This Ain't Literature

I eased my hand along her cheek, tracing her lips with my thumb, feeling them quiver. "What do I want to do with you, Lauren?" I made my cock jump. "Can you tell?"

"You want to sleep with me," she admitted at last, her breathing deep and fast, and she didn't even think as she took my thumb into her mouth, her lips tight around it, sucking. I smiled up at her.

"You're wrong, Ms Brett," I mocked. Goddamn, she was sexy, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. "I don't want to sleep with you. I want to watch as I push my dick into your pussy and sink balls-deep." She closed her eyes, her whole body shaking. I took my other hand and laid it on her hip again, tight and fierce. "I want to grip your ass as I fuck you hard from behind," I hissed, and her lips tightened on my thumb. "I want to watch your tits bounce while you ride me, Ms Brett." Tears formed between her closed lids. "You want those things too, hmm?"

She nodded, dumbly, her body moving again. I snuck my hand underneath her shirt, against the bare skin just above her shorts, my thumb rubbing her ribs. I fervently hoped Finn stayed the fuck upstairs. This was going perfectly. I was having so much fun, and she was quaking on top of me. I was playing her like that fucking Ovation in its case under the table, my hand rising along her side, feeling the voluptuousness of the flesh there, my fingers feeling the first hint of her bra strap where it passed beneath her arm.

Almost.

I darted my hand upward all of a sudden, taking her right tit in a greedy handful, the lace of her bra crinkling under my fingers. She was warm and soft and yielding, the heft of her breast massive in my palm, and her right hand flew upward to clamp over my fingers. Digging me deeper. My thumb was losing circulation in her mouth, but I didn't care about that. "Grab my dick, Lauren," I ordered, and her left hand came across like I'd grabbed it myself, gripping hard and hot along my shaft, squeezing almost painfully.

I let my head fall back onto the fraying arm of her own couch, taking a mental snapshot: my old teacher perched on top of me with my cock in her hand and her tit in mine, her lips suddenly going slack as she opened her shining eyes and looked down at where she held me. Rubbing me. Running an experimental thumb along my slit, spreading the precum there.

Smiling slowly.

"You want to suck my dick, Lauren?" I gloated, low and sibilant, and I got that dumb nod again. Her face looked like she was dreaming. I hefted her glorious tit once more, squeezing, knowing she loved it, and then I replaced my hands behind my head. "Then do it."

She was done worrying about Finn, about Mr Brett, about the student-teacher thing, about anything other than my penis in her hand. She bounded off my lap, her shirt in wrinkly disarray, and went at once to her knees in her living room, tugging my clothes further down my legs, and I had time to wonder how long it had been since she'd last given a blowjob. She'd been married awhile, and by her own admission she wasn't getting much; that dumbass husband of hers clearly wasn't taking care of business.

I watched, curious, as she knelt between my thighs, her hands running along the sides of my ass. Just one look I got from her, those eyes of hers questioning one last time, and then she got hold of herself and leaned forward; I felt a moment of anticipation as her breath crossed my pubic hair, and then her mouth was open and ready and kissing at the head of my dick.

The first suck was hot, wet, like it had been with my thumb, but this was so much more raw. So much nastier. Her lips spread and flexed and engulfed my head, hands-free, her whole body twisting so that she could get me into her mouth. I'm a veteran of many, many cocksucks, but this one was slow and naughty and altogether dirty, and I heard myself give a long, fluttering sigh as Ms Brett's lips inched their way down my shaft.

She seemed totally entranced by what she was doing, lost in the mechanics of sucking, paying attention to every vein and tendon, and if it had been awhile since she had a penis in her mouth, she gave no sign. My mind wandered, comparing her to other mouths I'd known, other tongues that had tasted me; she had nothing of the ferocious, unschooled enthusiasm of most of my classmates, but she also lacked the carefree joyfulness of Kayleigh Porvechhio and the clean, refined technique of Becky.

She had her tongue running down the sides now, her tongue riding neatly over every ridge, and from time to time her eyes came up to meet mine through the forest of my pubes and the bunched disorder of my tanktop. I saw growing confidence in those eyes, the slow but certain change from a tentative amateur to a seasoned whore, familiar with my penis and learning what pleased me. I reached lazily down at one point, my fingers caressing her face, and she blushed prettily but didn't stop servicing me.

She gagged, then swallowed. She didn't stop.

We heard a door slam upstairs. She didn't stop.

