Tuesday, 29 October 2013

AN ASSIGNMENT FOR MIRANDA

In the hall their eyes met and held. It was all done 
with the eyes. A little tiny smile curled the corners 
of her mouth, showing dimples. 

"I'll have the essay for you this afternoon around 4 
o'clock, Mr. Demarco," she told him as she took a half 
step back into a shadowy niche. They knew this spot. 

Distance voices in nearby rooms, and sounds of close-by 
lockers opening and shutting surrounded them, but no 
one was in the line of sight. "I'll get permission to 
leave play practice for a few minutes and bring it to 
you," she said. It was a game; they both knew.
 
The hallway meeting: Anyone passing by would see an 
ordinary, seemingly innocent scene. An earnest, young, 
handsome teacher conferring with a beautiful, equally 
earnest, tenth grade student. The same scene happens a 
thousand times a day in schools everywhere. And he was 
her advisor after all, so even more reason for this 
hallway consultation. (He was her advisor last year, 
too. He made sure the arrangement continued this year). 

"Listen, Miranda, this can't go on. You've got to be on 
time with these essays." 

An ordinary admonition from the standard teacher 
playbook, also ordinary everywhere. But his face, which 
only she could see, was anything but serious. His right 
hand was in motion. "I'll be in my office," he 
continued, while the hand slipped under her short 
skirt. In one deft move he hooked his index finger 
around her thong and wiped his long middle finger along 
her moist, hot slit. She sucked in her breath and her 
eyes flickered but she maintained her normal stance. 
His roving hand emerged quickly. A wave of delight 
passed over her face.

"I'll have to start deducting points, young lady." 
Another line from the standard playbook. She nodded 
understanding, his hand emerged, and she left.

How easy for him to believe: "She's the most beautiful 
piece of adolescent ass in this school. No, the world!" 
Slender, just as she should be, but very well shaped: 
hips and ass and tits all very well developed; a clear 
and open face, long neck, slim endless legs, dimpled 
smile, dark hair arranged in a twist, eyes that suggest 
a latino background. One hundred and fifteen pounds, 
almost five feet eight tall. 

Best of all, flawless skin. Like honey. What poise, 
what glamour! How she holds herself! How she moves her 
head to look at him! When she sits she doesn't throw 
herself into the seat like so many others: her 
beautiful full ass seems to embrace the seat lovingly, 
erotically, slowly, sexually. She has modeled a little 
for magazines, but she hadn't needed any training to do 
so. She is 100% natural. And all the more arousing 
because so. Whenever Miranda is close to him he 
imagines he can smell her pussy, could smell and taste 
her ass. Actually, she is as fragrant as a flower, all 
sweet and spicy. Sweet, sweet Miranda.

He watched the swing of her pleated, too short 
"catholic school" skirt as she moved down the hall, 
then lifted the invading finger to his nose. Even under 
the loose drape of the skirt you could tell she had 
incredible, firm ass.
 
What a fucking hot piece of pussy, he thought in final 
evaluation. 

Where did she learn to suck cock so good? How long had 
she been doing it? She smelled so good. Was she doing 
it to other teachers? Excellent student, intramurals, 
debate team, social committee, a leader. How did she 
have the time? Sex. There was always room for sex. 
These kids had so much energy. 

This beauty, this doll, picked him upon which to bestow 
her sweet teenage favors was more than enough 
compensation for all the hassles and pressures of his 
job. Fringe benefit, he thought as he walked toward his 
office. How much would that be taxed? How much is a 
blow job from a hot sixteen year old worth? Was she 
sixteen? Maybe she was fifteen. Shit! He looked forward 
to writing her college recommendation.

He had to be careful of course. He knew the danger. He 
knew what the present climate was like: hysterical. The 
lurid headlines. Teacher molests student. The 
suggestive news reports, the innuendos: Old slobbering 
fool with his crooked dick in the ass of some innocent 
child. She wasn't a child. If there was any molestation 
it happened long before 10th grade. 

