My Spanish Teacher [mF] [Latina] [Mild Raceplay][Size fetish] [4,000 words] [Fiction] [Ongoing]

# **Chapter 1 | Jacob**

I stuffed my dick back into my jeans for like the hundredth time. Whatever position I tried, it still looked like there was a fucking sausage down there. I’d gotten by over the summer with a desperate combination of gym clothes, loose cotton PJs, and swim trunks, but school didn’t permit “casual apparel” during class hours.

Honestly, I hadn’t realized how bad it was until I tugged a fresh pair of Levi’s up over a fat slab of morning wood, and walked by the full-length mirror next to my door.

It looked like a banana, except bananas don’t grow that long.

“Goodbye, dorky reputation,” I smirked, shamelessly admiring the rest of me.

I looked pretty good. A definite B minus on looks. I took after my mom, thank God, who was — not be gross or anything — a *super* hot blond, and while I was getting pretty muscular for my age. Having no friends, eating like a pig, and working out on your dad’s neglected Bowflex all summer had certainly changed my body.

I even had real, actual, no bullshit abs, not that anyone outside my family had ever seen them.

My dick, though. That was my *pride and fucking joy*. My big fat prick had just grown and grown all summer, going from a very average 5.5 inches to, at last check, 9 ¼ inches long!

I could not fucking *wait* to wave it in everybody’s face.

New school. New dick. New life.

I giggled in excitement. Then, horrified, coughed and gave my reflection a manly little nod.

I was almost halfway down the steps to the kitchen before I imagined explaining my new dick — and my new dick *print* — to an angry assistant vice principal. I’d met her at orientation. She was a bitch.

I tried to imagine sitting in her office while she called my mom. Or worse, my *dad*, who spanked me at the dinner table last week, just for saying Jennifer Lawrence was “hot” — I have a thing for curvy blonds, sue me — and once made me drink a teaspoon of Palmolive dish soap when he found a naked picture on my phone.

Thank fuck he hadn’t found the folder I’d named “Language Packs” and hid in the directory for iBible.

If *he* saw me, with my long, chubby manhood pushing out my jeans like a denim cucumber, he’d snap it off and shove it so far up my ass I’d be able to get my tongue and my dick pierced at the same time.

And Mom, well… she probably wouldn’t say anything. But she’d *know*. And every time she looked at me, *I’d* know. About my dick, I mean. It would be *inside* her. Rubbing up against her thoughts. Her opinions. She’d look at Dad’s no doubt incredibly average five-inch noodle, or whatever, and *there I’d be*. She’d use her vibrator, and *boom*. Jacob’s dick. Fat and throbbing. Right there in her brain. Forever.

The idea *really* stressed me out.

And I had enough shit in “Language Packs” already.

So I’d stomped back up, peeled off my jeans, and tried everything I could think of. All my tricks from the summer. Briefs, boxers, swim trunks, a thin pair of shorts, and even a piece of tape to hold it down.

The tape actually worked pretty good, but I gave it a quick boner test and damn near circumcised myself.

I eventually settled on good old Commando, feeding my meaty prick down a pant leg, and just sort of… covering it up with a pocket. If I slid a hand into my jeans, I could hide it and rub it at the same time.

Not that, I mean. Not that I *would*. But it’s important to have as many dick related options as possible.

Hopping and tugging on my jeans, reaching through the fly and smooshing it, I flattened my dick as much as possible, counted to twenty while I waited for it soften, and grabbed a jacket to hide behind.

Since it was supposed to be 90 degrees today, I’m sure carrying around a fucking *jacket* would do wonders for my social status.

“This is such bullshit,” I told my reflection, before bounding downstairs and grabbing my sister’s Pop-Tart right out of the toaster. It burned my fingers, and it was strawberry—the grossest of all flavors—but I wasn’t all that hungry, and pissing her off meant I got to watch her pout before running for the bus.

I didn’t notice how much strawberry I’d smeared all over my shirt until *almost* third period, by which time about half the school thought I was a gross, strawberry-smelling slob.

New school. New dick. *Same old me.*

…this was going to be a *great* year.

Ugh.

***

So.

So “Having a Big Dick” is supposed to be great, right?

I mean, it’s every guy’s dream to unzip at a urinal with that tiny bit of pride, or to see eyebrows go up when you pitch a tent like a circus fucking Big Top. Right?

Well, it was *mine*.

But you really only want that for a few hours a day. The rest of the time—hugging your mom, talking in front of class, running under any goddamn circumstance, picking your cousin up from preschool, *whatever*—it’s gross and horrible. And worse, when your dick is big and bulky, just about *everything* hurts it.