I let my fingers trail down her jaw, her neck, pinching her nipple through the shirt and the bra. She didn't stop.

I smiled at her. "You were always my favorite teacher, Ms Brett," I told her quietly, not because it was true but because it was nasty. "I had no idea you could suck such a mean cock, though." She went scarlet again, her drool flowing freely along my meat, strands of it linked to my belly. I tweaked her nipple again, and she jumped with wide eyes. "Maybe I'll spread the word around the school before I leave..." Quickly I ripped my hand from her boob and clamped it to the top of her head, my fingers buried in the curls, because I just knew she'd try to come up off me when I said that.

I wasn't disappointed, and my face twisted into a smirk when she realized I wouldn't let her up. "No, no," I cooed, and once more the toilet flushed upstairs. Her eyes rose to the ceiling, but my grip was fucking steel. "Keep sucking, Lauren," I told her softly. "Keep your mind on your job, you sexy bitch." My voice was a hiss, low and probably a little evil, but her nipples remained hard as shit so I could tell she was getting off on it. I pushed a little, arching, making her gag. "Come on. Suck."

And she did, her eyes bulging for a moment before, swallowing convulsively, she sank all the way down to the root, her sharp little nose sinking into my rat's nest pubes, and as I felt her throat pulse powerfully around the head of my dick I groaned and felt the first warning twinges from my balls.

"Fuck. You feel so fucking good," I grumbled, and then she was sucking harder and I felt her hands plucking at my nutsack and my fingers tightened in her curls. "Suck it, Lauren," I gasped, and then I was surging up off the cushions in a wild sit-up, my hand on her head still clamping her face to my groin even as my feet found her carpeted floor, straightening, bending Ms Brett backward in a pornographic limbo pose as I drove myself deep into her mouth, feeling the lifting surge behind my root. "You're fucking gorgeous," I told her, our eyes meeting, and in her reddened teary face I saw excitement, wonder, gratitude, and then in the nick of time I pulled myself out of her mouth with a hollow popping noise.

She was bent awkwardly backward, panting, weeping, gasping great spit-tinged breaths when my first pulsing rope of cum smacked hot and thick onto her upper lip, shattering into a splash of pearls on her tongue before my second, larger surge boiled hard out of my twitching reddish cock to smash across her face from chin to forehead, little bits of it wobbling in her coiled hair in the dusty light coming through her window.

By then I was gasping through the middle of my orgasm, my hand a blur on my cock, milking myself for every last drop to offer to the squinting woman kneeling at my feet. "So sexy," I breathed, shooting onto her tits, her shirt suddenly a semen-stained mess. "Fuck."

She was grunting, her hand scraping ineffectively at her eye, but I laughed at her overreaction; I hadn't even gotten any in there, though one of her nostrils was pretty well plugged. I had my other hand on her chin, angling her up to face me, my expression blissful. "So fucking hot," I sighed.

Lauren had her other hand out behind her on the floor, bracing herself to keep from falling over, when I finally released her jaw and let her scramble to her feet. She wore a wild, determined expression on her face as she lurched up and lunged toward me for one more kiss, deep and searing, and this time she tasted like my dick.

Perfect.

I held her there for a few moments while she recovered, not really caring that she was smearing cum all over me; I needed to take a shower before work, anyw...

Fuck. Work. What time was it?

"Lauren, baby," I said into her ear, pushing her away firmly but gently, "I've got to go. I'm going to be late for work, I swear."

"What?" She blinked up at me, covered in my cum, her eyes wide and excited. She blinked over at her clock on the wall. "Oh shit, Cameron, I'm sorry! Yes! Go!"

She was trembling, the poor thing, needing her own release, or some time to cuddle, or at the very least a new t-shirt and a wet hand towel, but there was no time for any of that. It was her problem. "Thanks, Ms B," I told her, brushing aside a pearlescent curl. I'd cum gallons, it felt like, and she seemed to be wearing every drop. "I'll text you later." It was a lie, but she'd find that out soon enough; probably she'd get in touch with me, anyway. I kissed her one more time, hastily, and then I was off.

I was still wiping my cum out of the corners of my mouth when I showed up at Ahab's, straight from Ms Brett's house, and I'd be lying if I said the view of Mickey's Music didn't seem just a little bit more vibrant that day.

