Wayside Ep. 04 - Coming Clean

She didn't want to face that. Nicki considered offering to help. She could hold the cup or possibly help masturbate him, wearing latex gloves, of course. And he could always refuse. He could just say no...

'Yes,' Nicki thought, 'that would be above boards since there would be no skin contact. I'll help him shoot into the cup and it would all be perfectly sterile. If he wants...'

She turned to the door and gave it her firm, practiced nurse knock.

-KNOCKNOCKNOCKNOCKNOCK-

"Mr. Frank? It's Nurse Nicki..."

She waited a count of five, then turned the doorknob.

Concrete pillars denoted the walls between classrooms, with brick spanning between. Within the brick, for each rectangular classroom, three large glass windows looked out over the strip of lawn and forested area behind the school. Mrs. Fletcher's classroom was fifth from the corner, and if Steve understood the concrete pillars marked the dividing walls, he could have found her classroom easily. Instead, he ran for a length, then got on his tip-toes to peer over the bottom of the windowsill, seeing what he could see.

The first window he crept up to had the blinds raised. He stood tall and looked in. There was Mr. Sterniolo, at the head of his classroom, gathered with a group of nerds.

"Mathletes..." Steve said with a chuckle. "Nerds..." At least he knew where Mr. Sterniolo's room was in reference to Mrs. Fletchers.

He dashed past 5 more glass windows and put his back against the concrete column between the brick. This had to be her room. Unfortunately, the blinds were drawn. Based on what he'd seen at the geometry teacher's room, the closest window to the front of the room, where Mrs. Fletcher's desk would be, was two windows down. In ten long strides, he was there. He stood tall, trying to peer through the closed blinds.

Lucky for him, the blinds were closed, but not fully turned. He could see movement inside, but even when he stood on his tip-toes, he could only see slim stripes through the first three slats. With the lights on, he could clearly see Mrs. Fletcher inside. She was walking across his field of vision, left to right, and speaking. Through the slats, he could see her head, her waist, and the desks she was walking amongst.

Steve tried to stand taller, peering side to side. He spotted the Brandon's head. He was seated near the front of the classroom facing Mrs. Fletcher as she walked toward him. She seemed to be addressing Brandon. Steve's calves burned and he was forced to sink back down to stand flat footed. From there, he could only see under the lowest slat.

He listened and could hear their muted conversation. Maybe a teacher giving a lesson would be more audible, but only Mrs. Fletcher seemed to be speaking at a normal tone. Brandon's words were even more muted, as if he were apologizing. Steve could see portions of Mrs. Fletcher's body, but his view was mostly obscured.

A flash of glossy white fabric fell through the portion he could see. Mrs. Fletcher moved toward Brandon. Steve got up on his tip-toes, his aching calves be damned.

Mrs. Fletcher stepped closer to Brandon, her voice even louder. Steve moved up and down and back and forth over the three thin slats he could see through. He glimpsed Mrs. Fletcher's bellybutton. Was she topless? He lifted slightly higher by holding himself up with a pushup motion on the brick window ledge. He could only hold himself like this for a few seconds.

Steve shifted to the side, still boosted on his hands, and could see Mrs. Fletcher from the neck down. She was topless! Unfortunately, she was wearing a lacy white bra. Then she unclasped it. Steve's forearms and calves now burned, but he might catch a glimpse of Mrs. Fletcher's tits! Her epic MILF teacher tits!

Steve felt sweat bubble on his brow. His arms and legs were shaking. Come on, lady, lose the bra! The headless Mrs. Fletcher shrugged her shoulders and the straps slid off as she caught the cups in front of her. Come on!!! Move your hands!!!

"There are easier ways to get test answers," came a firm voice behind him.

Mrs. Fletcher's hands dropped, as the bra fell, Steve fell.

"GAH!" he cried tumbling onto the ground in a heap.

Laughter erupted from the shadows of the treeline below. It went on for a moment. A tall, slender blonde figure approached him as he scrambled to right himself. His forearms were scraped, and his equilibrium was upset, but he staggered to his feet.

"You can get into big trouble creeping around here after school, ya know," a young blonde woman... or girl... said to him, stepping into the open shaded area.

He looked down at her in the shadowy area below. She was older than him, but not by much. She had blazing bright blonde hair and glanced up at him with squinting dark eyes. A breeze stirred her hair, long and flowing from the top of her head in a ponytail, straight down her back. Even squinting, he could see a familiar power in her gaze. Steve brushed himself off and tried to stand tall.

