Wet Dreams Really Do Cum True

Mrs. Malone sat at her desk, her eyes staring at the young man in front of her. There he was the object of her newborn sexual wish, her hottest and wettest desires for the past few nights, standing like a young black god, in the flesh, his dark black skin shining under her office's fluorescent office lights. Shocked as she was at the boldness of the boy, whose confidence she admired, her body tensed and for what seemed like an eternity of breathing she watched in lucid delight as the boy's strong, dark penis head peeked out from it' quickly rose to its full girth.

'Oh myyyyyyyy... ' was all that she could whisper to herself as the bold young man's penis drooled, pointing directly at her.

Yet what was this other thing that she was feeling? Could it be that she actually felt flattered that this young sexy black boy actually lusted for her, a middle-aged school marm; of all people in the school, hell even the town that he could have had? She knew of many of the young girls his age who threw themselves at him. Yet, right then, as he walked towards her, making his way closer to her, the object of his growing lustful desire for the past semester, it dawned on her that she was ready to submit to the ultimate yearning that she had never felt before—pure lust!

* * * * *

And like a flash in the matrix of her brain, she harkened back to that fateful beginning point in which she had her first run in with the Senior Varsity safety Daquan Johnson. He had been brought to her school this year by the new redistricting that was done to her previously lily white, upscale, suburban district that lay just outside the city. It actually benefited the school in that the athletic department had greatly improved its sports this year. Although she was never a fan of the plan to bring in "inner city" youth to give them the same opportunities as the privileged white communities, though she wasn't a "racist", she saw herself as a concerned mom and member of the community which she did not wished spoiled by the lower classes. Hers was the life ideally marketed, with a loving husband faithfully married to her since their college days in the seventies, and twenty-five years of an ideal life where she could watch her kids grow.

This being a town where football was king and athletics were prided upon she was as excited as all of the others were in the revamping of the athletic department, even if it meant having to bus in "apartment" kids from the inner city.

Ann Malone had spent the last twenty years teaching in the Cambridge Hills school district, where the biggest problem throughout her tenure there was truancy and the occasional dress code violation. She enjoyed teaching middle school in the district, but when the opportunity arose last year to become vice-principal at Clements high school she took it. Being able to keep an eye on her younger teenage children, Brandon and Alicia, was an added incentive and also made her feel more in control of her life. She had to admit to herself that she was a bit of a control freak as her family liked to point out, that's probably why she became a school administrator in the first place, she enjoyed the power that she had in shaping and influencing young minds, but she was not afraid to wield a punishment or two when she had to; must have been from the strict way she was raised. At 52 she had dealt with many a smart ass kid since working her way up as a History teacher to her current VP position. And soon she knew that she would eventually get the head job when old Mrs. Wilson retired. Life could not have been better career wise, and on the family front, she had just become a grandmother for the first time after her oldest daughter gave birth to a baby boy that summer. She enjoyed seeing her twenty-seven year old daughter Rebecca experience the joys of motherhood for the first time.

All of those idealistic thoughts soon changed, when the inevitable happened. Her school got redistricted that fall due to the liberal politicians in the capital, and now Clements was going to get its first dose of inner city life. 'Oh well', she thought, 'guess that I'll have to just make sure that they stay in line and don't turn my school into a ghetto'.

Everyday that fall she walked the halls of the school, observing, watching, and helping the newer minority kids, who were mostly black, as they familiarized themselves with the school. Most of the students were respectful of her authority and obeyed when they were told to do things. However, she did tend to often feel uncomfortable in trying to be the authority figure when it came to some of the unruly boys, many of whom joined the football team. To her these young men seemed arrogant, and always with a chip on their soldier. Ann's views were sternly with the persuasion of most middle-American moms, that too many black kids would ruin her school. They also seemed even more fit in stature and strength then the school's original all white football roster of the previous year. Understandably she was a bit nervous those first few weeks when dealing with the new young black men's attitudes. Her mind would occasionally romanticize a bit about some of the history books that she read over the years about the southern antebellum way of life. She usually placed herself in the character of the head lady of the plantation, the mistress if you will, watching over the slaves.

