Like most people, I went back to my old high school after my freshman year in college, said “Hi,” to a few of my teachers, checked to see if my old locker combination still worked (it did.) and did all the old clichéd things that most students did. However, in addition to that I also did one extra round after my senior year in college, a part of me wanted to recapture that part of my life. I wouldn’t have said that high school was the best part of my life, but it was a time when things seemed relatively straightforward. Now after four years of college, I had graduated and luckily did find a job that paid decently. Though living away from home wasn’t anything usual, it felt really different knowing that I had two weeks vacation rather than an entire summer to bum around at home if I so chose. I was tired of people telling me how lucky I was, because while I was lucky to have landed that job, I felt that I was in over my head.
Anyways, apologies for the personal aside, like this post, I had intended one thing, but it always bled into another. I had gone back to my high school to do the freshman ritual though only as a senior when Mrs. G saw me in the hallway. She had been my AP Government teacher, and while she had been the object of many of my sexual fantasizes as a teenager, I couldn’t say that I should have been a particularly memorable student for her. I did well in her class, but spent most of my time dozing off in her class. I participated when I needed to, had a few embarrassing moments when she called on me, and I was audibly snoring, that kind of stuff. She never left me any messages on the reports that I turned in other than the swathe of red denoting things that I missed etc.
So, I was a bit surprised when she called out to me, “James, What are you doing back here?” Looking at her, I was surprised at how good she still looked. Another one of my teachers who I thought was bombshell when I was a student had aged horribly turning an odd shade of orange which didn’t go well with her blonde hair. In any case Mrs. G didn’t look like she changed a bit, the only difference was that her auburn hair was up, rather than in a pony tail, and she had a pair of reading glasses hanging from her neck.
I looked back at her and said, “Ah, nothing. Just doing the stupid last walk around in my high school. That kind of stuff. I’m going to graduate this year, and it just seems a bit overwhelming.”
“I know what that feels like James. When I walked into the classroom for the first time, I was like, ‘What have I gotten myself into.’ It’ll be okay.”
For some reason, the conversation didn’t end there and the two of us just loitered in the hallway chatting. The one piece of wisdom that I did take from our conversation was, “You’ll never be ready for life’s big moments, it’s just up to you to sink or swim.” It felt good hearing that, that someone else had felt the same thing as me.
Stupidly or brilliantly I had noticed that her ring finger no longer had a ring on it. It was something that we had commented on as students, that she must have had a rich husband looking like the way she did and having a ring with a diamond that large. Not being known for being able to hold my mouth, I asked, “What happened to your ring?”
She looked at me sadly and said, “One of the things that nothing can prepare you for.” She looked up at me looking far more vulnerable than I had ever seen her in the year that I had her for class and she asked, “Mind if I vent for a bit? I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about this for a while.”
“Sure.” We went into her classroom where she made herself and offered me a cup of tea. Apparently her husband had cheated on her, and though her family and friends had been sympathetic at first, their patience was wearing thin and for the most part even though she felt that she was wronged she was more isolated than ever.
She started to quiz me about whether I had a girlfriend (no, recently broken up), whether I had a lot of partner, to which I replied does, “Six constitute a lot?” I wasn’t sure how she took it, though from her face it seemed she was the kind of girl who saved herself for marriage which would have been a damned shame considering how good she looked.
Anyways, I told her that her husband was a fool and that anyone would be lucky to have her. In any case I let it slipped that I had a lot of dirty fantasies about her when I was a student and that I wasn’t the only one. She giggled a bit when she heard that, a reaction that I wasn’t expecting considering the judgmental look that she had given me when I said I’d been with six women. She then asked me whether all boys fantasize about their teachers to which I said, “Only the pretty ones.” She asked me more about the other teachers that we had fantasized about (there were three others, though I copped out to fantasizing about a fourth who wasn’t very pretty).
It was a rather odd conversation to be having with a teacher who I thought was pretty, but always pretty straight-laced, but it seemed to have the desired effect of lightening her mood a bit hearing how all the boys were horn dogs. She casually asked what my fantasy about her was to which given the way our conversation was going I didn’t think twice telling her that I fantasize about getting a blow job in the classroom and fucking her partially clothed on her desk.
I saw her glancing at the clock and then back at me and given the silence had expected her to tell me to leave. However, before I could apologize she said, “Close the blind.” The classroom had a blind on the door, but being buried in the center of the building had no other windows. I got up, now sporting a painful hard-on. I was painfully aware that the lump in my pants wasn’t going away and I could feel my underwear rubbing my too tender cock rather painfully.
Walking back I readjusted my cock inside my pants when Mrs. G said, “You look like you need to sit down. I sat down at one of the desks, though facing to the side since I had assumed that I was getting a blow job. Mrs G said, “Call me Melanie and please sit on my desk.” I got up a bit awkwardly and walked to her desk. At this point I could hear a mental porno sound track, and god did Mrs. G fit the sexy teacher stereotype well. She was wearing a skirt that came just above the knees, a nice blouse with a sweater on top and her long hair pinned up. The only thing missing was the unreasonably large breasts bursting out of the blouse, but at this point complaining would be rather unreasonable.
