Teacher's Pet Ch. 03

"I'm never sure, but always hopeful," I countered.

"Would you say it first?" she said, "It hurts me to hear it because I miss you, and yet, I want to hear it. I need to hear it. It's hard, sometimes, being away from home, being away from you. Would you say it...please...Tyler?"

"I love you very much and I miss you all the time" I uttered intensely.

"Me too" she replied.

"That won't do" I said in my most stern teacher voice. "You have to say the whole thing. It's like the pledge of allegiance or the Boy Scout pledge, it doesn't count if you don't say all the words."

"I love you Tyler Stevens and I miss you every single day."

"There! That's much better Ms. Souther. You have made my night, my week, and my month. Now, tell me what the hell are you doing sitting in your dorm room wanking with your ex-teacher on a Friday night? Get your ass out there and meet people!"

"I don't have much ass left, thanks to you," she joked.

"Me?" I challenged. "I see a young lady making all of her own decisions, and besides, it looked rather nicely intact to me."

"Maybe I'll go do something...if I can walk," she said, laughing.

"I feel sure that you'll be able to" I said, then paused. "Goodnight, Ms. Souther. Thanks for helping with your sister."

"Goodnight, Mr. Stevens," she said, "Thanks for trying, but you have to be careful with her. She's a snake," she said, and then she disconnected.

I pondered her volatile last comment only momentarily. She was saying nothing different than I was thinking. It was late, I was dead tired, and I had a CCX meet the next morning. That night I slept like the dead and best of all, did not dream of Suzie Souther.

Part Three

No Option but Forward

My session with Landrie helped restore perspective regarding Suzie, who once again simply became another student. She was A deeply troubling and difficult one, but a student, nonetheless. The Monday following our Friday chat, my students in college-prep US History had filed out of the classroom when Suzie walked up to my desk and plopped The Other Boleyn Girl on my desk.

"Okay. I've read it. "Very subtle," she said. "Your way of saying that I ought to be loyal to my sister and not try to steal her boyfriend teacher, without saying a word in print that would condemn you. Smart, but a little too smart if you ask me. Anyone with a brain could pick out the parallelism if they knew the two of us and the work. So, now you've conceded the point—which is that you've seduced my sister. Now you're egotistic enough to think I'm trying to seduce you, number one, and doing it to get even with her, number two. What a smart, strong, powerful man you must think you are to have both Souther girls after your tiny little prong."

I snorted derisively. "You get an A for finally reading the extra work, and an F for analysis. You're missing the point of the work entirely. Think about it overnight--not as you believe the work relates to you, but from the perspective of the history lesson that can be taken from those events not just by you, but by every woman. No more than one page single-spaced. It needs to be right, not long."

This sobered her, if only for a moment and she left sulkily. I put the odds at 50/50 that I would never see anything in writing from her on the subject. But the next day as her fellow students took their places Suzie dropped a single paged neatly typewritten note onto my desk:

The King is Never Worth it

Among errors made by women over the millennia, none is so great as to subjugate herself to a man to gain a measure of his power. King Henry VIII of England was the worst of his breed. He squandered a modern-day equivalent half-billion pounds on parties, gifts and extravagances, unlawfully seized virtually every Monastery in England, killed the nuns and priests who dared protest, indeed killed anyone who protested, and anyone he thought had protested even if they hadn't, and who married six different women before dismissing them as unworthy, ugly or disloyal, and beheading two of them on pretextual crimes. Henry even brought false charges against a nun, Elizabeth Barton, whose only crime was to claim she'd had a vision that Henry would become precisely the gluttonous, amorous, wasteful pig that he was.

And oh! what a man to titillate a woman! Weighing in at a tidy 400 pounds, smelling of decay, decorated with open sores on his legs and torso that oozed pus, Henry required a "groom of the stool" to wipe his royal behind, as he could not reach it himself. What woman could not help but throw herself at such a paragon of manhood? Yet, despite this horrid appearance and psychotic nature, dozens of women clawed their way into his graces and six "successfully" wed him. Why?

One word answer: power. To marry the King was to marry power and become both powerful and wealthy.