Oh, you think you can have a zipper? Jagged, metal teeth pressing against your dick all day?

Uh, *no.*

Cheap cotton underwear?

Sure. But why not save time and just …sand your dick right off?

Oh, oh, did you sit down without carefully (and graphically) ‘adjusting’ yourself?

Well, welcome to Squish Town, buddy. Population: 2. (bruised testicles.)

To say *nothing* about Random Boners.

You know what’s worse than throwing a bone at a funeral?

*Throwing a bone you can see from space*.

In other words, it *sucked*. And I was STILL a virgin, and I was STILL an unpopular fuck up, and I was STILL in love with my sister.

Oh don’t worry, we’ll get to that.

Determined to salvage my debut, I waited until between 3rd and 4th period and slipped into the bathroom next to the wood shop. I waited around until someone came in—a skater with skinny jeans, sweater paws, and a beanie—and smirked.

This was going to be *great*.

I swaggered up to the urinal, stood a full foot back from that square, porcelain mouth, whipped out my big fucking donkey dick, aimed, and fired.

I pissed like a fucking *racehorse*.

And you know what happened? Skater boy turned, screwed up his face, and said: “are you showing me your dick, dude?”

“What?” I said, a limp little chubby in both hands like a corn dog without a stick. “No!”

“Dude, I *saw you* walk over here. There’s four urinals right here? And *you picked the one next to me.*”

“I… *No*. I mean… I didn’t- I just, um—”

“Pretty gay, dude,” he said, slapping the flusher and leaving without washing his hands.

I slumped against the sink and put my head in my hands.

Why was I such a fucking loser?

“Hey,” I heard, out in the hall. “This gay dude totally just flashed me his dick.

“Oh,” I said. “*Fuck*.”

“No *way*.” Came a second voice. “Who was it?”

“That one guy with the big pink smear on his shirt.”

Laughter. “That blond pretty boy who smells like *fruit*?”

*Pretty boy?*

“Yeah, he was probably in there pumping his quads or whatever. He came *right up to me* and like… wiggled his dick in my face.”

“Oh *gross!*” Laughter. “He must have fallen for those gorgeous blue eyes, huh?”

“Dude… shut up.”

“Face it. They’re dreamy, bro.”

“Shut *up!”*

“So… you wanna see my dick?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring my *microscope* today. Now FUCK OFF, Spencer.”

At which point they drifted away from the door, leaving me to look down at my dick and just sigh.

Immediately, the door swung open. A guy in cargo shorts, army boots, and a blue t-shirt with a stylized pony…person…girl and the words: *Friendship is sexy! *stomped in looking at the ground. His backpack, a nylon boulder covered in stickers—most of them Japanese—landed next to the closest urinal with a *thump*.

He paused.

Looked at me.

Looked *down*.

Looked up at me, angry.

“Is that your *dick*, dude? *Gross*.”

He had the kind of voice that always sounds stuffed up, even when it isn’t.

I shoved my prick back into my pants and stormed out before things could get any worse.

“Hey!” the guy shouted at my back. “You didn’t wash your hands!”

Oh, yeah. Having a big dick? Is a fucking *blast*.

***

Sixth period. Spanish.

I was curled up in my desk at the back of the room, next to a map of South America labeled in Spanish. Or English, I guess. Hard to tell with a map.

We’d been given about a million handouts, and our teacher—Ms. Acosta—was explaining the importance of learning a second language in a diverse and globally rich boobies. Or something.

She was young, pretty, had like a ‘TV Mexican’ accent, and breasts that were the size, shape, *and color* of big, ripe cantaloupes. They were stuffed down into a simple beige dress with a tiny denim jacket, and little canvas shoes the same color as her dress. As she moved around, the lacy edges of her bra slid in and out of view, wrapped around a fat slit of cleavage like a deep, dark mouth that I wanted to—

“Mr. Kingston?” she asked.

She was looking right at me. Her eyes reminded me of dark, wet chocolate.

“Huh?” I said.

She gestured for me to stand up.

*Great*.

I got about two inches off my seat when I felt the throbbing bulge of a massive, swollen hard on.

I dropped back into my seat.

My balls took a brief vacation to Squish Town, and I nudged them back up with a grimace.

“I’m good,” I said.

“Everyone has to introduce themselves, Mr. Kingston.”

I lifted back up a few inches, shifting my handouts so they would cover me up.

