Que Cerie, Cerie

"Lose the panties. Then bend over at the waist, reach between your legs, and spread your pussy open. I want to see pink," directed Wyatt.

Cerie shivered at the boldness of the order but did as instructed. The heat in her middle increased in intensity. Her fingers found wetness as she spread her labia brazenly. As the camera clicked she felt the moisture run down her fingers. Shame surged through her. She imagined her arousal would be visible to any onlooker. An image of Wyatt sitting at home looking at the picture and slowly stroking his cock skittered across her mind. An intense heat blossomed between her thighs.

"You two! What are you doing?"

A short woman with a bit of a stoop stood in front of Cerie on the path by the creek. Her grey hair caught what little light was available. Cerie felt her mouth drop open. She was frozen, like an animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Strong fingers gripped her wrist not nested between her legs and yanked her into action. They ran; Wyatt's hand never let go. The protection of the shadowy overpass was left behind. Windows of homes with lights still burning flashed by. Wyatt ducked around corners seemingly at random. Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts. Her lungs began to burn as the distance grew. Finally, after five blocks, he pulled her into a parking lot and pressed her against the stone retaining wall. Both of their chests heaved as they pulled in ragged breaths. Wyatt felt hard and slick against her. She opened her mouth but his hand clamped down over it.

"Shh, listen."

Cerie strained her ears. She didn't hear the slap of pursuing feat nor did she hear a police siren. Her eyes sought the light that spilled past the edge of the wall. She didn't see the glaring beam of a spot light panning across the asphalt nor the colored flashing of roof-mounted lights. It appeared they were safe but the hard edge of fear remained. For the first time, they had been caught.

The excitement along with the rush of adrenaline had been very intense. That excitement seemed to resonate off Wyatt. Having someone else share the experience gave it a rebellious, conspiratorial edge. Her eyes met his. Wyatt pulled back, gripped both her shoulders, and turned her to face the wall. A hand remained on her shoulder as she felt the other cup her left ass cheek and push it aside. She gasped as the hard cock pushed into her. He felt hot, almost feverish. She could feel the heat radiate off him as he moved. It felt as if a bar of fire was inside her. Her nails scratched at the wall as he sawed back and forth. With the adrenaline still coursing through him he was all urgency. Grunts crawled out of her throat as he pounded into her.

"Fuck. Fuck," she mumbled under her breath with each stroke. He was urgent, fierce even, in his movements and she found herself willing to be whatever he desired. Cerie screamed as her orgasm consumed her. Wyatt continued as her legs shook and her hair whipped side to side. Instead of mellowing after her climax, the excitement continued to build. The sound of passing traffic combined with Wyatt's ragged breathing sent pulses of electricity through her. When the young man grabbed her ponytail and tugged her head backwards, a second orgasm crashed over her.

Cerie's forehead rested against the rough surface of the wall. She'd had unprotected sex with a student, a student from her school no less, and never once during the entire event had she even considered saying "no." Sweat cooled against her skin making her shiver. She and Wyatt sorted out their clothes and tried to get their bearings. It took a bit of backtracking but eventually they were able to locate her car. Wyatt breached the silence first.

"That was exciting," he said.

Cerie bit her bottom lip and nodded. The combination of fear and excitement had made her feel so alive. She could recall cracks in the sidewalk as they ran with perfect clarity. It felt as if the stony wall was still pressing into her skin. The afterglow was fading ever so slowly. She still felt tingly from her lower back all the way to her toes. They said their goodbyes in the driveway. Wyatt slapped the lettered part of her backside before he walked away. Cerie didn't look at the pictures, the fear and adrenaline had left a bone deep exhaustion in their wake. She tossed her clothes into the hamper and crawled into bed.

After a morning shower she stood in front of her mirror. "Exhibitionist Bitch" was in tall black letters on the right flank. She had always hated the B-word and there it was, inked upon her skin. A small part of Cerie was impressed that Wyatt had spelled everything correctly. As she ate breakfast she had an important realization. She scooped up her keys and headed for the door. It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for.

She pulled into the parking lot, kept her head down, and headed for the back of the store. The pharmacist requested her ID and scrutinized it quite thoroughly before reaching beneath the counter and placing the package containing a morning-after pill by the register.

