The Teacher’s Emo Slut: Pt. 2 [MF] [Teen] [Teacher] [Kissing] [Rough] [Drugs] [Creampie] [Older man, younger woman]

Abbie turned to the side, moving around so that the shadow of her phone stopped getting in the way of her selfie. She turned the other way, dressed in bright red, lacy lingerie. It was complete with thigh-high stockings, garters, and decorative bra. Her black hair was done up in short ponytails, and she wore her piercings with blood red lipstick.

“Fucking light,” grumbled Abbie, turning again because this angle showed off her legs and her ass when she stuck her ass out, but the shadow covered her face. Abbie lifted her phone high and, satisfied with the image, pursed her lips and stuck a hand on her hip. She snapped half a dozen of the sexy selfies.

Abbie looked through them, seeing which of the identical pictures were the best. She chose the third one after five minutes and deleted the rest. Her reflection stared back at her in the mirror, thin and petite. Abbie quickly texted Mr. Harris the picture with a little tagline and kissing emoji: **here u go daddy**.

She fell back on her bed, a dumb little smile on her face and leg dangling. Abbie waited for the response, heart fluttering as the three dots appeared in the app. Already she felt warm.

**God you’re so fucking hot. Take another without the bra.**

Abbie leapt to her feet and posed in front of the mirror. She took a few more pictures, but before she sent them she thought of something better. Putting the pricey bra back on, she shot a short video of her turning, unclipping the top, and letting her perky tits free. Abbie finished the video with a little kiss.

Before she could hit send there was a knock on her door.

“What is it?” She shrieked, frozen in a moment of panic.

“I’m making dinner,” came her mom’s voice. “Do you want any?”

“I’m going out in a bit to meet up with some friends. Almost graduation celebration stuff, y’know?”

“You sure you don’t want anything Abs?”

“No, I’m going out.” Abbie said. There was a tense moment of silence on the other side, but eventually the quiet padding of departing feet indicated her mother had gone back to the kitchen. Abbie exhaled. If she was found out dressed like this…

She sent the video to him and received drooling emoji’s in response. It was almost six. She pulled her bra back on, undid her childish ponytails so her mom wouldn’t ask about it, and started to wiggle into whatever clothes she had discarded on the floor. Her ripped skinny jeans hugged her thighs, and she bounced around the room fitting into them.

Mr. Harris wanted her at the Super 8 Motel on the edge of town by seven. It was a ramshackle old building, somehow kept afloat by the dirty owners. It was the kind of place junkies and hookers went. There were rumors it had been a money laundering scheme, but a decade ago someone had been murdered in one of the rooms and the cops found no evidence of foul play, financial or otherwise.

Abbie pulled on a sun-faded old Korn shirt before deciding she should at least try for something sexier. Only problem was finding anything like that. She started to pick through the piles of wrinkled shirts that dotted her bedroom floor. There was a black blouse, low-cut and with a collar. She gave it a sniff. Good enough.

She gave herself one more look-over. *This should be good enough*. Abbie grabbed her keys, purse, jammed her phone in her back pocket, and pulled on her sharpie stained Vans. When she stepped out of her room she could smell her mom’s cooking. Abbie’s stomach grumbled.

“Going already?” Her mom asked.

“Uh huh.”

“Going to be overnight?”

“Dunno.”

“Be safe.”

“Always, mom. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Abbie slipped out into the moderate Minnesota evening. Her rusty old car was parked to the side of their driveway so that her dad would have room when she came back from work. *If* he came back. Was a real toss up on when her old man showed up.

She hopped in her car, keyed it to life, and took off down the road. The old Super 8 was a bit of a drive, especially since her family didn’t live in a shitty part of town. She drummed her fingers nervously on the cracked steering wheel, rubbing her thighs together as she drove and thought.

It had been two weeks since prom, and Mr. Harris had been sexting her almost constantly. The only time they weren’t texting was when he was teaching. Even then, there were a few times in class, while they were quietly working on worksheets, that he’d text her to remind her how they fucked in that very room.

It drove her wild in the *best* ways. She loved the thrill of it. Luckily, she’d changed his name in her phone to “Daddy” with a heart and water emoji next to it, so that any snoop wouldn’t be able to tell it as her teacher. He had bought her that sexy lingerie, just so she could take pictures in it for him. She sent them regularly. One time he sent a picture back of his iPad covered in a load of cum, and her posed in an ahegao face on the screen.

Abbie was already feeling good as the Motel 8 came into view. They hadn’t fucked again since that first time, and she was eager to be filled up again. She turned into the parking lot and texted him.

