Nothing would have happened if Miss Turner's husband could fuck. If the smart-dressed teacher had been satisfied in her sex life, she never would have strayed into the arms of another. They wouldn't have been there together in the abandoned classroom that evening, the stern brunette melting into her colleague's embrace as the setting sun sent crimson rays filtering through the open windows.

If she hadn't been in such a bad mood that morning after yet another night of disappointment, she wouldn't have sent Becky West to detention. And if she hadn't been too needy and sexually deprived to keep her voice down, Becky would never have heard them. Then none of this story would have happened.

So it's probably for the best that he didn't care for her pleasure.

Picture Becky West walking the empty halls of Northbrook High, glad to have finally escaped the after-school punishment she'd been thrown into. And for what? Talking too loud in the corridor and wearing a skirt that was maybe, just slightly too short?

Okay, she admitted as she took a second to pose in the mirror next to the lockers, it was a little risque, but she'd have gotten away with it if the teacher hadn't been in Maximum Bitch Mode this morning. Miss Turner's impressive height and figure brought her admiration from the students, her attractiveness improved by glasses and severe hair buns rather than lessened, but her cold and strict demeanour was a source of resentment.

Besides, where did a woman who wore three-inch stiletto heels to work get off saying she was dressed inappropriately? The boys called her Miss Head-Turner for a reason.

Empty schools were fucking creepy, Becky decided. She was sure she'd seen a horror movie set in one before. Jesus Christ, if she got killed by some lame slasher villain because Miss Bethany I-insist-on-my-maiden-name-and-look-like-I-just-walked-off-the-set-of-some-tacky-movie-about-hot-librarians Turner woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, her ghost would die of embarrassment. Becky shook her head, still posing in the mirror.

Northbrook High's uniform policy was hailed by traditional parents and perverts alike, and Becky could have been posing for the school's brochure if she'd just stop looking so flirtatious. The blonde of her hair contrasted with the deep blue blazer as it flowed down past her shoulders, and her button-up white shirt struggled to hold in her ever-growing breasts. Beneath a chequered skirt, she wore stockings the same shade as the blazer, sheathing a delicious set of thighs and sleek legs.

She switched positions, checking herself out, pleased at how the crisp outfit accentuated her pretty figure. Okay, the skirt was downright tiny, she admitted as she raised it slightly and flashed her bright pink panties at the mirror.

Here's a koan for you: If a schoolgirl acts sexy in an empty school with nobody to see, is it still hot?

At that point, a strange noise echoed through the window behind her, and she turned swiftly in a swish of skirt and another flash of silk knickers. Looking across the courtyard outside she heard it again, echoing from the window of a classroom in the Languages tower. Almost like a yelp, or a gasp, or someone saying:

"Oh, fuck yes!"

Miss Turner cried out as she regained control of her voice, grinning ear to ear as Sam laid her down on the table. Her ample butt knocked pencils and reports and other meaningless tats aside, sending them clattering to the floor as she leaned back and readied herself for her lover's next move. Even though he'd drawn back after her orgasm, the head of his penis was still inside her; if it had been her husband's, it would have slipped out.

It was a ridiculous thought. Her husband could never have gotten her into this state, to begin with.

Sam raised her legs up onto his shoulders, caressing them fondly through the sheer black hose she wore. His lips trailed up their seemingly endless length, finally planting a kiss on the side of a foot whose toes still tingled with the aftershocks of orgasmic delight. Then he reached out, pulled her towards him, and sheathed his full length inside her once again.

Miss Turner couldn't help but squeal as his strong, thick cock slammed home. God, the feel of it! She hadn't always been such a wimp when it came to getting a dicking, moaning like a virgin schoolgirl with every motion of her lover's steely member, heart hammering in her chest in a wild counterpart to the deep, forceful, rhythmic thrusts that sent that amazing cock plunging inside her to depths that had been unplumbed for years. It was as if she'd travelled back in time to the days when she hadn't considered the phrase 'good sex' an oxymoron.

 A resentment bubbled up in her then, fighting for space with the sheer crazed excitement of their passionate fucking. Resentment at her husband for taking those days from her. In her excited state, gasping for breath on the table as her studly new lover ploughed away, she could barely remember how and why she'd married the guy at all.

Surely he must have satisfied her at some point, right? Surely if he'd been terrible in the early days she'd have written him off as a loser long before accepting that cheap and tacky wedding ring. But with a better man by far filling her up, she couldn't spare much time to think back on it.

There was at least one thing she could thank the asshole for, though. Satisfaction after deprivation is the sweetest of all, and recieving a fucking like this after so many passionless nights was like the first gulp of water after a drought.

"You are so much better than my husband," she managed as her breasts bounced and her legs shook and the glasses began to slide off her face. The words lit a fire in her lover, who began to fuck her even harder in response. He held the sexy teacher tight as he pounded away, a thrill running through him as he proved her words right with each powerful stroke.

Normally the idea of cheating repelled him, but under the circumstances, he had every sympathy for the deprived Bethany Turner. It was a man's job to please his woman, and for Bethany's husband to neglect her was the real disloyalty here. If her man refused to uphold his end of the bargain, why should she keep hers? There were real men, men like him, who were only too willing to pick up the slack.

It was a fantasy made real. Claiming another man's wife, proving himself the better lover. Being a hero to a neglected, deprived beauty of a woman. This was Sam's idea of heaven.