"Make sure you read the directions," she said.

Her professional attitude never wavered but Cerie was sure those large green eyes were judging her, declaring her a slut. On her way out of the store, she grabbed a bottle of water and while she paid, she was careful to avoid eye contact with the woman behind the counter. Once her labeled backside hit the car seat, she ripped the package open and chased the pill with a large mouthful of water.

The rest of the day was filled with errands and small tasks. Cerie stood in front of the pyramid of mangos; her fingers gently prodding looking for an ever so slight softness.

"It's tough to find good ones, isn't it?"

The unexpected voice startled her. The realization dawned on her that the short, willowy woman standing next to her was Wyatt's mother. They had met the previous year at parent-teacher conferences. Cerie almost dropped her basket and had to fight the impulse to run. They exchanged pleasantries and chatted about the weather while a turbulent swirl of emotions clawed at the teacher's faux calm veneer. Guilt gnawed at Cerie through the entire conversation. She had done more with the woman's son than with several of her previous boyfriends. While Dawn spoke images flashed through Cerie's mind: on her knees in a dressing room swallowing as Wyatt came, standing in a parking lot while Wyatt fucked her with wild abandonment, and her at home in her chair rubbing herself to Wyatt's pictures. With her knees threatening to knock against each other, Cerie set down the mango, politely excused herself, and fled to the front of the store. Her shopping wasn't completed but she desperately needed to be somewhere else.

Cerie made her way to the checkout line. As she waited, impatiently shifting from foot to foot, a woman stepped up behind her. Cerie almost gasped. It was the woman who had discovered her and Wyatt. Fear constricted her chest. The woman behind her grunted.

"Did the line slow down? I swear I'm cursed. I always pick the wrong one," she said.

Electricity trickled through Cerie. The woman didn't recognize her. Cerie kept her eyes focused on the floor, expecting at any moment a pointed finger and a loudly voiced accusation. She handed the cashier the wrong amount of money and had to dig in her purse for additional funds. As the seconds ticked by, she was sure she would be discovered. She mumbled a goodbye and waved before heading towards the exit. With her groceries tucked into the trunk, her hand moved between her legs as she drove.

"What's wrong with me?" she groaned.

Inside the door, she immediately dropped her grocery bags to the floor. Her jeans followed suit shortly thereafter. She sat with her back against the door as her hand rubbed her pussy. She didn't care if any of her purchases melted. Her need consumed her. As the climax tore through her, she released a primal scream.

Despite determined scrubbing, the black letters were still visible on her skin. She took little comfort in the fact they were faded. It was irrational, she knew, but when she entered the school she could have sworn the letters became hot. As her first class entered her room, it felt almost as if they were searing. Branding her soul for what she was. That was her true identity, not Cerie, not being a teacher, or even a daughter. By the third class, she was convinced her students could see the fiery letters glowing through her clothes. She remained in her chair or kept herself facing forward as much as possible.

She blew out an exasperated breath when the final bell rang. "Closing time. You don't have to go home, for legal reasons I have to suggest you go home, but you can't stay here." Cerie stayed in her chair until her classroom and eventually the entire hallway emptied before she stood up and started home. The sound of her heels clicking against the freshly waxed tiles echoed down the long hallway.

It took three days before she looked at the pictures from the night she and Wyatt were caught. Not only had the night been exciting and scary, it took her a bit to realize it was also emotionally draining. As she turned on the monitor, she felt she was ready. The first picture that appeared was her with her back to the camera, legs parted, and fingers spreading herself wide. It might have been a trick of the lighting but Cerie swore there was glistening between her fingers. Her eyes squeezed shut as her hand dove between her legs. Orgasm after orgasm rolled over her as she whispered derogatory names to herself. In the early hours of morning, she dragged herself to bed.

Cerie sat at her desk grading papers. It seemed to be a never ending task. She would vanquish one stack only to have another appear a few days later. A knock at her door drew her attention. Wyatt was standing in the doorway.

"Tonight," was all he said before he walked away.

He hadn't stayed to see if she agreed, in an odd way she found that boldly confident and a tad appealing. She forced herself to finish her work but noted her marks and comments looked sloppy and hurried. With trembling hands, she gathered her belongings and headed towards the exit. She returned Kyle's wave as she passed by his room.

