Teaching Her a Lesson Pt. 26

My fingers traced along the contours of it as my student held her dress up to permit me access. It was paper smooth, and scorching hot."Take your dress off."

She smiled broadly. "Yes, sir." In one smooth motion, Tabitha lifted it off over her head and folded it neatly on my desk. She gestured inquiringly to her bra. I gave her the nod, and moments later a white cotton bra was laid atop the dress. Her nipples were already hard. I could taste her arousal in the air.

"Sit on my desk, spread your legs, and masturbate."

"Gladly."

Tabitha settled on the edge of the desk, then scooted herself backwards. Her bare ass squealed with the friction of it. After a moment of indecision about her positioning, she scooted still further back until she could plant her feet on the desktop, leaning back on one arm while the other received a sensuous lick along the fingers, then thrust itself between lean thighs.

At first her eyes fixed on mine. Her lust was written there plainly, as was her submission.I'm doing what you said. Do you like it? asked those baby blues. Soon, however, as her fingers started doing their work, eye to eye gave way to eye to lips, eye to chest, and eventually, eye to dick. I indulged her with a very deliberate removal of my own clothes, starting with the belt to give her what she needed. Her eyes never did make it back off of my cock.

As it came into full view, she whined needfully even as she panted, letting herself slide down onto her back so her other hand could paw at her breasts. I helped her with that. While I preferred the look of great big tits, I had discovered that a cute little set like my Tabitha's had a small edge in feel. That little bit of extra firmness went a long way.

Tabitha's jaw contorted into a variety of positions as she translated the bestial moans she couldn't let herself make into open-mouthed expressions of lust. Not one to waste an opportunity, I adjusted her a bit closer to the edge of the desk and took advantage of that wide open mouth to slip my cock in. Her cheeks pinched inward as sucked down hard on it, eyes squeezing shut like she'd been starved of this for days. Maybe she had been. She couldn't do much about technique under the circumstances, so I indulged her by gently thrusting into her face as she vigorously frigged away at her freshly tattooed snatch.

It wasn't long before I needed more. Tabitha's mouth was easily a match for her pussy when she was on her knees applying herself, but this sideways, passive face-fuck was not on the same level. Her long neck craned after me as I withdrew it from her mouth; her eyes looked afraid that I was taking it away. When she saw what I meant to do - it was fairly obvious as I twisted her body onto her side, one slender leg hanging down and the other draped over my shoulder - she sighed rapturously and moved her masturbating arm aside.

Having just been forced to stare at my clock for over a minute, I was keenly aware of how short the lunch period had grown. There was no time for a leisurely half-hour screw. No, we had enough time to drive in a couple of orgasms and get dressed and groomed before her classmates came back to finish their exams. I drilled into that tight teen twat like there might be an oil reservoir at the bottom. Her eyes flew wide at my unexpected intensity, but the poor girl couldn't clench her jaw as hard as was needed to refrain from screaming while leaving her eyes open.

"Yeah, you like that, little teacher's pet slut," I grunted, barely aware of what I was saying.

Tabitha nodded for me, but even now, holding on for dear life as she was fucked harder than her young body ever had been, that big, sexy brain of hers was working. I hadn't meant to be instructing her, but evidently our student-teacher connection was so strong that being in this place, it kicked in automatically.

"Oh, wow, you look really nice today, Mr. Canon," she said in an almost off-puttingly chipper voice. Except after another half dozen pumps, I realized that it was only out of place because that was her normal voice. Maybe slightly exaggerated, but the utterance rang all too familiar, especially in the confinement of these four particular four walls.

"Have you been working out, Mr. Canon?" she asked. Oh fuck yes. This. God, how had I not realized I'd needed this. I redoubled my dicking, spurred on by her on-going flattering.

"You're one of my favorite teachers, Mr. Canon." I squeezed down on her tit.

