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Teacher's Pet (Part 3)

A trainee teacher thinks back to where her passion for schoolboys started...
It was funny being back in my old school, especially given that it was a Thursday evening. There was a dead feeling to the building, which wasn’t surprising as there were only twenty adults in the place, rather than 500 screaming kids. This was a school where I had only been a pupil, rather than a teacher. Things had been much simpler when I’d been a pupil. Life had been happy and carefree. I’d been lucky enough to have a great family and great friends surrounding me. And of course, I wouldn’t have had to worry about losing my job or life-as-I-knew-it if I’d been caught fucking a schoolboy. After I’d let Joe fuck me in the classroom, losing my job was what I should have been thinking about. It wasn’t.

I remembered the agony of waiting for the end of the school day as I sat in this very same classroom. Now, this was my safe haven, the only escape I had from my life. At home I was with the man I loved who wouldn’t fuck me. At school I was under constant threat of discovery being chased by a schoolboy who wanted to do nothing but fuck me. If that first time in the classroom had been an unplanned career threatening mistake, what had followed was perhaps worse. Joe had pursued me and I’d been seduced by his eagerness to do that very thing which my boyfriend didn’t and wouldn’t. My God it felt good to have someone desperate to see my body; to touch it; to have it; to fuck it.

Joe didn’t love me and didn’t want to. It wasn’t complicated with Joe. He just wanted sex every day, every which way possible. Someone wanting to have sex with me every day was all I wanted and that was why I’d given in so easily. I wasn’t under any illusions. It was already too late. If someone found out about the schoolboy sex thing, my career was over and there was a possibility that I’d end up in jail. I wasn’t sure what the legalities were and didn’t want my internet search history to record that I’d wanted to find out.

Joe satisfied me sexually. Being sexually satisfied was something quite wonderful. Physically, my body was deliriously happy. The inner turmoil of what I was doing was quite horrific but physically, I’d never been made to feel like this. Orgasms had been illusive during my entire life but Joe… I smiled. I couldn’t help but smile when I thought about Joe. I don’t know where he had picked up the habit because I didn’t dare ask but my sexual pleasure and my orgasm was of critical importance to him. He’d actually used those words: critical importance.

It was odd as that kind of insistence would normally irritate me or put so much pressure on me that I’d just end-up faking it. The way Joe did it was somehow innocent and pure and I wanted to let him do it; I wanted him to make me come with his cock, with his fingers or with his mouth. At the back of my mind I suspected that it wasn’t what he did, but rather who and what he was that made the sex so explosive. But again, I didn’t dare question it as I didn’t want to risk it ending.

The sex with Joe was the one part of my life that was perfect. Those stolen moments in empty classrooms, store cupboards and toilets were what I lived for.

As a counterpoint to those wonderfully intense moments of guilt ridden passion, I had started something else. I was taking a life drawing class. My interest in art had been lost somewhere along the way; sacrificed on the altar of being the best girlfriend I could be. Joe had taught me that you should go after the things you wanted as that was the only way you’d ever get them. Could you accuse Joe of being selfish for wanting my body more than anything else in his world? He’d sacrificed his friends and reputation to get it. If anything, from my point of view it seemed utterly selfless. All I had to do was announce that I was going to be unavailable on a Thursday evening from 6.30 until 9.00. Selfish? Probably.

The announcement barely got a grunt from behind the newspaper. He probably didn’t care whether I was there or not. He didn’t even ask me what I was doing. I just said it was at school and left it at that. It implied work but he didn’t ask; I didn’t tell. All it meant was he’d have to put his own leftovers in the microwave instead of me doing it.

I was still expected to do the washing up, apparently.

The art class was at the school where I had grown from a girl into a woman. There were good memories in this building and it felt like a comfort blanket when I pulled open the door and walked down the hallway. The door squeaked in the same satisfying way as it had every time I’d been through it.

The ghosts of friends giggling and gossiping were everywhere. It felt more like ‘home’ than home did.

Of course, not everything had been innocent in my time at school. As I set my easel and looked at the wrinkled cock of the life model, my eyes were drawn to the door into the store room… as they were almost every time I looked up. I’d sucked my first cock in that art store room.

Rick was what Americans would call a jock. Most of the girls thought he was a jerk, while the teachers called him a joke. Rick hadn’t taken art but he had muscles and that was what was needed when putting the equipment away. G20 was my form classroom; where my every school day started for a year. I was a good girl. Or so the teachers thought, so I was trusted to be on my own and do odd jobs around the place. Rick thought I was boringly good, which is why he was so surprised when I asked him to get his equipment out.

“Pardon?” he asked. Rick had been brought up well and his parents would have been horrified to know how he normally spoke. The fact that he’d said ‘pardon’ rather than ‘what’ told me that I had genuinely shocked him. He might have expected the question from one of the slutty girls who rolled the waistband of their skirts so they were almost showing their knickers, let alone their legs, but me? Rick really did think he’d imagined what I’d said.

“I want to see your equipment.”

