Vixen sat in the front row in Mr. Valpor’s English class listening to him discuss Mark Twain and local color. She took notes and between times sucked on her Bic pen, keeping her pouting lips wet and soft, showing him her tongue tip now and then and enjoying the dampness her vagina was generating. She was “in heat” and she knew it. Estrous it was called in the animal world.
She noticed that he was wearing a wide wedding band, and it looked like he might have gained some weight since he got married. She had decided how she was going to get him, suck him, fuck him, and this time she was sure she would not fail. She was done with subtlety and seduction.
Vixen had enjoyed herself in the shower this morning and was now ready for the real thing, fully primed, her nipples already hard and stretching the thin cloth of her clinging stretch-fabric shirt. She could almost feel him inside her already, probing and pounding, stretching her pussy, rubbing her cervix.
When class ended, she stayed behind and when he looked up, said, “I need to talk to you, sir, if you don’t mind.” She was wearing a scoop-necked blouse with her sandals and oldest jeans, ones it was easy to get a hand into, the top button already straining.
She knew what he could see when she leaned toward him since she, as usual, hadn’t bothered with a bra. She felt the thick seam of her jeans split her lips, and she suppressed a groan as her labia parted and her clit jumped.
“Now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, trying not to stare at the incredible breasts Vixen was displaying as she leaned forward, her elbows pressing them together, a pair of luscious melons. They looked as big as bowling balls and seemed to glow and pulse, hanging there, the nipples jutting out like thumbs. His mouth watered and his palms itched.
“If you’ve got the time?” She licked her lips and smiled, setting the hook and pushing her boobs more firmly together. She saw him wince as she felt her shirt begin to give and her nipples harden, almost pointed.
“Sure,” he said, standing and gathering up his materials, ignoring the tremor in his testicles and the jiggling movements under her shirt. “Come on back to my office.”
Vixen followed him, admiring his lean body and hoping he had a good cock. A few times before, she had misjudged her targets, deceived by a muscular chest or good thighs, and come away disappointed, but her English teacher was her only downright failure, and if he were weak-cocked she was going to be very angry.
Once they both were seated in the small, book-filled room, and she had crossed her long, jean-covered legs, the girl sniffed and began after swallowing and biting her lower lip, hands clasped on her knee, breasts jutting as her shirt slid almost off one shoulder. Acting helpless was, she knew, her forté.
“In high school, we have, you know, counselors, people we can talk to about problems.”
The man nodded, and leaned back. He didn’t mind looking at pretty girls, but he wished he weren’t so easily aroused.
“But here, except for my roommate, and she’s awful busy; she’s on the swimming team, I don’t have anybody.”
“Really,” he said with a polite smile, “I find that hard to believe.” He suspected Vixen could have any student she wanted and probably some instructors as well.
“Well,” she smiled back, and crossed her legs the other way and took a deep breath, hands in her lap after she pushed her blouse back up so it gaped more in the middle, “I have plenty of boys, boy friends, you know, males. But they don’t want to talk. That’s part of the problem, boys I mean. And talking. Oh, I’m all confused.” She closed her eyes and hung her head, sniffing loudly.
Valpor licked his lips and tried to recall if there were any girls as luscious as this at his college or high school. He rotated so his legs were under his desk and adjusted the crotch of his trousers. He was sure there were not. On a one to ten scale, Vixen was an eleven or twelve.
“You know what they want.” Vixen gave him a few eyelash blinks, her coy look.
He nodded, and then shook his head, dispelling the image of some big football player rutting between Vixen’s long legs, her red hair swishing from side to side, her wonderful breasts jumping to and fro, hell of an image.
“Well,” she said, “this is kind of embarrassing, well, I mean, the boys, they don’t, I guess you’d say, they don’t satisfy me, sir. I mean they’re all sweaty and pumping and groping and stuff. But, but they won’t even talk about it, before or after.”
“Maybe you should see the nurse, the infirmary.” He shook his head. “I’m no expert. You are talking about sex, aren’t you?”