Peter felt reasonably safe with her. It was the others 
who were dangerous: her classmates, her rivals, other 
teachers. In such a climate it hardly was possible to 
speak what he felt: hardly possible to say he simply 
loved young female beauty. It inspired him to teach 
well; it made him take the job seriously, put in extra 
effort. 

Could he help it if around such beauty his body 
responded as it naturally should? They weren't 
children, that's for sure. He couldn't censor his eyes, 
nor censor his heart. If he stayed in teaching would he 
eventually become like the old dried–out veterans? 
After decades of denying the obvious would he too be 
monk–like and eunuch–like, a self denying supporter of 
the administration, afraid of himself? He looked 
forward to this afternoon.

The door opened very quietly, opening just enough to 
admit her slim, scrubbed body, and when it clicked 
closed she stood behind it, all shy and demure. She was 
play acting, they both knew. 

"Mister DeMarco," her voice barely above a whisper, "I 
have the assignment. Sorry I'm late with it. Is there 
anything I can do to make up for it?" Just the right 
emphasis on any. Her eyes flashed to his crotch and her 
dimples shown. She was so good at this.
 
"Get your cute little ass over here and suck me off, if 
you don't want your grade to suffer." His hardon was 
obvious.
 
"Yes, sir." She liked being spoken to in a commanding 
way. It made her pussy wet. He liked it too.
 
"Make me come quick. We don't have much time."
 
She threw the assignment on his desk and dropped to her 
knees. She was glad he'd recently taken to wearing 
boxer shorts: it made getting to his cock so much 
easier. Miranda was also grateful he was always 
spanking clean and his pubic hair trimmed, save for a 
cute small patch. He was probably twenty-six or twenty-
seven she guessed. No more. He had such an athletic, 
good body. She always admired it. He came in her mouth 
in about two minutes.

"My, oh my...damn!. What a little devil you are" he 
muttered as she stood.

Mr. Peter DeMarco watched her leave. Mr. Peter DeMarco: 
cum laude graduate of a good ivy league college, MA in 
English and French literature. He thinks he's an 
honorable man. And he is. There's no pretence of 
romantic love. He made that clear to her. He liked her—
he liked many of them, that was obvious—but it was her 
dynamite body that motivated him. All animal 
attraction, and that was plenty enough for both of 
them: sexual animals that love to fuck. Love to fuck.

In his mind he replayed the start of it all. 

Just a few months ago. Her daddy drove her over. She 
was babysitting their 14 months-old son. Peter drove 
her home. He and his wife, Natalie, had just come from 
steamy movie and he was anxious to get back home to 
fuck her. The girl in the car next to him was his 
student but that didn't stop the fantasy playing in his 
mind. The movie was about two girls and a guy. 

His dick grew so rigid as he pictured his beautiful 
wife, 23 years old, the object of many men's admiring 
glances, in bed with his beautiful student Miranda. And 
why not? Already Miranda was the object of many men's 
lust; his own to be sure. How hot it would be to watch 
his wife and Miranda lick each other; to have both of 
them blow him; to fuck his wife in the ass as she ate 
the teenager. Just like the movie. 
 
"Did you like the movie?" 

Her voice startled him. How should he answer? The car 
was dark, but did she notice his hard on? 

"It was good," was all he could manage to get out.
 
She probed: "I heard is was really hot."
 
Yes, yes it was, baby, and I'd really like to fuck you. 
But what could he really say? Damn his inhibitions, 
damn his status in relation to her.
 
Her house. 

Her turned toward her. She gazed at him and slowly put 
her hand on the door handle. They were so close. She 
didn't seem in a hurry. Her movements were languid. It 
was one of the things that made her attractive. She 
tilted her head, still holding her eyes on his. "Thank 
you Mr. DeMarco. Call me whenever you want it." Then, 
gone.
 
"It? It?"