**Which room u at?**

She waited a while, flipping through her radio to find something interesting. Her phone buzzed.

**23.**

She checked her mirrors to make sure there were no junkies or creeps lingering before getting out. A couple lights flickered nearby. Huge cracks ran through the parking lot, and the lines were faded so bad they were almost invisible. Abbie made sure nothing valuable was in view of her windows and snuck past the front desk window.

Room 23 was on the second floor and she skipped up stairs covered in vomit stains and graffiti. She passed doors with chipped paint and odd marks. All the blinds were pulled closed. An uncomfortable silence settled in, broken only by the low buzz of electricity and the odd, distant barking of a dog. When she passed one room she was certain she heard muffled moans. Abbie sped up.

She knocked in the door and waited, looking over her shoulder and shifting from foot to foot. Abbie checked her phone. The sun was beginning to go down, and she wasn’t enjoying being outside.

She heard the lock on the other side and nearly melted when she saw Mr. Harris’s salt-and-pepper beard and strong features. “Fucking finally,” grumbled the teen, ducking under his arm and rushing into the room.

It looked exactly how she imagined a Super 8 motel room would look like. Absolute shit. The wallpaper was yellow and peeling, the floral vine patterns popular maybe forty years ago. The TV in the room was one of those big box looking ones that were old as fuck. The grey-red carpet was ripped in places and there was a faint smell of sewage coming from the bathroom. Only the bed looked kind of good, with old sheets and a couple of stiff pillows.

Mr. Harris grabbed her ass and pulled her toward him. She yelped, but accepted the rough kiss, spinning toward him. Already she felt the outline of his cock pressing against his pants. His strong grip kneaded her ass and she grinded against him, tasting his tongue and biting his lip. He rammed her against the wall, kissing her more aggressively. She reached for his cock and belt buckle.

Before she could pull his dick out and start sucking, he pulled back. He wore a crooked grin. “One second, I got you a present.”

“Oh? You really know how to treat a girl.” Abbie grinned, watching his ass in his jeans. God, what an ass.

She blinked away her admiration when he turned to her, a tiny tray in his hand, four white lines spread parallel to each other and a crumbled one-hundred bill, halfway rolled.

“Eh?”

“Some more coke for us.” He said.

“Why?” She asked.

Mr. Harris gave her a funny look.

“Don’t you like it?”

“I mean, yeah, it was fun, but it was just a like, one time thing. Something to try, y’know?” She said. Something flickered across his fake like a phone app sputtering to life. Abbie felt a snarl of worry, but it quickly passed.

“Sex is way better on coke. I like it a lot more,” hummed Mr. Harris, putting the tray down on the tiny TV table. “And I like you. Just one line and then that’s it. C’mon, Abs, don’t you like me?”

“Of course I do! It’s just…” Abbie trailed off, staring at the drugs. She really didn’t want to do any more of it, especially with the bathroom situation that started all of this. But that had been when she alone and dumb. She was with Mr. Harris now. It was safer with him there, she trusted him Here it was fine. It was okay, everything would be okay.

“Alright, fine,” she said, and he smiled, handing her the bill. “But last time!” Abbie added, before quickly railing the line of coke. Mr. Harris did the same, rubbing his nose afterward with the back of his hand. She felt the familiar tingle, spreading from her face to the rest of her body. A growing wave.

He grabbed her face and yanked her into a violent kiss, shoving his tongue down her throat. She grabbed his belt, pulling him against her. They stumbled together and he banged her against the wall. The dull knob of pain in her back quickly faded as the coke rocked through her system. Their tongues intertwined, she ripped his belt buckle open. He wiggled out of his jeans and underwear.

Then she was on her knees, his cock in her mouth again. She moaned at the taste, the musk, one hand pumping his shaft while her other went down between her legs. He groaned above her, encouraging her forward. Abbie’s fingers vanished into her pants and into her cunt. She lapped at the underside of the shaft with her tongue.

“Fuck, you can suck a cock,” groaned Mr. Harris as she suckled on the tip, jerking him at the same time. “And you’re only eighteen.”

She slapped her cheeks with his cock, looked up at him and winked. He ran his fingers through her hair, pushing her back down. The piercing in her lip rubbed against his shaft, and she held herself down there for a moment, gagging, tasting every bit of him and loving when the spit dribbled past her lips.

Abbie gasped, sucking in a heavy breath of air and pumping her hand up and down his cock. She startled to fondle his balls. “Mmm, want this teen pussy again, daddy?” She teased.