Cerie ate her dinner while pacing back and forth across her living room. The anticipation of the evening's events had prevented her from sitting. It felt like her heart skipped a beat when the doorbell rang. Shortly after she opened the door, Wyatt tossed a bag to her.

"Go, put that on."

She retreated to her bedroom with the bag. In her heart, she knew it was a tad silly, there was no modesty left to protect. The young man had seen her naked, hell, they'd even had sex but changing out of his view felt the most comfortable. Part of her also desired to experience what was in the bag alone. It preserved the slim illusion that she was an unwilling participant. Cerie frowned as she unzipped the bag and pulled out the contents.

"Are you ready yet?" he called through the door.

Her hands tugged at the clothes. Cerie examined herself in front of the mirror. She was dressed like an awful schoolgirl stereotype; complete with a white blouse, a short red and black pleated skirt, almost knee high socks, and Mary Janes. Instructions in the bag had directed her to put her hair in pigtails. If she encountered anyone she remotely knew she was sure she would die of embarrassment. The teacher bit her bottom lip. These were to be her going out clothes. There would be no easy hiding tonight. No, trench coat to shield what she was from the outside world. She was both mortified and excited in equal parts. Cerie had never considered costumes for her outings. Once again, the young man was pushing her boundaries.

"Oh, that's just perfect, Ponytail," Wyatt said as she exited her room. "Let's get going."

Her car pulled directly under a lamp post. Lake McIntosh sat a short distance from the hood of her sedan. A concrete walking path ran by the parking lot and partially circled the large, wide body of water. Wyatt attached his camera to a tripod and set it on the hood of the car. A breeze tugged at her skirt while she waited. She was still standing on the passenger's side when he stepped behind her. He guided her forward and gently pushed her down against the hood. She could feel the heat of the engine through the hood and through her flimsy, white blouse.

"Stay," he ordered. Directly in front of her and not too far away were several large homes. Lights still burned in the windows. Cerie immediately felt exposed and vulnerable.

"We can't," she protested.

"Of course we can," he said as he adjusted the angle of the camera.

"The houses," she protested.

His smile was wide and amused. "Yeah, they'll have a nice view."

He moved behind her and flipped her skirt up over her hips. His fingers snagged her thong and pulled it down to mid thigh.

His hand came down on her backside and caused her to yelp. "Man, I don't know which is prettier: your face or your ass."

With the toe of his shoe he moved her feet apart. Her right hand slapped the hood three times as he pushed into her. The anticipation during the trip had completely removed the need for foreplay. She had been ready for sex the moment she saw the houses. He gathered her pigtails in this hands and held them tightly forcing her to stare at the nearby homes. The camera clicked as the car gently rocked. She growled as Wyatt pushed all the way into her and then gave an extra little thrust. Cerie felt the heat radiate off him as he moved inside her. She found herself pushing her hips back against him. Moans were desperately trying to spill from her as the teenager slapped his hips against hers. She wanted the moment, the feelings associated with it, to last forever. The final straw was the two grayish figures that appeared on the home's front porch. Cerie screamed as her climax took her in its grip.

The teacher draped herself over the arm of her couch while Wyatt was most likely still walking down her driveway. She squeezed her eyes shut and replayed the night's events. Her hand found its way between her legs. Fingers pushed the damp, satiny material out of the way and worked in tight circles. She decided not to concern herself with the origin of the moisture. The other men in her life hand been tender with her, careful and attentive to her needs. Wyatt had done none of that, hell he hadn't even used her name, and yet, in the grip of a teenage student, she'd found sexual fulfillment. Cerie bit the cushion not wanting her neighbors to hear her scream. She left a trail of clothes behind her as she approached her bathroom. After a long soak in scalding hot water she dragged herself to bed.

Cerie's eyes hurt. She closed them and rested her forehead against her palm. In her mind she saw herself lying on a towel in the sand. Sun kissed her skin as waves lapped at her toes. Nearby was a small table full of fruity drinks with miniature paper umbrellas. The sound of her door closing snapped her out of the daydream.

