Student Teacher Ch. 02

It had been a little over four weeks since Sara had begun her student teaching with me, and four weeks since my incident at school. Since that time I have learned to ignore my feelings I have for her and have tried to remain as professional as possible. At times she hasn't made it easy, she has come in on several hot days in short skirts and incredibly revealing tops, all in the pursuit of staying cool. I have counseled her several times on the importance of not being a distraction to the students, and have always omitted the fact that she is a distraction to me. The other important thing that has happened since Sara started was catching my husband in the act. That's the act of cheating on me.

I needed to research some class projects I was planning and didn't care to do it in my scorching classroom. I, of course, arrived home before my husband and planned to look up my projects on his computer in his office. As I prepared to click on the Internet icon, I noticed a folder labeled pictures, and a second labeled video. I tried not to snoop, but I couldn't understand why a fifty-year old accountant would need such files; so I clicked on the icon marked pictures. When the file opened a pictorial slide began, every 6 or 7 slides a new girl would show up. All of the girls in the pictures were either scantily dressed, or nude and all of the girls were eerily similar in body shape and size. Their faces and hair changed but all seemed to be in their mid twenties, about 5'6", 110 lbs. and their breasts were pert, maybe C cups. I realized these were the girls my husband got off too. I had thought he was no longer interested in sex, but I realized he was just no longer interested in me. My eyes swelled a little with tears, but I quickly wiped them away, I knew right then I didn't need that bastard anymore; I closed the pictures file and clicked on the icon labeled video.

When the file opened, I was shocked, there had to have been about 200 video files. Most seem to be under five minutes, and each was labeled with it's own name. All of the names were girl names, which didn't surprise me. I wanted to see what the files held, and what my husband got off on; so I clicked a random video, the name was "Heather," and waited for it to load. When the video started it was a little hard to follow at first; it seemed as if the cameraman was the person having sex with Heather and he was doing a terrible job of holding the camera still. What I could see was Heather's ass, a nice round ass, and the cameraman's cock sliding in and out of her. Then the camera was hastily moved to a side shot and I was treated to Heather's large titties swinging back and forth as the cameraman nailed her harder and harder. I was starting to enjoy the show; then I caught a glimpse of Heather's face and I was taken aback. She looked a lot like a secretary from the pool at my husband's office. I shook it off, I realized I had only met her once or twice at the company's Christmas parties, and she hadn't worked for my husband's firm for at least 7 years. I saw that she was saying something and I quickly reached for the volume control on the speaker.

"Oh daddy," she squealed, "you fuck so good! Put it in my ass, you know I like it in my ass!"

The camera refocused on Heather's ass and the cameraman's cock, the cameraman pulled his cock out of her pussy and placed the head of his cock against her asshole.

"Are you ready for this hotness," the cameraman asked.

A cold chill ran through my body. The voice of the cameraman and what he said stopped me dead in my tracks. My husband used to call me 'hotness' when we were first dating and then married. I was in shock. I continued to watch the video hoping to catch a glimpse of the cameraman's face. As "Heather" and the cameraman continued to fuck my stomach knotted itself ever tighter. I was truly hoping that I was wrong, but as the film continued I knew I was right. After the cameraman blasted Heather across her snotty little face and big nasty tits, she finally said it, or at least part of it; the cameraman turned off the camera as she was saying his name. I know his name started with a gha sound, like Jeff, Jerry, or Jim; I was sicker now than before. I spent the next three hours looking through videos, and then finally I found one with a mirror in it. The cameraman was fucking "Julie," in what appeared to be a hotel room on an upper floor. At one point during the 5-minute video, Jerry aimed the camera at the mirror, moved it away from his face and gave the thumbs up. I paused the video on that spot, I could clearly make out Jerry's face and his stupid smile. I began to sob openly. I cried for a good solid 30 minutes before coming up with a plan. I hastily copied every single picture and video file on his computer; it took two full CD-ROMs, and hid them in my closet. I purposely left the paused video of him smiling into the mirror open and on top so he would see it immediately. I then grabbed a couple of garbage bags and tossed every stitch of clothing he had into them, after I sliced holes in them. And lastly, I grabbed the 12 gauge from his closet and waited for him to get home. To say it didn't go well is a definite understatement, he was drunk, and I was still pissed off. Needless to say, the police did end up at our house after the second shotgun blast; they found my husband, drunk, with piss all over his pants, crying in the corner. They found me holding the shotgun on him, with tears running down my face. I went to work the next day, after a lot of explaining to the cops, and Sara could definitely tell something was wrong. Thankfully, she didn't ask.