Most of her teaching career was spent teaching her neighbor's children whom she knew, and had watched grow up over the years. They knew that they had to respect her, because Mrs. Malone knew all of their mothers and fathers. Now, she had to deal with these young "urban" students, street kids, who she felt were not as well mannered as she was accustomed to. She wasn't going to let these kids getaway with acting bad. It was almost comical to watch the demure, conservative, middle-aged white woman, who was no more then 5'5" and a recent grandmother, in the hallways reprimanding the physically imposing male black students who were twice her size.

* * * * *

At eighteen years old, Senior Daquan Johnson was a ladies man. He had lost his virginity to one of the "hood rats" in his neighborhood when he was still in middle school. His uncle and brothers had openly taught him about the kinkier sides of sex. He laughed truthfully at the family BBQ's when one of his uncles would drunkenly brag about having big dicks and how big dicks run in the family. In his neighborhood high school he had the pick of all the finest girls in the school. He loved the black girls that went to school with him, but he often wondered what the social taboo of dating white girls was like. At his old all black school, he would often sit in class and day dream about some of the cute white cheerleaders that he often saw, jumping up and down for the losing team on the opponent's sideline.

When his neighborhood got redistricted to the suburbs his senior year, he became even more abandoned towards his fantasy. After being educated by old black ladies in the city for most of his life, the lily white scenery of the pretty white girls and especially the teachers of the Cambridge Hills school district was not only a culture shock to his senses, but also to his blossoming libido, which by now was giving him some of the best wet dreams that he had in his young life. A lot of his most recent dreams centered on fucking the cute white girls that he now went to school with, but after a few months during that fall semester, those dreams started to change, as he became more acquainted with the school's faculty and staff. He noticed a lot of the teachers around school and many of his new white classmate's moms, which were the typical suburban "soccer mom" type who dressed conservatively, and enjoyed the prototype family values lifestyle that the suburbs offered. Most were middle-aged and still looked pretty good to Daquan.

By October his lust filled dreams of the cheerleaders started to morph into dreams of their soccer moms who would sit in the stands. More often then not his mind would wonder in his classes as he sat watching some of his older teachers. He was turned on by some of the ladies that were instructing him. What really started to trip him out was that the various teachers in his dreams were ones that were a bit on the elder side, the ones that were more school marm like. He soon began to desire the more mature ladies that worked at the school with their conservative dresses and their plump middle-aged white asses walking down the hall in their professional pant suits and unassuming heels, and leading their middle class bourgeois lifestyles. All of his perceptions matched the ones that he usually saw marketed on family sitcoms which produced images of the perfect life that sure wasn't where he was from. His young cock would be rock hard by the end of class after dreaming of having his way with one of them on their desks and in different parts of the school. He often pondered upon what their sex lives were like, most often coming to the conclusion that they probably had never even imagined or experienced some of the sexual things that he was experienced in and would like to do to them.

He knew he couldn't share his sexy dreams in the locker room with all of the other guys. He felt that his fantasies were a bit weird compared to the others, more on the kinky side then most of his boys and that they would probably laugh at him or ridicule him if he revealed his deepest desires, because his fantasies didn't involve all of the usual suspects like the hottest girls in the school and sexy actresses or Playboy playmates and shit like that. Daquan's dreams were about having hot, raunchy sex, with white women, older ones at that. The ones that the other guys would call an "old bitch" or something, and never look twice at, but these were the ladies that were starting to rev up his youthful dreams. Now, as he watched old Nick at Night episodes, he imagined himself seducing the TV moms from shows like 'the Wonder Years' and 'Home Improvement', imagining making love to them and having their sexy white legs wrapped around his smooth black ass... but they weren't real. What was real were the real ladies that worked at Clements high school, and he knew that he had to try and take advantage of an opportunity. One of them was going to be his prize conquest.