She nodded and sniffed. “Well, you just got married, didn’t you?”
He nodded and licked his lips. Sex with his young wife was always done in the dark and always the same way, missionary. It seldom took long, but it did help him sleep on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. His pre-nuptial experiences with women had been few and brief, mostly disappointing or frightening as well as expensive.
“I guess maybe I’m getting homesick. I had a nice boyfriend back there, back home. We could talk about things, and he wasn’t jumping all over me. He took his time when we made love.” She sniffed again, having rehearsed that lie before her mirror. “Got a Kleenex?” she asked, testing the strength of her line, and making her chin quiver as she was about to move the reel. The fact was that Vixen had never really had a boyfriend, just a series of lovers.
He produced a box from his desk drawer, and she took two and wiped her eyes and blew her nose, holding the tissues balled up in her hand. She pursed her lips and put on her hangdog look, the one that always got her father.
“I hate to ask you,” she said, seeing his worry and concern as she wiggled in her chair, “but will you hug me, Mr. Valpor, just, you know, just one hug, and talk to me?” She stood up and quickly parked herself on his lap and leaned her head on his shoulder, sniffing, her right arm limply about his neck and shoulders. “Just for a minute.” She pressed her breast firmly to his chest and moved it gently up and down.
He smelled good, masculine and sweaty. “My daddy always made me feel good.” She didn’t say her daddy had deflowered her, used her sixteen different ways, loaned her out to his friends and starred her in his pornographic videos.
Valpor did not know what to do with his hands. His left rested on the girl’s denim-covered hip, and she clasped his right, along with the damp Kleenex, and held it to her chest, right between her luscious breasts, his knuckles almost touching her chin, his forearm in her deep cleavage.
Vixen purred and made a pleased sound deep in her throat. She wriggled her buttocks and felt the first suggestion that his prick was stirring. “Thank you,” Vixen sighed, pushing her right breast firmly against his chest. “I just get so lonely and sometimes I’m scared.” She sniffed. “They want so much, the boys I mean, over and over.”
He patted her hip and Vixen pulled his right hand inside her blouse and over her left breast. “Um. That feels good,” she sighed as her nipple slide between his fingers. “So good.” She was not lying about that. She tensed a pectoral muscle and filled his hand with her big knocker, the nipple area jutting out nearly an inch as her shirt fell off her shoulder.
“Vixen, really, please,” Valpor said, aware that he was becoming aroused. He wished he had left the office door open. He tried to pull his hand away from her warm breast. His fingers had never felt such a soft, smooth, spongy breast; in fact, it occurred to him, he had seldom felt any girl’s breast in the last few years since the woman he married would not allow it. Although not from want of trying. His wife’s breasts were small and firm, nothing like these warm globes. He longed to see her tits, to mouth and suck them, to knead them and maul them, crush them, distort them. Damn, damn, damn,
Vixen made sobbing noise and quivered as if she was crying. She kept one eye open.
He stroked her breast and patted her hip. “It’s all right, honest it is.” His hand was filled with girl flesh, her nipple now in his palm, and his cock was growing rigid and very uncomfortable.
She nodded, dropped the wad of tissues and put her right hand up atop his and squeezed her big jug, lifting it right out of her shirt. She kissed his neck open mouthed as his thumb rolled over her nipple. She whimpered. It hardened quickly, jutting out, and she knew she had won and began to reel him in as he caressed her young jug, kneading it firmly. She glanced up and saw that his eyes were closed.
“Thank you,” Vixen sighed. “I feel so good here in your arms, so safe.” His stiffened cock was bumping her butt, and his fingers were still on her tit, now stroking gently.
“Right, fine, but I think you should go now.” He managed to clear his throat. “I have some work to do, some papers to read.” Her erect nipple was between his thumb and forefinger, and he rolled it gently. The girl seemed to purr, and the nipple grew longer and harder. His mind demanded that he push her away. His body refused.