I was lucky it was Friday, and my classes were only reviewing for midterms next week. Thankfully I had Sara, she was reviewing all the material, which allowed me to just sit at my desk and listen. I was able to keep my composure until lunch. Sarah and I had a daily routine of having lunch in my room together. This was her time to ask me questions about lessons and class behavior. Normally, when the bell sounded signaling our lunch, we would walk to the teacher's lounge, get our lunches and return to my classroom. Today I just sat at my desk with my head in my hands, struggling to hold back the tears. After what seemed like an eternity I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Mrs. C," Sara's voice whispered out, "Is everything okay?"

My body began to shutter as my heartache began to escape. I felt Sarah's body against mine, her arms wrapping around me, embracing me. I felt as if she was the only person in the world that loved me at this very moment. I melted into her arms and bawled my eyes out; after a few minutes of openly sobbing into her bosom, I started to settle down. And then I realized that she was rocking me and telling me it would be all right. I then realized how close we were; I could smell her perfume, and the scent of her shampoo. I could also feel her hands gently stroking my back and hair, and the weight of her tits rubbing against mine as we rocked back and forth. I broke our embrace, enough to look her in the eyes.

"I so sorry Sara," I said peering deep into her dark hazel eyes, "I, I found out last night that my husband's been cheating on me for years."

"Oh, Mrs. C," Sara said pulling me in tighter, "I'm so sorry, can I do anything for you?"

"No," I replied, pulling away from her, "the divorce will be pretty cut and dry."

"Well Mrs. C.," Sara shot back, "if there is anything I can do, you let me know. You've helped me so much, I would really like the chance to pay you back!"

"Really Sara," I responded with a heavy heart, "I just want this day to be over so I can go home and climb into bed for the weekend."

I spent all of Friday night and Saturday morning crying, by Saturday night I was no longer upset, I was pissed. And by Sunday morning I had a plan all put together. When I returned to school on Monday, I felt like a new woman. I came to the conclusion that I didn't need that bastard for the past 6 years; I'd never need him again. I was glad it was a short week; midterm week was only four days of actual school and one day of teacher in-service. All in-service was, was a day for the teachers to get together to check the year's progress. This early in the year the meeting was usually a short one.

"Jan, you going to lunch with us," Miss Damson asked.

"Who's Jan," Sara whispered elbowing me.

"That's me," I replied back with a huge smile, "you mean we've been working together for 4 weeks and you didn't even know my name?"

"Um," Sara blushed as she searched for an answer, "isn't it Mrs. Carter?"

"Sure Sally," I replied to Miss Damson, "we'd love to have lunch. Same Mexican place we always go to?"

"It's 2 for 1 Margarita Friday isn't it?" Jan laughed as she walked out of my classroom.

Sara still looked a little embarrassed.

"Sara," I started, "don't be embarrassed sweetheart. I can remember my shadow teacher Mrs. Jones; I didn't know her name was Ruth until she gave me a farewell card. Forget about it and let's go have some margaritas."

Sara smiled that big beautiful smile of her, and her eyes lit up.

"Margaritas," she said grabbing her coat, "I love margaritas!"

Six hours later Sara and I were the only two teachers left at the bar. We were both a little buzzed and enjoying the feeling, or at least I was. We were taking turns buying each other drinks, flirting with the guys and talking. We were sitting at the end of the bar, which was in a bit of a corner; I had my back to the rest of the bar but could see all of it thanks to the mirror behind the bar.

"I know you're wondering," I started.

"Wondering what, if that guy will take me into the bathroom and fuck me," Sara shot back. We both giggled like schoolgirls.

"No," I said wiping the laughing tears from my eyes, "about my husband."

"Yeah, what happened," she asked, as seriously as a tipsy gal could ask.

"He had videos," I said waving down the bartender for two more margaritas, "on his computer at home. He probably videoed every girl he's fucked for the past 7 years."

