I've Always Been a Nurturer...

Jesus. I had it bad.

When my phone shook on my desk, I pounced on it at once. The screen came aglow too slowly for me, but eventually it lit up to show what I wanted, no, needed: a text back from Jared Meyer. Who was, according to him, in our old stomping ground: the boys' locker room. My fingers flew across my phone with deceptive speed, telling him I was just about to leave... but I'd come congratulate him before I did.

His reply made me wonder whether he'd figured all this out yet: Shud I wait at the door?

I smiled to myself as I replied. No need. As long as no one else is in there with you, I'll be sneaky. Like before. I thought about adding a thumbs-up or, god forbid, a heart, but in the end I just decided to head on down there as I was. Only, I did sit up in my chair, check to make sure nobody was out in the hall, and perform that complicated feminine maneuver where we pull our bra off without removing our shirt.

I was almost hyperventilating by the time I got all my stuff loaded back into that damn teacher-bag, but by the time I was clacking down the deserted halls toward the stairs I caught sight of myself in one of the windows of the trophy case and realized I looked a lot calmer than I felt. So I made myself slow down, breathing, moving with much greater deliberation. I already knew he had stamina problems: the last thing he needed was me, flying in there as if I was late with my rent, stressing him out.

I didn't know what I was going to do with him. Honestly. I just knew I didn't want someone like Brittni anywhere near him. I'm keeping score, of course... He deserved better.

The only thing I saw on my way toward the PE department was one of the custodians, way down the hall, pushing a mop bucket in the other direction. As near as I could tell, the volleyball team still wasn't back. So they wouldn't be mopping down this way until later, I hoped, but by then that familiar door was beckoning me with BOYS LOCKER ROOM painted on it in white freehand, and I was taking a deep, deep breath and then pulling it open as quietly as I could.

The room inside looked and smelled exactly as it had the night I'd first seen Jared naked, just a couple weeks ago. I poked my head inside and listened, but heard nothing at all; when I glanced to the side, where the office was, the lights in there were all off. The whole room seemed completely deserted, but then I'd made that mistake once before...

I stepped inside and felt the door close softly behind me. I opened my mouth. "Hello?" I called, none too loudly. I was rewarded with a clang off to the side, like a locker closing.

The silence grew heavy.

"Ms Norland?"

I felt my face virtually split open into a broad grin as I hurried toward the sound of Jared's voice. "Are you alone?" I hissed as loudly as I dared, searching among the endless aisles of lockers.

"Yeah." The voice provided me a marker to aim at, and I raced down the next aisle with my bag flopping behind me.

"Oh my god!" I gushed as I rounded the last corner. "I'm so glad you stayed!" I'm not sure what I was expecting: my wild fantasies featured him, shirtless, once again stinking of grass and sweat and with his penis already hard through those tight football pants. Still, I wasn't about to refuse whatever I did get, so when I saw him in jeans and a t-shirt I lit up anyway. He smiled at me, especially when his eyes found my free-swinging tits, so highly obvious in my tight shirt. "Hi there, Jared."

"A little late for tutoring, Ms Norland," he said quietly. He was leaning against the lockers with his hands in his pockets, but he was smiling, eyes on fire, all lit up with the glow of health and the pride of victory. "Kind of a weird place to do it, too."

'Oh, shut up." I dropped my bag on the floor, then smirked up at him. "I was wondering if you'd, like, change. And shower."

He shrugged. "I had to. I was waiting around for everyone to leave. I had time to kill." I stood there, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, conscious of my loose tits and the way the leggings gave me cameltoe. He noticed, too, his eyes roving my body.

I cleared my throat. "I just, you know, wanted to congratulate you. That run for that last touchdown..." I shook my head and looked down his body. "You looked so good," I said in a rush, my voice hitching a little at the end. "So good."

"Aww." He smiled, boyish and handsome and fresh and warm, and I felt my heart and my pussy melt. Goddamn, this guy was hot! I couldn't believe I was there. "It's a team sport, Ms Norland."

"No," I replied at once, "the team won the game, sure. But you. Looked. Good." I said it slowly and firmly, making strong eye contact, trying to make sure he knew what I meant. On impulse, I reached out and took his wrist, pulling his hand out of his pocket. His fingers gripped mine, and I started to get very warm. I knew my nipples were firm and obvious. "Really, Jared. You're amazing."