"Fuck, you scared the shit outta me," he called down, maybe louder than he meant to. He rubbed his forearms.

She took a few quick steps to the bottom of the slope leading up to the school building, then was next to him in two bounds. As she reached him, he saw she wore a cut-off light blue denim romper with white sneakers. It was cut low enough in the back that he wished he had seen her climb that hill from behind.

"Don't worry, it could have been way worse. I could have been Principal Janet."

Their eyes met and Steve saw her face. She was attractive. Hot, or, beautiful. No, not quite. It was a kind of soft handsomeness he couldn't quite place. And familiar. Something about her eyes or cheek bones or chin was unplaceably familiar.

Then her comment struck him. No one ever called her "Principal Janet". It was either the formal Principal McNeal to her face or in public. Or some absurd whispered nickname like Principal McBalls or Principal McBitch, or Jerk me off Janet. There was also the fact that he'd prank-spermed her coffee earlier that day. Did this girl know something, who was she?

"Well I could be Spider Man, so then what?" Steve smirked.

The girl laughed, the sound now familiar after she saw his previous spill.

"Spider Man never would have eaten shit like that."

Steve blushed.

"So are you Peter Parker then?" She held out her hand, "I'm Missy."

Steve stepped to her, taller than her, but also on higher ground. He shook her hand. She smiled broadly up at him, and he returned the expression.

"Steve, Steve Nolan," he said confidently. Then he felt self-conscious about sounding like James Bond. Missy didn't seem to notice.

Both seemed surprised by the even-ness of the handshake grip. It was as if one or the other was waiting to break it. Another group of students rounded the back of the building suddenly. One was bouncing a soccer ball on the sidewalk as they approached the wooded area.

Missy and Steve found themselves standing at a safe distance apart, no longer holding hands and this time at even footing. She was shorter than him, but not by much. The group of students ran down the slope, now kicking the ball back and forth in the grassy area below them.

Missy crossed her legs and plopped down in the grass.

"So, what kind of secrets were you looking for Steve, Steve Nolan?" she asked, squinting up at him.

She sat below where Steve had stood, straining, lifting himself on his forearms, just to get a look inside the window above. He wondered what Brandon was up to, what Mrs. Fletcher was up to. What her tits looked like.

With a sigh, he sat. "I didn't think it sounded that corny."

Missy turned to him and he regarded her in the denim romper. It had short sleeves, a collared neck, and zippered down the front. The zipper was halfway down and clearly loose. Her breast bulged nicely against the denim, the cleavage dangerously deep for not showing a bra. He also noticed her long, shapely legs, folded below her. They were bare and the short-legs of the romper were cutoff even shorter. He felt himself blush as he got a glimpse of her bikini area due to the lack of fabric.

Steve gulped as he met Missy's gaze. She touched his arm, cocking her head slightly.

"Or were you looking for something more than secrets?" Her blonde ponytail swung toward her lowered shoulder and her cleavage shook gently.

He was struggling to follow her. She was like some kind of Siren. He wondered where she'd come from.

"Do you go to school here or something?"

She looked away, at the soccer scrimmage below. The wind was stronger here and her long blonde ponytail blew against his back, then up against his shoulder. It was longer than he realized.

"I'm waiting for someone. Or maybe I'm avoiding someone. It's one or the other. I can't quite figure it out."

Missy looked at Steve, as he sat in the short grass. It occurred to her that they both wore mostly denim. Steve in his jeans, black t-shirt, and denim vest. Missy knew she wore only the denim romper.

Something about her made Steve stare into her eyes. At first he thought they were blue, but now they actually looked more bluish-green. And dark, maybe even blackish-green. He wanted to say something but found no words in the moment. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to look away.

"The quiet type, okay, okay," Missy quipped, nodding. "Do you get high then?"

Steve thought only the coolest of the cool kids got high, so of course he did too. He'd smoked weed a few times and always found it enjoyable, but these things were hard to come by for guys like him. Again, he wondered who this chick was. Smoking hot, friendly, AND she had weed?

"You have to be joking. This is a school, you can't get high around here."

The birds chirped and the soccer ball was shot with a thump. It skittered between the makeshift goal cones.

"But yes." Steve's eyes glittered and he looked at her suspiciously. "Do you?"

