tagInterracial LoveLesson Plan

Lesson Plan




I'm sitting at my desk desperately waiting for the final bell of the school I teach at to ring and end my work week. It is not because the week has been overly stressful or hard, but because there is a fire burning deep within my body looking to be fueled further. There is no hope to extinguish it, or burning out if gone unattended. It is a fire the builds hotter the more I try and ignore it, and only grows fiercer with each passing moment. Even my attempts to give in have only added more fuel to it; growing its lustful blaze further out of control.

It was never like this for me, and it was only until recently that I first felt the heat of the flames in my loins aching to grow hotter. Logically, I'm sure my recent divorce of a marriage that lasted the past five years is the root cause for this change; for it has been nearly six months since we went our separate ways; six months of loneliness and unresisting sexual urges. The sex during our marriage was enough to keep me satisfied, but it was all of the other life issues that led to the divorce. I have been with no one else during this time, and except for the past weeks have not even been with myself.

The fire came on gradually over the past few months as I began to return to form after being down for so long. I started to begin taking pride once again in my appearance, and making a conscious effort to look my best. This in turn began to make me feel more confident and sexy about myself; the spark for the fire. As I became more and more involved in looking my best, I began to add to the level of sexiness to my appearance. At first it was as simple as just wearing thong panties under my work clothes. Something I occasionally did in the past, but now when I did it was meticulously planned and meant to create a sexy vibe in my mind. This only allowed the fire to grow hotter.

Eventually, I began only wearing thongs or even tinier g-strings; the smaller the better in my mind, and even going as far as trashing all my other underwear that did not fit my new tiny requirements. I then began wearing only dresses and skirts with each passing day; the hemlines of which would shrink shorter until I was consistently wearing skirts and dresses just at or right above the allowed limit under the district's dress code. The inferno grew fiercer, even after I would pleasure myself to earth quaking orgasms at day's end. I was hooked on the feeling of wanting more, and wanted to see how far and how much I could push my own limits.

Two weeks ago I began foregoing underwear on certain days; simply knowing I was bare beneath my skirts and dresses was such a thrill. This new wardrobe choice not only stoked the flames further, but also led to me speeding into furthering my naughty behavior. Shaving my sex bare and eventually getting waxed was the obvious next step. The feeling of my smooth pubic mound might as well have been a full tank of gas thrown on my raging inferno. Also, as I had with my underwear, I began getting rid of any clothing I didn't feel was sexy. I was consciously making decisions that increased the level of naughtiness in my behavior and appearance even if I was the only one benefiting from it at the moment.

To keep in the best shape I could, I made sure to keep up a regular running routine of which I chose to only wear my shortest shorts of which were skin tight, with only sport bras on top. My perky b-cup sized breasts were just the right size to get away with the look without too much distraction for others. For a woman in her late thirties, I had a firm tight body most women would die for, with only my ass staying a little plumper. I loved that however, because of how it looked in my dresses and skirts.

Another choice to spice up my look was to get a short, sporty hair cut; a cute and flirty look that drew attention and compliments because of my natural red color. Not only did the new cut get some much desired attention, and made me feel even sexier, but it also made my runs better since I no longer had a ponytail to worry about.

So now back at my desk, sitting behind it watching my students work on a review packet, I wait desperately for the final minutes of the clock to click by. I'm wearing a tight, white, button up blouse with a light pink lace bra underneath. A hip hugging tight, black pencil skirt with a slit up the back with a hem resting at just about my mid thigh covers my lower half. My shoes are modest flats which are tapping impatiently on the floor beneath me. I'm anxious because tonight I have planned to go out to the bar scene and try my luck at finding a man for the night. Waiting at home for me is the dress I plan on wearing for this adventure. A white, mini tank dress, that is nearly see through and barely covers the entirety of my cheeks because of the short hemline.

I ordered it from an online store at the start of the week, and it arrived just yesterday evening. So immediately I knew I would be wearing it tonight, and to make even it more daring, I plan on wearing it without a stitch under it and with four inch, red heels. My pussy is getting so moist just thinking about all of the looks I will be receiving. I have to press my thighs together just to keep from slipping my hand between them.