We women appear to have learned nothing from Anne Boleyn's death in the next five centuries. Peruse today's headlines and you will see limitless examples of bright, beautiful, talented young women marrying old, crusted, decadent men for the same reason Anne sought out Henry. The gravest error of women through the centuries, and one which continues today, is to accept derivative power -- power created through association with a man. Women have yet to realize that only enduring power they can possess is what they earn for themselves, in their own names, on their own merit. When they learn this lesson for good, they will reject and call to account, the men who rape, humiliate, and marginalize them. And not until.

Suzie Souther, Fall 2022

For her Smart-ass History Teacher

When I had completed my short lecture on the lesson of the day and made my assignment to the class, I picked up and read her summary. I could sense her watching me, gauging my reaction. When I looked up at her, flabbergasted by the depth, accuracy and conciseness of her work, I was looking into the eyes of an eight-year-old waiting to find out from her father if she "did good" at her piano recital. I made no gesture to her. Instead, I took out my red sharpie, the one that created the largest and most notable lettering, and wrote

A+++

One of the Best—Ever.

across the top in enormous letters and held it up so she could see it. She gave only a curt nod in reply. I placed the paper on the corner of the desk so everyone could see it. When the bell rang, several craned their necks to get a glimpse of the work as they walked by, and several commented or gave her a shoulder punch. She approached my desk.

"I'd also like to keep this for my permanent collection if you don't mind. I have some things that students have written over the last decade that I thought were extraordinary, and I think it would fit very well with them. Suzie preened, then, surprisingly, bristled.

"Does Landrie have anything in there?" she asked guardedly.

"Several," I replied.

"Hmmm," she responded, then went on, "Sure. But tell me something. Why was this assignment, and my fulfilling it, any different from Anne marrying Henry? By giving max effort, I'm doing the same thing she was doing—adjusting myself to become more appealing to a powerful man—at least within this school—you--to get something. True?" she inquired.

"False," I responded. "In our system, the teacher who gave you the assignment could as easily have been a woman as a man. In Henry's time, only the male gender had power, it was a complete monopoly. Women could access that power only by becoming important to a man. This system has given me power not because I'm a guy, but because I took the training to become a teacher. Your teacher gave you an invitation to do something to improve yourself, to prove to yourself that you can think a little differently than you have before, and to profit from it. When I gave you an A+ on it, all I did was acknowledge what you have done, as a teacher, not as a man."

Suzie stood for a moment, stared out into the hallway and chewed on my comment for a good minute, then turned, nodded agreement and left without another word.

In the following weeks I assigned extra works of history discussing women who had created their own power and reputations, running the gauntlet from Joan of Arc to Amelia Earhart and Clara Barton. I saved two for the last of this "rehabilitating lesson" whom I knew would be most compelling to Suzie: Joyce Aylard and Katherine Johnson. Aylard, a Brit, operated the Bombe machine during World War Two, the machine designed by Alan Turing to crack the Enigma code. It was a complex and demanding task and one of the most important functions in the entire war-making effort, only slightly less complex than dominating the egotistical world of Turing and other engineers who populated the decryption service. Katherine Johnson calculated, by hand with a slide rule, the re-entry points, altitude, and attitude, for virtually all early NASA missions, the Apollo Lunar module, and even the shuttles. John Glenn, who did not trust the computers of his day to do it correctly, asked for Johnson to handle the calculations personally.

Suzie ate the works I handed out to her like candy and seemed to see a new vision of herself. Or so I thought until I stumbled onto her and three teachers in a learning having nothing to do with schooling.

I was rushing to reach our home football field. I call junior varsity football games as the PA announcer and have done it for years. It brought a few dollars more, and I genuinely enjoyed the games and seeing my students in a different setting. I was late, as usual, and cutting through the boiler room near the teacher's lounge, a short-cut to the field when I heard something that pulled me up short.

As I entered the boiler room, I heard the unmistakable grunting and huffing noises of sex in progress. They came from behind the two big boilers that fed the high school and junior high buildings. A small control room was located behind the boilers, I suppose because quite a bit of the maintenance work for them could only be done from that angle. As I approached, the sounds and even smells of sex grew even more clear. Whoever was doing it was going full bore, with no regard for the noise they were creating or the possibility of discovery.