Mrs. G bent over and pulled my shorts down slowly pulled them down. I was leaking precum pretty heavily and Mrs. G immediately gave me one long lick. I groaned when she did this. She looked up at me and said, “I’m not sure why my husband didn’t just ask me to do the things he wanted. I don’t mind giving blow jobs.”
Then as if reading my mind she put on her reading glasses and proceeded to swirl her tongue on the tip of my cock. I had totally misjudged her as being a prude given how enthusiastically and how well she was sucking my cock. I didn’t know whether this would be a good time to have a conversation since her mouth was full, but I really wanted to ask, “So how many cocks have you sucked?” However, maybe I would leave that question for another time.
I couldn’t help myself, but I slipped my hands into her hair and just followed the motion of her head and it bobbed up and down as she licked my cock. When she got it good and wet she stood up and kissed me, “You really are sweet.” Her tongue found the inside of my mouth and I could taste a bit of myself. She got back down and began to blow me in earnest with her mouth taking my cock until the tip hit the back of her throat. Her right hand was wrapped around the base of my cock, squeezing down on it each time her head came down.
Despite the fact that I had fantasized about her when I was I high school, she always seemed rather serious and so had felt a bit of intimidation, especially when she caught me unprepared to answer her questions. However, seeing her on her knees, looking at me through her glasses with my cock in her mouth seemed to reverse the dynamic immediately. While some people might have dominant/submission fantasies, I think that all sex has some aspect of that, and at this moment god was I feeling dominant. My hands played with her hair, her face, I pulled my cock out and had her suck on my fingers. I wanted to feel and for her to know that I could touch her whenever and however I wanted and she consented to all of it, licking my cock when I presented it to her, sucking my fingers when I wanted her to. Taking my cock on the side of her face when I wanted to ruin her makeup. It was glorious.
After the inner power monologue, I allowed her to continue blowing me without interruption, but soon, I had both of my hands on top of her head and I began to push her head down, at first a bit gently to set the rhythm, but a bit more forcefully so I could feel my cock stretch the back of her throat, given that she didn’t seem to mind, the blow job got a bit rough as I forced Mrs. G’s gagging mouth on my cock over and over again, all the while with her looking at me over the rims of her reading glasses with her hazel eyes.
It didn’t take long before I shot my load into her waiting mouth and I watched as my cum leaked out of her slightly agape mouth. She stood up and rubbed her throat for a bit and asked, “Been a while?”
“You have no idea.” In truth, I hadn’t been with a girl since my breakup with my girlfriend and at least for the last two days hadn’t masturbated, busy with my mom’s to do list. “Melanie, on your desk.”
I wanted to repay the pleasure she had just give me. Mrs. G sat on her desk with her legs spread. I pushed her skirt up, and despite the rather boring panties she wore, seeing her smooth legs spread apart, her skirt bunched up around her waist and her black low heeled pumps pointing in the air. I pulled her panties down and saw that she was neatly trimmed and began to flick her clit with my tongue. She groaned instantly and as I worked her wet cunt, she pressed my head against her crotch with the same urgency that I fucked her face earlier.
While the school was concrete, most of the room were separated with partitions that were made out of the same material as cubicle walls and so weren’t all that soundproof. An odd choice for a school, and the room that we were in was no exception. As I worked Mrs. G’s pussy her moans got louder and louder, and while I wasn’t really concerned about being caught Mrs. G was and I saw her try to cover her mouth with her hands, though not very successfully.
She started to moan for me to stop saying that it was too much, and that someone would hear us, I gave her panties back to her and she did something that was completely surprising and horridly arousing. She put her panties in her mouth which muffled the moans of pleasure that I she was experiencing. Like me, she hadn’t orgasmed in a while and as she got closer, I could feel her legs squeezing around my head, the smell of her juices over powering me.
When she came, she came hard. Her entire body tensed and I felt as if she’d squeeze the life out of me. I had her legs wrapped around my head for what felt like an eternity until she relaxed enough where I could get up. I was hard again, but also felt a dull ache of in my balls given how empty I felt after her blow job.
Seeing Mrs. G with her wet panties in her hand, smiling on that and whimpering, “Oh god, that was amazing made me want to fuck her again. I went over with my cock in my hand intended on fucking her. However she stopped me and said, “Not here.”
With impeccably horrible timing, my phone rang, my parents wanted to go out for dinner and my mom was probably wondering just where the hell was I, since seeing my teachers shouldn’t have taken that long. I went from feeling like a stud to the shy 16 year old that I was when I was taking her class and excused myself with the worst excuse ever, “Uh, that was my mom calling.”
She did however laugh a bit and say, “Sure. By the way. If you come tomorrow we can go to my place and have a really good fuck.”