Finally, after sitting in agony for so long, the bell finally rings and I dismiss my final class of the day. As they file out, I begin to gather my belongings in preparation for my exit as well. Soon I'm in the hallway making my way through the sea of students towards the teacher's lounge and out of its exit to the staff parking lot. I'm certain I must be the first teacher to the lot, for most stay around and finish up grading and checking their emails. Usually I would as well, but I'm too excited for the night to wait around any longer. Reaching my car, I toss my purse and school bag into the passenger seat before plopping down on the driver's seat and starting my car. The 10 minute drive home is a blur; my mind is focused on the endless possibilities of my night that is to come.

Once home, I quickly strip out of my simple but seductive school clothes; basically leaving them discarded in a pile at the door. The rest of the afternoon and early evening fly by, and before I realize it I am decked out in my new sexy dress and waiting eagerly for the cab to arrive that will be taking me out that night. I know I want to have a few drinks to better set myself in the most relaxed state, and feel it better to spring for a cab rather than worrying about my car. Within minutes the cab arrives and I strut out to meet it wearing my heels which are clicking across the cement, and my form fitting dress that is just daring to ride up and expose my uncovered, hairless sex. The cab driver gives me a questioning look, trying hard not to make it obvious that he is looking me up and down. I slide into the backseat and give him directions to the bar and no more is exchanged between us except for a few sneaking glances from the driver via the rear view mirror.

Reaching the bar, I pay the cabbie before turning and making my way into the bar. The bar is just your typical neighborhood watering hole, and that is just what I am looking for. Inside, I grab a seat at the bar and quickly signal to the bartender to order a cocktail; vodka cranberry along with a tequila shooter as I know I'll need the extra liquid courage to get what I want out the night. Walking in I know I got my fair share of glances from the other patrons, but so far no bites. It was still early, and as I drink my cocktail I gaze around to examine the potential of the men. Though I feel satisfied with what I see, and confident I will get what I want from someone here, I decide to take my time before making a move.

I quickly shoot back my shot, and finish up my first vodka cranberry. Sitting sideways on my bar stool to show off my smooth firm legs and advertise myself a bit, I order my second drink. As I am working my way through my second drink, a few guys come over to chat me up, but unfortunately none of them are piquing my interest enough to go through with my plan; they just don't seem to be giving me the right vibe that they could be up for what I have in mind. Just as I finish my second cocktail another man sits down behind me while letting the barkeep know that the next one is on him. I turn to have a look at and thank the confident man, and as I do I feel my head swirl a bit from the effects of the two drinks and tequila shot. However, once I lay eyes on him I instantly know he is to be the man I want to put my plan into motion with.

He introduces himself as Jerome and extends his hand out for a shake. I reciprocate the gesture, shaking his hand and introduce myself to him; all the while I allow my eyes to obviously take all of him in. Jerome is a younger, extremely handsome, black man; tall and fit, with a shaved bald head. My drink is placed in front of me, and I take a sip from it to steady myself before initiating my erotically devious plan. Just as he begins to speak again, I stop him and drop my bomb.

"Look, I know we just met, but I find you absolutely sexy and I am extremely horny. With that said, I am simply going finish my drink, and walk outside to the back alley of this bar where I will wait for someone to join me and take me in any way they see fit. I hope that you are that someone, because if you are I will do anything you want for the rest of the night and possibly into the morning; no questions asked and no hesitation."

I gulp down my drink, slip off the barstool, and begin walking out just as I said I would. Exiting the bar, I make a direct beeline to the back alley behind it. The bar is located at one end of the strip mall, with another row of shops behind it; the alley runs between the two sets of shops to allow for ease of garbage pickup. I walk into the dark and damp alley way, before stopping under a dim light near the dumpsters. I stand there and wait, which I mentally hope won't be long, for Jerome to appear. What man would pass up on such a perfect opportunity; a sexy woman offering herself sexually and in a completely submissive role. I knew that when he did show, I would present him with no limits and allow him to do with me whatever he wished.