“Hi, I’m Jacob Kingston, I’m new in town, my Dad’s the new—”

“Up *here*, Mr. Kingston,” she said, pointing at a spot abreast of her at the board.

I shook my head. The embarrassment was only making my erection worse. Dozens of eyes were burning into me.

*I could just stand up and show off my dick RIGHT NOW*, I thought.

My greedy cock, hungry for some kind of validation after a day of disappointment, throbbed in agreement.

*Fine. Fuck it*.

I adjusted things so my dick would look its biggest, and stood just in time for the Public Address system to *Click*. Everyone immediately looked up at the speaker.

“This is your vice principal Gerald Strickland. Yes, just like in Back to the Future. Yes, it’s just a coincidence.” He paused. Then: “If anyone knows the whereabouts of Emily Kingston,” he continued, “please dial RED 9 and inform someone in my office. Again, if anyone—”

I snickered. At least my sister was having a worse day than I was.

I sat back down.

“And while I have your attention,” Mr. Strickland went on, “I’d like to remind all students that the bathroom is for toilet and hand washing activities, and *not* a strip club or a singles bar.”

I stopped snickering.

“Please refrain from flashing your fellow students, and leave the bathroom once your hands are clean. I’ve received multiple reports of someone violating this rule, and if it continues, they’ll be very sorry indeed. Thank you for your attention.” *Click*.

My eyes closed, and my head slowly drifted down to my desk.

“We’re running out of time,” Ms. Acosta sighed, “so we’ll have to finish our introductions tomorrow.” She crossed her arms and her breasts pushed up and into her cleavage like rising bread. “Remember that we’ll have a vocabulary quiz at the start of every class, that includes tomorrow’s class, and—” the bell sounded. Her voice tripled in volume. “—don’t forget to do the reading online, and answer the questions on your sheet.”

Her class started to flow into the hallway. I stood, making a shield out of my handouts.

“*Mr. Kingston*,” she said, very loudly. “Stay in your seat. I want to talk to you.”

There was a lazy, half-assed, You’re-Gunna-Get-It *Wooo* as people turned to shoot me mean, Schadenfreude grins.

I sat back down and looked at the ceiling.

And I *really* thought that I’d enjoy her class, boob.

***

My teacher, arms crossed, waited for the room to clear. Glossy beige nails and skin the color of toffee. Dark eyeshadow and huge brown eyes.

She dropped her arms and the soft pillow of her breasts bounced exactly the way they were meant to—down, then up. Fake tits and fat breasts would keep wobbling, like flabby wads of dough.

She closed her door with one of her perfect nails. Still across the room, she raised her eyebrows and gestured with a finger.

“Stand up, Mr. Kingston.”

I stood.

Her cheek twitched. “Put the papers down, young man.”

Behind the barrier of handouts, my swollen dick *throbbed*.

I took a breath, then dropped the sheets. They went *everywhere*, flying around me and the revelation of my prick like John Woo doves.

She nodded. “I thought so.”

She grabbed her pointer from the chalk tray, a half-meter length of polished wood about as thick as a back scratcher, and walked to the desk in front of mine.

As she sat, the firm cushion of her ass spread out over the top like a spoon of warm Nutella.

She had, I realized, a fucking *incredible* ass.

The pointer found my chin. A gentle tap brought my eyes back up to meet hers.

*Oops.*

“Do you have a thing for *Latinas*, Mr. Kingston?” she asked, thickening her accent into a gooey Spanish paste.

“No!” I squeaked. Then, after coughing: “I mean, no. I mean, not like in a disrespectful way. I mean…”

“Am I supposed to believe, Mr. Kingston, that what I’m looking at is your erect penis?”

I looked down. My dick, finally getting some attention, was *painfully* stiff. More than obscene.

The pointer jabbed into my dick.

“Hey!” I said, doubling over, my hands coming up to cover my manhood.

“Well I must say, that felt surprisingly genuine,” she said, the beginning of a smile appearing on her lips.

“Well, *it is*.” I reached down and made sure I wasn’t, you know, *impaled* or anything. “And you don’t have to stab me with a *spear* to—”

Her jacket hit the floor. When I looked up, the top of her dress was folded down to reveal a massive, black underwire bra.

“—find that, um. Out.”

“You’re a virgin,” she said. Not a question. A fact.

I thought about arguing, but my dick said *No!*

“Yeah,” I said. I let all the disappointment and shame that I felt about that hammer down on my voice. It wasn’t much more than a whisper.

“Unbutton your jeans, Mr. Kingston.”