"Holy shit," she shot back at me, "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry Mrs. C. I didn't mean to curse."

"My gwad Sara," I exclaimed jokingly, I then said even louder, "You keep acting like that and I'll take you home and put you over my knee. Is that what you want, another spanking?"

I had accomplished what I set out to do, Sara stopped dead in her tracks and blushed, and a couple of the guys moved a little closer to us.

"Mrs. C," Sara whispered loudly.

I interrupted her, "now you know it's Jan, how am I ever going to get laid tonight if you keep calling me Mrs. C?"

Sara's jaw dropped again when I told her I wanted to get laid. I reached over and patted her on the thigh. "Weren't you thinking about getting lucky tonight," I asked gazing into the mirror for a potential lover.

"No," Sara quickly shot back, "I've got a boyfriend at State, we're going to be engaged at Thanksgiving. Mrs., Jan, I really think I ought to get you home, are you feeling all right?

Home, I thought to myself, if we both went to my home that could be fun. I changed my strategy; I told her I was just playing, and it was supposed to be a girl's night out. So I started ordering us shots of tequila. After her fourth double and my second single I decided it was time to go. Sara was a funny drunk, almost a sloppy drunk. To be on the safe side I called a cab. On the way home, with Sara's head against my chest, and me stroking her beautiful hair, I began to feel guilty. I truly yearned to take advantage of this sexy young thing but had guilt pangs as well. If I took advantage of her how would that affect our professional relationship. Hundreds of thoughts flooded my head as we pulled into my driveway. It was a struggle to get Sara out of the car and into the house, the cabbie helped, groping and fondling her the entire time. Sara was conscious of course; she just wasn't able to walk that well. Once inside my house I asked Sara where she wanted to sleep, I told her I had the couch and a spare bed.

"Your bed," Sara slurred, "I want it to be like a sleep over, let's sleep in your bed."

I was shocked to say the least. "If you're sure," I said, "then I guess it would be okay."

I helped Sara off the couch and put an arm around her waste. She put an arm around my shoulders and we walked over to the stairs.

"I bet this is a really pretty house when you're sober," she slurred, laughing at her own joke.

As we started climbing the stairs, I felt her move closer to me. Her arm around my shoulder was now just around my neck. Her hand was openly brushing against my right boob. I pulled her tighter, so I wouldn't lose our balance. With every step up the stairs, her hand would brush across my tit re-exciting my already straining nipple and my panties became a little damper. When we finally made it to the bedroom door, I wished I had said no to her request, but then she did something that made it all worthwhile. When she crossed the threshold into my bedroom she pulled her top over her head and then off. She dropped it as she made her way to my king sized bed. She reached around herself and struggled with the clasps to her bra, and gave up after repeatedly failing to unhook it.

"Wow Jan," Sara slurred facing me and plopping down on the bed, "your house is beautiful." She reached down, unzipped her calf high black leather boots, and kicked them off.

I was stunned and turned on all in the same moment; here is this 22 year old dream of a girl sitting on my bed, with her incredibly supple tits screaming to be released from an incredibly sexy pink and black lace bra, and she's telling me how beautiful my house is, for a moment I thought I'd died and went to sexual fantasy heaven!

"Could you help me," she said breaking my trance, "I can't reach my zipper."

"Um," I stuttered biting my lip, "I'd be more than happy to help."

I crossed the room in a flash. Sara stood up and turned her back to me. I unbuttoned the button on the back of her skirt and began to slowly lower the zipper. I could feel the heat from her body I was so close, I really just wanted to reach out and take her in my arms. To grab her from behind and embrace her, to feel the swell of her breasts in my hands, to run my hands down the front of her body while I sucked on her neck and ears. I wanted to run my hands down her stomach and reach into her panties. To know what the folds of her womanhood feel like between my fingers, to know if she's as hot and wet as I am, I wanted her. As I finished unzipping her skirt, I could just barely see the top of her panties, they of course matched her bra.

"Could you tug on the hem of my skirt Jan," Sara asked without turning around, "this skirt always gets caught on my hips."

