Miss Davenport's New School

"Anyway, Denise," he started carefully, then paused for a deep, calming breath, "I think we should begin your orientation with the school's faculty dress code. Your sweater buttons, for example...,"

"Jelly," I interrupted, lingering on his name and then pausing for a second, giving him my prettiest pout, " I can call you 'Jelly' can't I?" Then, without waiting for an answer, "Of course I can. I feel like we're friends already. And I think I know where you're going with this button thing, but I'm an optimist, you see, and to me, this sweater is half buttoned. Someone with a more negative attitude might think it's halfunbuttoned, but not me because I always think positively."

"One thing fordamn sure," he muttered, almost under his breath, "It'spositively all the wayfull."

"And I always look on the bright side," I continued with a little smile, pretending I didn't hear his appreciative remark. "It could always be worse. I could have come to school like this," and I proceeded to slowly and teasingly undo the remaining buttons.

He started to stand, but then thought better of it, put up his hands in a 'stop' gesture and started blustering incoherently, "Wait...don't...you can't...please stop...I...I...ooooh." He paused and took another deep breath.

By then I had finished and placed my hands demurely on my lap, looking fixedly into his eyes, my lips slightly pursed. Each breast was modestly covered by one side of the sweater. Only the space between them was visible. He tried valiantly to return my gaze, but his eyes kept slipping further down.

He breathed deeply several more times, then began again, barely under control, "Denise, we cannot permit suggestive, provocative..."

I interrupted again, "But you see, Jelly, my behavior is only suggestive if you're open to the suggestion." I paused, cocked my head and smiled as if to ask,Are you? "And my clothing is only provocative if you're willing to be provoked. So the problem is as much with you as with me."

"But Shawn...," he began.

"Shawn is a sweetheart," I said, "And on my list of promising students. I just had to do something so the other kids wouldn't think they could get away with anything. Slap his wrist and send him back to me. He and I are going to be just fine."

"What about the men...in the alley...," he started.

"Now that's something we need to talk about," I broke in gently. "You need to tell me about the faculty parking lot, where it is and how I get into it. We can always talk about my wardrobe later."

"It's right out there," he said, pointing toward the open window.

I got up and walked to the widow, making sure to give my skirt that little flounce that men love. I grabbed my sweater with one hand so it wouldn't fly open and leaned out the window, bending at the waist with my legs spread for balance. I carefully inspected the school yard below so that he got a good, long look at my almost-bare ass. My pink thong panties barely covered the center of my asshole. If he was looking, which I know he was because I could hear his breathing, he could clearly see the puckered edges.

I turned around and stood up. "Don't see it," I said. I clutched the sweater up tightly under my breasts, which exposed more of my midriff and caused the top of the sweater to open even further. The left side slid off down over my shoulder onto my upper arm, but still covered the breast.

My new friend Jelly Roll was shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He also seemed to have developed a little stutter. "Over th-th-th-there," he said, pointing off to the left side of the window.

I leaned out again and turned sharply to the left, lifting my left leg in the air to do so, giving him an even better view than the first time. I turned to face him again. "Still can't see," I lied. "Why don't you be a sweetie and come over here and show me."

"I, uum...I...don't," he said hesitantly.

"Come on," I said with a bright smile. "I won't bite. I promise."

"It's not your teeth I'm worried about," he mumbled as he stood up awkwardly. He shuffled toward me, stooped over in a vain attempt to hide the fact that there was apparently a very large snake doing a slow dance behind his zipper.

He leaned out the window and pointed to the left. "Over there," he said.

I squeezed in to his left, still holding my sweater closed with my left hand, and now using my right to hang tightly on his well-muscled arm for support. "Oh, yes, now I see it," I said after a second.

As I drew back in from the window, I kept my grip on his upper arm and we wound up facing each other, only inches apart. I let go of my sweater and the left side slid further down my arm, exposing one breast and its erect nipple. I stared up into his eyes and moistened my lips, then reached up and caressed the back of his neck. He lowered his lips to mine and we kissed, gently at first, but with increasing passion as our tongues explored each other's mouths.

After a few seconds, I reached down and began to massage the stiff lump in his pants. He groaned and began to roll my exposed nipple between his strong but gentle fingers. I opened his fly and reached in to stroke his impressively large and now completely rigid cock.

I pulled my mouth reluctantly off of his, and whispered, "Does your door have a lock?"

He looked at me dumbly for a second, then answered, "Uh huh."

"Then, for Christ's sake, lock it," I hissed urgently.

He shambled over to the door, holding his fly closed with one hand and turned a knob to lock the door. I moved next to the chair I'd had been sitting in, and he hurried back. We fell into a desperate kiss as he vigorously massaged my breasts and I undid his belt and the waist button of his pants. As soon as they fell to the floor, I pushed him gently back onto the chair.

I paused a second to admire his long, steel-stiff, jet black cock. It was the most gorgeous thing I had seen since the last black cock I'd fucked. I grabbed it tightly with both hands and pumped it up and down vigorously.

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned loudly, "Aaaaghhhh...OoooohOOOh." Quickly, his eyes flew open again and he whispered, "We have to be very quiet."

"I'll be in charge of taking you to heaven and you be in charge of keeping very quiet. All right?" I answered in a low voice. "My part's easy," I added.

I leaned over and began to nibble all sides of his cock, starting at the top and working my way to the base until my bright pink lipstick was smeared all over it. He gripped the edge of the chair tightly, as if he might otherwise slide off, and bit his lip. I then ran my tongue, with excruciating slowness, up the length of the underside of his shaft. He was barely able to muffle the explosive little grunts that tried to burst from his mouth. By the time I reached the bloated head of his twitching boner, he had to let go of the chair with one hand and bite the webbing between his thumb and forefinger to keep himself from screaming with pleasure.

Ordinarily, I would probably have taken him down my throat and given him a good sucking before moving on to the next phase, but I didn't think he could wait that long. And I knew I couldn't. My little girl was aching and throbbing like a bad tooth, telling me it was time to get that beautiful, hard slab of dark meat into my dripping wet pussy.

I stepped out of my panties with my left leg, leaving them dangling from my right thigh, and stood facing him, straddling his lap. I reached down and pulled his hand off his mouth, kissed him deeply, then whispered in his ear, "Don't worry Honeybunch, not much longer now. Momma's going to put you out of your misery real soon."

I rested my arms on his broad shoulders and slowly, teasingly lowered my hips until the entrance to my tunnel of love pressed gently against the head of his rigid cock. The viscous liquid from my cunt drooled thickly and slowly down his shaft. His eyes were still tightly closed and his head was thrashing from side to side in wild anticipation of the ecstasy to come. Just watching his frenzy was exciting me to the point that I was ready to cum, too. I moved my hips back and forth, rubbing the tip of his prick against my inflamed clit, arousing me even further.

"Open your eyes and look at me, Boyfriend," I murmured.

"Can't," he gasped quietly. "You're too damn sexy. Don't want to cum before I get in."

I get a lot of flattery, but that was one of the best compliments I had been paid in some time. His fierce need to fuck me made me even hotter to get fucked. My painfully stiff clit began to flutter and jerk in time with my quickening heartbeat.

"Babycakes," I cooed, "You deserve every bit of what you're about to get." I let my weight rest on his cock, and the head of his hefty hunk of stiff love muscle slowly began to sink into me, increasing my pleasure by the second, pushing me closer and closer to euphoria. I was sorely tempted by a nearly uncontrollable desire to stuff his cock all the way in immediately. But I enjoy teasing myself as much as I love teasing a man. So I resisted and closed my eyes in blissful expectation of the long ride down, and gradually began to squeeze his rigid manhood into my impatient pussy.

But he couldn't wait. I felt him grab my hips and urgently pull me down, quickly impaling me to the hilt. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me wildly, with an expression which, under other circumstances, I might have interpreted as crazed terror. A micro-second later, I felt the strong pulse of his cock as it began firing heavy slugs of man-goo deep within me, and my own orgasm exploded. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and began to bounce furiously up and down, repeatedly driving his thick, black lance as deep into my pussy as I could force it, stabbing myself with it in over and over until we were both spent.

When we were still, I rested my head on his shoulder and nibbled dreamily on his neck, his ear, any tender little spot I could find. He held me close and gently caressed me as we recovered enough to straighten our clothing and go back to work.

Suddenly, the bell rang harshly. I jumped up and his thick cum poured out of my cunt, drenching his bare thighs. "Shit," I spat, "Second period's over. I've got..what?...10 minutes to get to the Teachers' Lounge, clean up in the ladies room and get back to my classroom for third period."

"Use my bathroom, over there," he said pointing to a door in the far wall of his office.

I rushed in, did what I could to make myself presentable, reapplied my lipstick, pecked Jelly on the cheek and ran for the door. I forgot it was locked and almost broke my wrist trying to open it, but got through eventually.

"We'll talk about the dress code soon," he called as I left.

"Absolutely," I answered over my shoulder, knowing that the subject would never come up again.

Third period was about the same as first. One of the boys commented that I "sure live up to my initials" (double D), so I told him to go introduce himself to my new friend, Mr. Harwood. And then it was lunch.

As in many schools, the cafeteria is in the basement. I think they do that so there are no windows to open and students can't escape the disagreeable odors of school cooking, thus ruining their appetites and saving money on food.

After picking at a salad, I headed back up the stairs to my classroom. On the first floor I noticed a group of six youthful black boys, probably freshmen, standing around, as if waiting for something. As I started up to the second floor, they fell in behind me. Before I got to the halfway landing, the giggling started. They were obviously looking right up my skirt.

When I got to the landing, I stopped and the snickering ended abruptly. I turned around and smiled at the boys, who had frozen, several steps below me. "How's the view from down there?" I asked.

Flustered, they muttered embarrassed non-answers and a couple of them began to back slowly downwards.

"No, no," I said. "Don't go. Is this what you wanted?" I grinned, and pirouetted quickly on my right foot, causing my little pleated skirt to float up waist-high, showing off my pink panties. As I did so, I extended my left leg and spread my arms like a ballet dancer. Their mouths dropped open and their eyes popped out like those Looney Tune wolves with spring-mounted eyeballs. I raised up on my left foot and whirled back in the opposite direction, giving them a second peek.

In fact, I think I gave them a better show than they could have hoped for. Under ordinary circumstances, my panties are see-through sheer. But at that moment, they were still soaked with Harwood's semen and my own cum, making them as transparent as glass, and giving the boys a clear look at my hairless, pouting pussy. And, if they weren't too stunned to notice, they could also plainly see my new pubic tattoo: a small, lacy, red heart inscribed with the words, "INSERT COCK(S) BELOW."

Then I put my hands on my hips, assumed my best teacher's scowl and said evenly, "Now get out of here. Don't tell anyone about this, ever. And go find girls your own age to play with." They scurried down the stairs so quickly, two of them tripped and sprawled, one on top of the other, at the bottom. But as soon as they got out of sight around the corner, they exploded into gales of laughter.

Now, you don't have to tell me I probably shouldn't have done that. And actually, okay, forget the "probably." I'm not sure why I did it, except that I'm a natural born show-off, and it was exactly what those guys wanted. And, it does please me to know that, for the next several years, there will be a half-dozen boys thinking fondly of me every time they beat off.

Next period was AP English. I recognized a few of the kids from my homeroom. One was Joey. He sat with two friends, Robert and Denzel. (His "posse," he called them.) They're black, too and also from my homeroom. Robert is a huge guy, not fat, just really, really large, probably six-foot four, 250 pounds. He shaves his head, which looks good on him, sort of like a black Mr. Clean. And Denzel is tall and slender, with dreadlocks and big, strong hands. He's almost as good-looking as Joey. They walked into the room together and, as soon as they did, my slut sense went crazy. So it had to be one of the three. I was still pulling for Joey.

Sitting right in front of them was another kid from my homeroom, a little nympho named Anjellika. She's petite, about 5 feet, with a trim athletic body. How did I know she's a nympho? Well, first of all, as they say, it takes one to know one.

Secondly, she was practically wearing a "FUCK ME NOW" sign. Her hair is bleached to a honey blond, in sexy contrast to her café au lait complexion. She wore way too much makeup and her spike heels were every bit as high as mine. Her tight little tee shirt stopped just below her small breasts and allowed the boys to keep easy track of the state of her nipples at all times. And then there was her skirt, so short and tight that, every time she walked, every time she sat, hell, every time she breathed, it rode up to give the whole school a glimpse of her tiny, frilly panties. She was also wearing a curious black leather chocker with the silver letters "BOB" on it.

Is she Robert's girlfriend?I wondered.

Joey and his friends were all over Anjellika, and her nipples proclaimed to the world how much she appreciated their attentions. I didn't realize it yet, but I was pretty fucking jealous.

Anyway, this class is supposed to focus on creative writing. So I'd planned to start right out with haiku, because they seem so simple, but allow a lot of room for originality. I figured it would give the kids a way to begin to get a feel for the creative process.

I explained the conventions for one style of haiku: three lines, the first of which is five (or fewer) syllables, then seven, then five again, with a break after the first or second line, no pronouns and a focus on natural subjects.

Then I gave them an example:

Small pond full of life

The quiet song of water

Sung by wise old carp

They all sort of looked at each other as if I were a two-headed insect speaking Serbo-Croatian. It was hard to concentrate because my slut-sense was still tingling like mad, but I took a deep breath and explained the rules again, then asked them to all try one.

I gave them a few minutes, during which Robert and Denzel whispered continuously to each other, frequently glancing up at me and smirking. Joey glanced at me a few times too, but he seemed more serious about what he was doing. Once, though, when our eyes met, he smiled warmly.

While the kids worked, I looked up Robert and Denzel. They were both 19 and on the football team with Joey. I also looked up Anjellika: 18 and pulling down high honors. And, as I would have guessed, a cheerleader. I'd also guess she's fairly familiar with the inside of the boys' locker room.

After a bit I asked for volunteers to read their work. Anjellika seemed eager, so I called on her first. She stood quickly, thrust out her proud little tits, shifted her weight prettily from one foot to the other and recited in a clear voice:

Two bodies as one

Dance and twist and gently thrust

Fire burns deep inside.

Most of the kids snickered loudly and one called out, "I know what she's thinking about."

Another answered, "Yeah, same thing as always!"

I shushed them and told Anjellika I thought her poem was really articulate, moving and well-written. But I reminded her that haiku were usually on natural subjects.

"I think my subject's pretty damn natural," she retorted to the further amusement of the class.

Some of the other students read theirs, which weren't as good, but at least showed they were trying. Then it was Joey's turn. He stood and cleared his throat.

"Don't be nervous," I said, trying to ignore my slut sense.

"Not nervous," he said, almost absently.

"Or embarrassed," I added.

"Not that either," he answered, "Just making sure it's right." Then, in a quiet voice, which still filled the room, he read:

Angry storm rages cruel

Frightened doe lays down to hide

Safe 'neath mighty oak.

"That's wonderful," I enthused. "But is it really about nature? Or is it a metaphor for strong people protecting weaker ones? Or men protecting women? And maybe the storm represents urban violence?"

"It can be anything you want it to be, can't it?" he asked, deflecting my questions with one of his own.

Oh, shit, I thought.Good-looking, athletic, smart....and sensitive? My rule against fucking students is in real danger now.

"Of course it can," I said. "Anyone want tell us whattheythink it's about?" I asked, looking around the room.

"I think it's about 17 syllables long," called out one of the girls.

"I think quarterback Joey is the fawn, the storm is the Central High defense and the oak is our offensive line. I just hope he doesn't lay down and hide in the game Friday night," grinned a big guy named Cedric in the back, who I later learned is another football player.

Joey, still slumped in his chair, grinned back at him and made a hand gesture I didn't recognize. The class erupted in giggles. The big guy returned a gesture I certainlydid recognize, and the kids laughed even louder.

"Okay, okay," I yelled, trying to quiet them, "I'm glad you've got that out of your system." Then, when they could hear me better, "Your turn, Denzel."

He stood and looked around the room, smirking.

Damn, I said to myself.Wrong choice, teach.Here it comes.

Denzel paused for effect, then read loudly:

The students ponder

A teacher's swelling bosom

Silicone at work?

"Right," I said sternly. "Mr. Harwood is in his office, Denzel, waiting for you to tell him what a jerk you are."