It was an ugly place that trailer park, a ten acre tract shoehorned between the highway to the west and the railway tracks to the east. A forlorn, littered place that you'd expect to see in the third world but never in America; a blemish among the beautiful houses of the rest of the area. The Angel residence was at the back, right next to the tracks, a broken down, single wide mobile home that seemed to list precariously on build up cement blocks that tentatively anchored it's four corners.
"Hello, anyone there," I called through the half open door after my repeated knocks had elicited no response from the dim interior.
I almost fell off the wobbling cement block that served as the step up to the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder and a belligerent demand in my ear, "Who the fuck are you lady?"
Turning I found myself facing a giant, a dirty, fat, scowling man who had to be at least 6'5" and three hundred pounds.
"I'm Mrs. Fisher, I'm here," I started before he cut me off.
"Leave me the fuck alone bitch," he hissed, "I don't have to report in til next week."
"I'm not...I'm not your...your whatever," I protested.
"What, you're one of those whores chasing Johnnie?" he then asked rudely as his eyes raked across my body. "Shit, you're a little classier than that little pricks usual fare. Maybe you'd like a man when you're finished with the boy," he said leering, his hand cupping his groin.
"I'M HIS TEACHER, his school teacher," I yelled indignantly at the slob.
"Didn't have teachers like you when I was there....he's in there," he said pointing into the trailer, his interest in me gone.
"Mrs. Fisher!" Johnnie said with a start when I barged through a thin plywood door and stumbled when my knees hit the end of his bed.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." I stammered as I took in the small room and Johnnie lying on the bed, obviously naked, only one leg and his genitals covered by the thin sheet. "We were worried at the school...I just wanted to be sure you were alright," I continued to mutter.
"I was sick...I'm okay now...food poisoning or something."
"Did you see a doctor?"
"No, I'm okay...really."
"It stinks in here."
"I've been sick...yesterday...last night...I couldn't get to the toilet," he said motioning to the small trash can in the corner.
"But what about your father?"
"Clem? He's my step-dad...he's been messed up the last couple of days...some bad meth..."
"Do you have clean sheets, a towel?" I demanded as I grabbed the can and started towards the door.
"It's okay Sarah...really, you don't have to."
"Have you eaten today?" When he shook his head no I simply scowled and asked "Do you have any running water in this..."
Clem was perched on a twenty-year old, torn and dirty sofa in the living room when I exited the bedroom, simply gave him the puke filled can as I passed towards the sink.
"What the fuck's this shit," he growled as he contemplated the smelly contents facing him.
"Your son's sick. Don't you care?" I demanded as I moved back to Johnnie's cubbyhole with a pot of hot water, a sponge, and a couple of less than white towels.
I slowly washed him, wiping first the flecks of puke from his face and neck, then the sweat and dirt from his chest and arms. "You're strong...muscled," I said softly as I cleaned the thick muscles of his chest. "And no stomach," I added as I ran the washcloth over his washboard abs.
"I work out some," he said shyly. "You don't have to," he started to add as my hand worked the sheet lower.
It was magnificent, huge and thick, sitting proudly half filled on his golden thigh, then it started to lift, to grow as I washed his thighs, his matted, blond pubic thatch.
"I'm sorry," he groaned as it sprang upward, "I can't stop it."
"Oh Jesus," I couldn't help spitting out as it bounced against my hand on its upward journey. Then regaining my composure, added with an insincere sounding giggle, "Well, I guess you can't be that sick."
He was grinning when I finally finished washing him and looked challengingly into my eyes, proud I'd seen it, doing nothing to cover himself, sensing my excitement, my hunger for him.
"Have you eaten?...no, well I'll go and get you something."
"You don't have to," he protested as I left.
He was still naked when I returned a half hour later, a large bowl of soup, a steaming pot of stew and a roll of French bread in hand. "You should cover yourself in front of me," I admonished as I sat on the edge of his bed and started to ladle the seaming soup into his mouth.
"Sorry," he said between mouthfuls, then pulled his sheet up so it covered about half of his rampant cock, which seconds later grew some more and escaped the feeble attempt to hide it.
I finally stood and told him, "Call me tomorrow...here's my cell number...I want to hear how you are...understand?"