"Maybe this sounds lame, but I look forward to your class all day, Mr. Canon." It took her a while to get through that one, as her voice was quavering hard from exertion. Or maybe just from her lithe body being pounded by a jackhammer.

"I wish my other teachers were more like you, Mr. Canon." One palm closed over her tattoo. My fingers followed the cannonball's path right to her clit, but I let up occasionally so she could keep going.

"Mr. Canon, you're seriouslyso smart."

"You guys, shut up! Mr. Canon is trying to tell us something!"

"Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Canon? What? No way!"

"That haircut looks really nice on you, Mr. Canon."

"If you were a student here, Mr. Canon, I bet we'd be friends."

"Mr. Canon, I wish I could take your class over again."

"Does this violate the dress code, Mr. Canon? You're the only guy teacher I trust to ask. I feel like it's a little too revealing, but... what do you think?"

For the life of me, I don't know how I knew to do it, but there was something in the ether that made a demand. Suddenly I seized her by the back of her neck and jerked her upright, thrusting her face toward mine. But she knew, and somehow I knew, not to meet at the lips. No, I deposited her mouth right at my ear, where she whispered the exact thing we knew I needed to hear her say.

"I'll doanything for an A, Mr. Canon."

I sprayed the depths of her pussy so hard it made her butt bigger. Her self-control finally broke, and one brief, staccato grunt burst out of her lungs as she spasmed in my arms. Her fingers sank into my shoulders like talons, leaving long scratches as she fought to hold herself in place to ride out a life-altering orgasm. She finally let go and I staggered back, landing bare-ass against my cabinets and nearly toppling over. That had been one hell of a workout. More than that, a headrush. How she'd played the part so perfectly, no planning, nothing but pure instinct and laser accuracy on the nature of her sex appeal to me.

"Oh my god, you've never come that much in me," she giggled as she stood up and found my cum instantly trickling down her legs.

"Shit - and you didn't bring underwear. Fuck! Can you, I dunno, borrow some, or something? Damnit, we can't have you leaking my jizz all over school!"

"You want me to ask someone to borrow their spare panties?" She looked at me like I was an idiot, albeit an idiot she was enamored of. "Mine are in my purse in my locker, actually. Relax. Just hand me some kleenex."

We both took a few moments to clean ourselves up, such as we could. The scratches weren't bleeding, quite, so that was good. There wasn't much I could do about the cum she'd dripped onto the carpet, but the two of us at least were more or less sex fluid free. At least for long enough for her to waddle back to her locker and put her panties back on to catch any stragglers. She helped me adjust my shirt, and I pinched her butt playfully once we were dressed.

"I feel so much better," she asserted. "And before you tell me my grade, I know the 'I'll do anything for an A' line wasn't actually a suck-up thing to say, but it seemed-"

"It was perfect, Tabitha. A goddamn plus. Extra credit, even."

A pleased smile bloomed on that lovely face of hers. "Yeah? Awesome. Thank you, Mr. Canon." She giggled. "You're myfavorite teacher, Mr. Canon."

This time I went from pinch to swat. "Don't over-do it, you."

She squirmed back. I followed her eyes to the wall clock. Less than two minutes to the bell. "What about you? Doyou feel better?"

I considered. "You know, I really do. I really was feeling bummed over... you know." It felt crass to mourne the loss of my favorite sex partner in front of another one who was doing such an incredible job, so I omitted Taylor's name. Way classier. "But you're really good at reminding me that I really don't need her. You're... a treasure."

"OK, now who's overdoing it." She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek, then wiped it with her thumb to make sure she didn't leave any incriminating lip prints. "Have fun grading tonight. My grandparents are going to be in town this weekend for graduation, but you can still call me whenever, OK?"

"OK. Good luck today and tomorrow, huh?"

"Pfft. Luck." The sneer returned, so proudly it remained in the room for a minute after she left. I popped out the doorway a moment later and saw Isa standing a ways down at an intersection. Indeed, as Tabitha had assessed, I'd seen her standing there in passing periods a thousand times. Nothing suspect in the least.

