Kinky Schoolteacher Pt. 05

Dylan saved himself for Miss V. He went the whole night and the whole next morning without making himself, or privilege himself, with coming. He told himself that the orgasm was going to be the greater for the wait. Secretly, he longed to lie in Miss V.'s arms in that tender time post-coitus. For her to scratch his back while he idly played with her boobs.

He had breakfast with his mom, she was a little too warm and loving today, and he didn't want any of it.

"Maybe all this is your fault, because you never talked about sex with me growing up."

"Please, Dylan, save it for the therapist."

"I don't want to save it for any therapist. I want to stick it to you for being such a bad parent."

"You take that back, Mister."

"Suck my dick, mother."

With that, she excused herself before the tears came streaming. Maybe, he justified to himself, I'm on edge from not jacking off for so long.

He hurried over to Miss V.'s house, making no stops along the way. He knew if he stopped anywhere now, he would be jerking it there, it was out of his control at that point, and he didn't want that, so he made it to her place.

"Come in, Dylan. How are you today?" Miss V. answered the door in her purple bathrobe. He looked at the bulge of her chest and felt his cock singing in his shorts.

"I haven't came since I was here yesterday. So extra horny, I guess."

"I'm glad you came fully charged, because today I want to do something for you. Since you were so sweet as to fulfill my fantasy yesterday, I want to fulfill your fantasy today. Anything you want, sexually speaking, just tell me what you want."

"Can I call you Mommy?"

"Of course, baby boy. I'll be your loving mother all day. What do you want Mommy to do for you, Dylan."

"Hey Mom, will you bring me a glass of milk?"

"Of course I will, Dylan."

"Call me honey."

"Of course I will, honey." She left for the kitchen and came back with a glass of milk.

He took a sip, said, "It would taste better if it came from you, mom."

"Oh honey, do you want to suck on my boobs?"

He gripped her by the waist as he sucked on her bared breasts, nibbling on nipple and slurping on supple skin. She dry humped him in his shorts. He intentionally lifted his foot and bumped the glass of milk off the coffee table, spilling it onto the carpet.

"Mommy, will you clean that up for me?"

"It'll be fine the way it is, hon."

"Get down on your knees and clean it up, bitch."

She bit down into an upheld index finger. "You certainly know how to talk to your mother."

"I'm waiting."

She knelt down, started soaking the milk into a towel.

"While you're down there, I want you to suck my dick."

"Oh honey, that's too naughty for me. I need to be a good mommy."

He pulled out his cock and held it out toward her mouth. "Don't make me tell you twice."

"Little Dylan makes all the rules in our house." She started sucking. He was all greased up with her spit, it felt so good down there, her wet hole. He closed his eyes and knew that in that moment he had everything he ever needed: his imagination and a wet hole.

With eyes closed, he imagined it to be his real mom. Though she was pale and frail compared to Miss V., he imagined her wet mouth hole might feel the same as Miss V.'s, might feel like home.

"Oh mommy mommy mommy. Oh yeh mommy mommy mommy," he burbled while she blew. "I hate you but I love you, mommy. I hate you but I love you."

She took his penis out of her mouth and held it, squeezed tight in her hand, gripping down against his throbs, and said, "Sweet Dylan, why do you hate your mommy? Why do you hate me?"

"You never gave me what I really wanted, what I really needed from you."

"But I'm giving it to you now. Isn't that enough?"

"You're always hiding your pussy from me as if it weren't the place I came from."

"Do you want to come back inside me now?" She let go and gave it a few more sucks, hardening it back up to its full eleven inches.

"Yes, I do. But first I just want to see it. Show me your pussy, mom. Don't hide it from me ever again."

"Never never never again," she said, hypnotically. She stood up and undid her bathrobe completely. Her pussy lips dangled to their wrinkled ends right before his eyes.

"Sit down on the table. I want to look inside."

She leaned back on the coffee table and with her two index fingers, peeled aside the outer lips of her vagina, revealing the pure pink inside skin. She let it close, then reopened it farther, revealing a sumptuous bump swelling out from deep inside, and above it a small dark hole gaped.

"Mommy, mommy, I can't take it. I can't take it any longer. Come over here and finally fuck me."