Becky watched from the doorway in amazement.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected to find when she sought out the source of the noise, but it certainly wasn't this. And now, looking upon it, she wasn't sure what stunned her the most. The way the boring old classroom she'd sat in a hundred times was now the scene of a wild and passionate coupling? The way frigid Miss Turner's face now glowed with lustful joy and fierce excitement in a manner so out of place it was almost eerie? Or the sight of the young new assistant gym teacher pounding away like a man possessed?

Whatever the reason, Becky couldn't pull herself away from the show. She watched in amazement as the two went at it, watching from the perfect angle to see Sam's cock slide in and out of Miss Turner's thrashing body, eyes widening as she realised just how big it was. 

"Don't cum yet," the bespectacled woman whispered. She remembered the countless times she had begged her husband with those words only to hear a moan and a whimper in response, and her heart fluttered as Sam just nodded confidently and kept fucking masterfully away. She was getting ready to cum again. It hadn't happened in so long; even one orgasm was something to note in her diary these days. But like a miracle, she could feel the urge rising once more.

She wondered what it was that made Sam so good. Was it his length, the way he reached into places her husband's mediocre prick could never touch? His girth, the way he spread her wide, that amazing sensation of being filled up? The incredible stamina that let him go so hard for so long, fucking her at a pace that would see her usual partner tapping out in a matter of minutes? Or the perfect rhythm, the technique, the way he matched his movements to hers and read from the thrashing of her body the way she needed to be fucked?

Or maybe it was the passion, the way he looked at her and treated her right, exploring her body and revving her up with naughty touches and making her feel sexy, considering her needs. Compared to the usual dead-fish flopping and lack of consideration for her pleasure, this act was worlds apart.

She raised her hips, legs meeting behind Sam's muscular back and squeezing tight. The change in angle sent his big cock spearing even deeper, and she gasped louder than ever at the new sensation. Old experiments back in college reminded her that there was a place deep inside that sometimes, if touched, would set her off like a rocket.

Becky didn't dare to move. She was convinced if she did that there would be a noise or a flicker of motion and the two lovers, otherwise lost in their own little world, would see her. And she didn't even want to leave. She watched with admiration now. The other girls had said that the new gym teacher was handsome, but he'd consistently ignored all flirting with utter professionalism. To see him unleashed, destroying the pussy of the school's Queen Bitch, was a jaw-dropping sight.

There was something majestic about how his fit, muscular body rose and fell above Miss Turner. About how that big cock triumphantly speared home with each stroke, balls slapping against her thighs, never flagging at all. Becky wondered how it would feel inside her, reckoned it would split her in half, and admired the other woman for being able to handle it. Head-Turner was more badass than she thought.

None of her boyfriends could do things like that. Few of her friend's partners could either, and those that did know what they were doing were jealously guarded by their girlfriends. But this endlessly capable sex-machine that was laying her teacher seemed a breed apart. She tried to imagine a younger Sam, a barely legal highschooler like her, tried to imagine him with a high voice and a dumb teen-boy attitude. She wondered if he'd ever been clumsy and awkward and nervous in bed, if he’d ever let a woman down.

She couldn't picture it at all. It seemed to her like he must have just appeared one day, fully experienced and capable. And she could picture Sam, Sam as he was now: sexual and masculine and strong, picking her up in his arms and showing her how a real man did it.

Then Miss Turner looked her dead in the eye, and Becky knew that she was dead.

But the teacher just looked past her, not registering the schoolgirl at all before turning her head back to her lover. Becky just looked on, bewildered and still terrified, before realising that Sam had fucked her so hard her glasses had fallen clean off her face. The blush deepened on her already crimson face as she realised that the only thing which had saved her was the strength of Sam’s thrusts.

Miss Turner took one hand from the table it was gripping and started to rub her clit. The other hand was still enough to hold her in place, and she grinned proudly at the realisation that she could still handle a bit of rough play. Then as she rocked her hips against her lover that big cock touched her just right, and her second orgasm was upon her.

She had no care for being heard in the empty school, and Becky imagined she could see the windows rattling as her teacher screamed. She came and came, whilst all the while her lover just kept pumping away. Becky stared in amazement at the transformations of ecstasy which overcame the pretty woman, who then pulled her young man down and squeezed him tightly in her arms.

Becky told herself that whilst Miss Turner couldn't see her, Sam could, and waiting for the sleepiness that came with male release would allow her the best opportunity to get away. But really she just wanted to see how he ended it.

So she stayed to watch as he finally finished, butterflies fluttering in her tummy at the loud grunts and shouts he let loose as he came inside his lover. He pressed Miss Turner down roughly as each thrust went balls-deep into her, and Becky imagined his thick cum splurging into her own neat little honeypot as it flooded her panties with arousal.

She lost track of the number of spurts as she watched his penis pulse each time it unloaded its cargo, each blast punctuated with a hard stab that dragged an extra little moan from Miss Turner's trembling lips. Then, reluctantly, as she watched the pair kiss, Becky turned and silently slipped away.

The next morning she forced herself not to giggle as she passed Miss Turner looking as strict and severe as ever, only to jump out of her skin when the tall brunette addressed her.

"Good morning, Becky." The teacher's eyes were bright and she was smiling. Becky stared for a moment, surprised, taking in her easy expression and relaxed state. The usual tension in her frame seemed to have bled out of her, and Becky noticed that Miss Turner's cheeks were rosy, glowing a happy red.

"Good morning, Miss Turner," she replied politely and walked on, noting that the teacher hadn't said a word about her attire. Even though she was wearing a shorter skirt than ever.

But the real work would be done in the gym kit she shoved into her locker. This afternoon, Sam would be taking gym.

Becky smiled dreamily, and wondered how best to seduce him.