French Isn't Just For Kissing

I have to start with, I never intended for it to go that far.

Okay, so, now that that is out of the way, here goes.

I'm a fairly young French teacher in a rural high school. I spent my first couple of years out of college substitute teaching in the same district I teach in now, so by the time the school superintendent decided it would be a good idea to hire me, I had already made connections with faculty, staff, and the students at the school. This year was my first year having my own classroom.

Of course, I was always very careful to maintain a professional front with my students even as a substitute... I was only a couple of years older than my seniors, after all. My personal appearance sometimes got in the way of that professional exterior. I am fairly tall- 5'10, with long, curly red hair and big blue eyes, and a pair of breasts that one junior boy once described as 'hot as fuck' –quite the endorsement for a mere C cup!

I am very passionate about the French language, culture, and customs, so this job meant everything to me when I finally got it. When the drama department, of which I was Head Set Designer and Prop Master, decided to put on Beauty and the Beast as the spring musical, I was all for it. When a wealthy parent of a student in the cast suggested we fundraise and go to France as part of our role research, the idea was met with eager and willing participants.

Early on in the spring semester we earned enough money to book the cast and crew whose parents had given them permission to attend, which wound up being a group of about 15, a week and a half in various parts of France. It was a pretty fantastic way to spend April vacation and a few extra days, touring one of the most culturally rich countries in the world with, I have to say, a pretty fantastic, motivated, and gifted group of students.

Needless to say, not much got done by way of classwork that week.

"Miss Frederickson!" one of the seniors, Emily, raised her hand. She was cute, her hair expertly braided into a headband that wrapped across her forehead. She was a natural Belle, cast more for her beautiful singing voice than her striking resemblance to the Disney character. "Will we be doing tours and things the whole time, or will we have some free time?"

I raised my eyebrows. "If by 'free time,' you mean unsupervised gallivanting, I'm going to tell you right now that we're allowing you to go on this trip not because you're all very responsible young adults, but because we want you to learn more about France and the culture surrounding the original 'La Belle et la Bête.' You won't have much time to wander off."

She nodded, but I could tell that she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

A new voice had spoken up then, voicing the opinion everyone was holding privately.

"But we're all 18," Will Farouq spoke up. He was also a senior, usually cast in the comedic relief roles and an obvious choice for Le Fou, and had taken a shine to me early on in my career as a substitute. He frequently discussed how attractive I was and how I was his favorite teacher with the other students. He was on the shorter side, just a bit shorter than me, with dark hair swept into a modern bowl cut and dark eyes, with shoulders that were broad and muscular legs.

The problem, or, non-problem, I suppose, was that he was one of the nicest and most talented students I had, and never put me in the awkward place of overhearing these discussions firsthand. Sure, he skipped class from time to time, but he always came in and let me know why he did in the first place. His home life was not ideal- his father was Iraqi, and had set ideas about school and theater, and felt that his son wasted his time memorizing lines and songs, only to forget them after the shows ended. His mother was American, and preoccupied with herself and her career as a masseuse. To her, Will was her ticket to a comfortable retirement. The fact that he knew and understood his parents' point of view was often hard on him.

"That," I'd said to Will, smoothing my green sweater-dress, "Doesn't matter."

"If the drinking age is 18 in Europe, and correct me if I'm wrong, as always, Miss Frederickson, but you always say that the French attitude toward alcohol consumption is different than ours, shouldn't we take the time to experience that as well?" His sly smile beamed at me underneath his dark brown eyes and longish brown hair. "Maybe wine and dine you lovely ladies?"

"Nice try," I smiled briefly at him, "But no dice. Check the permission booklets your parents or guardians signed, with the itineraries, and you'll see that our days are pretty much booked. We'll have a couple of chances to split up into groups with either me, Mr. Grant, or Coach Kerry to do our own things, but that's about all we have time for."

"Shotgun Miss Frederickson's group!" Will said immediately. His friend, Mike, a blond football player who ran the lights for the shows, grinned at him from the seat next to him. Mike was tall to Will's shorter, slim to his stocky and strong, and both were, despite their antics, some of my favorites.

"Me too!" he said.

"Clearly it's going to be a long week."