She was looking at my dick, not me.

After spending my day being taunted, ignored, dismissed, and humiliated, the sudden sexual attention was a huge rush.

*Now *this* is what’s supposed to happen*, I thought. *This is what Pornhub prepared me for!*

I reached out, put a finger under her chin, and made her look into my eyes.

“Why should I?” I asked.

A ripple of emotions passed over her beautiful brown face like a dark cloud. And when they lifted, I saw something I’d been waiting a goddamn *lifetime* to see.

Arousal. On a woman’s face. Because of *me*.

She made a *tsk* sound with her mouth that I can only describe as ‘Super Mexican’—I swear to *God* I’m not racist—and said: “Because I’m your teacher. And because if you don’t, I’ll call Mr. Strickland and—”

I rolled my eyes and unbuttoned my jeans. My dick flopped out with an audible *thwack* and the tip drew an O in the air between us with each beat of my heart.

“*Ay, dios mio*,” she whispered, the arm with the pointer going limp.

I grinned. *Fucking finally!*

“What,” I said (not racist, not racist, not racist) “you’ve never seen a white dick before?”

“Not one like that,” she breathed.

My dick. It’s as thick as a can of furniture polish, and veined so it looks like a screw. The long foreskin at the tip fills with wetness when I’m hard, and drools at my feet like a leaky faucet.

It was drooling like that now. It pattered on my Nikes and splashed on my jeans.

“I’m big,” I said.

“*Eres un toro*,” she said.

“What?”

“You’re a *bull*.”

I smiled. I liked that.

“And what are you?”

She shrugged. “What else? *I’m the fucking bull rider*.”

A giddy thrill passed up into my limbs.

“Is your door locked?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Do you have another class today?”

She shook her head.

*Yes yes yes yes yes yes!*

“Write me an excuse for seventh period,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

She didn’t seem to notice. She nodded, walking over to her big pine desk and scribbling something on the interclassroom notepad.

She sat, quietly on the edge of her desk.

Expectantly.

*Submissively*.

That word—*submissive*—made my dick *buzz*. This was what my big dick was *for*.

“Take those huge fucking tits out,” I said, in a voice that was half a growl.

She smiled. She was proud of her breasts, clearly. Reaching in between them as I approached her, she parted the bra and let them spill out all at once, as she stripped off the bra and let her dress fall to the floor.

Her breasts were pale and firm, with massive chewy nipples as big and dark as kidney beans. They hung defiantly, aggressive in the air above my dick, so thick I almost missed her hips, which curved around into a huge brown ass the shape of a massive, fuzzy peach.

She was *just curvy enough* to make me salivate like a fucking dog, though I knew she’d be fat as an old woman.

Right then, though. In her twenties. She was *perfect*. And I explored her with my eyes.

“Turn,” I said. “Show me *everything*.”

And she did.

Her pussy, dark, visibly wet, was surrounded by a thick bush of curly dark pubic hair. It was a bramble, a forest, as fragrant as a candle, as hot as flame.

She had not been wearing panties.

“I don’t think I’m going to be a virgin when the bell rings,” I said.

“No. No, you absolutely *won’t*.”

I reached down and gave my dick a single, excited pump.

This is it! This is *it!*

“What’s your first name?” I asked, as I tossed my shirt off over my head.

She made a little *Oh!* of surprise when she saw my body.

*Oh yeah*, I thought. *I *am* kind of hot*. In all the bullshit, I’d forgotten I was more than just a dick.

“Araceli,” she said. “Araceli Acosta. *Aria*, for short.”

Her asshole, deep inside the thick, fleshy crack of her ass, was the darkest part of her body. Clean, the skin dark and tight, with a line of dark skin connecting her ass to her pussy. I’d never seen that before, but I liked it.

I suddenly and all at once understood why men ate pussy.

Because *some* pussies look fucking *delicious*.

Her fingers were between her legs. She was holding her clit exposed with a V of fingers, while the other hand teased the little pink button around the edges. She was looking me up and down, breathing hard.

*She’s masturbating to me*, I realized.

“Be honest,” I said. “You took this job to fuck guys like me, didn’t you?”

She shivered. I could see the arousal overriding her better judgement. She nodded. “I’ve always had a… thing. For young white men.”

A trickle of warm syrup slid down the dark thicket of hair and onto her asshole. The whole area between her thighs *sparkled* in the harsh overhead light.

It took actual restraint to stop myself from diving down to my knees and just… burying my face in her ass.

“And do you like what you see?” I asked. I stood there, my jeans folded down but still on, my strawberry stained shirt crumpled in the corner. The body she could see was muscular, pale white, with a torso that pointed down like an arrow to a huge dick I was only just beginning to get used to.

“*Oh yes*,” she said. “Although my usual conquests are less…” she smiled. “Chatty.”

I laughed. *Yeah, I’ll bet*.

“Well, Aria,” I said, “I think I’m going to fuck the complete *shit* out of you.”

*Finally*, I thought.

“Finally,” she said.

I pushed her and she flattened onto her desk, arms above her head like a ballerina spinning. And without a second thought, I let my cock just *slide *into her pussy.

***

A lot has been written about the moment of penetration. How it’s supposed to feel or not supposed to feel. All I can say is that the inside of Ms. Acosta’s dark red pussy was *so warm* that I gasped in surprise.

I’d had my dick in quite a few things before then. My hand. My other hand. A fold of pillows. A borrowed fleshjack. (*Don’t judge me, I was desperate!*) Panties of various description. Even a banana peel.

I figured a pussy would be… kind of like that. But all those things are *cold*. Or at least room temperature. Whereas my Spanish teacher was 98.6 degrees on the inside.

And warm, it turned out, is *good*.

But more than that, she was *wet*. I wouldn’t find this out until later, but she was *very wet*. Like *upper 90th percentile* *wet*. Both because she was so turned on, and because she was just like that.

The total effect was like warm and jammy, but tight like a… like a…

*Fuck it*. Dude, there is *nothing* like wet pussy. No comparison. It was so good I groaned all the way in, all nine and a quarter inches as I shoved my clumsy way into her tight, Mexican womb, and all the way out again, as I went from inside her wet pussy clamp to the cold school air.

I reached up and grabbed her breasts, squishing them against my face, licking between them, sucking on her nipples and making her gasp.

And she made a *lot* of noise. She began to come when I was only three inches inside her, and she didn’t come down until fifteen minutes after I’d left. She had to bite down on the pointer to keep from attracting the whole building.

“Holy *shit*,” she said. “I’ve never been this *full…* I can’t get used to it, it just… it just… *fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”*as I went from a slow insertion to a bouncing rhythm.

“Talk to me in Spanish you fat, Mexican *bitch*,” I groaned, in the least racist way possible.

“*Ay Papi*,” she said—

“That’s *right*,” I growled—

“*eres enorme e—”*

“Just like that, you dirty fucking *whore*—”

*”nadie me lo—”*

“You wanna teach me something?”

“*das como*—”

“Teach me how a hairy, latina *slut* comes for a white boy.”

I slapped her breasts, which felt better than I expected it to.

I sucked on her nipples so hard I left a mark.

And all at once, her eyes panicked, and she said “I *just can’t believe* how fucking big you are!”

And her pussy clamped down so hard I couldn’t pull it out without bracing her with both hands, giving me a long, tight scraping sensation that literally sucked the cum right out of me.

I wish I could say I said something cool, but all I said was “*Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!*” to her “*Yes! Yes Yes!*” and crossed my eyes so hard when I came that I thought my brain would turn inside out.

As it was, I collapsed onto a desk and panted until my breath came back.

“That was…” she managed, breathing hard, “the *best* first sex… I’ve ever had.”

I looked at the clock. The whole thing took less than ten minutes.

And my dick was still as hard as a rock.

“If you liked it so much,” I said, “Why don’t you suck the cum off my dick?”

It stood up in front of my stomach, goey and pale, my balls on the desk and squirming.

She looked up in disbelief.

Then smiled, and got down on her knees.

***

After she’d sucked herself off of my cock, I flipped her over and fucked her from behind, feeling the hard little balloon of her womb bounce against my dickhead until it softened. And as much as I loved her breasts, it was her ass that really got to me. It was slappable and round, and I could really… *ride it*. It kind of… fucked back.

I spent most of seventh period buried up to my balls in my Spanish teacher’s pussy, and I learned a little more each time I made her come.

I also made it clear to her that I’d be getting an A, and I wouldn’t be working very hard for it.

And that tomorrow, I was going to sink my tongue into that dark furry muff and learn how to eat pussy.

She enthusiastically agreed to everything, anything I wanted. She even offered to take me home and keep me all night.

And I’d like to say that I was thinking about her the whole time, but I wasn’t.

I was thinking of Emily. Emily Kingston.

My sister.

I thought of her the whole damn time.

###End of Chapter One###

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/8760b6/my_spanish_teacher_mf_latina_mild_raceplaysize