Now why did she say that? Was it a slip of the tongue? 
Call me whenever you need... what?... a baby sitter?... 
a blow job... a fresh teenage cunt? She must know he 
lusts after her. All the looks. She must have noticed. 
Goddamn, skintight jeans all the time. Her pear shaped 
ass is his face. She must have noticed him looking at 
her in class, at her tits, her pussy pressed up tight 
against her jeans. She must have read his thoughts.
 
He drove home with one hand on the steering wheel. He 
fucked his wife in the living room, on the floor. Then 
again. And still a third time. Next morning, after she 
settled the kid down with his first bottle, Natalie 
slipped into bed next to her husband. They had been 
married almost three years. There was still much to 
learn about each other.
 
"You were so hot last night, you almost wore me out. 
Was it the movie?"

Again, sooner than he hoped.

She arrived on time. Her attire was always in the 
latest teen style. Boots, low rise skin tight jeans 
without rear pockets, thong, studded belt, all the 
regular paraphernalia. The whole effect was stunning. 
He invited her in and his eyes followed the fabulous 
ass, that ass he wanted so much to bury his face in. 
His cock began to swell in his pants as he contemplated 
how attractive Miranda's body and personality appeared. 
A one in-a-thousand type young girl that awakened 
lustful thoughts in grown men. 

He concluded Miranda's sex appeal was transcendent. It 
crossed all barriers. Her father: Peter wondered how 
hard it must be for her father, a handsome athletic 
type, to live in very close quarters with such a young 
appealing piece of ass. Most of all, he wondered why 
she didn't have a date. She didn't seem to have anyone 
in particular, although there were boys around her all 
the time.

Miranda started sitting for them about six months ago, 
and as she settled herself on the couch he went to get 
her a soda. Then his wife Natalie arrived with white 
wine: one for herself and one for him. The three made 
small talk for awhile. As soon as Miranda finished her 
soda his wife, with a impish grin and a wink at her 
husband, offered wine to the adolescent.

It was risky, Peter thought: Alcohol, underage, 
student. They could both be fired if Miranda was the 
type to brag: it would be all over school quickly. But 
the thought shortly fled him. There was something about 
the girl's easy manner that reassured him. The way she 
sat, the way she moved, the subtle way she seemed to 
transmit her sexuality, as if to say, "I know that the 
rules are only rules. Breaking them is so much fun!" 

It wasn't so much Miranda who worried him as some rival 
of hers; he knew how jealous and vindictive and envious 
teenage girls could be. Already he'd heard stories and 
hints from colleagues about teachers who mysteriously 
disappeared following rumors.

They made a lot more small talk. Time passed. Natalie 
refilled their glasses. Ordinarily his wife moved by 
the clock but now she seemed in no hurry to leave for 
the movie. Gradually Peter realized they were going to 
miss the movie, at least the first showing, and didn't 
care. Everyone became more comfortable, more settled 
and open. The conversation gradually got around to 
relationships, and that led to talk of sex. It was very 
warm in the house. Miranda was glowing with charm and 
interest. Her radiant skin was flawless, her tits firm 
and high and showing their nipples. Were they hard? 

Now Peter was bold enough to ask directly why she 
didn't have a date this night; why she seemed not to 
have a steady. 
 
"Boys my age aren't all that great" was all she said, 
and after a pause, turned the conversation toward them. 
"How did you two come together? I mean, what especially 
attracted you to each other?"
 
"It was his face..." Natalie answered, and after some 
hesitation added, brazenly: "his cock too ... he sure 
knew how to use it... still does." 
 
Peter was alarmed and scared: too far. It was one thing 
to offer wine to the kid, something that could perhaps 
be overlooked and maybe minimized if it became known at 
school. But this kind of talk? It was too blatant. Such 
language couldn't be explained away. 
 
Now what?
 
"And you know what attracted Peter to me?" she asked 
the girl, another impish grin on her lips. The young 
teacher lifted her palms to her firm lovely tits and 
said: "These. When we were in college he couldn't suck 
them enough."
 
Before Peter could say a word Natalie's quick hand 
crossed the short distance between herself and the 
student. She started to caress one of Miranda's 
beautiful breasts. Her voice was husky and full of 
arousal when she asked her husband "wouldn't you like 
to suck these, Peter? They're soo beautiful, like when 
I was her age." 