***

Our flight left from New York's JFK airport on schedule, thankfully. Our bus trip to New York had been long and weary- the chaperones had collectively decided that driving through the night would save us time and money in the long run.

That meant taking sleeping shifts on the bus with the other chaperones. I hadn't thought about much other than the fact that these were my colleagues, but the second we were on that bus, I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was the only female adult. Mr. Grant was a recent divorcee with a receding hairline and a questionable love for Abba and Elton John, while Coach Kerry was a bulked-up hulk of a man whose life revolved around football and math. Neither were awful travel companions, but Coach Kerry leered a bit too much in my direction for my taste.

When we arrived at the airport, I'm sure I looked the worst the kids had ever seen me- my hair felt ratty and had fallen out of the ponytail I'd scraped it into, and I had on a blue school drama club zip-up and my favorite Victoria's Secret yoga pants with my orange Nikes.

I checked kids off as they got off the bus and collected their suitcases, and was relieved to see that most of the girls looked as put together as I did. Emily and her sister, Gwen, had matching Aeropostale sweatshirts and jeans on, while Sam from the stage crew had sleepily pulled on a hoodie inside out.

The boys, on the other hand, had pounded Red Bulls they'd smuggled in just before we hit the city, so they were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Will bounded off the bus and gave me a wink and a cheeky, "Good morning, Miss Frederickson!" before claiming his luggage. I overheard him say that whichever God had been genius enough to invent yoga pants needed to be high-fived, but it was too early to give any attention past that to the comment.

We made it through security with no trouble, and when we finally boarded the plane and took our seats, I was surprised to find myself sitting in between Will and Mike. I had been sure that Sam was on one side of me before, but shrugged it off. I did make Will change seats with me so I had the aisle seat, just in case the other students needed me.

I noticed Mike looking particularly grouchy about this change of plans, but hey, not my problem. He was really the lucky one- he had the window seat.

The five girls were in the middle row, with Sam smack in the middle holding hands with the boy who had been cast as Gaston, a giant of a senior named Danny, and the side opposite us sat Coach Kerry and two other boys. The row in front of the girls seated Mr. Grant and the remaining boys in our group.

We cleared for take off, and once I realized that our kids weren't doing anything other than watching movies, reading kindles or magazines, or sleeping, I settled down. For some reason, none of the in-flight movies seemed interesting to me, so I snagged a copy of this month's Cosmo from one of the girls and started flipping the pages.

It wasn't until I was halfway through the issue that I realized Will was staring at me. Well, staring at the page I was on and trying to gauge my reaction. I'd already flipped through a spread about the 'in' positions, and was staring off into space with the magazine open to a guide to the perfect blow job.

I flipped the page hastily. I'm sure my face gave away the embarrassment I felt, because Will leaned down and whispered in my ear, "I was reading that, you know."

I tried to act casual. "Were you now?"

"Not nice, Miss Frederickson," he said, wagging a finger at me.

I swear, it was the threat of impending jet lag, or the lack of sleep, that led me to jokingly click my teeth in a bite toward that wagging finger. As soon as I realized that I wasn't in a social setting, I sat bolt upright and immediately apologized.

"Hey, take it easy, Teach," Mike said from Will's other side. "We're not in school!"

"Thank God for that!" Will said with a laugh. He lowered his voice in what I'm sure he thought (and rightly so) was a seductive manner. "Now... tell me. Is this true?" He pointed to a spot on the page I'd flipped to.

"Is what true?" I looked at him blankly. I glanced down at the page. There, in the bold red letters Cosmo favors, were stats on how many times per week single women masturbate. His finger was on the statistic (which, in case you were wondering, was 92%, with a bunch of comments scattered around).

"Does this mean you masturbate too?" he asked teasingly, his dark eyes boring holes into mine.

I blushed.

His eyes lit up. "You do!!" he exclaimed, elbowing Mike in the side. They both leaned in eagerly. "So, do you have a vibe or do you go manual?"

I rolled my eyes. "I am NOT having this conversation with my students!"

Will nodded with a grin towards Mike. "I'm going to take that as an answer for both."

Because it was a long plane ride, and the others weren't paying any attention to us anyway, I fired back with, "How do you know there isn't a Mr. Frederickson?"