Vixen nodded her head, lifted her chin and found his mouth with hers, tonguing him deeply and feeling him responding as she gnawed and pressed firmly with her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said, when their mouths parted with a sucking sound, “I didn’t mean to do that. But, oh, I feel it. I’ve made you hard. You do like me. Oh, I’m sorry.”
She squirmed away and slid to the floor between his knees, looking up at him lovingly, the look her grandfather had demanded when she served his needs. “That’s terrible, awful,” she said as she stroked his upright cock through the cloth and pulled down his zipper. “You’ve been so nice to me.” You've got him, her mind said, and she smiled.
“Don’t,” Valpor nearly yelled as Vixen’s glistening lips closed over the wide head of his rearing prong. “Oh please don’t.” Her ovaled mouth slid down his shaft as her circling tongue lapped his length, coating him with her saliva. He was blood hot and quivering.
He felt her grasp his scrotum, something no one had ever done before. His brain stopped working, and his body succumbed to lust. He groaned loudly, gaffed.
Six inches at least, decided Vixen as her lips reached his pubic hair, not very thick but it sure is hard, big enough. She shook her head from side to side, moving his glans from cheek to cheek. Years of almost continuous practice starting with her demanding grandfather had honed her oral skills, and poor Mr. Valpor never stood a chance once she got his stiff penis in her mouth.
She looked up at him and smiled as she moved his cockhead about and then raked his rod with her teeth and licked his balls while she pried off her shoes and yanked down her jeans and tiny thong, wriggling her lean hips.
“Vixen, please,” Valpor began, his hands now buried in her auburn curls, his body contorting as pleasure washed over him and his pelvis began moving. No girl, no one had ever sucked his cock. He had fantasized, day dreamed, watched whores do it on the Internet, read about it often.
He didn’t know that such electric feelings existed as the girl bobbed her head and hummed deep in her throat, one hand now back on his churning balls, kneading them gently as she moved up and down his tender shaft, tonguing just under the ridge of his glans, nipping at his skin, driving him crazy with desire, as her cheeks moved in and out with her deep sucking. He heard himself gasping and the girl sucking.
She brought him close and then eased off and brought him back up again. He thought she was about to stop when she turned her head sideways, but then somehow, unbelieveably, she swallowed his cock, took the whole thing right down her throat with barely a pause.
Vixen snorted through her nose and stared up at him wide-eyed. He looked scared so she eased him out and licked his cock head, sucking in his drops of precum as she stroked gently with her tongue. He was fiercely hard and slightly curved, ready to be netted and beached. She felt merciless. It was now or never.
Valpor hadn’t noticed but while Vixen was fellating him to near climax, she had been divesting herself of her clothes, and when she released his happy prick from her wet mouth, she immediately jumped on his lap and spread her long legs to impale herself on his hard prod, pushing on the chair base with her toes, popping him through her relaxed entrance ring and swallowing him into her quivering vagina.
“Ahhh,” she sighed happily, having achieved her first goal for the afternoon, her hands on his shoulders, breasts in his face and his whole cock in her pussy. She clamped down and held tight. Valpor squealed like a child.
The teacher, head aswirl, his brain seemingly frozen solid, began humping the girl who was tearing off her shirt and then burying his face between her incredible mounds. When he became aware that he had a naked coed on his lap and that his erect penis was buried in her vagina, his blood began to surge, and he felt the immediate need to flee or fight or fuck.
“Please, pleaasse,” he cried almost aimlessly, and he humped her as hard as he could, ramming and ramming, lifting his butt from his chair, bracing his arms and legs, gritting his teeth. He found a hard nipple in his mouth and did as nature demanded, he sucked and then bit. She squealed.
He tried to push her away, but Vixen had his hips clamped between her knees, and her throbbing vaginal muscles, he feared, would tear off his cock if her tried to pull free. She seemingly opened with each of his thrusts but squeezed when he tried to pull back.
“More, more,” she girl sobbed in his ear as he found his mouth filled with her other nipple and good bit of her right breast.