* * *

She didn't call the next day, but I was leaning against the register texting Eva the day after that when she came in. I glanced up as she filled the doorway, hesitated, and then came swooping over toward the counter with those big sunglasses perched in her hair. I couldn't help smiling when I remembered what that hair had looked like with my spunk dripping from it. "Welcome to Ahab's. How can I help you today?" I said with a cynical smirk, keeping my eyes firmly on hers.

Her dimple came slowly, a little tentatively, but it came with her eyes falling to the countertop. "Hello, Cameron."

I leaned in, not without a quick glance backward to make sure Andrea was scarce. "It's nice to see you again, Ms Brett," I said quietly, recapturing her eyes, making sure the contact was strong. I reached a finger out and brushed it quickly across the hand she'd splayed across the counter, mostly to see whether she'd pull away. I was vaguely aware that the way I'd cum all over her, while perfectly acceptable among most of the girls I hung around with, might not have been the most welcome way to introduce Ms Lauren Brett to the wonders that could be found in the Cameron Louck penis.

She didn't pull away. Good.

"I'm very sorry," I told her gently. "I probably shouldn't have left quite like I did." I wasn't sorry, really; I'd had to get to work, after all. But probably a text, or even a phone call, might have been a nice touch yesterday. Oh well. "You okay?"

She flushed, but only slightly, then looked quickly around. "I have to tell you," she started in a hurried rush, "that was the sexiest thing that's ever happened to me."

I controlled myself, shoving aside my usual urge to say something like well, duh, which I sensed would not impress a former teacher. Instead, I let my face drift into a bright, warm grin. "I'm so happy." I touched her hand again, quickly but more fully, mindful of the cameras. "I'll make you a Vietnamese, Ms B."

"Cameron?" she called after a second, once I'd turned. I looked over my shoulder with my eyebrows up, and she flickered another glance sideways. "I like it when you call me Lauren."

I nodded. "Of course you do," I smirked, and then I was off to make her beverage. Another person was coming in behind her, so I supposed I might have to stop flirting for now. Mission accomplished, anyway; I'd confirmed that she wanted more, and I'd also ascertained I could get away without texting her.

She watched in silence, her eyes alive, as I rang her up. "Got your loyalty card?" Andrea had appeared like a wraith on a foggy night to take care of the lady behind Ms B, a brash bitch who "just wanted a large, plain coffee!"

"Of course." She looked at me smugly, and once she was sure I was looking she reached slyly into her bra and pulled out the card. She handed it to me wordlessly, the little rectangle warm from her body, and I smirked as I gave her not one stamp, but three. "Thank you."

"You have a lovely day, ma'am." She gave her ass that extra sway as she left, and I made sure my phone notifications were on. She'd be texting me soon.

* * *

I was running Finn through the F chord, a nice introduction to the concept of barre chords, with about twenty minutes left in the lesson when Ms Brett appeared at the door. We both looked up to see her leaning, as always, in her shorts and tight tanktop, making the most of her short legs. As always now, my eyes went to her face, remembering my semen there, and I smiled slightly. Greedily.

"Finn, sweetie, remember? You're going over to Noah's house today."

"Yay!" I caught the neck of the Ovation as Finn completely forgot about it in his haste to get up and bounce on the couch. "Playdate!" I glanced at his mom, my eyes narrowing.

"Cameron?" She took a breath. "Sorry, I forgot. We'll just cut it short for today? I'll pay you like normal?" She captured her lip in her teeth and looked a little skittish, and my cock began to sprout.

Fuck yes.

"No problem." I got to my feet and put away the guitar while Finn stepped into his Crocs. "See you later, then." She was watching me as I got up, a pink flush sprouting from between her tits, and as soon as Finn started heading toward the door she leaned close.

"Just pull out and drive around the block?" She sounded excited, like a girl on her way to her first dance. "I'll be back in like ten minutes? I mean, if you want..."

I made sure Finn was out of the room, then moved quickly behind Ms Brett and stepped hard against her body. My arms snaked around her, a meaty tit in each hand, gripping hard. I ground my semi against her ass. "I want."

"Fuck," she sighed, a hitch in her breath, but by then I was already heading for the door.

"Later, Finn-dude!" I offered a big smile and a high-five, which he smacked enthusiastically. "Keep practicing!"

"Bye, Cam," and with a nod I was out the door. I honked once, briefly, when the two of them emerged, Ms B's clothes still a little wrinkly if you knew where to look. I was smiling, whistling the intro to "Kashmir," driving slowly through the Bretts' little slice of suburbia.