She climbed up off the table and hovered over his seated form, about to sit on his dick. He pushed her away. " No, no, you're not ready yet. You've been a naughty lady, and you need to be punished. Go on, bend over."

"You're going to spank me, honey?"

"Oh yes I am. I'm going to spank you for all the years you never spanked me, but only let me spank myself."

"If only mommy had known how you felt, dear Dylan. She would've spanked you every day if that's what made you happy." Miss V. turned up her ass, waited.

He spanked her three times, each harder than before. She moaned with each slap, exaggerating the pleasure it gave her. Without asking, he took her from behind, in doggy-style. His hips thrust up against her booty-cheeks, grinded in small circles against them.

"Hey Mom," he said, slowly twirling inside of her.

"Hey what?"

"I just wanted to thank you for always loving me and never giving up on me."

"Honey, you are so welcome. You do such a nice job of thanking Mommy."

He fucked her extra gently, from behind, sliding in and out as slowly as he could handle. He cupped her boobs from underneath, softly massaged them.

They moved into missionary position, and he rode her slowly but rhythmically, hands still attached to her tits. He closed his eyes and pictured his mom beneath him, her face ravaged and her hair disheveled. She could see the look in her eye, wanting to love, needing to love, but also hateful of his deviant ways. He wanted to fuck her to the point of nothingness, where none of her judgment mattered.

"Why do you judge me, mom?"

"I don't judge you, Dylan, sweetie. I've never judged you."

"Yes, you do. You call me a pervert, and you judge me for the things I do with my own dick."

"I just didn't understand, I did't understand why you selfishly used yourself, when you had so much dick to share with the world, so much come to give."

"But what if I like it, Mom? Why can't you like it that I like it."

"I do like it too. I do. I was just afraid I would never get any for myself, that's all."

"Now that I'm giving it to you, will you apologize for calling me a pervert?"

"I'm sorry for calling you a pervert. You're such a wonderful, healthy boy. There's nothing wrong with you at all, and you have so much to give."

He kissed her lips, liked it, kissed her lips again. He found that they could make out to the same rhythm with which they fucked, that the two actions flowed together perfectly. He was enjoying those lips that were speaking healing into him. He had never wanted to be a pervert; he could never find something to fill that hole inside him, so he tried harder and harder in ever riskier ways, to get that rush he needed to make him feel he was living life to the fullest.

He was feeling quite fulfilled right now. For the part of Miss V., she was full of his cock right now, and also loving it. She thought she could help the boy, give him the talk therapy he obviously needed, while also taking her pleasure in return. She was happy to play the role of the wise mentor, the mother figure, in order to bring him sexual healing. She couldn't have her student jerking needily off in class. That had sounded like a cry for help, and as a teacher, she felt called to answer.

Who was she kidding? It wasn't until she'd seen a picture of his enormous pecker that she'd even begun to consider any of this. Before that she'd been offended, just like her students May and June.

Things never escalated: he just slow-fucked her as long and patiently as he could. His orgasm came one discernible step after another, until he finally gasmed, a hard-hitting O that reached deep inside of him and drew out so much of his come it came dripping out the sides of her pussy while his dick was still all the way in there.

He said he was thirsty, and she offered him a beer and a shot. He accepted. The alcohol warmed him inside, accentuating the drained, empty feeling in his groin.

She watched him drink his beer without saying anything. She stood there with her robe tied loosely around her, half of each nipple showing.

I could look at that all day, he told himself, eyes on her cleavage. The rounded half-boobs sat there in stillness, like the most erotic sculpture he could hope to behold. Her body was Art, and he felt appreciative of the privilege of learning the Craft of loving it.

Buzzed up and a little loose, he started spilling. "There's something I want to tell you, Grace," he said, remembering to call her by her first name.

"What's that, Dylan?"

"I love you."

"You love me?"

"Yes, I love you."

"What makes you so sure. You've only been with me a few days. A little soon for the L-word, don't you think? I mean, I appreciate your enthusiasm."

"So you don't love me back..."

"If I did, I'd never tell you."

He went on home. In the doorway on his way out, Miss V. jerked him back by his arm and smooched him one last time for the night, a passionate and lengthy kiss.

"Don't fuck your mom, Dylan," Kinky Miss V. said. "I'd be so jealous if you did."

TO BE CONTINUED