* * * * *

The morning started out like any other day for Ann Malone and Daquan Johnson. The buses showed up in the morning promptly at 8 and the students had 45 minutes to kill before the bell for schooled started. Naturally everyone congregated in the cafeteria where students could eat some breakfast before their school day began. Mrs. Malone had morning duty and as usual she just looked around to make sure that the students weren't being unruly, making the rounds in her professional and authoritative pants suit. All of a sudden there was a large crash and a commotion, a fight had broken out. Ann got on her walkie-talkie for the school security and rushed over to see what was happening and who was involved. All she could see was a shirtless black kid standing over a white student and beating the hell out of him in the middle of the cafeteria while others kids were cheering and yelling.

Some of the male teachers broke up the fight and after the end of the mêlée; Ann saw that it was Brian Booth, a rather skinny, arrogant kid from the neighborhood, who's father worked with her husband Paul at the local law firm, and Daquan Johnson, the new star defensive safety. After dispersing the crowd of students that surrounded them, Ann turned to the situation, where she listened to what had caused the fight. Apparently Daquan didn't like the fact that Brian was speaking bad about him because so many of the white girl's, including his own girlfriend wanted to know him better, naturally being the new kid Daquan had to stand up for himself. Yet, all through his explanation of what caused the fight, she could not stop from observing the black athlete's muscular ebony chest, which was bare due to him taking it off before he started to fight. Ann was entranced at the shining way his chocolate like features heaved up and down as Daquan went through the process of calming down. She was snapped out of her critiquing admiration of his Adonis like body, by Mrs. Wilson the principal, asking "Is he yours?" Ann was so caught up in admiring the eighteen year old's 6'2" frame that she couldn't hear the question at first.

"Mrs. Malone? Is he yours?" she asked again.

"Uh, yes. He falls in my discipline function." The VP answered, recalling that she had had to discipline Daquan in the halls recently for smaller infractions.

"Then take Daquan, and I'll write up Brain." The principal delegated.

Mrs. Malone walked up the hall to her office thinking about what she was going to give Daquan as a punishment. She knew that this kind of behavior could not be tolerated, nor could she let these arrogant young black kids think that they can do what ever they want at the school. She was stern as she escorted Daquan down to her office, knowing that she must punish him for hurting one of her students and knowing that she had to let him know that just because he is new and a star athlete does not excuse him from abiding by the rules of her school. Indeed, the authoritative woman believed that it was her school and she was not going to let this thug like black kid come in from the "ghetto", wreak havoc and bring violence into the school. Yet, as she turned around to open the door for him she noticed something unsettling. That his eyes were very serious and powerful and were inexplicably focused on her from the waist down, as if his glare was focused on her lower extremities. If she didn't know any better she might have thought that he was checking her body out.

Once in her office she noticed that he still had no shirt on. She felt a bit intimidated being in such close quarters with the young athlete as he sat in front of her desk. Mrs. Malone put on her thick, unflaterring reading glasses and kept her eyes lowered to her desk and tried to focus on what she was writing. But, her mind drifted as she noticed the masculine smell that was coming from Daquan's bare chest body and now invaded her nostrils with a pungent aroma of male heat, an aroma that she had never smelled before. Ann had to adjust herself in her chair as she began to feel warm and even more uncomfortable with the presence of the angry young black man that was sitting in front of her, his eyes not dropping their intensity as he watched the auburn hair woman write for five minutes straight. KNOCK, KNOCK!!

The silent tension in the room was broken when the hall monitor brought in Daquan's letterman's jacket for him to put on.

"Mr. Johnson, you have two options. You can take a suspension... "

"Suspension!" "But that will ruin my playing time and my prospects for scholarship." He angrily cut in.

"Let me finish sir!" She said raising her voice in a stern tone.

"Your other option is to cut out of practice early every day for the next few weeks and come to my office and work on your class work for an hour and a half in silence."

Daquan dropped his head in thought for a moment and then looked up and locked eyes with Ann, at that moment his young dick twitched. He liked the way the way she looked at him from her desk, with her huge old lady like glasses perched on the tip of her prominent nose.

"Okay." He replied.

"Very well then, I will inform the coach about our arrangement. School lets out at 2:30 and your practice starts at 3 correct?"

"Yes" He mumbled.

"Yes what?" She asked the impudent young man.

Daquan looked at her again only this time with obvious distain in his eyes.