It always made me feel loose, energetic, knowing I was going to get laid. That it was going to be Ms Breast? That made it about a thousand times better, and when I walked back into her empty house a few minutes later, I was already rock-hard.

I wandered around the living room, which was the only place I'd been other than the kitchen and the bathroom, and eventually I found myself over near the mantel. I picked up one of the framed pics there, a family shot with a younger Finn, a dimply Ms Brett, and a fairly hipsterish-looking guy with a shitty goatee whom I took to be Mr Brett.

I'd never fucked a married woman before, so I studied him curiously while I took my shirt off and left it on the floor. I guess the guy was... what, my competition? My colleague? Some sort of buddy or something? Well, whatever; he had a sexy wife he apparently wasn't fucking near enough, so once I'd dropped my shorts and underwear and kicked them heedlessly across the room I took the picture and smeared a little bit of my precum across his face.

Fucking loser. No, worse: after today, he'd be an honest-to-god cuck, if he wasn't already.

I padded upstairs, nude and hard, in search of her bedroom. I'd be damned if I'd settle for a couch or something; what's the point of fucking an older woman if not to so it in a proper bed? I was hoping for a king-size mattress, since Becky didn't have one.

Ah. Third door on the left, down the upstairs hall.

I heard the front door open and close a few minutes after I'd gotten into her bed, while I was texting Aidan's sister. Of course I'd brought my phone upstairs; what if I missed a call? Ms Brett's feet were quiet on the carpet downstairs; I knew she'd be coming across my cast-off clothing around now, and I sank back into her pillows and put the phone away. It was a nice, comfortable bed, even though it was only a queen: a good place to fuck.

"Cameron?" Her voice floated upstairs, a little tentatively, and I didn't bother answering; clearly I was home, horny, and naked, so she'd find me. I put my hands behind my head and waited, and that's how she found me; her shadow led her into her doorway, and she took me in with an open-mouthed grin. "Holy shit."

"Hi, Lauren." I'd seen a meticulously made bed and I'd ruined it, tossing the flowery comforter on the floor like so much wrapping paper on Christmas morning, then sliding between her cool white bedsheets. She saw me spread-eagled, my legs ridging toward her under the sheets, my hard cock making a circus tent above them. Her mouth fell open when she saw it. "Come on in."

She moved into the room, licking dry lips, her eyes riveted to my penis. "Fuck, Cameron." Her voice was hushed. "You're so hard."

"It's nothing you haven't seen before," I reminded her, and her dimple deepened. She came up alongside the bed, her chest rising and falling a bit faster with every step. "How long do we have?"

"Uh, a couple hours." She squinted down at me, then giggled. "You're messing up my sheets." A spot of precum stained the fabric at the head of my cock, and I laughed.

"Not like I'm going to." The thought of she and her husband sleeping in my wet spot made me even harder, my cock almost aching now. Her eyes crinkled as her smile grew, then the guilt came into them. I'd expected it. "Not like we're going to, Lauren."

She hesitated, then reached out a slow hand to my straining penis. "I... fuck." Yes indeed: guilt. Her fingers were warm and light on my cock through the sheet, and I left her to it. She didn't need me pushing her, not now. Her decisions were all made; she just had to get herself there. She dragged her eyes up to my face and swallowed hard. "Can I come to bed with you, Cameron?" She asked it with a peculiar softness mixed with eagerness, an anxiety.

Like a bride on her wedding night.

I reached my arm out, resting it lazily on her hip. Her breasts jutted above me. "I want you to do what you want, Lauren." I said it quietly, confidently, because that's what she needed. My fingers eased up under the tanktop, finding the skin of her waist, and she shuddered. "I know what you want," I added. I hunched my body just slightly, my penis pushing against her fingers, and her answering smile told me she'd decided. I nodded. "Know what your nickname is at school, Lauren? What your students call you?"

She bit her lip and nodded, the dimple reappearing. "It's not a very imaginative nickname." She smiled slowly. "Why? You like my boobs or something, Cameron?" She shook her chest experimentally, then laughed a little, and I brought my hand back behind my head.

Job done. Now it was all just going to be loud, messy fun.

She blew out a slow breath, her coily hair stirring, and then she brought her hands to the bottom of her tanktop and pulled it cleanly off over her head. I drank her in: she softness of her belly with its smooth pale skin, the deep green lace of her bra above me, and through the lace the largest pair of areolas I'd ever seen. Her light brown eyes watched mine as she revealed herself, and her smile grew crafty. "You do like my boobs."