“Fuck yes,” moaned her teacher.

“I’ve been a naughty girl,” Abbie sucked on the head of his dick for a moment. “And need to be punished for what I’m doing.”

She giggled as he grabbed her and practically threw her onto the bed. It squealed in agony at the sudden weight, but she was too rattled to give a shit about the noise it caused. Mr. Harris crawled on the bed, huffing like an animal, a frenzied look in his eyes. The way he stared at her, like she was a bitch that needed to get stuffed, drove her wild. He clawed at her pants and she helped by pushing them down. They hit the ground, and his soon followed.

He nearly ripped a button off undoing his dress shirt, turning this way and that to undo the tangled clothing. Abbie was drenched, practically drooling at the sight of her teacher’s body. He wasn’t bodybuilder fit, but underneath his hair chest she could see the clear definition and outline of muscles, the faint abs and the crotch V that guided her eyes to his cock.

*What’s he see in someone like me?* The thought popped in her head for a moment before he tugged on her hips and pulled her toward him. Abbie giggled, then gasped as he entered her. She gripped the crisp bedsheet and buried her head in them as she felt his cock pushing against her insides. God, it felt so fucking *good*.

“F-fuck you’re big,” Abbie groaned. She would have said more if he didn’t buck his hips, causing her to squeal in surprise. The bed creaked as he fucked her, but she wasn’t paying attention, instead staring into his wide pupils and amber eyes. Abbie counted each strand of hair on his mustache and beard, counting with the thrusts. One, ah – two, ah – three, ah fuck – f-four…

She grabbed his strong arms for support, legs sticking up in the air on either side of his hips. He sat up, grabbed her wrists and crossed her arms across her torso. Her tits squished together under her blouse. Abbie yelped as he tugged on her and sped up. The tip of his fat cock sent waves of pleasure ripping through her body, her skin a network of nodes that the current ran through. She dipped her head back, pushing her hips against him, moaning like a street whore and not giving a damn who heard them.

Abbie loved how fast and rough he was with her, like he really didn’t care if he might have been hurting her. The thin line between pleasure and pain was intoxicating, almost as much as the narcotics he fed her. That didn’t even matter. She rode the wave of pleasure, the lights almost painfully bright, his muscles flexing, cock throbbing, the heat inside of her.

She moaned as she came, clamping down on his dick and forcing him to slow down. He was really only her second fuck, and she was still tight enough to keep him from going too fast. She rode out her orgasm, grinning, training his body and catching his eye –

He spat on her, causing her to wince. Then slapped her, causing her to cry out in the shock of heat on her cheek. One meaty hand closed around her throat while he lifted her legs and bent them back until her knees were near her ears. Her head burned and throbbed, senses swimming.

“My turn,” growled Mr. Harris. She felt his fingers press against the arteries in her neck. Blood and drugs fought for control, as she simultaneously tried to focus and keep from passing out. When he let go of her neck she gasped for air and felt her face cool down. He was on top of her now, cock pounding her squelching teen pussy and she started to shudder through another orgasm just as he slapped her again. Harder this time, but she barely registered it.

Abbie was so overloaded on senses that she stopped hearing the squeak of the bed, only feeling the thump of his hips against hers and his cock thrusting inside of her. She tried to claw at him but that didn’t work. He groaned loudly above her, second hand closing around on her throat. Her vision tunneled as he came inside her again.

Then snapped back. So dazed and confused she wasn’t even aware he’d taken his hands off her until he was out from between her legs. Abbie’s shirt was soaked. Her pussy ached, his cum leaking onto the bed. Her chest heaved with effort and she became aware that that was probably the best fuck of her life. Abbie perched on shaky elbows, watching him flex and wipe his cock off with a towel.

He brought the tray back over to her. “Ready for round two?”

Abbie stared at the friendly lines, then back up to him. Last time she’d said. But…Well, fucking on it was just too good, and she wanted him back inside her. Badly. Already, his cock was beginning to rise, twitching in invitation. Okay. Just this one night, and she’d be fine. Abbie nodded dumbly and got to her feet, taking the bill from him. They finished it off.

Before it could even kick in, she was bent over the TV, staring at her reflection in the mirror on the wall as he stuffed himself back inside. She saw an eighteen-year-old, black haired, emo slut with piercings being railed by her fit older teacher, whose eyes were nearly black, whose thrusts and slaps became harder as he made her his fucktoy throughout the night.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/emc4u4/the_teachers_emo_slut_pt_2_mf_teen_teacher