"Yes-mam." He answered.

"I will allow you to practice for an hour and I expect you hear at 4'o clock sharp young man, and if you are late once then I will revoke this option and suspend you. This being Friday you will start your time on Monday." Daquan just sat in silence.

And with that command, she dismissed Daquan from her office. She took off her glasses and took a deep breath as she relaxed for a bit in her office chair. Looking down at her chest she noticed that her nipples were erect and protruding behind the thin material of her blouse.

* * * * *

That day after school Ann tried to catch up on the mountain of paperwork that she had on her desk. Being a VP meant having to stay a few extra hours in the day to catch up on all of the work that had piled up. At 4 her secretary popped into her office and said good-bye. For the next hour Ann tried to concentrate on her work, yet she paused every once in a while and thought about what had transpired earlier in the morning with Daquan. She remembered the pungent aroma that his body gave off and the chiseled body that he had, like a sculpted Roman god made of Onyx. She didn't let herself believe that deep down Daquan actually was a very handsome boy--man really since he was built so well and was only eighteen, then she broke her trance and went back to work.

At 5:30 she packed up her things and locked up her office to rush home and start dinner for her family, but first she had to stop by the coach's office in the gym to speak with Coach Wray and inform him of Daquan's disciplinary situation. Figuring that football practice was over at 5 she thought that all of the players had gone home and that Coach Wray would probably be cleaning up a bit and getting ready to go home himself. She looked into the window of the office which faced the gym and saw that no one was there, but that the lights to the locker room were still on. 'He's probably in the locker room cleaning up' she thought, so she made her way into the boy's locker room to find the Coach. She had been in the girl's locker room plenty of times, but this was the first time that she walked into the boy's locker room. The aroma of masculinity once again permeated her olfactory senses, as she slowly made her way down the rows of lockers. It was very quite and cool in the room. She became startled as she heard a locker slam shut at the end of the rows. Thinking that it must be the coach putting away football equipment, she walked over to the row that the sound came from. As she turned the corner her feet abruptly stopped, and her body froze up as her eyes widened and locked in on the naked bare black ass of a man who was putting his towel away into his locker.

A gasp escaped the tiny woman's lips causing the man to turn to her. It was Daquan, stark naked, his body still glistening with the beads of water from the shower that he had taken. He stood there looking at Mrs. Malone staring at him, not saying a word, but her face showing her shock at seeing the young man naked, his flaccid penis resting between his muscled thighs, a thick vein running down its length, hanging low over a tangerine sized dark sack. Her eyes glued to his crotch, and in an instant felt her heart pound and drop to her stomach, thus causing her bodies adrenal system to go into overload, making her nipples instantly stiffen, and a sharp hit of heat zip down from her brain to her sex.

"Oh my god... " was all that came out of Ann's mouth, as she quickly dropped her eyes to the floor and quickly rushed out of the locker room. Daquan stood there stunned, not even being able to wrap the towel around himself to cover up. He sat down on the bench in front of his locker and looked at his rising manhood. He smiled a bit, and began to dress.

* * * * *

While in REM sleep that night Daquan's mind opened up the physical lust that was blossoming in his young man's body. In his deepest nocturnal dreams he made love to his prize--Mrs. Malone and showed her the pleasures of being with someone who would desire her and satisfy her in the sexual way that she needed, to show her the forbidden pleasures of interracial sex. It was so real in his mind's eye that he sensed that he smelled the wetness between her legs, and the softness of her middle-aged ass in his big, rough, black hands, holding her middle-aged body and fucking her hard. Daquan was so horny that he woke up from his deep sleep to relieve himself of his lust. He grabbed the old year book which he had taken from the library and found a color picture of Mrs. Malone. He rubbed his hard black cock on the picture of her smiling face and instantly unloaded a load of hot, sticky, cum on the year book picture of her. That night he knew that he had to have her. That weekend he built up the courage to convince himself to just say fuck it and try to make a move on her when he got the chance on Monday. Every time he thought about trying, his dick vibrated like never before. He also knew that if he saved up, instead of wasting his lust (and nerve), he would be more likely to try to seduce her due to him being so horny.