The bell rang, lunch ended. It was another long passing period, and I didn't let anyone into the room until all were back, just to make sure nobody's integrity need be called into question in those minutes of temptation surrounded by unattended exams. I welcomed them back and bade them to dig right back in without ceremony. As I waited to make sure everyone was back to work, I heard a mutter from the side of the room, back in the corner near my desk. It stopped my heart dead.

"Dude, do you smell something?" asked Sasha.

Naturally, everyone around her was immediately distracted, sniffing the air curiously. More than a few registered that they did indeed detect an odor.

"Is that..."

"What is that..."

"Smells kinda like..."

"Smells like sex is what it smells like!" blurted Larry, class cutup. "Mr. Canon, did you get busy at lunch?"

His attempt at shock humor was met with mixed guffaws,oooooh's, and glares from those more interested in working on their essays. Still, there really was a smell, and with the joke made, ignoring it would only look like I was hiding something. Luckily, a lie came handily. "Mr. Keyes, if you can't tell the difference between sex and a tuna salad sandwich, I truly pity whatever poor woman settles for you."

A teacher making a combination sex joke and sick burn was always cause for an uproar. Thank fully it caused more than sufficient commotion that before anybody could see I was sweating like a pig with nervousness (and from having finished fucking one of their classmates a few minutes earlier), I was grouching at them to pipe down and get back to work on the test. It was the last anyone brought it up. It most definitely did not smell like tuna salad. It smelled like cum, because it was cum. It took another twenty minutes before I realized there was a little spatter the size of my pinky nail that we'd missed on my desktop, right about where Tabitha's pussy had been. I wiped it up as subtly as I could and let out a sigh of relief when the bell rang for the end of their second final.

Third period, by some miracle, I managed to say goodbye and administer a test without humiliating myself in the least. How's that for growth.

It was going after nine when I threw in the towel for the day. I'd gotten through about three quarters of the grading, including the entirety of my junior exams. The sun had only set an hour ago, but it felt like ages. Arriving and leaving in the dark was usually a feature of the winter months in teaching, not the summer, but such was the life of an educator.

Other years, I packed up my fat stack of exams and trudged home to grade in comfort, but I was too accessible there. Everybody knew where I was and had proven far too casual about popping in whenever they felt like it. Much as I was enamored of my women, I had my hands full with responsibilities that night. Tabitha's lunch sex was more than enough to tide me over for the day. So I turned on some music, turned down the AC, and grinded through the stacks at my desk.

By and large, the scores were promising. It was a comfort knowing my brief termination hadn't damaged their performance on exams. I hadn't realized how much of my anxiety had stemmed from that fear until I was entering scores and smiling at semester grades creeping upward. As usual, I went after all those percents ending in 9 and rounded them on up. Essays graded in haste were bound to be at least a bit arbitrary, so why not err on the side of generosity. Tabitha had shown me how much a teacher's approval could mean to a student.

At last, I was satisfied that I'd done what I had the energy to do and told myself I'd be grateful tomorrow for not staying up all hours finishing. I very much did not desire a repeat of this morning's episode, and both the sleep and the stack of essays to plow through would help keep me alert on what otherwise promised to be another slow day.

Maybe tomorrow I would have Tabitha join me for lunch again. It would interrupt her own class's exam. We could see what being impaled on my dick did to her ability to simultaneously write a cogent analysis of a text.

It wasn't until I packed up and stood, stretching my legs for the first time since I'd run out for dinner several hours earlier, that I realized Randi had never cleaned the room. Not her fault, really. The building took a beating this time of year as trash cans overflowed and soon became nexuses of detritus. We'd gotten an email today about graffiti in the upstairs B hallway boys bathroom, which had probably also taken some elbow grease. Our classrooms, which only needed to last one more day of instruction, were a secondary consideration at this point.