Peter said nothing.

She turned her full attention to Miranda, lifted the 
girl's jersey top, purring. There was no resistance. 
Just a big smile. The sheer, wispy bra was unsnapped. 
She continued, both hands on the stunning orbs, lightly 
arousing them. "I've sucked them, Peter. Her nipples 
get very hard and long, just like mine. Watch us!" she 
hissed. She placed her mouth over Miranda's left tit.
 
"Shit!" thought Peter. It was instantly clear: His wife 
had been fucking with the girl. His wife was hot for 
the girl. Just like him. She lusted after Miranda as 
much as he did! And the little devil, his wife, had 
beat him to it! When and where did she seduce the kid? 
Son of a bitch!
 
His cock was very hard and wet. Oh, my oh my, we're all 
gonna fuck! Screw the movies, screw the school, screw 
the principal. Screw the world. 
 
He watched them together: better than any movie. 
Natalie had aroused the girl so that both were kissing, 
and a deep moan from Natalie—the undeniable sound of 
lust—filled the room. He could see his wife's hand move 
between the girl's legs. Miranda slouched forward and 
opened wider. Yeah, they had done this before, no 
question. 
 
Eventually, his wife and the girl wound up on the 
floor, stretched across the deep soft carpet. One by 
one they shed articles of their clothing, and he, on 
the pretext of helping, slipped off his student's white 
thong and hid it, undetected, in his pocket. Peter 
contemplated what fun he would have with the little 
garment later.
  
Their warm smooth bodies: his hands explored every 
crack and crevice and fold. How beautiful nature's 
design of women and girls! Soft and shapely. He spent 
so many hours admiring his girls in class, their 
charming faces, full firm inviting tits, flared hips, 
their tempting asses. 

Now, thanks to his wife, he could touch one—by far the 
best of his students even among the stunning collection 
of girls he had in daily, close contact. Miranda, 
teenage slender, was as angelic naked as he'd imagined 
her. It didn't surprise him too much his wife was doing 
this. 

Always, in the back of his mind he knew something like 
this would happen: that their sex together would turn 
kinky. His wife was so libidinous, so horny for sex all 
the time. They fucked in every room, every which way. 
Their sexual activity had to grow. How pleased he was 
it grew in this direction

He snapped one picture, then a dozen more. 

Oh Natalie, you beautiful slut! How lucky I am to have 
you! There you are, your cute face buried between the 
legs of this sexy teenage girl, lapping her pussy, 
making her squirm, making her beg. Eat her good! Keep 
your ass up, baby! That ass was the first thing about 
you I fell in love with! I'm going to fuck it just they 
way you always like, my dick, hard and long, between 
the cheeks of your ass. 
  
He got on his hands and knees behind his wife. His 
tongue went to work on her hot ass. She made welcoming 
animal sounds, her face still pressed into the girl's 
sweet cunt. Then his cock. He pushed very slowly into 
her and remembered, when the were dating, maybe only 
the second or third time in bed, how she insisted on 
getting it in the ass, surprising him a little. No 
wonder she liked it: later Natalie told him her 17 year 
old brother used to fuck her like that when she was 15, 
and they did it that way for over a year.

How could he tell his colleagues about this? How could 
he casually pass around these pictures at the lunch 
table while watching with satisfaction their astounding 
reactions. Frustrating: this would have to be bottled 
up. If only he could boast about this little exploit 
his status would leap upward and, no doubt, arouse 
great envy too. It must all remain in the dark.

Peter pressed his dick into her a fraction of an inch 
at a time. He wanted to maximize his pleasure, feel 
every little tingle, every squeeze of her tight hole 
grab his hardon firmly. She was amazingly tight 
considering how many times her brother and her husband 
had done it in the back.

Soon they came. His wife and the girl, then a moment 
later Peter into his wife's ass. How beautiful they 
looked together, slim and sleek and athletic, all 
tangled together on the carpet. Their tanned bodies 
glowed in the low orange light of the living room 
lamps. No regrets. It was just sex.