"Yes Sarah....thanks for coming...for everything...for..."
"Just get well. And you and I are going to sit down and talk...about all this," I warned as my hand indicated he whole trailer world around me. Then bent and meant to give him a light peck on his cheek but met his lips when he suddenly turned his head.
He held my head when I tried to jump back, pushed his wet tongue between my lips, held me as our tongues swirled together. I finally pulled myself free, mumbled, "Oh God," then rushed from the room, my nipples aching, my vagina tingling.
I delivered another meal the next day and found him ninety-nine per cent better, the color almost completely back in his tanned skin. But he was still proudly naked...hard...posing...I said nothing while I fed him, but he didn't miss the constant glances I stole of his sex. It made Bruno's look like a baby's.
He finally came back to school Friday.
"What are you doing tomorrow," he asked at the end of class.
"But I've missed a week's work. What about Sunday?"
"I can't. Not in the morning anyway."
"I'll come at noon then," he almost ordered and then turned and left the class.
"Why do you live there? What's going on?" I blurted out seconds after we'd sat down to lunch Sunday.
"What do you mean?"
"You have a fancy laptop, dress well, Bruno says your motorcycle's worth $10,000. You're living in a hovel. I don't understand."
"It's complicated," Johnnie said stalling.
"Bruno thinks you're sleeping with rich, gay men."
"WHAT! I'm not a homo...is he crazy?"
"I know you aren't," I answered looking right into his eyes. "You're a man."
"Well...that's okay then," he said, and then after moments of silence added, "I play the market."
"The stock market. I trade. Its all mathematics...don't you invest?"
"Bruno handles our investments, he's the banker."
"I'll teach you," he laughed.
He went on to tell me an abbreviated story of his life. His mom had died when he was eight, leaving Johnnie in the care of his step-dad Clem. Clem had apparently had at least a couple of run-ins with the law, one which had produced a six month layover in jail, the other an eighteen month stretch upstate.
"He's okay really," Johnnie said.
"But who took care of you?"
"It was okay, I got by," he said shrugging. "Neighbors, women...they like me."
He'd been a runner for the drug boys when he was between ten and fifteen, seemingly a ritual every young boy in the area was expected to undergo. He'd lived with prostitutes who worked the trailer park.
"The cops can't do much to a fourteen year old," he explained. "Just pick you up and a couple of hours later they have to let you go."
Even at that age he was a prodigy at school and so apparently spent his days studying and running drugs, his nights often in the arms of well worn whores. They taught him.
"My god," I finally interrupted, "I never even had a date in high school, you were sleeping with whores."
"Bullshit! ... You must have had boyfriends, men who wanted you."
"I was a late developer."
"You're beautiful...so sexy."
"If you had been in my class you wouldn't have lasted a week," he bragged.
"All the teachers say you don't even have a girlfriend, haven't slept with any of your pretty classmates," I countered.
"Like you said...I'm a man; they're just young girls, they don't interest me...I like women."
"You're a teacher...married...you're classy, different," he stalled, his eyes trying to read me, seemingly unwilling to take the final step. Was I his mathematics equal or just another whore to fuck?
We were circling each other, my need obvious. "So, I guess we should just go and do some work...I thought maybe you were someone else...a man would just take," I challenged softly as I leaned my rear back against the dining room table, "a man who'd make me his slave, his plaything...his..."
I didn't finish as he crushed me against him, gasped as he tore the dress from my body.
"You're not wearing any underwear?" he questioned as he lifted me and then dropped me naked on the cool polished surface of the Cuban mahogany table.
"I was hoping," I murmured as I watched him as he pulled his shirt over his head, then tried to reach for his belt before he pushed me back, stared as he stood between my hanging legs and pulled his jeans off.
I couldn't stop the wailing, "Nooooooooooo, aaaaaaaahhhhh," that escaped my lips as he lifted my butt and drove deep into me in one long, hard thrust. My world changed! I found myself in some unimagined realm where huge cocks made me a slave.
With his one thrust Johnnie changed too, his concern with having sex with his older teacher completely obliterated by his lust. He held my ass in his hands and pulled me to him each time he plunged his penis deep into my womb, his only thought now the complete domination of this soft, pliant plaything in his hands.
For a second I wondered how many other women this boy had subjugated to his will, how many other girls he'd lanced with his magnificent prick. I was just another whore writhing under him.
I thought of Bruno, my marriage...then everything was driven from my mind as my need vibrated out from my centre in wave after wave of orgasmic bliss. He simply continued to pump into me, hard, deep, fast strokes that stretched my insides to their utter limit, impaling me, making every nerve end in my pussy fire in ecstasy. Nothing existed but the prick that filled me.
He splashed his first string of hot sperm into my open womb just as my second spasming orgasm hit me. Again...and again...and again and again he spurted into my centre, releasing a million eager swimmers into my welcoming channel, little, angry sperm men that were willing to die in their fight to be first to reach and impregnate my waiting egg.
He finally pulled out and stood proudly between my legs, his still oozing cock lying in my matted red pubic hair.
I slid slowly off the table between his legs, finally coming to a stop when my knees hit he floor, grasped his cock, moved my lips towards his crimson, sticky cockhead.
He simply stood with his hands on his hips as I took him into my mouth, laughed when he felt my moist tongue circle him. I knew I couldn't take it all, struggled not to choke when I'd devoured only six fat inches.
He was smiling when I looked up and sought out his eyes, and understood that he was willing to let me off this time, but knew soon he simply fuck my mouth, make me take him all, force it in.
He finally grabbed my hair and pulled me up his body, then spun me and pushed me tight against the table. His legs pushed my feet apart as he bent me at the waist, spreading me wide as my breasts were squished against the hard, cool wood.
I was scared but stayed motionless when I felt him spread my ass cheeks with his hands, almost protested when he rubbed his thick cock against my crack and anus, then gasped in both relief and desire when he plunged into my sopping vagina.
We didn't study that afternoon; Johnnie simply fucked me. For four hours we hardly talked, he simply directed me with his hands, bending me, exciting me, igniting me with just the simplest touch. Filling me again and again with his thick, rich cum. Putting his baby in me.
I was his slave. Both of us knew I'd do anything he demanded. I knew I had become a different person. I just didn't know then to what extent I had changed.
It was impossible that Bruno wouldn't finally discover our secret. It simply got to the point where I didn't care, in fact I wanted him to know. I wasn't willing to go on doing this thing I needed so badly in secret.
For close to a month, through the end of October, Johnnie and I had continued to make love. Or perhaps it would be fairer to say Johnnie took me and fucked me at his pleasure. At school, in my bed, at the trailer...wherever, whenever he felt the need...he simply filled me.
He forbade me from wearing panties whenever he was in my presence, even during class, insisted I wear skirts... "I want you open, available," he'd say as his hands ran roughly, possessively up my bare thighs.
And yet, somehow, through it all we were able to get in hours of serious work. We could work two hours without a seconds break on some convoluted theorem, or discuss the merits of using technical analysis in evaluating oil company stocks, then without warning he'd push me back on the desk, lift my skirt and ram hugely home...he always found me wet...wanting it...churning for him...
Finally, in early November, Bruno found me one night sprawled naked in bed when he returned home after work. "I thought I saw Johnnie leaving," he started even as his eyes took in my disheveled state.
"He just left."
I didn't answer, just lay back and stretched languorously, watched as he looked at my gaping sex, my open engorged nether lips oozing with my lover's thick sauce.
"But," he mumbled, "I don't understand."
"We're lovers...Johnnie and I," I said wantonly, "he fucked me all afternoon."
Fury, hate, a hundred emotions flashed across his face, and then rushing toward me screamed, "I'll kill you, kill him...that fucking bastard...I'll." He grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me, pulled his hand back to hit me.
It simply wasn't in his nature to hit a woman. He fled. For minutes I could hear him rampaging through the house, opening and slamming drawers and doors in his mindless rage.
I was still naked on my back when he finally returned, the tears trickling down his cheeks as he sat beside me.
"Why? Why?" he moaned.
It was no time for soft words, lame excuses; I knew he'd have to understand and accept what I'd become.
"He's better...much, much better," I spat out.
"In bed. Making love. He's simply better at it than you. He makes me scream...makes me come..."
"How? Why? What's wrong with me?"
He stood, paced the room before finally turning back. "I can get better...maybe...was this the first time?"
"No...for weeks...you could never be as good Bruno," I said harshly, knowing that giving any false hope would be crueler. "He's a different kind of man than you."
Through the pain I saw etched on his tear filled face he asked, "So, what, you want a divorce? Throw me out for some boy?"
"No," I answered, feeling no pity for this man who buckled so easily to a boy.
"I don't understand."
"I'm happy here...with you...like this...it's just now I need something else. You'll have to share me...be second...or third."
"I can't...won't be able to," he yelled as he stormed from the room.
"You don't expect me to let another man fuck you, do you?" he demanded when he rushed back into the room five minutes later.
"Oh Sarahhh," he moaned.
"It's not your fault," I finally offered.
"He's big...very big," I whispered, forcing him to lean over to hear me.
"It's long, very long...and fat...and full of cum...look, I'm still stretched...look at the juice oozing out of me," I said as I spread my sex even further and watched as both repulsion and desire crossed his face. "It's three times the volume of yours."
Somehow, Johnnie's size seemed to mollify Bruno, it had moved from being a matter of ability and technique to a simple god given gift, he could much more readily accept the fact that some genetic trick had given Johnnie some unfair advantage over him.
"I'm going to have a shower," I said, interrupting the thoughts swirling through his head. "Come and wash me, clean me," I ordered as I grabbed his hand and led him to the bathroom.
I laughed when he got hard as he scrubbed my body, grasped his thin prick and then asked, "Do you want to fuck your little wife tonight baby? Fuck mommy?"
He seemed harder and bigger than he'd felt in a year when he finally started pumping his little cock into me, even lasted long enough to give his still horny wife a mini-orgasm.
"You were wonderful tonight," I praised him after he'd succeeding in coming twice.
"Not as good as Johnnie," he complained.
"It's not your fault," I purred into his ear, knowing he'd already accepted his status.
It was easier for me after our talk. I no longer had to lie or hide, and was now able to bring Johnnie home more often, it lowered the risk of us being caught at school, of me being discovered with my body stretched over a desk as my favorite student fucked me.
Bruno wasn't totally convinced and in the days that followed kept returning to my admission, kept wanting to pick at it like an old scab.
"Did you fuck him today," he demanded as we lay in bed one night.
"Yes...at lunch time...in the park, he was so big, so hard."
"What! Outdoors? Somebody could have seen you," he cried.
"He fucked me on the grass...mounted me like a dog, hurt me with his size," I answered, my tone clearly telling him I'd loved it.
"The bastard," he howled. "Why do you do it? You could come home..."
"It excites him. Excites him to fuck his teacher in public. To fuck a married woman."
"But you don't have to."
"He makes me obey him."
"But you're a woman...an adult...educated, I don't understand."
"He forces me. His big cock's my master."
"He rapes you?"
"He doesn't need to. He simply lifts my skirt, pushes me against the blackboard, enters me...I love it honey," I try to explain. "I can't resist...don't want to. I need it in me...it's my drug..."
"He doesn't let me wear panties when I'm teaching him."
"You don't wear underwear?"
"He checks...every class."
"Jesus," Bruno groans, and then moans when I plop his penis into my mouth, shutting him up for a while.
"Today?" he asked a couple of days later.
"At lunch. We came home," I answer, "right here."
"In my bed?"
"Yes. He was so hard."
"I think of you when I'm at work, think of you with him."
"He's given us a baby, a baby boy."
"WHAT! How do you know? It could be mine. A boy?"
"It's his. His thick sperm...apparently his sperm count is off the charts...his doctor told him...he's already made another girl pregnant."
"My sperm count is high enough...it could be mine... I can't raise another man's baby."
"Johnnies like a stallion...brought in to breed...he'll be gone next year...you'll be the boys father, you'll teach him to fish, to play football," I lured.
He started to protest but I could see the wheels turning, knew that Bruno was dying to have a son, was considering the cost to his self respect.
"And when he's gone...it'll be just you and me?"
"No Bruno," I answered, not wanting any future misunderstanding.
"God, you're soaking," Bruno protested after he'd slipped into bed next to me after a late business dinner and placed his hand on my mound.
"Johnnie was here...I knew you'd be late...I was horny. I needed a big fat prick in me."
"But you're dripping."