Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 03

Story Info
The educator and the black boy.
2.4k words
47.9k
13

Part 3 of the 11 part series

Updated 10/13/2022
Created 10/05/2010
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One day at the height of the summer, Blaine and Marie were in a room under the football stadium. He had been lifting some heavy boxes and was sweating heavily when he asked her if it was all right if he took his shirt off. She started to say no but relented knowing how hot it was, but worried that even if Blaine managed to cool down, she might over heat.

With his shirt laying atop a pile of old cartons, Blaine's dark chocolate skin shone like polished stone. The sight of his muscled back, chest, and abdomen were almost enough to give Marie a stroke. She couldn't think straight. His jeans rode low on his hips. She swore she could see tufts of pubic hair leering at her above his belt buckle.

At one point, the black youth had his arms full and almost tripped over a stray wooden hurdle used, at one time, by the track team.

"Could you move that Marie?" he asked, standing strong and beautiful.

She pulled but couldn't get it out of the way. She had to stoop down to get it unwedged. Her face was so close to the boy's groin she could smell his musky fragrance. She became lightheaded and lost her balance.

The day had begun warm and humid and was projected to get hot and very humid. For the first time that summer, Marie decided to abandon the top and Bermuda shorts she always wore for a light dress. She'd expected a modest workload with a minimum of climbing and bending.

Marie knew the skirt was too short, but Blaine had been teasing her about the matronly clothes she wore and had, on several occasions managed to get her goat. She knew they would be alone all day so who would know except her...and him.

They'd been flirting more openly lately. Blaine seemed to be able to get her talking about the time in Andre's car almost at will. It troubled her to discuss it with someone so young, and black himself. There was obvious danger but their roles seemed immutable: she, moth; he, flame.

"So tell me, Marie, now that it's all behind you, are you disappointed you didn't let Dre do you?"

"No, I'm glad I didn't give in to intercourse...but..."

"But what?"

"Oh god, you're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Blaine remained silent, smiling, forcing her to continue. "Sometimes I wish -- I'm going to hell for sure now -- I'd let him make me give him oral."

Why had she confessed such an embarrassing thing she wondered. Perhaps because she'd been thinking about it so much lately. Blaine brought it up almost every other day. Perhaps because she was masturbating more than usual these days and those sessions were fueled by old fantasies of fellating Andre in his car and new ones of fellating Blaine in hers.

Whatever the reasons for her confession, Marie knew exactly what she was doing that morning as she donned the too skimpy dress. What harm would showing a little skin do? OK, potentially a lot of harm but she'd been thinking those strange things, those naughty things. Still, she reasoned, the hem of the dress covered almost as much of her legs as the shorts did.

At least that's how the dress fell when she was upright. But that's not where she was at the moment. She'd seen herself in slow motion topple over and roll onto her back. Her legs were spread and her dress at her waist. Blaine had a clear view of her translucent panties.

Marie could tell by the look on the boy's face that he'd seen her all right even as he put down the boxes he was holding and offered her a hand to help her up. She was on her feet quickly but the image remained in his mind: a beautiful, mature, white teacher with her legs widely splayed and her panties on parade.

When Blaine pulled Marie to her feet, he used more power than needed and she pushed, involuntarily, into his body, his hot, sexy, sweaty, aromatic, delicious body, as she swung upright. Blaine looked down and Marie looked up. It wasn't planned but their lips met.

Marie pushed herself back before their mouths could open. "No Blaine," she whispered firmly.

But her plea wasn't enough to keep the teen at bay. Blaine overcame the weak resistance the muscles of her arms provided with ease. The second time their mouths touched passion came with it. A sigh of consternation escaped Marie. She didn't want this and fought it for as long as she could, an eternal few seconds.

First she pushed at the teen. When that didn't work, she yielded, stood stock still, arms at her sides hoping disinterest would dissuade the boy. When that failed, she engaged him with all the heat her fifty-two year old body could muster. She plastered her body against his, feeling her dress, her bra, soak up his sweat.