Missy produced a skeleton-finger joint from the breast pocket of her romper.

"I know a place, but you have to trust me. Come on!"

Without even standing, she was halfway down the hill in a leap. Steve got to his feet stiffly after his tumble, but took the hill quickly. He ran after her as she rounded toward the parking lot, figuring he could close the distance to her quickly enough. She kept going and he found he wasn't catching her as fast as he'd expected. Missy's long whitish-blonde ponytail streamed behind her like a tail. He bore down, legs pumping at a long stride.

They crossed to the front of the school, where there was a faculty lot in a corner of the school building. Somehow, he hadn't caught her, but he was close, only slowed down by the tight corners to get there. He heard her sneakers skid around the last corner to the faculty area and Steve found Missy standing next to a white Lexus SUV. It looked brand new.

Missy wasn't even out of breath or sweating.

"The big air conditioning fans run back here, so its really well ventilated," she said, sparking the joint.

Brandon sure had been nervous ever since being called to detention. But, that did not stop his usual reaction to seeing Mrs. Fletcher. He quickly sprouted an awkward but unyielding erection. It had surged to full girth as his biology teacher finished unbuttoning her tight blouse and she slipped it from her shoulders. Now, his banana-shaped boner fought against his tighty-whiteys and jeans, trying to spring up and out from his body.

He sat at a small chair behind a school desk, with his hands palms down on the surface, sweating. With wide eyes, he regarded the redhead teacher, seeing her in a lacy white bra. He'd never seen so much cleavage in his life and he marveled at the vast softness of her skin. He swallowed as he noticed a small mole on her right breast, low in her cleavage.

"I know you've wanted to see these for a long time, based on how eagerly you kissed them in the closet."

Mrs. Fletcher reached behind her and unclasped her bra. The heavy breasts within shifted, rippling. Her hands clutched the bra cups to her chest and her hips swayed, but she maintained a stoic demeanor.

"Well, what do you think?" Mrs. Fletcher fought the urge to smile, letting the bra fall from her hands.

Brandon's eyes swelled as he was treated to the sight of his teacher-crush's enormous E-cup breasts. They dropped heavily into place, bulging away from her body in a swooping shape with some slight sag. There were freckles sprinkled across her chest and shoulders, but relatively few on her porcelain tits. Mrs. Fletcher's nipples were large and stiff and pink, surrounded by smooth, pink areolae. She turned back and forth slightly, her expression blank, her tits wobbling. His eye was again drawn to the small mole near her right nipple.

Brandon tried to answer her question, but his voice came out in a dry rasp. He had to awkwardly swallow, his mouth suddenly an arid cave.

"Oh god, Mrs. Fletcher," he said in a soft, conspiratorial voice. "They are amazing!"

Brandon's eyes lingered on her chest. His cock throbbed and he felt wet stickiness in his underwear. If he didn't do something soon, he'd be filling his briefs with cum.

She walked slowly toward him, her elbows coming together to press her bare breasts against each other as her hair swung around her shoulders in thick, golden-red curls. In three steps, she was beside him.

Brandon forced himself to make eye contact, his hands involuntarily clenching against the top surface of the desk. Mrs. Fletcher's smell had gone from a strong presence to full enveloping him now that she stood beside him.

"You can touch them, Brandon," she said huskily.

His hands whipped up to her hips and he squared to her, turning in his seat. Brandon's mouth moved so forcefully against Sandy's stiff left nipple that his cheeks made a fleshy slap as his face met her tits.

"Oh!" Mrs. Fletcher said in surprise, her hands going into Brandon's thick black hair.

While smoothing his hands over her waist and hips over her pencil skirt, Brandon happily slathered his wet lips all over his teacher's breasts. His hands left her hips to close over the outer curve of each tit as he mouthed them, working frantically from nipple to nipple. Mrs. Fletcher's left hand went to Brandon's crotch and she placed it palm down on his inner thigh. He flinched briefly, then continued playing with her thick boobs. Her thumb began flicking back and forth over the ridge of his circumsized head, inside his jeans and underwear.

Brandon began to squirm impatiently, but kept his face buried in her bulging chest.

"Mmmm, that can't be comfortable," she observed calmly.