They tidied up and snacked on junk food, all the while 
admiring each other's bodies, casually touching and 
kissing. Peter demanded to know in detail how it 
started, how his wife seduce his beautiful student.

"Me?" cried Natalie. "It was this little fox! Always in 
tight jeans in class with her legs spread; her tight 
tops. Her looks. She seduced me."

He learned it all started innocently enough: looking. 
It started with the eyes. His wife noticed how Miranda 
fixed her eyes on her teacher, how when they spoke 
together the student's eyes held her in a deep gaze. 
And Natalie responded. Gradually, over a period of some 
time, they seemed to have developed a secret channel of 
communication between them, right there in class, right 
in school—all by looks alone. 

Natalie had had her own share of lesbian experiences 
when she was a teenager with a number of girls her age, 
and several women. The women were the same age she 
herself was now, so it was easy for her to imagine how 
pleasurable it would be to nestle her face between the 
firm warm thighs of the girl, to lick her and taste her 
and fuck her. Soon, she was fantasizing about the girl 
all the time, and the girl, she later learned, was 
masturbating in bed at night about her teacher. It was 
only a matter of time.

Then, they were both alone in the school's fitness gym. 
His wife was on a stationary bike; the lovely, lithe 
Miranda, on a yoga mat not far away. The room was warm 
and softly lit, a room in which the body was displayed 
and appreciated, a place where an undertone of sex 
always seemed to drift in the atmosphere. They were 
aware they were watching each other more than casually. 
The gleam of the shiny grey spandex tights of the 
student revealed every slight movement, every twitch 
and crevasse. His wife felt an arousal building. 

"Shit!" thought Natalie, "I was just as hot a little 
cock tease when I was her age." 

Miranda sensed the teacher's desire. She made her yoga 
movements more explicit, more sexual, pointing her ass 
at the teacher lewdly in the downward dog position, and 
otherwise moving so that the crease of her pussy was 
unmistakably presented for admiration. A friendly smirk 
was on her face, but her eyes were lowered.

"Then you know what this hot little number did?" she 
asked her husband.

He was barely in a condition to respond as he feasted 
his eyes with undisguised lust on the girl next to his 
wife. 

"She rubbed her pussy! She rubbed her pussy for me to 
notice."

"Show him how you did it, Miranda. Go on. He's dying 
over there. Look how hot he is for you, honey. His dick 
is so hard!"

You bet I want it, Natalie. I love you and your body 
and the sex we have together, but shit... sixteen years 
old. Not every day do you find one that wants to play 
like this. Hot, you bet I'm hot: I want to put my face 
between those beautiful teenage legs." 

Miranda moved toward Peter. She positioned herself in 
front of his chair, hands on her hips. She planted her 
feet wide apart. Then her right hand slid around her 
tummy very slowly, then down very provocatively until 
at last her long supple fingers arrived at her pussy. 
His eyes fixed to her hand at the "v' of her legs. 

His wife rose from the couch and placed herself behind 
the girl, encircling the student's slender waist with 
her arms. Natalie's hands slid upward toward the 
student's firm, hard breasts and tweaked her nipples. 
Miranda's subtle fingers continued to massage her own 
pussy, making it hotter and wetter. He saw those 
fingers in class innocently wrapped around her pen, 
doing one of his lessons.

"Go ahead, Peter," encouraged his wife, "don't you want 
her?" she asked. "She tells me you always look at her 
tits and pussy in class. She'd so much like you to eat 
her. That's what she thinks about while you lecture. I 
don't blame her; I'd do the same if you were my 
teacher. Eat her like you eat me. Like you did when we 
were dating."

The girl was becoming delirious and could hardly emit 
anything more than a few breathless sounds. 

Below, Peter gently removed Miranda's hands from her 
pussy and replaced them with his face. He could smell 
her sweet arousal, and waves of strong contractions 
passed over his groin. Slow down, slow down. You'll 
loose it in your pants... Want her to swallow it... My 
dream. 