Their tongues touched then dueled in ferocious battle until she tore her mouth away in self-defense, afraid her being, her essence would be irrevocably drained into her tongue and then his. She feared she might melt completely away right there under the football stadium.

"Blaine!" Marie screamed, ripping herself from his arms. "Don't. We can't. This is wrong!"

The black teen was breathing heavily and let her escape even though both knew he could have easily recaptured her.

At home that night, Marie was moody and restless as she remembered kissing the black boy younger than her own children. Yes, he'd initiated it but she'd become as ardent a participant as he. Her body shuddered and her husband asked if she were all right. She answered by initiating sex, something that had increased dramatically since she'd become "involved" such as it was with Blaine.

Hubby was more than nice as he stroked her body in ways he knew she liked before fucking her. She climaxed twice before he reached his release then he stroked her some more afterward. Afterglow tenderness had never been one of his strong suits. Marie was so touched she moved into a seductive sixty-nine where each could enjoy their combined tastes. The result was a simple physical closeness that fell short of orgasmic.

Before drifting off to sleep, Marie felt good that her edginess had been smoothed and she'd be able to handle the young black buck the following day without the tensions of building arousal aligned against her.

She went back to wearing shorts, determined to avoid accidentally enflaming Blaine again by such a tawdry display as happened the day before. The day went beautifully. Neither of them spoke of their prior bad behaviors and Marie was convinced they'd put such mischief behind them.

It wasn't until the second day after their first kiss that Blaine's and Marie's passions flared again. A week earlier, they had gotten the assignment to catalogue the contents of that room under the football stadium that was the athletic department's equivalent of the family "junk drawer." Whatever didn't have a logical home elsewhere got piled in there and forgotten.

Because of the eclectic nature of the contents and dusty, musty atmosphere, they'd asked for and were granted permission to clean the contents as well as catalogue them. Marie had suggested they use the assignment that had no natural working rhythm to it as a filler for their other work and they generally made it their last stop of the day spending an hour or so there.

When the couple reached the door leading under the stadium two days after their first kiss, it was as if all Marie's good intentions got left at that door. Blaine caught her in his arms as soon as they entered the room. Marie fought briefly but half-heartedly.

"Blaine, we can't do that again. You agreed."

"I didn't agree to anything."

"But surely you see that it's wrong, we're wrong."

"I want to kiss you again, Marie. It was all I could think of last night."

It was all I thought of too, honey, Marie thought but didn't say before she melted in his arms again.

They made out longer this time, more kissing, more clutching. It was glorious. Marie felt like a teenager again as she sucked Blaine's tongue into her mouth, nibbled at his earlobe and pushed her tongue into his ear. Blaine held her tightly but tenderly, protectively as he explored her mouth.

This oddest of couples, the fifty-two year old married white teacher and the nineteen year old black college sophomore-to-be, sucked face for more than twenty minutes before they straightened their clothes and began their work in the room, cleaning up, writing up an inventory of what needed to be done.

Both were quiet as Marie drove Blaine home until he blurted out, "You're the best kisser I've ever known." She didn't return the compliment although she could have.

"We shouldn't do that anymore," she told him.

"I know, but is there really such harm? We can control it. It's only a little harmless kissing."

"I know honey," Marie said, calling him a term of endearment for the first time and immediately regretting it. It was a harmless name to her but she worried he'd misinterpret it. "But we shouldn't."

"Just kissing, Marie, that's all it is."

By their fifth time in what she had come to think of as "our room," Marie sought Blaine's lips as eagerly as he did hers. The smooching began even before they entered the large, windowless enclosure as Marie anxiously sought Blaine's body as he fumbled to unlock the door.

She sealed her soft body to the hardness of the young footballer's, raking the muscles of his arms and back with her manicured nails. She ground her hungry pubis against his, searching for whatever the youth had hidden in his jeans yet too reserved to seek it actively with her hand, fearful as she'd been with Andre of taking things too far.