Remembering her charitable testimony to Shipman, I rolled up my sleeves and took it on myself. (Heroic, I know.) Some discarded scratch paper for essay pre-writes and old worksheets littered the floor; those went in the recycling bin. I wiped down desks, swept up a few small messes, collected a number of discarded pens and pencils, sprayed and cleaned the whiteboard, and at last, went to bag up the trash and recycling. I figured I could dispose of them in their respective bins in the lot on my way off-campus.

Briefcase in one hand, trash bags in the other, I wearily shuffled out of the building. The eve of the end of another school year. Only forty more to retirement. By that time, I'd be pleading with my young colleagues, folks not even born yet, to help me figure out how to connect my lesson module to the students' learning chips. (Or whatever the hell education in the bottom half of the twenty-first century would look like.) Cassie's grandkid would be sitting there giggling at my technological obsolescence, while Taylor's pelted them in the head with a chapstick.

Still, between then and now, there was no way I would ever have another year like this one. It was hard to imagine exactly what my future held. How long could I keep sleeping with this many women before emotions ran high and decisions needed to be made? What would happen when my lovers moved on with their lives, found new boyfriends and husbands of their own? How long could these good times roll?

Life, after all, was long. The seniors I'd taught in my first year were now twenty-three. The age gap between us, which had once seemed so crucial and so vast, was now trivial. If I was still fooling around with Cassie or Tabitha when they finished college, it would hardly occasion comment if we started dating like a normal couple.

Man, dating Cassie. Dating Tabitha! It was wild to contemplate what adventures might lay down such eventualities. If it didn't involve me fucking their peers, it would make for a fine illustration for "The Road Not Taken." It was hard to imagine normalizing our relationship to that level, simply acting like a regular old couple. Or would we? Would we just invite Isa and Candy over for a foursome one evening, then watch a late show and hit the hay? Tabitha and I having a get-together with the neighbors and tag-teaming the Browns over brunch? Or Cassie suggesting we take a weekend trip to the city to Tabitha's posh highrise apartment, the three of us living large by day and retiring to a shared bed at night?

Tabitha's little role play at lunch had done a lot to make me feel better about the future, at least in the short-term. There was still going to be sex. Hot, dirty, illicit sex, with multiple partners, sometimes simultaneously, all sorts of kinky acts and scenarios and settings. I didn't need the Sterns to have wild, incredible sex. Yesterday Taylor had really done a mind job on me, but now it was clear that things were really going to be all right even without her and her sister.

Yet as I thought about the future, I wondered if ten years from now, when I was thirty-six and they were twenty-eight, if Serenex worked like Isa's friend at the crime lab predicted and we all clung to these mindsets, could I pop in at their place and see if they'd settled down and become halfway tolerable?

Would I even want to?

I got so caught up in my musings I drove right by the dumpster and recycling bins behind the cafeteria. When I got home, I emptied them in my garage. I was exhausted, though, and lumbered inside and fell asleep straight away.

In the morning, I woke up feeling refreshed. It was the final day of the school year! Tomorrow was clean-up, Sunday graduation, and then two and a half months of total freedom, all the time in the world for me and my lovers to have all the sex we could handle. There was a spring in my step as I made my way downstairs for a quick breakfast, and I was whistling on my way out to the car.

In my fatigued state from the night before, I had forgotten to close the bins. I flipped the trash can lid shut; as I went to do the same on the recycling, I saw that right there on top was a sheaf of papers, curled into a loose roll and badly crumpled. I eyed it for a long moment before, with a shrug, I snatched them out and tossed them in my briefcase. If I had time and energy after I finished my actual work for my actual students, maybe I could see if the girl had actually produced, at long last, an original idea. There was no point to it, but just so I could feel like I'd taught that cantankerous, quarrelsome bitchsomething in this whole crazy experience.

If I got around to it. Which I probably wouldn't. But if I did.