Back to School

After I made a show of swallowing what I had licked off my lips, in an almost gentle voice he said, "Good bitch," confirming my continuing downgrade while simultaneously causing my pussy to spasm. At the same moment, he took hold of my ponytail and guided my mouth to his still erect shaft.

Focusing on the top half of his length, I sucked and swirled my tongue and bobbed my head. And while he might have been softening just a little when I started, in almost no time I had him rock hard again. Yet, he did not stop me for some time.

"Very good, bitch," he finally said, shaving my face to the side. "Now get up and bend over your desk."

Trembling like I had been earlier, but not been doing while he fucked my face, I climbed to my feet, turned so my back was toward him, and leaned across my desk, propping myself up on my forearms and spreading my legs to expose my dripping pussy. I knew there was no way I could hide how needful I was, so I did not try. I just lay there, his cum cooling on my face, and waited.

"God, you really do have a great little ass, bitch," Keith said, and I had just enough time to brace myself before he spanked it, making my body vibrate with each blow. Moaning, I lowered my chest toward my desk enough that each jerk of my body forward rubbed my nipples on the cold, hard surface.

I do not know how many swats he gave me, although I had begun to worry he might leave marks that would not fade by the time my husband and I went to bed that night. And I was on the verge of asking him to stop when he did so on his own.

"You ready to get your pussy fucked, cunt?"

I whimpered my assent and could not stop myself from wiggling my ass. I did not wonder why I had fallen from bitch to cunt -- in doing whatever he wanted, I had shown him what I was. He knew that I was worthless except to be fucked by him, all of me a cunt for his pleasure and nothing more. I whimpered again, although this time it deepened into a moan, and that turned into almost a howl when Keith thrust his hard, thick cock all the way inside me with one forceful movement.

"Fuck," I screamed, white knuckling my grip on the edge of the desk. Like I mentioned, my husband was as thick and a little longer than Keith, but the suddenness of his filling me made him seem much larger. And yet, despite the exquisite stretching of my tunnel, and despite my state of heightened arousal, complete with throbbing clit, oversensitive nipples, and enflamed nerve endings across my skin, I did not come. And I would have sworn I was right on the edge before Keith slammed into me.

"God, you're pussy is the tightest I can remember in a long time," he told me, but evidently it was not so tight that it kept him from building up speed and fucking me harder and harder. Of course, I was well lubricated. But also, I was very ready for him mentally. Had I not been, it might have been too tight for him to fuck me, and it definitely would have hurt.

But instead of reveling in his pounding of my ready and willing pussy, I fixated on an awful truth. My husband was the only man I had ever been ready for mentally without being at least buzzed, if not outright drunk. But here I was, letting my vice principal use me as his sub -- no, as his cunt -- and I was every bit as ready as I had ever been for my husband despite not having had any alcohol. Tears started to flow down my cheek again, this time from grief and guilt. How could I be doing this to my husband? That must be why I was hovering right on the edge of climaxing despite the pounding I was receiving. My guilt was stopping me.

"Are you close?" he asked a few minutes later, his breathing labored. He had been squeezing my left breast and pulling my hair while he rode me. and while that kind of abuse should have done the trick in the situation, it had not. I was still stuck on the edge, my mind letting me relax enough for sex but not to come.

"Yes," I lied with some hope, as well as some guilt that he had needed to ask. A man like him should not have to ask, and I wondered if he ever had needed to before. It did not match who I now knew him to really be.

"I don't know how long I can last," he grunted. "Your pussy is gripping me on every thrust."

"Pull my hair harder. Smack my ass. Tell me what a worthless cunt I am."

I felt him hesitate, his rhythm that had been steady for some time breaking a little. Since he had already done those things, I did not think it was the content of my suggestion that gave him pause. I suspected that he was not accustomed to being topped from the bottom. But I was used to doing it. I had to with my husband.

"Shut up, cunt," he snarled, and the hand that had been groping my breast disappeared. Seconds later, a hard smack landed on my ass. I moaned and gasped, his words and the swat sent tingles emanating from my clit and spreading throughout my body. I was so fucking close. I just needed to get out of my head while getting a push over that edge as well.

"I'm in control here," he went on, and as he smacked me several more times, his hold on my hair tightened.

"Yes, Master," I rasped between moans. If he could up the ante, so could I.

"Worthless fucking cunt," he said, those words following a particularly hard swat and thrust combination that send me surging forward despite his relentless grip on my hair. But by that point, even my hair follicles were tingling from my seemingly never-ending arousal, and the delicious pain of the pull against them was almost enough.

"Good for fucking," I said, my voice hoarse and low, yet strong. "Every one of my holes good for fucking. So not worthless."