Being a ¾ skirt, I dropped down to my knees and gave it a little tug. From the vee of the zipper I could see a little more of her panties. I tugged a little more and her skirt fell to the floor. Sara's panty covered ass was mere inches from my face. Her panties were a very cute and form fitting pair of pink boy shorts with an accent of black lace. I felt my nipple burn into my bra and the wetness of my own panties as I moved to get up. Sara turned and faced me.

"Thank you," she said giggling, "and could you unhook my bra?"

"Sure," I replied, I felt my face flush with her request, "just turn back around."

"No," she giggled again, "you've got to do it like the boys do, without looking."

"Sara, really," I shot back.

"Come on," she whined a little, "we always played this game at sleepovers!"

"Very well," I said stepping closer to her and peeking over her back, "but this is really silly."

She pulled away from me.

"No peeking," she said sternly, "you have to look me in the eyes."

As I looked deep into her eyes, I felt my panties remoisten. I could feel her heat on my arms as I fumbled with the clasp of her bra. She was smiling back at me, and biting her bottom lip. I so had the urge to stand on my toes just a little bit more and kiss those pouty lips. I was truly only half-heartedly trying to unclasp her bra, I was enjoying the sexual tension I felt between us. Sara started to giggle at my efforts. To be honest I never wanted this moment to end. I accidentally unhooked the clasp, and I knew Sara could feel the release on her bra.

"Scratch," she requested.

"Huh," I asked.

"Scratch where the bra straps were please," she purred.

I scratched her back as she moved closer to me. I felt try to reach up under my shirt.

"Your turn," she giggled as she stepped back and tugged at the buttons on my shirt.

"Really Sara," I said in a half-hearted protest, "you're drunk, we shouldn't be doing this."

She interrupted my little speech by dipping her head and kissing me on the lips. It was just a lip kiss, but it lasted what seemed like an eternity. The heat of her lips burned into mine as we crushed them together. I felt my nipples come back to full attention as I felt her lips part. I parted my lips and felt her tongue gentle slide forward, meeting mine. Our tongues danced, as our hands explored each other's bodies. We both struggled with my clothes trying not to break our lip lock. We almost broke apart as I tried to kick off my shoes and khakis, but our lips never lost their erotic connection. I finally reached up and held her breasts in my hands, their weight felt so natural in my hands; I felt her hands trying to encompass mine. I then felt her take each of my nipples between her respected thumbs and forefingers, a jolt of electricity shot through my body as she gently squeezed them. I did the same to her and I felt her moan into my mouth. I slowly moved my hands around to her back and slowly lowered them, when I reached her panty-clad ass she broke our kiss. We were both panting with desire. I felt her mimic my motion, moving her hands to my ass. As I kneaded her luscious ass she moaned into my shoulder.

"Oh Jan," she cooed, "I've wanted you for such a long time."

She then began kissing and nibbling my neck as I continued to knead her ass.

"Really Sara," I asked with lust in my voice, "because I've wanted you since the day I met you."

Sara broke her lock on my neck and we began to kiss again; I felt her lead me closer to the bed, she pulled away.

"I want to taste you," she cooed as she pushed me back onto the bed.

She climbed onto the bed, her body perpendicular to mine; she feverishly attacked my right nipple. I moaned out loud. I felt her hand exploring my body, and coming to a stop over my panty-covered crotch. She started with a gentle up and down motion, working my panties into my slit. I continued to moan. She then worked the top of my slit with a gentle circular motion, she wasn't exactly on it but ever now and again she brushed my clit. She switched nipples and continued her sexual assault on my pussy. I reached over and felt for her crotch. I began exploring her crotch, her panties felt just as wet as mine. I didn't waste much time on the outside of her panties, I found a gap between her thigh and her panties and snaked a finger in. As I dipped a finger into her folds she moaned loudly, her pussy convulsed slightly as I plunged it as deep as I could.

"Panties," Sara gasp, "I want to lose the panties."

She didn't have to ask twice; I started shimming my panties off, as I watched her sit up on her knees. I held my breath a little as she pushed her panties down to her knees. She had her public hair trimmed to a beautiful little patch shaped like a small heart. I was a little shocked when I looked up to Sara's eyes, she was staring at my crotch; I was completely shaven in the hopes of seeing a little action this weekend. Sara bent over and kissed me again, I couldn't get enough of her lips and tongue.

"I want to taste you," I huskily said when we broke our kiss, "sixty-nine?"