I was both curious and somewhat panicked. The most likely scenario was that two of my fellow teachers were going at it, most likely not married to one another, or perhaps even one of our married teacher couples looking to spice up their sex lives and just making a bad choice. I didn't want to barge in on an embarrassing non-event, so I decided to see what, or more importantly who, was taking this insane risk. I walked softly to the larger of the two boiler units and leaned into the crack between it and the smaller tank to see what was happening in the little room beyond.

It was Suzie Souther. Not Suzie and another student. Not Suzie and a teacher, but Suzie and three male teachers, our track, women's volleyball, and Junior High football and basketball coaches. The entire foursome was totally naked, save a couple of socks here and there. Someone had spread a tarp on the dirty floor. Jeff Foss was lying on his back with Suzie straddling him, rotating her pelvis up and down his cock. His older brother John was kneeling behind Suzie, his cock even with her well-rounded bottom. He had one hand on Suzie's shoulders and the other on his cock, which he about to plow into her very willing ass.

Suzie was in dreamland, her head lolled backwards, her chin pointed to the ceiling, and her mouth gaping open in slack lust. Her moans turned into something more akin a squeal or scream as John inserted his shaft into her and began pumping. This caused Suzie's head to swing back and forth like a rag doll as the two men began to pummel her. She spewed nonsensical sex talk as the energy in the room increased.

"Ommmm, yess, ooooo, yeah, fuck, fuck, that, fuck that, fuck that ooooohhhh..." she crooned. John's right hand lashed out, giving her right buttcheek a good pop. Far from upsetting Suzie, the abuse seemed to push her desire to a higher level.

"YESS!, YESSSS!, OOOOHHHH FUCK YESSS, DO IT, DO IT, SPANK ME, SPANK THAT ASS, FUCK THAT ASS, SPANK IT, FUCK IT, SPANK IT, FUCK IT!!!" She bellowed as John went a little insane.

Sam Koff stood above the threesome, naked as the day he was born. He stepped over Jeff, pointed his cock at Suzie's mouth, then laced his hands through her thick black locks and pushed himself into her waiting maw. Suzie sucked it down hungrily, then pushed him away before diving into him, running her tongue over the bottom of the phallus before settling on his balls and sucking them into her mouth. Sam arched his back, thrusting his pelvis towards Suzie and gathering the sensation he could muster. She withdrew, and saliva strung from her mouth to his cock, and then she again threw her mouth onto Sam's long hard tool, taking it into her throat until her eyes watered. Suzie's words turned into muffled moans and the occasional gagging sound as Sam plumbed into her.

My first concern, that I might be watching a rape, was quickly obliterated. Suzie not only consented to the attention she was receiving but helped direct it. She wanted to get exactly what she was getting, and more.

For an uncomfortably long time I did nothing but stare at Suzie's massive tits as they swung back and forth under the influence of the hard fuck. Panicked though I was, I could not look away. Suzie's breasts were works of art and my dreams hadn't done them justice. They were not just large, but beautifully shaped and firm. Suzie's large hard nipples pointing up from their base, just like Landrie's did. The nipples themselves were enormous, the size of an eraser on a child's pencil. But what blew me away were the areole, which was wide, dark, and raised up from the surface of the breasts. Disposed as she was, the breasts hung down, perfect twin torpedoes moving hypnotically back and forth as Jeff, John and Sam worked her like a ten dollar whore.

Jeff was as entranced as I was by them. They swung right over his face and his eyes were locked onto them. As the foursome's activities intensified and John commenced spanking Suzie's bottom, Jeff reached up. I knew what he was going to do and waited anxiously for him to do it. At first his touches were tender, fingers brushing the bottom of Suzie's massive mounds as they jiggled over him. Then his lust took over and he became rougher, mauling and mashing the two large mounds in his hands, deeply indenting the flesh and working them harshly. Finally, he grabbed both nipples between his index fingers and thumbs, pinching them quite cruelly.

The effect on Suzie was to pour gasoline on an already raging fire. She screamed through Sam's cock in a mind-bending orgasm. Her legs twitched violently and her stomach bucked back and forth so hard that I thought she would come clean off Jeff's cock. It took several seconds for her orgasm to subside, and when it did a new awareness seemed to come over her.