Then, suddenly, practically without warning, he climaxed and ejaculated deep inside his beautiful student. He came three times in rapid succession, something he had never done before, a burning sensation, and then, over the next few minutes, when he expected his spent manhood to shrivel and go limp, he discovered that he was not done, that Vixen wanted more and that he was going to provide it. It was impossible, wonderful but impossible. He whimpered and closed his eyes, surrendering. The room filled with the sound of smacking flesh.
“On the floor, on the floor,” Vixen gasped in his ear, and he let them down to his knees and then put her on her back, his reviving phallus still buried deeply in her, being massaged by her undulating muscles. “Yes, yes,” she cried. “You’re so wonderful, so good, so big and strong.” Adequate was Vixen’s true asessment, just barely adequate. She was disappointed but eager for more.
“Please Vixen, please,” he managed to say with reasonable clarity, “we must stop.” He was getting hard, harder and moving again, moving in and out, and she was quivering on his hot member, her pelvis constantly demanding action, her legs down up behind him. Her neck was arched, her mouth open, and she was rocking her hips from side to side.
Valpor heard himself making very odd noises as he fucked onward, just small grunts of pleasure while he smacked their flesh together. “Ungh, ungh, ungh,” he sobbed in time with his efforts. “We have to stop this,” he gasped.
“Right, right, we should,” she agreed, nodding her head and arching her back as she wrapped her legs about him and rutted still harder and faster, pushing on his butt with her heels. “Stop, stop, stop, have to stop,” she cried, and then she shuddered and sobbed as she changed position and he hit her G-spot, “Harder, harder.” She smacked his flank sharply.
“Oh God,” cried Mr. Valpor as he bent his back, extended his arms and drove his ram in and out of the writhing girl over and over, bouncing her off the tiles until he came again and collapsed down on her with a gasp of satisfaction and relief.
Vixen wiggled out from under him, wiped her dripping slot with a used wad of Kleenex, found her tiny underpants and her jeans and began to dress while her teacher lay on his face on his office floor and gulped for breath, his spent manhood draped on his thigh. She found her blouse in a corner and put it on and then sat in Mr. Valpor’s chair, pulled on her shoes, poured out a glass of water and waited for him to come to his senses. She left the top button of her shirt undone.
She felt good, but she had not enjoyed an orgasm as she had intended. That was disappointing. But she had achieved her goals otherwise. She owned him. She smiled and licked her lips. All men are boys, she decided, all of them.
When he climbed to his feet on shaky knees and zipped up his pants, Vixen gave him a glass of water, and he sat where she had been. She smiled at him, legs crossed. “That was pretty good, wasn’t it?’ She licked her lips again.
Vapor shuddered and exhaled. “I’m sorry, very sorry,” he began. “I’ve never.” He shook his head and looked at the floor.
“Don’t be. You were great,” she lied in a practiced manner since `adequate’ would have been a better term. “I’m sure hope we can do it again soon. Maybe do even better. You climaxed, but I didn’t.”
The man shook his head, finished his water, set down the glass, blinked and said, “What?”
“Didn’t you enjoy what we did? You looked like you were having fun.”
He swallowed and shook his head. “We can’t. I can’t. I’m married. You’re a student. Oh shit, shit and damn.”
“Mr. Valpor, what we did was natural. I was in need. You helped me. Maybe next week, I can help you.”
He shook his head.
“Look at the clock. We hardly took a half hour. If you had a couch or something, even a rug, we probably could do better. The floor’s awful hard.”
“We can’t, Vixen. Don’t you understand? We just can’t. It isn’t right.”
“Sure we can. If we only do it once a week, it won’t be anything, just us helping each other. OK?”
“Which day is best for you?”
“This is fine,” he said, not looking up at her.
She stood and tossed back her hair. “Next Monday then. I’m looking forward to it.”
Valpor slumped in the hard chair and shook his head, sated, defeated.
Vixen hurried back to her dorm room, hoping that she would find Steve waiting for Cal to return from her practice. He was there, reading an SI, when she skipped in and jumped on him, flattening him on Cal’s bed. “Oh boy,” she crowed as she pulled her shirt over her head. “Am I glad to see you.”
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