"Oh, you're right," he laughed with a breathless laugh. "You are definitely good for fucking. And that's all. A cunt to fuck."

I came all over Keith's cock with his next thrust, my body tensing against his hold on my hair. Unlike my prior orgasm, which had been pretty much confined to my regular erogenous zones, this one enveloped my whole body the way the most intense orgasms usually do. Jolts of unbearable pleasure radiated from my clit and my pussy and my nipples, spreading through my body. If I thought every nerve ending had been on fire before, I had been wrong. The feel of the cold desk beneath my boobs, the edge cutting into my abdomen, the rough carpet against my bare feet, the feel of slick, warm skin against my ass and back as Keith collapsed on top of me after a couple more thrusts -- these were all unbearably ecstatic agonies, tormenting me and lifting the peaks of my climax higher and higher until stars sparkled in front of my eyes and I realized I had forgotten to breathe for some period of time.

I gasped in a lungful of air, but it burned and I pushed it out right away, only to gasp in another. I could not breathe. Or rather, I could not catch my breath. I attempted to push my way off the desk, but a weight kept me pinned down. Keith.

"Keith... Master... I can't breathe," I managed to say despite the diminishing air in my lungs and the soreness of my throat.

"Shit, sorry," he said, and in the next instant the weight was gone. Desperate for air, I slid off the desk onto my knees, head down, and drew in deep lungfuls of air, trying to hold each a little longer than the previous. Keith sat on his heels beside me, rubbing my back and encouraging me. And after some time, I managed to get my breathing under control.

"That was incredible," he said when we both stood up. I smiled and nodded, but inside guilt over cheating on my husband threatened to overwhelm me. He had given me orgasms every bit as good as the one Keith has just given me, but he had been the only man to do so. Until now.

"We should probably get dressed," I said, although Keith only had his shorts down. I was the one completely naked.

"You will need to clean me off first," he said. "And your face too." I had almost forgotten that his cum had dried there. I did not mention that I would need to clean my pussy too, as our combined juices were already starting to leak out.

"I have handy wipes," I said, getting them out of my desk drawer.

"Use your mouth first," he said, pointing to his flaccid penis. I gave him a smile, dropped back to my knees, and bathed the warm, soft organ in my mouth. As was almost always the case, I loved the flavor of my own juices combined with the tastes of a man's cock, and I started getting into it again -- both sucking him and my own arousal. I even felt his dick start to harden a little, but Keith pulled it free a moment later.

"Now use the wipes. I don't want my girlfriend smelling or tasting your pussy on me later."

That comment further reignited my need. I could imagine her tasting me on him, and I wondered what she would say or think. Would she get mad? Or would she be intrigued? Would I get punished later for causing problem between Keith and his girlfriend? Would I be made to service them both?

"That's good, Jenni. Now, clean yourself up."

I wanted to beg him to fuck me again, or use my mouth, or do anything he wanted. But instead, I wiped the dried cum off my face. And as I did that, he bent over and retrieved my shorts and tank top from the floor and held them out for me. He had also picked up my pink panties, but he held them back in his other hand.

"I'm keeping them," he said when he saw me looking at the panties. I shrugged and pulled the shorts on. I had the top almost on when he stopped me, giving each of my nipples a lick before I covered them.

"You're amazing," he said, one hand on my hip and the other stroking my cheek. "To think, my cum was just here... and is in here"

"You won't tell anyone, right?" I asked, moving his hand away from my shorts.

"Of course not, Jenni," her said. "We both have too much to lose."

I nodded but did not say anything. I never wanted this to happen again, but at the same time I could not wait for it to do so. He was much more dominant than my husband, and I had been forced to recognize how much I desired that. And I suspected I was more submissive than his girlfriend -- I doubt he would have worried about me tasting or smelling another woman on his cock had I been waiting at home for him. He knew I would not, could not, object to what my Master did.

"It's just... if you weren't married..."

"I know," I said. "And even worse -- I love my husband."

"I know," he said, repeating my words.

"So, what now?"

"We could never do this again and never mention it, or..."

"I want the 'or'." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, "At least for a little while."

Keith stared at me, and then his brown eyes brightened and that wicked grin of his lifted up the corners of his mouth.

"My first assistant principal job was at a high school. With your body and face, we could role play..."

"Oh, yes we could," I said, smiling. My husband was usually unwilling to play such games. And the thought of having to submit to Keith, being forced to do so or face unknown repercussions, had me heating up again. Sure, the guilt was still there, but is seemed much more manageable than it had moments before. That was likely rationalization, I knew, but I decided not to worry about it.

"I have to go now, but maybe we could meet in my office later this week."

"Maybe," I grinned, already thinking about the schoolgirl costume I had in my closet, the one my husband had found to be too much.