The Teachers' Workroom

The Teacher's Workroom

On the first morning of teaching at the new school, Lydia's department chair entered her classroom while holding his steaming cup of black coffee. "Good morning, Ms. Johnson. Just stopping to wish you well today. I wanted to make sure you didn't need anything." Mr. Richards came across as lucky, like he always got what he set his sights for. He was alarmingly handsome, more in attitude than good looks, but he had those, too.

Her previous department chair barely acknowledged her in meetings, much less offered help with the physical classroom or lessons. But Mr. Richards was especially friendly, for he walked all the way to her classroom on the second floor of building 12; his classroom was across campus in the History wing with the rest of the History faculty. He could have called her on the campus phone. She had trusted him immediately when she met him in the interview for the job; he made her feel comfortable right away, offering small talk and an inside joke about the school.

Her room was modestly decorated for her ninth grade History class. She had placed a few educational posters around the room and had a bust of Caesar on the bookshelf near the back center of the room.. Visually, it was spotless and organized, the classroom of a perfectionist, an OCD personality. All the textbooks had been placed on the bookshelf neatly, the desks aligned in a perfect grid, and every class had a "turn it in" basket near the door.

After the first day of school, Mr. Richards made it a habit of popping by in the afternoon to relay various news to her: grades were due next Thursday by 4pm, the department meeting was every other Wednesday in his room, and other such details she had already gleaned from the Monday memos the principal sent out. She smiled politely and thanked him each time, appreciative of his attention and help. It was touching, for she hadn't had anyone to look after her in little ways for some time. It wasn't unusual for her to work at the school on the weekends, but when he found out, he insisted they exchange cell numbers for safety's sake.

On the drive home that day, she received a text: "Have a good evening. Don't take work home."

After school late one evening, the classroom phone rang. Lydia jumped a little. She'd even tossed the papers she was grading into the air so they landed upside down on the floor. She'd been deep in thought and even deeper in paperwork.

"Ms. Lyons, I was hoping you could spare your lunch period tomorrow and have a working lunch with me."

She had plenty of work to grade and lessons to prepare, but he was her department head and she couldn't say no. She wanted to make a good impression.

"Meet me in my room and I'll bring us lunch."

That night she dreamed about him. He was in mid-sentence about how the History department paired with the English department to create cross-curricular lessons. He came around to her side of the table, his lips met hers, and then he pushed her down on the table. His body pressed against her body, and he felt her breasts over her shirt, then he ran his hand down to her legs, parted them with his knee, and felt up her skirt to find her dripping wet. She remembered he spoke these words: "I own your pussy." When she woke up she was in fact wet, and she had to pleasure herself before getting out of bed.

At lunchtime she walked quickly and with purpose out of her building and down the hallway of the History wing. She wanted to be fast so no one would see her. High school teachers are the worst to gossip. More importantly, she only had a 45 lunch period and tons of papers to grade.

Up ahead he peeked out from his doorway. She smiled big. She had to stop that immediately.

"I've already had two visitors before you arrived. Let's take a walk.We have some very important things to discuss without being interrupted."

They walked down the history wing hallway until he stopped her in front of a workroom he had to open with a key.

"How do you know no one will come in?" she asked.

"Because it's my job to know," he explained clinically. He was tall. she hadn't noticed how very tall before.

She walked into the darkness ahead of him. The room was an old teacher workroom that had been partially converted into a book storage room. The blinds were drawn but a little light escaped through the cracks in the blinds. A conference table in the middle of the room was covered with boxes and textbooks and assorted files.

After he shut the door he walked her toward the back corner. The small amount of light allowed her to see him as though through a fog. Then he stopped, turned around, and stepped toward her. His fingers ran through her hair to the back of her scalp. He leaned in and kissed her softly and quickly. He was a good kisser. She was still imagining meeting in his office and having small talk. But he was kissing her, and she kissed him back. His hands tightened in her hair so he could move her lips where he wanted them. She moaned. He was in total control.

"I'm scared someone is going to walk in," she confessed.

"They can't get in without a key. I'm one of the only people on campus who has one."

He moved her backwards against the wall. He slid his hand up her thigh under her dress. "Skirts are my weakness, Ms. Lyons," he said.

