement was making his head spin, especially the fact that as of a few moments ago, he had become an implicit part of the arrangement. The principal had joined us in our taboo sin, and he was reaping the rewards with every hungry thrust of my mouth down the length of his shaft. His words continued, and as he and Mr. Poln spoke of me like I was less a person and more a property, I popped my mouth off of his cockhead and lowered it down below my fist so I could tease his sack with my tongue. "Chang's such a pain in the ass in parent meetings. Wonder what he'd think if he saw his little girl now, on her fucking knees."