It was during my first summer holiday since I'd gone to university when it happened. I had gone into town one Saturday afternoon to get some CDs, when I saw walking down the street towards me my French teacher from school. Generally I didn't really like meeting my old teachers, it was always a bit odd being treated normally by people who had been authority figures for me only a short time ago, and even if Mrs. Woodcock (she was French, but had married an English guy) was far more attractive than the others with her long blonde hair, large breasts, sparkling eyes behind her black rimmed glasses, and most of all her sexy French accent, I was still not too keen to meet her. But it was too late, she had spotted me, and it would be rude to try and escape.
"Hi Jack," she said, her soft continental purr already sending shivers down my spine, "How are you?"
"I'm fine thanks Mrs. Woodcock," I replied, trying to think of a way to get away as fast as possible without being impolite.
"You can call me Chantelle now, Jack," she smiled. She began asking me how uni was, and I found her surprisingly easy to talk to, until we must have been chatting for about ten minutes. "Oh merde! Sorry, I just remembered my parking ticket's going to run out in five minutes... Hey, would you like to come over for some drinks? I'd love to hear more about what you've been up to at university."
"Well, I don't know..."
"Oh, if you've got other things to do, I don't mind, it's just that I like to hear from my ex-pupils. And John, you know, my husband, is away for two weeks, so I would like the company, just for an hour or so, and I can drop you home later."
"Yeah, OK," I said, realising I had nothing better to do, and that I actually quite enjoyed her company. So together we ran to the car park, and once in the car continued our conversation from before, it was almost like talking to one of my friends. The drive didn't seem to take very long, as she pulled up in front of a fairly small modern house, announcing that we'd arrived. I followed her inside, noticing how clean and tidy and uncluttered it was compared to our house, just a few pictures and photos on the walls with one or two ornaments, as she led me into the living room and invited me to sit down on the pale beige sofa.
"What would you like to drink?" she said. "I'm not your teacher anymore, so I can offer you alcohol. How about a beer?"
"A beer would be fine thanks," I replied, and couldn't help staring at her behind as she walked away into the kitchen, the thin material of her skirt not doing much to conceal its shape. Taking advantage of her being out of the room, I rearranged myself so that if I did get an erection it would be easier to hide, as that was the last thing I wanted to happen, and tried to force myself to stop thinking that way to avoid embarrassment, although that was proving more or less impossible. Only seconds after I'd rearranged myself, Chantelle returned with two glasses of beer, handing one to me, and then sitting down only an inch or so from me with hers, and once again we resumed talking.
This time though, I soon found it a bit harder to feel quite so at ease, as she twisted around to face me, one knee bent up on the sofa and brushing against my thigh slightly, while she supported her head on her elbow resting on the back, and her breasts thrust seductively towards me. I concentrated on my beer, getting more and more nervous, and so drinking much quicker than normal, making the small amount of alcohol go to my head far more than it would normally, doing my best to hide the hard-on that was growing in my trousers. When I'd finished my glass and was beginning to wonder how I could politely ask to go home, I felt the back of her hand on my cheek, gently turning me to face her.
"Jack," she said, her voice a little more husky than usual, and her accent a little stronger, and her pretty grey-blue eyes fixed on mine through her specs, "I'm not your teacher anymore, so I hope you don't mind me saying this: ever since you first walked into my classroom three years ago, you... you made my feel, well, horny!" My mouth dropped open a little, gawping like an idiot. "It was silly I know, you were my pupil, so I had to ignore, to suppress it. But now..." She leaned further forward, her nose almost touching mine, and whispered: "Now I can have you."
Her lips pushed against mine, and to my astonishment I felt myself kissing back. She took my glass from my unresisting hands, and as her tongue pushed its way into my mouth, she brought my right hand up and placed it on one of her large, firm breasts, squeezing it tight over it, then leaning closer, still kissing me, putting one arm around my waist while her other hand stroked the back of my head. This was all such a surprise, a completely unreal and dreamlike situation, that I just let myself go, kissing back and feeling her tits, giving control over to her and my instincts, so much that when she sat back and pulled my head into her cleavage, instructing me to suck her nipples, I didn't hesitate, and set about unbuttoning her blouse. There was a slight delay as I fumbled around the back of her bra, but I soon discovered that the clasp was at the front, and released her beautiful shapely D cups, and started gently licking and kissing the surface,
intending to work up to the nipples.
"Oh, no Jack, not like that," Chantelle told me. "I want you to suck them hard! Be rough with me, my husband is the one who does the tender loving."
Getting more turned on by the minute, I obeyed, and sucked as hard as I could, feeling them become firmer and more erect in my mouth, all the time squeezing whichever one my mouth was not attending to with my spare hand, getting rougher as she instructed, and my own erection getting harder each time she gasped exclamations in French between orders. After a few minutes, she pushed me back against the sofa and straddled my lap, tugging at my top and telling me to lift my arms up, which I did a little reluctantly, as I was a bit insecure about my skinny chest, but once it was bare she made no comment, but just kissed her way down it, sliding smoothly back off my lap to between my legs and began unzipping my flies.
"Mmm, Jack," she said, lifting her head up to look at me through her glasses once she had my erect dick in her hand. "It's as good as I imagined! I've been waiting for this moment since I first saw you get a stiffy in class."
With that she licked her long red tongue up the shaft, and I had to look away to stop it all ending there and then, feeling her circle the ridge slowly and then the damp heat of her mouth as she took me inside. Not bothering with much sensuousness, Mrs. Woodcock bobbed up and down sucking until I was as hard as I could possibly be. She pulled back and stood up, taking off her skirt and slipping out of her panties, throwing them aside to reveal her pussy shaved completely bald then, still in her black heeled shoes and open blouse, she straddled my lap once again. I put my hands on her waist, and she pushed them down to her butt, then with one hand on my shoulder to steady herself she used the other to hold my erect cock in position as she slid slowly down on it.
Chantelle must have been thirty-five or thirty-six years old when this happened, so you can imagine she was not tight like a virgin or anything like that. She was also really very wet, which was a blessing as she began fucking me really very hard, telling me to thrust up harder and harder, her large breasts shaking and bouncing off each other right in front of my face.