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, his chest starting to rise and fall faster. "I mean, if you insist? I guess I am amazing."

I laughed, way too loudly. "I do insist." Our fingers toyed with each other briefly, and I forced myself not to look down at his groin. "I mean, I really was proud of you tonight." I heard that burr in my voice again and let my smile go crafty, knowing. "I'd give you a hug, but... well, I know what that would do to you." I finished in a mock whisper, with a big wink, just enjoying being with him. "I don't want you to stain another outfit. If you know what I mean."

"I, uh, sort of enjoy it," he rumbled with a faint smile of his own, and I let my mouth curve into a huge grin.

"Oh my god!" I smacked his chest with my other hand. "That's fresh." I did look down this time, making a show of it, and giggling when I saw it. "I knew it."

"Might as well hug me now, though." That shy smile again, and I was nodding as I stepped to him, arms opening. This was nothing like the usual teacherly half-hug, either; I wanted to feel his body against mine, and I wasn't shy about leaning against him. I rested my head on his broad chest, hearing his breathing, and I closed my eyes. His hands went to my back, tracing up and down; if he didn't know I was braless before, he'd know it now. His penis was a bullet, prodding my belly, and there was suddenly nothing I wanted more than just to press my body against it.

"Mmm." I let him feel my breath through his shirt. "Wow. A stain is a definite risk, Jared." We both chuckled, though, and his hands didn't stop moving up and down my back. I felt warm and safe, melting into the arms of this beautiful young man, and then my mind started wandering... why not... "You know," I purred, backing my face off his body so that I could look up at him with my back arched, "stains aren't a foregone conclusion, honey. There are ways to avoid them."

"What's that?" He was hunched over slightly, trying to keep his hips back. Poor kid. No, there was no way someone like Brittni was going to damage Jared, not if I could help it. "Avoid them?"

"Sure." I was speaking softly, our faces close. His breath smelled like that sports drink he liked. "I mean, you'd need to get the clothes out of the way. It's pretty much that simple."

"Wait. What?"

"It's not the end of the world, Jared," I giggled. I knew I was scarlet, all the way down. I felt hot and giddy. "We've established, by now, that you pretty much always react to me that way. And that I'm okay with it." I took a deep breath. "And, you know, I've already seen... it." I smiled encouragingly. "In this very room. I didn't ask for it, but."

He was nodding, Adam's apple bobbing again. "It's different," he whispered, his voice as husky as mine. "Like... hard. It's different, taking it out."

"It doesn't have to be." I was cooing now, riding a wave that only the two of us could feel. "It doesn't have to be different." I took a deep breath, no longer smiling. "Do you want me to take it out, Jared?" He was staring at me, wide-eyed, completely overwhelmed. He was going to cum, and there was nothing stopping it; I did not want him to have to go home hiding his lap again. My voice roughened. "I want to take it out."

"You want..."

"Shh." I had decided. It was for the best, for him and for me. For us. I nodded at him. "Just relax, honey." I untangled myself from his stunned arms, backing off, my face flaming. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to slither down to the floor, kneeling for him, looking up past his pants and his shirt to see disbelieving eyes riveted to mine. "Relax, Jared. Let me do this." And suddenly? Fuck. I wanted it, wanted it badly. I wanted to pull out his cock and suck it into my mouth and take his load. My voice, when I spoke, didn't even sound like my own. "You've already cum for me, on your own. Let me do it this time."

"Fuck." It came out as an awed whisper, and why not? He was watching a teacher lift her hands to his waist, my lower lip clamped between my teeth, and undo his fly. I could almost feel warmth pulsing behind his pants, a blazing wash of body heat flooding from his dick to my hands as I unzipped him, then pulled his jeans down. "Ms Norland, I..."

"Relax, honey." I sounded like a smoker, my voice choked with lust. "Spread your legs a little." He was standing like a soldier, his pants clamped by his thighs, and as he kicked his feet apart I let his pants side down those perfect, muscular thighs. I gasped. "Oh my god, you're beautiful," I whispered, and then I looked up and there it was, straitjacketed by another pair of briefs, these ones black. I could see the long, hard ridge of his penis through the cloth, and I licked my lips. "Just beautiful." I glanced up. "Take off your shirt, honey. You have a lovely body."

