Oh, what a naughty thought! The final day at school, last day of A-levels, and the end of a crappy two hour exam of Religious Studies. What better way to go out than by masturbating on the desk of Mr. Williams, the R.E. teacher?
Forced to take Religious Studies by her strict parents, as well as Maths, History and Geography (these subjects would apparently make her a better overseas missionary to Heathenland), Naomi spent her lessons dreaming about tweedy Mr. Williams.
"Oh, Willy," she said to him in her head. "I wish you would bend me over your table and fuck me from behind with your massive willy..." And from there, her fantasy would leave her wriggling in her chair to let her wet pussy lips smoosh together. This would spread her juices into her knickers (white cotton, of course, like all good minister's daughters wore), and let her slide freely against the aged school chair.
At the end of every lesson with Mr. Williams, she would linger by his desk, hoping he would smell her sopping hole and want her. She had begin to notice him blushing every time she flashed him a smile in the corridors, and made even more effort to stick her pert breasts in his face. She knew he couldn't help but stare at her hard nipples, which peeked at him through the thin cotton vest and white uniform shirt. She displayed them at his eye level whenever she handed in her coursework.
"Oh, Willy," she sighed in her head, "how I wish you would suck my nipples..."
She had never really thought that shy, tweedy Mr. Williams would seriously entertain shagging this virginal (but filthy-minded) daughter of the Methodist church, but she dreamed about it often.
"I want your willy, Willy," she would whisper under her breath as the others left the classroom at the end of lessons. She always lingered, often leaving a wet patch on the hot chair. She wondered, every time she did this, if Mr. Williams would sniff her drying juices when she had left, and want her.
"Oh, Willy," she said into the darkness of her bedroom, as her fingers wiggled against her clit. "Do you lick my juice from my seat after class? Do you want to lick it from my pussy?"
All through that final term, Naomi hoped against hope that Mr. Williams would say something. She was eighteen, about to leave school, and he would no longer be her teacher. She prayed to her Sex God (the Lord Almighty was a frightful bore these days) that Mr. Williams would ravish her hard on her desk, and turn her into his filthy little cum-slut.
And on this final day of school, with all exams and tedious break times and ringing bells and soggy lunches, there was only one thing she wanted: to leave Mr. Williams a slippery present on his desk.
Waiting until all her classmates, Mr. Williams and the examiners had left the classroom, she stood up. She walked down between the rows of desks and chairs, smells of old wood and sagging plastic mingling in the air with her rising scent. Countless hours of aching pussy and mind-numbing orgasms sneaked in the toilets, Naomi put down her sensible satchel, and slipped off her sensible brown shoes. The windows overlooked nothing but an empty courtyard, and the Religious Studies room was at the end of the corridor. Nobody would disturb her now, on this last day of term...
Climbing onto Mr. Williams' teak desk, decades of scribbles and chips echoed tortured teenagers lolling against their detention work, and leaving comment in the wood as soon as the teachers left the room.
Naomi hitched up her grey, pleated skirt, her white knee-length socks a little sweaty with her growing lust. She lay down on her back, her head towards the door and her feet propped up facing the windows. The hot sun streamed in and began to mingle with her juices, bubbling her sex smell into the air like a lusty cauldron.
Wriggling out of her blazer, Naomi unbuttoned her shirt, and lay there in her thin vest. She put both hands between her legs and moaned as she felt her wetness through her white knickers. She slid her hips back and forth over the desk as she coated her fingers in herself.
"Oh, Willy, Willy..." she moaned softly, sliding her hands back up and under her vest. She rubbed herself onto her rock-hard red nipples, tweaking and pinching, and rubbing her thighs together.
"Fuck me deep, Willy," she sighed.
She slid one hand back down into her knickers, tickling the soft, sensitive skin just above her mound.