Wyatt dropped his bag by her desk. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. The teenager stepped in close. Cerie's heart fluttered in her chest. Was he going to kiss her? She felt her knees get weak. All this time he'd never tried. She closed her eyes, titled her head, and quickly wetted her lips with her tongue.

His fingers tugging at the waistband of her pants caused her to open her eyes. Wyatt unfastened them and pushed them down over her hips. Cerie swallowed hard. She had never considered doing anything at her place of work, especially not in her classroom. Fear bubbled up in her. She stepped out of her pants, folded them, and set them in her chair as Wyatt retrieved his camera from his bag. He gestured for her to remove her blouse as he attached the tripod and set the camera on the corner of her desk.

After her blouse joined her pants on her chair, Wyatt placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her closer to her desk. With one hand on her shoulder and the other resting on her backside, he, bent her over the broad wood surface. With her arm she pushed the papers out of the way, not minding if they fell to the floor. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as the young man pushed her legs apart.

The teasing fingers traced elaborate patterns across the gusset of her panties. Several times she pushed against the fingers only to have them pull away. His fingers returned at her sides, moved down to her waist, snagged her panties, and drew them down her legs. Cerie was ready to have him inside her. She wiggled her hips partially to please Wyatt but also hoping to entice him into taking her. The young man chuckled and gave her a playful slap on the ass.

A fingertip traced over the faded writing. She heard a drawer open. Knowing what he was looking for she pointed to the proper location. Cerie had to hold back a moan as the felt tip of the marker slid across her skin.

Wyatt slapped her ass. "Tell me what you are, Ponytail."

She held her bottom lip between her teeth. It was one thing to harbor that knowledge deep within herself. Saying it out loud, declaring it to the world, was a public declaration; an acknowledgement. The hand stuck her backside again.

"There's nothing wrong with the truth."

For a third time, his hand crashed into her. "I'm an exhibitionist bitch," she shouted. She had intended to whisper it but the words burst out of her.

"Good girl. One more time, scream it." His fingers slipped easily inside her.

She knew she was wet and wasn't embarrassed. "I'm an exhibitionist bitch!"

Her breaths came in ragged gasps. Wyatt's fingers twirled inside her as if he were stirring a drink. She sighed when he slipped out of her. She waited with baited breath for the sound of Wyatt's zipper. Cerie wanted him to take her in her own classroom over her own desk.

"You're free. I'm going to let you go," Wyatt said.

She bolted upright. "What?"

"I can't blackmail you forever. Sooner or later, you'll grow to resent it and me." Wyatt shrugged. "So..."

After the initial shock faded her first thought was "What did I do wrong?" She should have been happy. The teenager had been using her after all. Treating her like a toy. Using her for his own gratification. Her mouth opened and her jaw moved but her voice had fled her. Wyatt took the memory stick from the camera and placed it in front of her. Panties dangled from the young man's index finger.

"I'm going to keep these," he said. Wyatt scooped up his bag and waved over his shoulder as he departed.

Numb and confused Cerie sat on the edge of her desk and tried to puzzle out what had just happened. Frustrated and lacking a good answer the teacher gathered her things. She grabbed the marker from her desk and flung it across the room before snatching up her purse and heading for the door. The drive home, dinner, and evening passed by and the fog of confusion never left her.

She abstained from her hobby for two months to prove to herself she didn't need it and she didn't need Wyatt. Cerie took to standing by her door during intermissions and watching the students as they filed by. Kyle smiled and waved whenever he saw her. A man she should be interested in was simply down the length of worn and faded tile, yet she found herself apathetic. As days slipped by and her routine returned to normal that itch, the tickling at the back of her head became constant. On a Friday afternoon her will broke. After much internal debate, she decided it was time to indulge herself. On her way to her car she passed Wyatt, the first time she had seen him since he tossed her away. Their eyes met and he gave a quiet, knowing smile.

With darkness all around her, she pulled her shirt off over her head. Cerie had returned to her first site, hoping to recapture the initial magic she had felt. After waiting for several minutes no park visitors passed by. She shrugged, stepped out into the light, smiled, posed, and took photos until her arm tired. Cerie smiled when she returned to her pile of clothes and found her underwear was still present. She stomped fallen leaves and twigs beneath her feet, letting the world know she had returned, as she made her was back to her car.