The three were locked now in an triple embrace of 
desire and inhibitions that may have lingered now 
melted away.

Behind the girl, Natalie slowly slipped to the floor, 
and from this position was able to admire close up that 
gorgeous teenage ass that had so often tempted her. Now 
she would have it, would have as much of it as her 
greedy libido desired. She kissed and caressed both 
beautiful globes for a long time. Her husband's hot 
tongue meanwhile was at work on the other side, working 
far up into the girl. Moans and groans of deep sexual 
satisfaction arose from three throats.

As Natalie parted the cheeks with her thumbs she 
thought back to the time when she was this girl's age, 
the times when her father used to stimulate her with 
his fingers and his tongue, just as she was doing now. 
Secret little games she had played with Daddy since she 
was small. Just like Daddy: I like to lick young girl 
ass.

Poor Miranda! If a girl could be tortured with pleasure 
it was happening to her. In this center of her body, in 
this nerve center of sexual stimulation, a hundred 
thousand neurons were alive with delight. She was 
experiencing a bliss far beyond anything imagined in 
her young life. 

Alone and masturbating she would create scenes like 
this one, but it never was as real as it needed to be. 
But now here was her fantasy life coming true! God, 
those fantasy scenes: teachers, students, members of 
her family, young actors, that guy at the record store, 
his sixteen year old sister, that dude in the Speedos 
at the beach last summer. So many guys and girls 
stimulated her churning libido and forced her to seek 
relief with her fingers. Now these two adults were 
lifting her out of mere masturbation into a whole new 
realm of sensuality. 

God, you taste so good.

This sucking went on for sometime and Miranda would 
have orgasmed wildly if the two adults hadn't moved 
their attention from her genitals to her whole sweet 
body, careful to cover every inch of it with their 
fingers and tongues. She closed her eyes and swam in 
the delicious sensations. The result was that soon 
Miranda's skin itself became eroticized, became another 
kind of sexual organ. She felt as she did as a little 
child when a new blanket, or pair soft of pjs set her 
skin tingling with crazy excitement. 

Her determined lovers licked every curve and every 
crevice, every fold, and every bulge and nook they 
could find. The sensation was so strong, so different 
and so overwhelming for her that she begged Peter and 
Natalie to stop. She broke away. She flung herself back 
on the couch, exhausted, panting for breath, her legs 
parted, eyes closed, so sweetly vulnerable to the 
couple. 

They let her rest. They all enjoyed another snack. The 
young couple kept telling Miranda how beautiful and 
sexy she appeared, declaring she was the most desirable 
girl in the school, hands down. And it was true. She 
accepted all the praise with thanks and modesty, as if 
she were being praised for scoring a perfect mark on a 
difficult test. But Miranda already knew she was sexy. 
Miranda knew her attractiveness to others. People 
always complimented her looks and her figure. Her 
father had been telling her so for years. 

Her father, the handsome man, had been licking her 
pussy since she was twelve. She'd been playing with his 
hard dick since that age, and began sucking him when 
she was fourteen. She began masturbating with girls in 
the sixth grade, and in the seventh she and a few 
special friends taught each other how to lick pussy. 
People always looked at her. It really came as no 
surprise to her that one of her teachers, and now two 
teachers, wanted sex with her. 

They moved to the bedroom. Ever since having sex with 
the girl in the teacher's car, Natalie had wanted to 
give her a proper fucking. The cramped confines of a 
car at the far end of the dark school parking lot had 
not afforded much chance for anything other than quick 
finger fucking and brief tit sucking, which they did as 
often as once a week. But now Natalie had the leisure 
to do what she had longed to do almost from the first 
meeting with the girl.

Her husband helped her strap the rubber cock in place. 
It was a familiar toy to them. Natalie had acquired one 
in college and she and her roommate had used it on each 
other often. It came along with her marriage to her 
husband and Natalie would sometimes recall for him how 
she fucked her college lover and was fucked by her. In 
bed when they fantasized how she would fuck women and 
students they both found attractive, Peter suspected 
that his wife wanted him to submit also, to lie face 
down while she slowly worked the dick up between the 
cheeks of his tight ass. 