"Just a second, I think I heard something," she said.

"There's no one here but us, I checked," John whispered, not wanting to leave Suzie' bottom before completing the task.

"I did too" Steve reiterated, "we're alone, now finish me. Suck me!" he urged.

Soon the four were well along the path. These weren't the tentative touches, or kisses of young love, but but the last stage, animalistic banging of a sexually experienced group that was looking solely for a higher high. Suzie, muffled though she was by Steve's cock, was moaning out a ringing endorsement of the three men's approach.

MMMMMMPHHH, MMMMPHHHHH. YSSSS, YSSSS, HMMMM, HJHMMMM!! She crowed as the three pumped away at her.

My head was a complete jumble. What was happening was so clear a disciplinary code violation for every teacher that it was beyond question. If I reported it, all three would automatically be suspended and most likely lose their jobs should their cocking of Suzie come to light. Two of the three had families, one with three young children. The firing would be ruinous, but more costly for the family than them.

On the other hand, if I didn't turn them in and it came to light that I knew, I would be immediately fired as well. The code contained an ironclad requirement of disclosure of a known violation of the honor code by other teachers. Frozen by indecision, I decided to keep my options open, and gather incontrovertible proof of the event. It was just ten minutes or so before the JV game kickoff and I knew our vice-principal would be nervous as hell waiting for me. I pulled out my cellphone, extended my arm between the two big boilers and pointed it at the proceedings, and hit "record/video." The little device dutifully recorded one of the most erotic things I had ever seen.

"Harder!!" I heard Suzie scream, momentarily pulling her mouth from Steve's cock long enough to order up a more violent approach by her suitors. "Bang it!, Bang it! Don't stop! Give it to me, GIVE IT TO ME IN THE ASSSSSS!!" she screamed, cumming for all she was worth and shaking through another powerful orgasm.

All four of the lovers were covered with sweat. It was after all, a boiler room in November and the heat from the two units was intense.

"You want it hard?" John asked, "I'll give it to you hard you little slut" and he redoubled his effort, pounding into her backside so roughly that it nearly knocked Suzie off Jeff's cock. His right hand flicked out across Suzie's backside again, spanking an already reddened behind back and forth, left cheek, right, left, right, until Suzie's bottom was bright red and hot.

Far from being put off by this violent approach, Suzie reveled in it. Her actions grew even more ferocious, and her muffled moans turned into screams as she went off again like a firecracker. Jeff took her cue and began smacking the massive tits hanging over him as Suzie wiggled across his cock.

I knew I had more than enough film to establish what was happening. And that it is when I realized that I was no longer on a mission to preserve evidence. My cock was rock hard--so aroused and angry that it threatened to breach the buttons in my jeans. By all intents, I should have stopped filming, but I couldn't make myself do it. I wanted to capture it all. In the back of my mind, I knew I would take it home, put it up on the big screen and stroke my cock to this young beauty's erotic opus. The fact that Suzie was so clearly available made it all the worse. Based on everything she had done and said, there was no doubt that if I wanted it, I could have every bit of what Suzie was giving to these three or more. I thought my call with Landrie and Suzie's progress in class had brought balance back to me, but seeing Suzie in the flesh, to watch her take such joy in being sexually hammered destroyed my resolve to keep my hands off her.

The foursome drew me out of my revere. Sam backed up just slightly from Suzie, pointed his cock at her, grabbed the shaft with his right hand to aim it, and jerked the tip until he exploded, pouring himself out over Suzie's hair, face and tits. His orgasm seemed to go on for a full minute.

"Don't do that Mr. K!" Suzie whispered fiercely. "Stop...quit it,...don't..." but her actions did not match her words. She grinned as Sam backed away, knowing full well what was about to happen to her. As she said "no" she smiled at him and said the words in faux panic, conveying to him that while she said no verbally, she said yes. To emphasize the point, when Sam had mostly finished, she grabbed his cock and held it in her hand, her fingers circling it. She pulled the increasingly loose skin to the top so that last droplet of his cum emerged from his pee hole. then flicked out her tongue to catch and swallow it."