He was nodding crazily now, sweeping his shirt up and off as I snaked my fingertips into the overworked elastic of his waistband. His skin was hot against my fingers as I pulled the briefs down, the elastic catching hard against his penis and pulling it down, down, its veiny thickness sprouting from that jaunty little bush of his, until I dragged them low enough that, at last, that fat long dick went springing up straight before my eyes.

I squealed. I know I did, even though I wasn't really thinking of anything at that point but the magical, unbelievable fact that I was kneeling face to face with Jared Meyer's glorious hard-on. I know my face lit up. I know my mouth watered. I know my pussy gushed. And I know that when I'm on my deathbed, that's the penis I'll remember as the best and most desirable I ever saw.

It was altogether perfect. Its rightward lean when soft didn't translate when hard: it poked straight at me, rich and thick, every ridge and vein standing out in firm relief. It had a symmetry that I'd often glimpsed in other men, but never really appreciated before. His color was that sexy shade of dark, deep red, the red of a straining man ready to fuck. His head flared gracefully out, meaty, velvety, its slit glimmering now in the harsh light of the locker room. "Holy fuck!" I exclaimed hoarsely, looking up past his smooth abs and his chiseled chest to see an odd expression on his face, an expression I imagined he'd had when he scored that touchdown:

Pride.

"I love your cock," I marveled, and I hadn't even touched it yet; I bent low, craning my neck eagerly, desperate for another sight of those tempting balls of his. They waited for me, shadowed now by the tower above them, in a dark scrotum bristling with fine hair. I licked my lips and sat back a bit, my eyes rising and falling, taking him in. "Just beautiful."

Jared shifted his weight. His cock stood well above the horizontal, and it called out to me: I needed it, and it needed me, and I leaned in to cross my eyes on his cockhead as my hands drifted slowly up past his knees, along his thighs, feeling the life flowing through his muscles, the heat and scent of his skin.

My mind was overwhelmed.

I had no conscious thought of giving him a blowjob; it's simply what my brain screamed at me to do, so when I leaned forward with my lips puckered, eager to taste his flesh, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

Until he drew back from me.

I turned my face upward, mouth expectant, eyes wide, my hands resting lightly on his hips, and the odd drugged expression on his face gave me no real warning at all before his dick erupted all over me. His first blast sprayed my chin with great force, feeling like a spatter of hot chocolate; I flinched back, startled, in time for his second spurt to come sailing out.

And it was a lot bigger than the first.

But not quite as big as the third.

He groaned his way through six hard, overeager shots, his penis twitching joyfully with nothing touching it, and every drop of those six shots smacked right onto me. I felt it everywhere: on my lips, in my eye, up my nose. A big, slow, viscous wave of it went rolling down my neck and into my shirt, which had taken more than its share of direct hits as well.

The guy had delivered such a massive load that I looked like a bukkake refugee.

I was laughing when I wasn't coughing, his taut body slowly relaxing beneath my palms, my mind filled with the crafty joy of having made him cum properly this time. Well, almost properly. "You're supposed to wait until I get it in my mouth," I giggled, cocking my one good eye up at him. My nose and mouth were full of him, a salty-sweet thickness whose flavor shot straight to my pussy and made me want more.

He was looking down at me desperately, almost panicking. "Holy shit," he said low and hoarse, as if he'd shocked himself.

"What?" I blew his semen out of my nose and into my hand, then licked it up greedily. I sat back on my heels. "Never given a girl a facial before?"

"Not... not like that." He was grinning now, though, my good mood infectious. "Are you okay?"

"I'm better than okay." I was lolling my tongue around my lower face like a windshield wiper, trying to get all his spunk into my mouth. His sperm crept down my chest, tickling my cleavage, my shirt totaled. I laughed again. "Much better. Damn, Jared! That was amazing."

"Sorry about your shirt," he mused, standing there with his chest heaving.

"It's fine," I beamed, smiling up at him. "I don't mind you staining my clothes." I tittered. "That's not the only stain I've got either, Jared honey. If you know what I mean." His wrinkled forehead told me he didn't really, until he gave it a little thought. "That's right. I enjoyed it too."

I was dripping inside and out, panties and shirt already sticking to my skin. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was already coming back down to earth, thinking of what I'd need: I'd have to rinse my face off, then sneak in before Ben saw me while hopefully leaving no semen in my car to stink it up. I'd need to run a load of laundry tonight, the moment I got home. Maybe he wouldn't be there...