Well, maybe some day he would. But right now he wasn't 
sure he wanted this reversal of roles. Not that he 
hadn't been fucked in the ass ever. It happened the 
first time when he was fourteen, but that was with 
another boy and they traded the favors and that seemed 
ok and a masculine thing to do. And maybe a dozen times 
after that with attractive boys in high school and 
college, but always trading evenly, keeping the books 
balanced, so to speak.

He got the camera again and came back in time to see 
his wife rubbing the cock with baby oil, getting it 
well lubricated. Then she told Miranda to get down on 
the floor on all fours, she was going to fuck her doggy 
style. The dildo slid in easily, for Miranda had been 
fucked perhaps two dozen times already—by her father. 
Peter took twenty or thirty pictures and imagined 
casually posting them in the faculty lounge and 
enjoying the shock they would cause.

But then the camera was put aside. His large, rigid 
cock stood out from his between his legs and he could 
feel it leading him toward Miranda and Natalie. He 
didn't care which orifice it entered so long as it 
buried itself deep and strong into one of them. He 
rubbed its mauve, fleshly head along neck, arm, thigh, 
face and ass, seeking an entry. God, this was better 
than anything he'd fantasized. Two sweet pussies 
fucking each other. It was as if they'd become one and 
he could have any choice piece of it he wanted. 

Natalie understood his need and arranged her body and 
the student's so to be more receptive to his tool. They 
moved to the bed. His wife sprawled on her back, the 
girl instructed to ride her with all seven inches of 
the dark plastic cock up her adolescent pussy. Up and 
down, up and down —long and slow. The girl was a 
natural. Peter's cock soon found its place deep in the 
girl's warm ass. It was heaven. Not only had he often 
dreamed of fucking her between the cheeks of her tight 
ass, to feel the grip of her young body on his rigid 
tool, but she was obviously loving it tremendously, 
moaning and crying out sounds of lust and great 
pleasure.

And more: his wife was fucking her too. Deep inside the 
girl's warm ass he could feel the hard staff of the 
dildo. He rubbed against it and came quickly, large 
strong jets of semen exploded again and again until he 
felt the most complete satisfaction, felt drained of 
the very last measure of physical desire. He rolled off 
in exhaustion. The girl and his wife lasted much 
longer. They paced themselves and seemed completely 
synchronized into each other's rhythm working together 
as one aimed at complete release. Peter lifted his head 
to watch the finish. God, how beautiful they were 
together!

The teacher composed himself, zipped up his pants, 
clasped his hands behind his head, and leaned back into 
his swivel chair, his legs wide apart. It was such a 
good feeling to disperse the tension of the day with a 
strong orgasm. especially if you let it go into the 
mouth of one of your beautiful students. Yes, he mused, 
the job was way harder than the pay justified, but with 
a fringe benefit like Miranda there were compensations. 

Caution, though. Caution had to be exercised. It was a 
dangerous game. Just one slip could bring everything 
down. What if she suddenly had a change of heart? What 
if she suddenly turned all moral on him and his wife? 
What if she bragged to a jealous girl friend? He 
contemplated these thoughts, and others like them, with 
half-closed, dreamy eyes. Her assignment was waiting on 
his desk. It was late. Of course she was going to get 
an A. Did she expect anything less? Did he think he was 
going to give her anything less? He considered whether 
he should bother to read it. 

Time to go home to fuck Natalie and describe the 
student's blow job.

Just then there was a quiet knock. The door opened 
slightly. Leaning through the opening, just his head 
and shoulders visible, was Paul, the young history 
teacher from the next office. Peter was startled 
because he believed no one was down at his end of the 
corridor. For a moment or two neither of them spoke. 
Then the history teacher, a shit-eating stupid grin on 
his reddened face, said flatly: "I want some of that 
too."

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