He ran his hands up her skirt and over her panties and then under them, feeling her ass. He felt her over her panties, then he worked his fingers carefully inside to feel her wetness. She exhaled in pleasure and her panties slid down around her ankles. She stepped out of them and gathered them in her hand.

"Thank you," he said as he took them, then he slid them in his pants pocket.

"Are you going to give me my panties back before class?"

"They are my panties now." Her jaw dropped. "Turn around," he directed her. She lifted an eyebrow questioningly. He repeated himself slowly. "Turn. Around." When she didn't turn, he rolled his eyes and smiled. He had tried to appear threatening but she knew he just had something naughty in mind.

This wasn't the way lunch was supposed to turn out, Lydia had thought. He softly rubbed larger and larger circles on both her ass cheeks until he gave one a nice, quick spank. "Have you been naughty, Ms. Lyons?"

"Not as naughty as I'm about to be."

"Oh yeah?" he said somewhat excitedly.

His hands moved out and up the small of her back, around to her abdomen, then up inside her shirt to her breasts. "Did I say you could do that?" she joked a little nervously. He turned her around and cradled both breasts in his hands, kissed them lightly over her shirt, then found his way inside her shirt again and up inside her bra. Her surrendering moan gave him the green light to pull her shirt up and kiss her breasts.

He quietly unzipped his pants and took out his cock and began to stroke it. It was a nice sized cock, the thickest she'd ever seen, and she craved hands, lips, and tongue around it. Taking it into her hand she felt its surprising weight. How would she ever fit it in her mouth? She ever so lightly applied pressure to his chest with her hands, indicating that she wanted him to stop. In her two-inch heels and medium sized skirt, she squatted against the wall and slid his cock in her mouth hungrily. "Suck my cock, baby." She licked the head of his cock, circling the tip over and over then plunging him deep inside her mouth. "You know how to suck cock. You're going to be sucking my cock a lot." He was thick and rock hard, completely engorged, and Lydia opened her mouth wider and took him in deeper and deeper until she could feel him at the back of her throat.

Older voices from outside could be heard, and as they walked closer to the room Lydia stopped and pulled him out of her mouth. He readied himself to zip up. The voices passed and a door opened and shut. He looked down at her. "Tell me how my cock feels in your mouth."

She kept sucking and licking and started a half-moan half-whimper to show him just how much she enjoyed his cock.

Then he commanded her: "Turn around." She did. "Lift up your skirt so I can see that ass." She did. "Now put your arms against the wall because I am going to fuck the shit out of you." She let her skirt drop and she braced herself. She felt his cock inch it's way in, slowly, slowly, then he began pumping her ass. "Tell me how that feels."

"Best lunch ever," she moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head. "I've been so stressed."

He teased her, pulling out and making her squirm. "Beg for my cock."

"Please, please fuck me," she moaned.

"I don't think you want it." She moaned, pleading. "You're not convincing."

She was getting desperate so her voice started shaking. "Please give me your cock. I'm so close."

He kept teasing her and not penetrating her. She straightened herself up and turned to face him, lifted one knee to her chest, and pulled him toward her forcefully, hoping she could force him inside her. But he spun her around again, leaning her against the wall and quickly spanking her ass. "God! God!" she screamed on the edge of orgasm. He stopped spanking her long enough to slide inside her, then he resumed spanking her beautiful white ass cheeks. Her moans grew louder than he anticipated, so he put his other hand over her mouth.

She felt him grow even more inside her, felt him pumping her rhythmically and precisely, gaining speed and force ever so slightly. His cock was sliding in and out of her like a finely oiled piston. "I'm cumming," she whispered breathlessly.

"Me, too." Just as they climaxed, the bell rang for the next period. She could feel him pulsing inside her, enjoying the last bit of ecstasy. She herself found herself having an extended orgasm. He leaned his head against her back, feeling her still in rapture. "Holy shit," he exclaimed with what little breath he had left. "I've got to get you to class." He

He found the workroom phone and dialed a number. With a voice he'd summoned from thin air, one that communicated that he had simply been reading a book about the vikings, he said, "Hello, Mr. Jeffreys? Can you cover Ms. Lyons' class until she can get there?"

When Lydia arrived at class late she apologized profusely to Mr. Jeffreys and the students. Her head felt light, her knees felt weak, and she felt naked without her panties the rest of the day.