"I loved that, Jared," I beamed. "Don't you dare apologize. But, honey? Can you do me a favor and point me toward a sink? I don't think I'll be able to get all of this into my mouth," I winked, my fingers clearing my other eye. My nose felt weird, like after you shoot some nasal spray in there.

He was very solicitous, holding my hair back as I washed my face, which was a lot more than some guys had done for me after frosting my face. I left him with another close, no-holds-barred hug, then stepped back quickly before I could feel him harden up again. I'd gone quite far enough with him; I didn't need to go any farther that night, and that was how I became perhaps the oldest female ever to do the walk of shame out the back entrance to the BSHS boys' locker room. The look I gave myself in the rearview mirror showed me wide, vivacious eyes in a face flushed with excitement.

All that... and I still hadn't actually touched his cock. Amazing.

* * *

Things didn't go much better the next time I saw Jared.

For starters, full disclosure: yes, I comprehend that I should have stopped having anything to do with the kid, long before I let him cum all over me. I understand all that. It's generally frowned upon, I realize, for a new teacher to let students blow their loads on her face.

I get that.

But every time I thought about that, the justifications rose up like phantoms: he wasn't my student, really. I was a teacher at his school, sure, but I wasn't his teacher. And he was old enough: in other times and other places, he could pick up a gun and fight in a war. And? Most importantly of all?

I couldn't let the supercilious laughter of tarts like Alyssa and Brittni be the soundtrack to which such a magnificent penis launched its loads.

In my mind, that was clear: Jared deserved a good partner, the right woman with whom to share these experiences. And, to me, it went without saying that I was the right woman. So? I texted him the very next day.

And that's why I was back at his house just a couple days later, on another Saturday. His dad was more reliably gone this time, he insisted, and so off I went in my happy Honda. By this time it was solidly mid-November, so I was in boots over another pair of leggings and a fleece. Once again, I dispensed with a bra; this time, I also dispensed with my teacher-bag.

Why pretend? He was doing fine on Scott Herrick's assignment, anyway. He'd really never needed tutoring, just advice.

So the next time I went over there, I felt ready. I figured he'd know by then that we wouldn't be doing history work; he'd clearly had the wit to empty himself that first time I'd gone over there, so I assumed he'd go ahead and do it again now. Even though it hadn't worked all that well last time; maybe familiarity, the decresing novelty of cumming with me, would let him last longer.

After all, much like Jared Meyer's dick, hope springs eternal.

It had started out great. He'd let me in and I'd asked him what he wanted. "Necking? A little make-out? Want me to try to blow you again?" I'd frowned doubtfully. "I'd happily give you a handjob, but who'm I fooling? I know you wouldn't last, honey."

"I came, like, ten minutes before you got here," he'd protested. "I can do this."

"Do what?" But I'd smiled indulgently, and let him lead me over to the couch. We'd taken a seat in silence, with little of the organic passion I'd felt for him last time, and I'd reached over to take his hand. "Are you nervous?"

"No." But of course he was, so naturally, his penis had betrayed him once more. This time, at least, I'd saved my own clothes; he'd spewed while I was in the process of showing him my tits. I'd been aware mine weren't the first he'd seen, obviously: Alyssa had mentioned the two of them being naked, but she was a lot smaller than me. And, let's face it, I was a teacher. I was forbidden fruit for him just as he was for me, so as soon as I pulled my shirt up off my breasts and let them jiggle back down, he'd been in trouble.

"Touch them, baby," I'd urged, my voice finally starting to get hoarse as he leaned up over me on the couch. He'd gotten his shirt off too, and as his eager lips found my nipples I'd been unable to resist reaching straight down his pants and grabbing that splendid cock he had in there for me.

Alas. I should have taken Alyssa's indirect advice.

The first few seconds were transcendent, his lips sucking on my tits while my fingers explored the beauty of his shaft, feeling the skin give under my touch like velvet over re-bar, but I had a mission that day: I wanted those nuts. So I delved deeper, and just as my nipple was hardening nicely, reaching for his teeth, I dug my fingers around and behind those sweaty, sexy big balls he had. They were molten in my hand, but not as molten as the cum that all at once came blasting out of his dick, clearing his waistband like a pilot skimming a power line, then leaving a long, hot trail from my belly button to my chin.