Their faces fell at the prospect. "There isn't, though, right?" Mike asked, finally. "You would've mentioned him in class, I feel."

Will nodded his agreement. His eyes were locked on mine. "So? Is there?"

"You're right, there's no Mr. Frederickson," I said. I fluffed my pink travel pillow and stuffed it behind my neck. "Is that important?"

"It is if you want someone to perfect your blow job on," Will said seriously. He gestured to himself and Mike. "We could help, you know."

I burst into giggles. "Excuse me?"

"What I mean is, you were reading that section on how to suck a guy dry pretty carefully. Since there's no Mr. Frederickson, we could be your guinea pigs." His smile grew wider. "I would love to see those pretty lips wrapped around my dick."

"Mine too," Mike agreed. His shorts had tented in the cutest way, and he shifted in embarrassment when he saw that I noticed. "Sorry," he muttered.

I shrugged awkwardly. "It's okay, you can't help it, I guess."

Will put his hand on mine. "Miss Frederickson, I know this might be super awkward, but let's face it, you're smoking hot, and we're all legal adults here. We might be your students for, what, another month? We're still gunna want to fuck you when we've graduated, so why fight it?"

"How about because it's wrong and I could lose my job?" I hissed. Thankfully, no one around us had heard them.

"We're not going to say anything," Will said, waving me off. "We know we're your favorites, so what's wrong with showing you how much you're our favorite teacher by giving you a fucking you'll never forget?"

"I'm sure you think that it's flattering, but think about the trouble you both could be in, the trouble I could be in, if anyone were to even think that something uncouth was happening between us..." I had no idea how to dissuade them that even suggesting this was a good idea.

"We. Are. Eighteen." Will searched my face for any sign of conceding to his (now not so) secret wish. "Legal adults. Neither of us are virgins, you know."

"I don't really think this is the best conversation to have right now," I tried. It didn't work.

Will barreled on, hoping that if he just kept talking that I might change my mind. "There hasn't been a night this year that I haven't jerked off to the thought of you keeping me for a special detention," he said. "I want you so bad. The second I met you, I knew we would eventually be together. This trip, it's like fate. The perfect way to start our adult lives, by having a week and a half of sneaky, hot, teacher sex in a foreign country."

"Dude, I need to go to the bathroom, cos this is not going away," Mike said. He had casually moved his sweatshirt into his lap and was looking uncomfortable. "Especially with you going on about jerking off."

"Huh?" Will was finally caught off-guard.

"Dude, it's a little hard- " –here we both stifled snorts of laughter- "-Difficult! Fine, difficult to get it under control when Teach here has her tits all on display!"

I looked down quickly. Sure enough, the cups of my lacy pink bra were visible, as my gray tank top had ridden down in places. I tugged my shirt back in place. "Better?"

Mike looked crestfallen. "No! That was prime scenery!"

I shook my head. To be honest, I had no idea what to do- they were, after all, legally adults, and though we were on a school-sanctioned trip, I'd overheard Mr. Grant say 'shit' in conversation with a group of kids, and Coach Kerry openly discussing relationships with the boys he was sitting with... maybe letting loose (a little) was all right in their books.

Before I could say anything more, Will flagged down a passing flight attendant. "Excuse me, miss? Hi. Would it be possible to get blankets for each of us?"

The flight attendant, who was a rather plain-looking girl with slight buckteeth, flashed a bright smile. "Of course!" she chirped. Within seconds, we had three cushy blankets that did not look like standard-issue for coach seating. She leaned over me like I wasn't even there and whispered conspiratorially to the boys, "I grabbed the extras from first class. Let me know if you need any other assistance."

When she was out of earshot, I turned to the boys with my eyebrows raised. "Did ya hear that? She would be glad to give you assistance. Her boobs were practically leaping towards you two!"

Mike snorted. "Teach," he said teasingly, "Are you jealous?"

I sniffed. "Of course not!"

"Uh huh," Will said.

"These blankets may actually help," Mike said suddenly. He wriggled around underneath his blanket. When he'd gotten comfortable, he peeled the blanket back. His cock was hanging out of the waistband of his sweatpants!

I gave a start. It was beautiful- fairly long with a swollen, red head, pulsing, with a smattering of blond hair forming a halo around his ball sac. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. To my dismay he covered his lap again as another flight attendant breezed by.

"Dude, that's the best idea you've had all day," Will declared. It wasn't very long at all before Will's hands were in his lap, adjusting things.

"This way, I can jack off and you can watch," Mike said, a slight blush on his cheeks. "If you want to, I mean, just because we're on this trip doesn't mean that we want to make you uncomfortable or anything..." He glanced at me. "But I could totally pop my wad just by looking at you."

"But we really want to bang you before we go to college," Will finished bluntly at the same time. He trailed a hand down my arm. "Look at how hard we are."

He grasped the blanket in one fist and lifted. His swollen dick, springing free, bobbed as the colder air hit it. It was long, longer than Mike's, and it was thicker than any cock my previous boyfriends had treated me to. His sac was hairy as well- the hair was dark and coarse, and the sight of his giant prick twitching so close to me gave me a jolt of delicious, wanton desire, right in the pussy.

It was like they read my mind. Both began to smirk, like they knew they had me mesmerized, and began to stroke their cocks underneath the blankets.

I glanced over my shoulder. In a full plane, no one was paying attention to the mischievous boys splaying and tugging on their manhood right next to me. I turned my attention back to them, realizing with a teeny tiny bit of guilt that I was as excited as they were.

Mike kept his hand closer to the top of his shaft and rubbed his thumb over the head, sliding down every so often and pumping from his sac to the tip. Within minutes, there was pre-come dribbling from the mushroom-shaped head.

Will, on the other hand, stroked long and leisurely, making sure that I was watching before mimicking Mike and sliding the pad of his thumb under the head. I noticed that he paid more attention to the ridge beneath his swollen cock, particularly where it connected to his sac. Soon he, too, had pre-come forming a delicious-looking drop at the top of his head.

"Like what you see, Teach?" Will asked softly.

I couldn't bring myself to answer. I already felt guilty enough that I was aroused by these two young men. I couldn't admit it out loud that I wanted nothing more than to take their gorgeous cocks in my mouth and coat my tongue with their come.

Instead, I just snuggled into my blanket more and sighed happily.

The look on Mike's face was priceless. He started stroking faster, and he bit down on his balled-up fist to keep from groaning.

I realized then that we had not made preparations for a particular end to this delightful show, and sat up to begin fishing around in my purse. They were momentarily confused, but when I pulled out a travel pack of Kleenex and handed them each a handful, they grinned.

Mike was the first to shoot- three or four more pumps of his hand, and soon his load coated the Kleenex. He sighed and tucked the wad into the paper bag provided for motion sickness, and set to rearranging himself under the blanket.

Beside him, Will was stroking himself leisurely, watching my face as I watched that hand slowly slide up and down his swollen shaft. He took a fingertip and caught the drop of pre-come. He held it to my lips.

"I know you want a taste," he said knowingly. I hesitated, but allowed my lips to part slightly. He inserted his finger in my mouth, and I immediately tasted his sweet, delicious come. I sucked on that damned finger, using my tongue to bathe it in my warm, wet mouth. It was easily the most flavorful come I'd ever tasted in my life.

"I bet you wish that finger was one of our dicks," Mike said, not taking his eyes off my mouth.

I nodded mutely.

Will stroked faster as I held that finger in my mouth, licking and sucking it like I so desperately wished I could do to his massive cock. Soon, his shoulders were straining and his eyes were closing as he let his load spill into that handful of tissues. I loved the way his ball sac tightened and seemed to squeeze out the drops of pearly white come, one drop at a time.

"Holy fuck," he finally said, after getting himself tucked back underneath his pants. "If you suck schlong the way you did my finger I don't care if I get expelled, I am finding a way to get my load down your throat during this trip!"

"Not so loud, dude," Mike said. He eyed the girls hesitantly. He looked at me. "Would you be able to be alone with us? Like, how are the rooms set up?"

I sighed. There was really no way to back out of this now. They knew I wanted this just as much as they did. Damn Will and his tasty seed. Damn my poor impulse control. Damn, damn, double damn hormones.

"It'll be pretty simple, actually. Instead of giving us three rooms with six each, with each room chaperoned, the hostel we booked has set us up with a whole corridor of double rooms. I share with Emily, because there's an odd number of girls."