“You mean my cock?” I tutted impatiently. I’d recently ended-up on the back row of the local cinema with Robert Mills and he had put my hand down the front of his pants. I knew what a cock felt like. I just didn’t know what it looked like.

“Of course, your cock.” Rick was well known for getting his cock out. There were parties which I wasn’t allowed to go to where everybody had seen his cock.


“Because I want to see it.”

“But why?”

“Are you going to show me or what?” Rick did a little thinking.

“Only if you show me yours.”

“My what?”


“I can’t. Time of the month.” That was a lie but the speed with which I used it stopped Rick in his tracks. It was an uncomfortable area and non-negotiable.

“OK. Your tits then.”

“Alright.” Rick’s eyes were out on stalks as I unbuttoned my white blouse. I didn’t want to be caught with my bra undone, so simply lifted the cups up towards my collarbone.

“Fuck me!” Rick gasped, utterly awe-struck. I wondered just how many tits Rick had actually seen, rather than how many he’d claimed to have seen. Perhaps the slutty girls weren’t quite as slutty as they made themselves out to be. “Can I touch them?”

“Only if I can touch your cock.” Rick scrabbled around with his zipper and underwear without taking his eyes off my chest for a moment. Looking down, his cock was a fleshy ruler pointing straight at me. Rick cupped a breast in each and I wrapped my hand around his cock. It was hot and sticky to the touch.

“Just do this,” Rick instructed, placing his hand over mine and pulling back and forth. “Mmmm.” I wasn’t entirely naïve, so was aware of what I was doing to Rick. I started slowly, palming his cock. Hearing his moans was music to my ears, and the faster I went, the more he moaned. Rick’s hands had stopped moving over my tits. He was a statue, just holding them. A statue with its eyes closed and it’s hot cock in my hand.

There was something I wanted to try. Rick felt me dropping and looked at me wordlessly. He was damned hot: the only boy in school I really wanted to do this to. I looked up at him and gave him my innocent eyes - the ones I used when trying to get money out of Dad. Only I was giving, not receiving.

Kneeling on the floor in, the store cupboard seemed much smaller; there was hardly room for me, Rick and his cock. There was much more room as I slipped my mouth around the tip. “Oh fuck!” Rick gasped. His cock shot backwards as his back arched. My mouth followed and took the head inside again. “Please,” Rick groaned. It sounded like he wanted me to stop. “Be gentle,” Rick added. “It’s the first time a girl has…” I peered up at Rick without releasing his cock. I didn’t believe it until I saw the wild look in his eyes.

“Really?” I asked, releasing his cock into my hand. For some reason the knowledge that I was first was really arousing. Rick nodded. I slowly moved my hand under my skirt and started to rub the crotch of my knickers. It felt amazing to touch myself as I knelt there with a cock in my hand. It’d be even better with it in my mouth.

I carried on stroking the shaft of Rick’s cock as I kept the shiny plum in my mouth and explored it with my tongue. I liked the bit where the dagger of skin was stretched between the swollen curves flesh on the underside.

"Jesus that’s…" The words were lost as Rick groaned. His hips rocked back and forth, showing me what he wanted. It was easier if I did that, so I followed his motion, and then added my own. The hot crown surged towards the back of my mouth with every stroke. “Oh my God!”

My fingers were building at the same rate between my legs. I was going to make myself orgasm right in front of Rick. Although he hadn’t touched me, it felt different, more exciting and the orgasm was going to be more powerful, more rewarding. My legs drew themselves together slowly as I got closer and closer. Right at the last moment, I pulled Rick’s cock out of my mouth for fear that I might bite down on it. My eyes were squeezed closed, so I didn’t see the cause of the liquid heat which sprayed my face as my own wet heat filled my panties. My body was an explosion of ecstasy as I tugged and rubbed with both hands simultaneously. I ignored Rick as I concentrated on my own pleasure but noticed the way his cock was suddenly slick. Something was running down my face and dripping onto my still-bared tits. I remember there being a smell of bleach filling my nostrils, not knowing it was spunk, rather than some spilled bottle. My hips followed a slow grind to eke out every perverted pleasure.

An echo of that powerful sensation tugged at my pussy and made me squirm as I sat on my stool. The stool was hard and I could make the ridge press right on my clitoris. My throat filled with a deep, involuntary groan as I found the exact spot which needed attention. “That’s an… interesting interpretation,” a voice said from over my shoulder. I looked at the sheet of paper in front of me and realised that the picture I had drawn wasn’t of the man sitting in front of me.

The picture was hazy at the edges but I’d transferred every last detail of the schoolboy cock that had been getting me hot and bothered. There were titters from the women sitting either side of me but they couldn’t draw their eyes from the page.

I might have been thinking about Rick’s cock from my past but it was the smooth curl of Joe’s cock which was jutting out from the page.

“If that’s what you’re getting, love,” a more senior member of the group said, having lifted her glasses for a closer inspection, “you should count yourself extremely lucky.” There was a murmur of agreement.

“You know what?” I replied, giving the woman a little nod. “I am extremely lucky. I just hadn’t realised it.”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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