After only a few short minutes my handsome black man appears from around the corner of the bar, and upon seeing me waiting as I said I would be a big, white, toothy smile forms across his face. As he approaches I reach down and pull the hem of my dress up and over my head before asking him what I shall do for him. The site of my naked form standing in front of him enlarges his smile, and my question is responded back with a simple gesture; he holds out his open right hand signaling to provide him with my now discarded dress. I do as he wishes, and he then speaks, asking for my handbag as well. Again, I provide it to him without hesitation and then quietly wait for his next order as I stand vulnerably nude watching him.

He drapes my brand new dress over the edge of the grimy, sticky edge of the recently emptied dumpster before opening up my handbag and fishing out my smartphone. Apparently finding what all he wanted he drops my bag on the damp asphalt before instructing me to drop to my knees. With his words and his actions, I know I made the correct decision in picking Jerome for my plan. This could not be playing out any better, and I couldn't be more turned on. I knew coming into tonight that I wanted to give myself over to a stranger without having a say, I just wasn't sure exactly if it would live up to my fantasies, or if I could go through with it; but within minutes it seemed it was going to turn out better than expected. I immediately drop to my knees, feeling the damp, rough texture of the alley crunch into my naked flesh. Looking up to him, I see he is fiddling with my phone for a moment before taking a step closer and instructing me to pull him out. Instinctively, I reach out and grasp his belt, unbuckling him and following that up by unfastening his jeans and pulling them down his legs. With his denim pants at mid thigh, I reach up and begin doing the same with his boxers; slowly exposing his large, black member which is only half erect.

With his boxers slid down, and his impressive tool completely exposed, I look back up to meet his gaze. As I do, I notice he has my smartphone pointed back at me and a flash of light emits from it. He has taken a picture of me in my very submissive state and all he says is, "Get to it, that black dick ain't gonna suck itself." Loving his dominant attitude, I take no more time and quickly grab a hold of the ebony snake dangling in front of me, slipping it into my waiting mouth. Soon I can feel it begin to flex and grow in my mouth as I continue to bob up and down on it. I am not trying to be sensual with it; I am simply doing my best to make it the dirtiest, sluttiest blow job Jerome has ever had. From the sound of the moans coming from him I am confident I am doing a damn good job at achieving this goal. Every so often I notice another flash from my phone as he continues to take pictures of my depravity. As I continue to work his firm, hot cock with my mouth, sticky saliva is coating his shaft and my face. The slippery coating of my spit, not only makes the blow job extra dirty, but it also allows for his long piece to slip further into my throat with ease. Eventually, I can feel my chin bump his bouncing sack, and my nose brush against his pubic patch.

My throat is bulging with the invasion of his meat stick, and my eyes begin to water. I begin a rhythm of taking him all the way into my throat and then pulling all the way back until only the purple head of his member is touching my lips. The noises coming from me are guttural, and distinctly whorish. After a few moments of my ferocious oral assault, Jerome surprises me by pushing my head off of his dick, causing a string of saliva to pull away from his head to my lips before breaking and falling to my heaving chest. He orders me to crawl over to my discarded handbag and bring him back my lipstick. I quickly do as I am told, crawling over on all fours across the rough asphalt and returning to my master for the night with my red lipstick in hand. He takes it from me, and asks for my name as he uncaps the tube and twirls out the red stick. I respond honestly, and even a bit naughtily.

"My name is Addison, but my students call me Miss Bell."

With a smirk, he presses the red wax stick to my forehead, and begins to write out something. He is soon satisfied with his work, and discards the writing instrument before snapping another picture on my phone. This time he doesn't keep the picture to himself, and seems eager to show me. I look at the screen of my phone to see what he captured and am a bit shocked, but more so aroused at what I see. It is a picture of me, naked and kneeling in front of his dark, protruding member, and in red capital letters on my forehead is written Miss Bell. I can only revel in the pictures lewdness and honesty for a brief moment before he speaks once again with further orders.

"Keep sucking slut or this picture gets sent to all the contacts on your phone."

My eyes widen, and my pussy floods with the idea, but I eagerly resume my assault on his thick, veiny unit. He chuckles as I pick up from where I left off, and he continues to take more shots with my phone as I do. I am relentless with my actions, and soon am rewarded by the swelling of his girthy cock signaling that he is ready to explode. A simple grunt and quick push of my face dislodges me once again. Though I am a bit disappointed with not being able to take his load in my mouth, I say nothing as I know I am his to use as he wishes. He grips his slick shaft and pumps it as he ejects volley after volley of sticky, warm cum all over my face. It covers me completely, dripping down to my chest and resting heavily in my short red hair. One of my eyes is sealed shut, and I keep the other closed out of reaction. I can hear him breathing deep, and then the sound of his pants being pulled back into place and refastened.