He groaned in response against the supple titflesh in his mouth. His tongue frantically circled her right nipple. Sandy began pressing down on his cock head and letting it spring back up against the confines of his jeans. She did this over and over again, driving Brandon crazy. The poor kid would probably come in his pants if she kept it up and she let herself break into a wide grin at the thought.

She fought a sigh as Brandon continued mauling her breasts. He wouldn't notice a smile but might hear her if she sighed. Sandy was screaming out inside, her pussy ablaze with desire. She wasn't sure how much longer she could control herself, so she gently pulled Brandon's hair, lifting his head from her cleavage.

"That feels nice, Brandon," she said neutrally. "Would you like to oil them up for me? There's a small bottle in the desk."

Brandon jammed his hand into the desk and found a small squeeze bottle in his palm. He pulled it out. It was a full bottle with yellowish oil inside, with a squirt nozzle. He looked from the bottle to his teacher's breasts, now shiny with his spit and a little splotchy from where he'd sucked them. He noticed her cute cleavage mole, then looked to her face.

"Oh yes, ma'am, I would," he said softly. His eyes went to her tits and he levelled the bottle at them. "Thank you, ma'am," he said.

With a squelching -SQUIIIIRRRT-, a thin yellow stream arched from the bottle tip onto the lower curves of Mrs. Fletcher's dangling breasts. Oil splattered over her nipples and curvy mounds. She turned slightly back and forth, letting Brandon coat her. He squeezed steadily, directing the stream up onto her chest and neck.

When the oil stream came up onto her chin, she smiled and spoke softly.

"Mmmm, wow, look at that," she said, smoothing her hands over the front of her tits.

Brandon stopped squeezing and watched as she stood over him, spreading the shiny coat of oil over her bare breasts. She made a show of bouncing them in her hands, holding them by the outer curves and pressing them together, then pinching her own nipples and letting them slip back, slick from the oil.

Brandon raised the bottle and splattered more viscous honey-colored liquid onto her and she rubbed it in, spreading the sloppy mess on her chest. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

"This is the hottest thing I've ever seen," he heard his voice say dumbly.

"Your detention period is far from over, young man," she replied, spreading Brandon's thighs and getting onto her knees between them. Mrs. Fletcher began unbuttoning his jeans.

Mr. Frank was only slightly surprised at the knock at the door. He'd easily spotted her peeping on him, not to mention the barely hidden glances at his crotch. Nurse Nicki seemed like the curious type, that much was obvious.

He had been in no hurry to get himself off after noticing her conspicuous peeks, wondering at the chance of an encounter. Then the knocks came. Mr. Frank made no attempt to cover up, facing the wall with the door to his right. Gripping his thick stiff tower by the base, he glanced up at the clock. He'd been in there for three minutes.

The door opened. Nicki glanced at him, reclined, his gown parted, and his dark cock stuck up between them. Her cheeks flushed, as if she'd not expected him to be exposed.

"Mr. Frank," she said, trying not to smile, as she brought a hand up to obscure her eyes slightly. "I didn't expect you to be in the gown. It's on backwards." She stood in the open doorway awkwardly.

He peered at her over the head of his cock. "Do you need me to invite you in or something?"

She laughed easily. He could see her eyes over her hand, which she still held up covering her mouth for some reason. He imagined her shiny pink lips smiling.

"Of course not, silly. I was just wondering if you needed any kind of assistance. I didn't know how long you were in here and I..." She glanced over her shoulder at the clock.

"You could take your clothes off."

"Mr. Frank!" She turned to him, no hand over her face this time. "That's not what I mean, you know."

"Well it would speed things up," he noted, resuming to stroke himself as she stared at him.

Nicki's mouth fell open for a moment, a slight excited smile on her face. She made eye contact with him and her face became neutral.

"What I mean is that some patients have trouble masturbating themselves and ejaculating into the cup at the same time. It can be a lot to handle and four hands are better than two," she said cheerily, stepping to the supply table.

He simply nodded as he continued to stroke. Having Nicki in the room, smelling her and watching her even in the loose pink scrubs had elevated his excitement level considerably. He wasn't close yet but could feel the pressure building. He gently stretched out his balls as they had tightened slightly in their sack, stroking himself steadily.

Nicki gathered her springy blonde bob into a loose ponytail at the back of her head. Then she reached into the latex glove dispenser and pulled two out, like tissues. She slipped them on easily and turned to him.

"Would you like some help with the masturbation or the ejaculation?" she asked clinically.