Marie was happy, delighted really, to engage in the hot kissing with Blaine. It was basically harmless yet such fun. It made her so hot, though that she'd speed home after dropping him off and make out with herself, much more intimate make out sessions.

It was about a week after they'd begun their extracurricular activities that Blaine, unexpectedly, took the next step. He'd bided his time, lulling the pretty fifty-something into a false sense of security. He had her pinned against one of the support posts, her arms around his neck, her mouth plastered against his, her tongue thrust boldly, hungrily into the mouth of a black kid a half a decade younger than her own children.

Marie's back was arched as she pushed herself against Blaine when his hand slipped up her body and cupped her breast. Marie's mood changed in an instant. She was on high alert when she ripped her mouth away from his.

"NO!" she shouted, pushing the huge black hand holding an entire breast with ease, away.

"Yes," Blaine hissed, recapturing her mouth with his and putting his hand back on her body, onto the side of her chest but not actually on her breast.

Marie clutched his wrist in her hand, grappling valiantly with the much more powerful youth, fighting so bravely, like a mother grizzly protecting her cubs, because her boobs were the gateway to her body. Once a man discovered she liked her tits handled roughly, she had very little chance of refusing him.

A man who pulled and pinched her nipples soon got virtually anything he wanted from her. Blaine did not discover quite that much about her that first afternoon when he made Marie's mammaries available to himself by pinioning both of her wrists behind her with one of his mighty mitts.

Marie was powerless and Blaine's other hand had free roam of her upper body. They kissed with even greater passion from Marie, yet he heard a stream of overwrought protestations whenever a kiss was broken.

"Stop it Blaine...don't do that Blaine...I'm serious Blaine..." and when he had the audacity to suggest she was enjoying the fondling more than she let on, "Fuck you Blaine."

"Why Marie," Blaine began obnoxiously, knowing he'd hit a chord in this older woman who excited him like no other, "such language. I didn't even know you knew that word." Blaine pulled both her arms behind her, forcing her to arch her back, pushing her breast out temptingly.

"You're a prick!" Marie spat, still trying to avoid getting mauled again, knowing she'd likely lose control to this black kid.

"Perhaps," he said, "but you have a lovely breast and it looks like it's aching to be touched."

Blaine had been moving his hand around Marie's chest deliberately avoiding her proud, hard-nippled tit while she subtly arched her back into his hand. Blaine's right hand pinned Marie's arms behind while his left hand swooped in from the southwest, cupping her swollen breast.

"Please..." was all Marie could muster as her mouth sought his.

Blaine didn't know if it was to have been "Please yes," an admission of need or "Please no," a furtherance of false protestation. Marie's mouth and body left no ambiguity, however. She pressed her tit into his hand even as moans escaped her throat and her groin humped at his leg.

The odd couple continued their fervent make out session for another fifteen minutes, as her breasts became as important a part of their passion as their lips and tongues. Her heightened arousal didn't go ignored by either of them as Blaine felt the heat of her body pressed against his and she felt the slick evidence of her own arousal dampen her panties.

Marie's words still protested but her body did not. She had a trump card though, and she knew it. She played it just as her ardor threatened to boil over when the black boy cupped, flattened, kneaded, and massaged her tits.

"Blaine, we've got a job to do."

So ingrained was the work ethic his parents had worked so diligently to instill, those words always snapped him out of whatever trance he was in.

"Please don't ever do that again," Marie beseeched as she drove Blaine home. "I'm OK with kissing you although even that is a bit disturbing, but it has to stop there. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Marie."

"Promise me you won't do anything beyond kissing."

"I'll try," Blaine promised.

  • COMMENTS
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2 Comments
MarieProvostMarieProvostover 13 years ago
Don't try TOO hard

To stop, I mean. You see I think she really doesn't want you to stop. Just my opinion.

Loving it...

Marie

AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
She wants it bad

You can only tease a man for so long. Time to bend this bitch over that hurdle and give this BBC lover what she wants.

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