Remaining still, I wait for his next move; his next instructions. I hear his footsteps move towards the dumpster and my discarded belongings. He is away for a moment, before I hear his steps again returning. I feel the touch of fabric on my face; he is wiping his gunk off of me in a smooth, but forceful manner. In my dirty mind I hope that he captured my covered state with my phone prior to wiping it away. Soon, he is satisfied enough and orders me to open my eyes. I can still feel sticky remnants caking on my skin, but as I open my eyes all my thoughts are on him and what he is to have me do next. In his hand, I notice that the fabric I felt wiping off my face, was in fact my dress. His other hand holds my phone, along with what looks to be my I.D., credit cards, keys, and fold of cash. This arouses my curiosity, as well as my desire, as I kneel in front of him and ponder the endless possibilities. "Here take your dress, and crawl back over to your bag by the dumpster."

He hands me over my defiled garment, and I quickly crawl towards my other belongings on my hands and knees. In doing so, I only further add to the mess that is now my dress, and know for certain that it is ruined. I reach the spot of my bag, which I can see he has indeed rifled through, and turn back to face him.

"Throw both your dress and your bag into the dumpster."

The order is a little hard to handle as the dress is brand new and my bag is rather expensive, but my fire is all that is guiding me know; I know I will do as he wishes. Quickly, I swing both items up and over the ledge of the container and hear the loud thud of them hitting the metallic bottom. I see a smile form on his lips as he too is signaled by the thud. Remaining in that spot, not wanting to act without his guidance, I wait as he begins to play with my phone. Its minutes before he even glances back at me, let alone speaks, but finally he does and I listen intently.

"Wait here, I'm going to get my car so we can go for a little ride and continue our fun."

He then turns and walks back towards the front of the bar to the parking lot. I remain kneeling by the dingy trash receptacle, with a burning desire flaming inside to be stoked, as I watch him walk away. Thoughts of, will he return, when will he return, and how far am I going to go all pass through my head as I wait quietly, and overly aroused wait for him. I don't even think to touch myself as I wait, though I know if I did I would find immediate relief, rather I wait to grant him the opportunity to grant me release if he so pleases. The idea that he may not provide me with it, only fuels that fire, and deep down I think I may want that more. To see just how far I would go, how much I would do to please him and complete his every wish without even the hint of receiving my own climax is even more naughty and exciting. I can't ponder on that thought for long, as I soon here a car engine approaching and then entering the alley. It may not be him, but still I do not move, for I want to be obedient for him.

The glare of the headlights reaches me, lighting up my naked form as I kneel in the damp passage of the alley. With my figure fully engulfed in the flood of light, the car stops about five feet in front of me. Over the idling engine I hear his voice command me. He tells me to stand up, and walk over to the front of his car. I do as I am told and stand awaiting further instruction inches in front of his shiny, black Chrysler 300.

"Lean over and kiss my car. Show me that you respect me and my power."

It's an interesting request, but it does cause me to tremble some from the feeling of submission. Bending at the waist, I lean down and kiss the hood of the rumbling car; I can feel the vibrations and heat of the engine on my lips as I do. Standing back up, he commands me to enter the car on the passenger side. I seductively strut around the hood, and open the door to climb inside. The seat is covered in dark chocolate leather upholstery, and is cool against my naked flesh as I sit down. Once my door is closed, he begins to pull away, out of the alley and onto the street. He says nothing as we drive, and I sit quietly as well. Soon he pulls into a bank parking lot with an ATM where he stops and parks. He cuts the engine before turning to me to ask for my pin number. I look at him quizzically for a moment before he holds up my debit card, and tells me he wants to pull out some cash to pick up a few things. I am unsure about this, but dare not disobey and provide him with the secret code to access my account.

Report Story

byGettingItDone© 3 comments/ 63721 views/ 39 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

3 Pages:123

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: