The Teacher’s Emo Slut [MF] [Teen] [Teacher] [Kissing] [Creampie] [Drugs] [Older man, younger woman]

Abbie grabbed her tits through her tight blue dress, giving them a squeeze. She turned, staring at the curve of her ass in the mirror and the shape of her legs in her heels. Her forearms were covered in bracelets and bands. She had a nose and lip piercing, eyes cast with dark mascara, short, messy hair coming to her shoulders and freshly dyed black. Even though the school had warned her, she wore fishnet leggings anyway. What, were they going to kick her out? Her senior year?

She could hear the music bumping through the hallway. This year’s prom theme was “Under the Sea,” which was the same theme it had been last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. The student committees never got much more creative with their ideas. Abbie was alone in the bathroom; the other girls having rushed back to the dance floor.

For some, being a senior without a date to the prom was embarrassing. To make it through four years of bullshit only to not get *someone* to pretend to like you for a night? Seemed pathetic. Abbie was fine with it. Her best friend, a tall, lanky goth dude named Brian, had asked her to go as friends, but he insisted on wearing his “tail,” so she shot him down. He was a little *too* eccentric, even for her. And for rural Minnesota, Abbie was already too weird.

She poked her head into the hallway, made sure no one was around, and then yanked out a small baggie of coke. Using her debit card, she quickly pulled it into a line on the sink and then snorted it up. Abbie pinched the bridge of her nose and tilted her head back, skin tingling.

Abbie had waited until she was eighteen to be too experimental with her drugs. She usually stuck to weed and wine on occasion, except for that one party where she had far too much vodka. As soon as she turned eighteen last week, she asked her dealer to hook her up. Credit to the guy, he got it to Abbie before prom.

Probably should go back before one of the chaperones got too suspicious of her. She tucked the rest in her purse and made her way back to the gym. She wore vans with the whites filled in by scribbled sharpie. Better than the heels some of the other sluts were wearing. One of the teachers frowned at her fishnets as she slipped back in but didn’t say anything.

Tacky decorations hung on the wall and from the ceiling, an overwhelming amount of glittering blue and green assaulting her as she entered. Some students sat at tables set up to the side, sneaking sips of booze when teachers weren’t looking. There was a couple dozen people on the dance floor, jumping awkwardly to a dubstep remix of “Happy.” Most people stood off to the side in sheepish pockets.

Abbie strolled over to her table, eyes wide and jittery as the coke rocked through her. Brian sat with the rest of her small friend group, tossing his hair habitually with a flick of his head. He wore a suit a size too big. It looked terrible on him, with his too-heavy mascara and nose ring. His “tail” hung out from underneath him.

“Yo, Abs,” Brian grinned at her as she sat. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, totally fine. Totally,” she said, leg bouncing under the table. She was honestly amazed Brian had a date. She lounged, long blonde hair done into curls and red lipstick pursed. Her name was…Bianca? Betty? Something with a ‘B’. She looked terribly out of place among them, with her preppy appearance.

“Yeah? Nice. Beck, wanna dance?” Brian turned toward her. She glanced at him and shrugged.

“We just danced.”

“Yeah, but –”

“Next slow dance. I just wanna chill and rest for a second.” Beck muttered. Abbie felt like she had some sort of second sense and stared intently at Beck. Must have been some sort of pills she was on, eyes glassy and appearance slumped.

Or maybe she was just bored with Brian. Couldn’t blame her.

“You gonna dance, Abs?” Gerty asked, another one of their small group. Some people called him The Gert, and of all of them, he was the one bullied the least. On part that he was six and a half feet tall and could bench more than their football team’s quarterbacks. His buzzed hair was streaked with pinks and yellows. No one dared fuck with The Gert. Abbie found it kind of hot, and the more she thought about the past two years knowing him, the more she thought about letting him fuck her. He was practically twice her size.

“Maybe. Dunno. Maybe if there’s someone interesting. Maybe.” Abbie searched the dance floor for anyone interesting. Everyone dancing was popular, or too stupid to realize how dumb they looked. A few of the jocks and theater kids who had been sipping shots of vodka bravely ventured out for the first time.

“What about Freddy?” Gerty asked, pointing to a skinny kid with a blonde mop of hair. Her face screwed up.

“The yearbook editor?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“It’s not like it would be fun anyway,” drawled Beck. “We can’t grind without anyone getting in our way.”

“We can if we’re quick.” Brian said.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what a woman wants, for it to be quick.” Beck rolled her eyes and Abbie winced on Brian’s behalf. Poor dolt was oblivious.

“She’s right anyway. Can’t *really* dance. It’s bullshit. Hell, we’re eighteen now, we should be able to!” Abbie said emphatically. The Gert grinned at her. Damn.

“Right, but we’re still in school.”

“Lame.”

“Either of you get into University?” Brian asked.

“Yeah. NYU,” grunted the Gert. That was the other thing about him. Man was wicked smart. Had she just been oblivious to how attractive he’d been this whole time, or was it just the coke?

“U of M,” said Abbie. Nothing really impressive, but college was college. “You?”

“Same.” Brian beamed. She wondered for a moment if their friendship would survive University. Or if either of them would even make it. The reality of the decision loomed over her, and it felt like she’d been hit with a wave of vertigo as she thought about her future.

“How ‘bout you, Beck?” Abbie asked to distract herself.

“Oh, I’m gonna take a year off and go backpacking around Europe. My dad gave me some money for the trip as a present,” she mumbled. “Maybe University after.”

“Must be nice having daddy pay.” Gerty grumbled.

Beck seemed oblivious to the disdain. “Yeah, he’s great. And besides,” she leaned forward for the first time toward Abbie. Beck’s tits looked *really* good when she did that. “I hear European guys are uncircumcised and love to fuck American girls.” Her grin was hungry. Brian licked his lips staring at her, as if that described him perfectly. Maybe it did. Abbie didn’t know his dick situation.

“Yeah? I mean, I guess you’re right. Yeah.” Abbie nodded along, trying to get her leg to stop bouncing. Beck scooted her chair closer to Abbie. She had glitter makeup across the bridge of her nose. She also had freckles. Abbie wasn’t like, *super gay*, but if Beck wanted to make out and finger her in the bathroom, Abbie wouldn’t say no.

“You a virgin?” She asked.

“Pfft, no.”

“Yeah? Who was your first?”

“Some tennis dude from another school. Back when I used to play.” Abbie said.

“Hot,” Beck looked out over the straggling dancers, that hungry look in her eye. “Some of the teachers here are pretty fine. Like that Mr. Harris.”

Abbie followed where Beck pointed. Mr. Harris was their world history teacher and a bit over thirty. He was less of the ‘hot new young teacher’ and more of the ‘hot aging teacher,’ with his short, brown hair styled and beard kept short. He was greying, looking more like a silver fox than an old man. Mr. Harris wore a tweed jacket, clean shoes, and you could tell even in his semi-formal clothes that he worked out. Abbie practically started drooling.

“Isn’t he married?” She asked instead. Beck grabbed her thigh.

“Even better, huh?”

“Fucking the teacher,” Gerty laughed. “The ultimate fantasy. Like, Brian, did you see was Mrs. Joy was wearing today? God, I would have given my left nut to plow her.”

“Everyone in school would.” Brian said.

“It should be illegal for teachers to be that hot.” Beck said. Mr. Harris was chatting with another chaperone and prowling at the same time. He stepped in to break apart some kids trying to sneakily grind. They tried to protest, but he wagged his finger while scolding them. Abbie couldn’t hear what he was saying over the drumming music, but her imagination filled in the gaps.

*This is inappropriate, Abbie. You can’t be acting like this. This is the second time, you need to be punished. Come to my office. You’ve been a bad girl*.

“Yeah. Should be.” Abbie croaked, surprised at the sudden horniness. Mr. Harris caught them staring and cocked an eyebrow. Beck and Abbie sheepishly waved at him, and he tossed them a smile. So hot. Abbie rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and sniffed some.

“Too bad we can’t get with teachers,” Beck slumped back. A new song came on, *La La La* by some rapper Abbie always forgot the name of. She hated this kind of music, but the organizers downright refused to any of the mid-2000s punk she liked. “Oh! I love this song. C’mon, lets dance!” Beck snapped upright. Seems there was some of her still alive under whatever high she was on.

“Uh,” Gerty looked around at the three of them, emos and goths. “We don’t exactly –”

“Sure, let’s go dance,” interrupted Brian, shooting a glare at the Gert.

He shrugged. “Whatever. Abs?”

“I gotta go to the bathroom first.” She said quickly.

“Again?”

“I’m a *lady*, Gerty.” She said pointedly and he pursed his lips.

“Yeah, lady. Right. Well, we’ll be here.”

“Come *on*, you sad boys!” Beck was on her feet and pulling on the Gert, who reluctantly stood up and towered over them all. Brian winked at Abbie before hounding after the others like a puppy. She watched them skip over to the growing cluster of awkward dancing and noticed Mr. Harris watching her. Blushing, Abbie quickly got up, grabbed her purse, and rushed back into the hallway. The chaperone continued to glare at her fishnets. Fat bitch was probably just jealous she couldn’t rock them.

Luckily there was no one else in the bathroom right now. People *really* liked that song. Abbie checked herself in the mirror again. She ran her fingers through her night dark hair, spotting the faint red roots she tried so hard to smother. Abbie pulled the rest of the baggie out. She probably didn’t need it, but she was strangely jittery and horny. Maybe more would sort of even it out. Fire with fire, right?

There was a sound of something banging in the hallway. A locker, maybe. It still caused Abbie to jump and spill her coke in the sink. It spread out like flour, puffing up.

“Shit. Shit shit shit, fuck, shit, fucking bullshit,” she hissed, frantically trying to wash it down the drain. If someone found even the slightest trace of drugs, the dance would get shut down, and they’d all be *fucked*. Abbie’s coked up heart felt like it was trying to crawl out from underneath her ribs.

Once she was certain that all of it was gone and there was no evidence of her screw up, Abbie tucked the bag back in and stared at her reflection a little bit more. *Should have stuck to pot, Abs*. Whatever. This was just an experiment. Wouldn’t happen again. Abbie was strictly weed and booze again. Coke made her feel weird, and the risk of it wasn’t worth the worry.

She nearly leapt out of her dress when she walked out of the bathroom and into Mr. Harris.

Even looming over her, arms folded, frown creasing his face, honey eyes piercing her from behind thick rimmed glasses, Abbie got very, very hot.

“Afternoon, Abbie. Everything alright?” He asked in a slightly husky voice. Abbie was torn somewhere between adoration and abject fear. All the coke didn’t help either.

“’Course, Mr. Harris. Yeah, everything’s cool. Cool, cool, cool,” Abbie laughed nervously. Her smile felt like glass on her face.

“Yeah? This is the third time you’ve rushed off.”

“Lady stuff, y’know? All the monthly business. Bad time, really. On prom. Such a shame!” She rambled, nearly shaking. Mr. Harris cocked an eyebrow.

“So, what’s that?” He pointed at a splotch of white powder near her hip. It felt like the entire school came crashing down on her. Abbie suddenly got light headed and had to focus on standing.

“Uh…Buh…Flour?”

“Come with me.” He growled, stomping down the hallway. What else could she do? Abbie dragged her feet after him, head hanging. She was screwed. So, absolutely, entirely screwed. He let her go first in his room. It felt weird with no one in it. Maps stared down at her like the accusatory glare of a judge, empty desks the jury. Mr. Harris dragged over a chair and slammed it down next to his desk, making her slouch under the sound. She slithered onto it and tried to make herself as small as possible. He sat in his large, black teacher chair.

“Flour?”

“Mmhm,” mumbled Abbie.

“Abbie,” said Mr. Harris in a harsh tone. She slouched further, feeling ridiculous in her tight blue dress that pushed her A cups to B’s and fishnet leggings she wore to spite the other teachers.

“It’s…Not flour.”

“Jesus Christ, Abbie. Cocaine, really? And at school? Do you have any idea how badly this can mess up your plans?” He threw his hands in the air. Abbie just shrugged, too shamed to say anything.

“Where’s the rest of it?”

“Sink.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Really. I dropped the baggie in the sink.”

He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know I have to report this, right?”

Abbie snapped upright. “Wait! Please, no.”

“I have to. It’s *coke*.”

“Please. Fuck, *please* don’t tell anyone,” her voice reached a new pitch, the drugs still in her system rocking through her veins. “I’ll get fucked, absolutely. You can’t, there’s got to be something else!”

Mr. Harris leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his hips. He still wore that disappointed frown, face scrunched. The silence dragged on terribly, and she felt it grating on her.

“Mr –”

“What were you and Beck talking about earlier?” He cut her off.

“Eh?”

“At the dance. You and Beck were talking about me, weren’t you?” Mr. Harris said. Past the fear and coke, Abbie’s face turned bright red as she recalled the conversation and the fantasies she had.

“Well, yeah, kind of, just a bit. I mean, it wasn’t anything bad. Good. Yeah, it was good stuff, I think. We weren’t like, bullying you or anything, y’kow, just sort of talking about how you looked and acted,” she stopped herself with a shaky laugh. He raised an eyebrow and stared at her for a dreadfully long time.

Finally, he opened his desk and pulled her out a tiny baggie of white powder just like the one she had. Abbie’s eyes shot open and jaw dropped. He was such a proper man, never once being anything other than the model teacher. And here he was with cocaine! Was he going to frame her? She started shaking again.

“So, I’ll let you know what I have to do, Abbie,” whispered Mr. Harris. “You did drugs in the school bathroom during prom. That’s reportable. Police have to get involved. Or, you calm down, do a little bit with me – it’s prom night, after all – and then…” He trailed off, eyes trailing over her body like spiders.

“Th-then?” Abbie stuttered. He reached out and placed his hand on her knee, gently rubbing her inner thigh.

“Then we’ll see,” He said, grinning. The sudden offer made her head light, and she nodded absently. Mr. Harris straightened and tapped some of the coke on his desk, packing it into two neat, parallel lines with his credit card. Then he took out a fifty, rolled it, and offered it to her. “You first.” He said.

With nothing else to go on, Abbie took the twenty and railed the line off the desk. Her nose itched and she almost sneezed. A couple seconds later, he did the same and then the drug hit her like a fist. The lights seemed brighter, the detail of his desk more noticeable. Abbie felt like she could count every individual grey hair in his beard. His pupils were wide and he watched her with the same intensity.

Then they were kissing. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into him, his lips locked against hers. Their tongues wrapped around each other, and Abbie wasn’t even thinking straight. She placed her hands on his knees and leaned into it, tasting his spit, feeling him against her and sensations firing in her brain like fireworks.

He roughly grabbed one of her tits, squeezing it through the dress. Abbie gasped and pulled back, a line of spit between them.

“Mr. Harris, w-we can’t,” groaned Abbie as he continued to grope her. “W-we’re in school.”

“Didn’t stop you in the bathroom.”

“You’re married!”

“Not while I’m with you I’m not.”

“I-I’m only eighteen.” She stuttered. Her body was hot, and her panties were wet. The lecherous smile he wore made her drenched.

“Perfectly legal, you emo slut,” he said, breath hot on her neck. “Besides, there are no cameras in this room.” Mr. Harris mumbled it as if that made everything okay. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. As much as she wanted to put some space between them, as badly as her brain told her this was wrong, her body wouldn’t respond.

She reached for his belt and leaned into him, kissing him more aggressively and losing herself in the act. Sure, he was married and her teacher, but she could be his edgy whore for the rest of the night. Just this night. His bulge was hot under her fingers, and they fumbled together awkwardly as she fished his cock out.

His hand was on the back of her head, fingers in her hair, tongue in her throat. Then she was leaning forward, his prick inches from her face. He was big, bigger than that one guy at the tennis meet. Abbie felt a moment of nervousness creep up her skull.

Then she was sucking his dick, swallowing half of it and bobbing her head up and down. He groaned, lacing his fingers through her black hair and slightly holding them there. He was totally shaved, and she could taste his precum on her tongue. Abbie wiggled out of the chair and got to her knees on the hard-tiled floor. It was uncomfortable, but she quickly forgot about it. She ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft before tilting her head so that the head of his cock stretched her cheek. She started drooling.

“Already a dick-sucking pro and you’re not even in college yet,” groaned Mr. Harris. “Let’s try more.”

She gagged and stretched her mouth wider as he gradually pushed her down. She’d ever deepthroated before and tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she choked and spluttered on his dick. After patting his thighs, he finally let her lift her head up. Abbie gasped for air before grabbing his cock and cranking her hand around it.

Everything was in sharp focus, and she could see the lust in his eyes as he grabbed her and brought her to her feet. Mr. Harris forced her to lean forward on the chair and arch her ass toward him. She gasped when he lifted her dress over her bubble butt.

“A thong? For prom?” Mr. Harris teased, tugging on her dark lace underwear. “Expecting to get lucky?”

“N-no,” muttered Abbie, but she yelped in surprise as his hand cracked down on her ass. It tingled in protest.

“Don’t lie to me. You wanted to be a little high school slut tonight, didn’t you?”

“Th-that’s not-” started Abbie before he spanked her again. She mewled in pain, knees buckling but God, she enjoyed it way more than she should have.

“You want to be a whore?”

Abbie tried to protest but he spanked her again and she groaned, wiggling her bubble butt in his face.

“Admit it.” Crack!

“F-fine,” moaned Abbie, breathing heavily. “I-I want to be your high school whore.”

To her surprise, he grabbed he thong and pulled it down to her ankles. She was practically dripping by now, but under the lust and drugs, her practical self screamed at how sketchy this was. All someone had to do was walk past the room and look through the door window to find them. Abbie started to speak up when he grabbed her hips and forced his cock inside.

Abbie groaned, a bit too loudly, as he stretched her out. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and held her at the roots, yanking her head back. She stretched around him and could tell he wasn’t wearing a condom. Abbie wanted to tell him to pull out, but the words wouldn’t come, and she rocked forward as he started to thrust.

The chair she was bent over squeaked as he fucked her, and she tried to stay still. Abbie even spread her legs wider to give him easier access. Each ball burying thrust made her face twitch a little bit, and she could feel something coming on. She had to bite her lip to stop from crying out as she came, clamping down on her history teacher. He rocked against her and slapped her ass again, nearly making her scream.

Grabbing her and pulling out, he lifted her up and lied her on his desk. Her legs were in the air and over his shoulders, Vans bouncing as he fit himself back in and continued fucking her. A meaty hand squeezed her tits through her dress, and the desk shook. Abbie placed a hand on his chest, locked eyes with him, and reached out to kiss him.

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunted after their tongues swirled around each other. She slipped her arms around her back, nodding dumbly.

“J-just not inside.”

“I’m cumming inside,” snapped Mr. Harris, and she winced at the sound. “You emo bitch.”

Abbie didn’t really want him to cum anywhere else, and the tone of his voice made it clear her input meant nothing. She said something meekly in response and let herself be used. He straightened, both hands on her tits, dress shirt straining under his concealed muscles. With a toss of his head and a long groan, he came inside of her. Abbie pressed back against him, feeling the warmth spread through her and too coked out to be worried about the consequences.

She dropped back to her knees to suck his cock clean like an obedient whore. Abbie’s tongue ran circles around the head of his cock, and she squeezed out any cum that may have been left. He leaned back as she serviced him.

“Holy fuck, was that good.”

“Mhm,” Abbie steadily got to her feet. He then grabbed her purse and fished her phone out. She watched, head tilted.

“Give me your number.”

“Eh?”

He loomed over her, grin split like a fresh wound. “I’m gonna want some of this again,” Mr. Harris shoved her phone in her hand. “Your number. I’ll contact you in a bit.”

Abbie’s head swam, but after being plowed on his desk and dripping with his cum, she wasn’t in any state to argue against that. She nodded slowly, reading out her number. He sent her a text and her heart fluttered as the realization dawned on her.

“Best get back to the dance,” said Mr. Harris, hitching his pants back up. “And you should clean yourself off in the bathroom.” Like that, he brushed out of the classroom, and Abbie leaned on the desk to keep herself upright. Way too much in her system. She’d have to go home once it wore off. Even though she should have felt uncomfortable with what just happened, she couldn’t help but admit that she *liked* being used that way. He was so proper and uptight, and she was…

Well, she was an awkward, emo slut.

Abbie pulled her panties up and staggered out of his classroom, clutching her phone like it was a bar of gold. She just fucked her hot teacher, and her nervous jitters bled away into growing adoration. It was just supposed to be tonight, but as she stepped back into the gym and under the garish lights, she was hoping there’d be more.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/dyz2mb/the_teachers_emo_slut_mf_teen_teacher_kissing