This is a fantasy I’ve been thinking about recently – starring one of my high school history teachers.
Nothing ever happened between us, I just had a huge crush. I’m now 24 and this fantasy is present-day (sans pandemic), so absolutely no minors involved. Consent is still a bit questionable since we’re both drinking in this fantasy – just a warning.
About this teacher: technically still don’t know if she’s actually queer – went to school in Georgia so I had no openly queer teachers. But she was a butch woman with short spiky hair, numerous piercings and tattoos, and she coached softball and girls’ basketball so ??♀️ Baby gay me had a massive crush on her. She’s probably around 50 now.
About me: I’m short (5’2”) and curvy. Pics on my profile. I’m nonbinary but most people would describe me as looking feminine which I don’t love but whatever. They/them pronouns preferred.
Names changed of course. History teacher is just going by Coach because frankly I think that’s hot.
Haven’t written anything like this (or any fiction at all really) in a long time so constructive criticism is very appreciated! Sorry if this is too one-sided but peep the username.
*****At a dyke bar*****
I wore tight, high-waisted skinny jeans with combat boots and a rainbow flag tank top tied off at my waist – hoping to show off my curves while preventing anyone from thinking I was only there as someone’s straight friend.
My friend Stacey nudged my arm and nodded towards the front door of the bar. “Hey, check out the Dykes on Bikes,” she said in a low voice. As I turned, I saw a group of older butch women in leather jackets joking around with each other, taking their seats on the other side of the bar. And then, I noticed…
“Oh shit,” I said, quickly looking away. “That’s my history teacher from high school.”
“Ooooh,” my friend teased. “The one you were in love with?!”
I rolled my eyes. “I was not in love with her. I just thought she was hot.”
“Well, you were right about that.” Stacey sipped her drink and smirked at me, “You should go talk to her.”
“Absolutely not,” I said, turning a bit red. It had been ten years since I’d seen her, but I felt no less likely to melt under the gaze of this hot, confident butch woman.
It was Stacey’s turn to roll her eyes. “We’ll see.”
*****
Of course, a few drinks had me feeling much more confident myself. Most of Coach’s friends had dispersed at this point, and she was now chatting with a bartender. Stacey saw me staring and giggled. “Go!” She said, pushing me from my bar stool. I stumbled but caught myself and decided to follow her command. I could totally handle this, right?
I sauntered over to the other side of the bar (probably much more clumsily than I was imagining in my head). I pretended not to see my former teacher but sat my ass in a stool one away from hers and caught the bartender’s attention. After ordering a gin and tonic, I turned and pretended to “realize” she was there.
“Oh my god, Coach!” I said excitedly. Reserved as I had been when she knew me, this version of myself was older, wiser, and had plenty of liquid courage to keep me going. I jumped up from my seat and threw my arms around her neck.
“Cole, hey!” She said, seeming genuinely surprised by both my presence and my actions. After a moment, she hugged back, wrapping me in her leather-clad arms and pulling me to her chest. She smelled softly of men’s cologne, and I may have lingered a bit longer than necessary. I didn’t get the impression that she minded.
We fell into an easy conversation about where life had taken us since I’d left high school. She’d moved to a different school. I was preparing to head to grad school. We chatted about people we’d known and current events. Honestly, it was great to just catch up – but I had more in mind.
I was not used to taking the lead, but I couldn’t imagine that she was going to make the first move with a former student – even one who was now nearly 25. So, I leaned towards her and lightly ran my fingertips up her muscled forearm, “You know,” I giggled, trying to sound like this was unplanned, “I always had a huge crush on you in school.”
She laughed, “I can’t say I didn’t notice, but 15-year-olds are not my thing.”
“Of course,” I laughed back. Gathering all of my nerve, I smirked, “What about 24-year-olds though?”
“Still pretty young,” she teased. I almost took it as a rejection before she slowly moved her eyes up and down my body and finished, “But I think I could handle that.” I shivered. And then, she said the words I’d been hoping for: “Do you want to get out of here?”
*****
In her truck, the conversation continued casually enough, but her calloused hand on my knee – my skin partially exposed through the torn fabric of my jeans – was making it difficult to concentrate. It was all I could do to steady my breathing in order to avoid embarrassing myself already.
It was a short ride to her condo, and she took my hand as she led me inside. It was modest but felt classy – much more put-together and “adult” than my cheap, shared apartment with its mismatched furniture and decor, half left behind by past tenants. I did laugh to myself, though, at the large Georgia O’Keefe on the wall.
She removed her boots at the door and motioned for me to do the same. Then, she led me to a soft leather sofa. She continued to the kitchenette as I got comfortable on the couch.
“Another G&T?” She asked. I had a rule about not accepting drinks from strangers, but, well, she was certainly no stranger and I had no concerns. “Yes, please,” I smiled.
She prepared our drinks before joining me on the sofa, sitting close enough to stoke the flames of my nervous excitement.
We continued chatting for a bit until she finally set her drink on the glass coffee table and placed her hand on my knee again, immediately sending sparks up my thigh. She continued the nonchalant conversation, but I was ready to move on.
Turned on and intoxicated, I dropped all pretenses as I leaned forward and kissed her enthusiastically. As soon as she started to reciprocate, I straddled her lap and draped my arms around her neck.
While I didn’t want to embarrass myself, I was admittedly into the idea of my over-eager youth contrasting with her calm and collected maturity. I loved the thought of her strong hands taming my soft body, and I was too impatient to wait any longer.
As we kissed, she moved her hands to my waist. I let out a small moan as she made contact with the exposed skin between my jeans and my top – the cold, smooth metal of numerous rings contrasting with her warm, calloused palms. She squeezed my waist as I moved to kiss and nip at her neck, running my hands through her short hair.
“Fuck, Cole,” she gasped. I smiled and continued, excited to know that she was enjoying herself.
Then, without warning, she moved her hands down to grab my ass, holding me securely as she stood up. I shivered at the absolutely primal look she gave me before carrying me to her bedroom, and my head spun us she dropped me on the bed and loomed over me. Honestly, my subby ass could not have been more thrilled that she was now aggressively taking the lead.
She tossed her leather jacket on the ground, leaving behind a clean white t-shirt and the outline of a tight sports bra. I wrapped my legs around her waist as she leaned back over me, kissing me hard as she worked her hands under my top. She moved her lips to my neck, and I nearly yelped as she sucked a hickey into my soft skin before kissing the same spot. She repeated this a few times before peeling off my top to reveal my petite chest. As she sat up to remove her own top and sports bra, I admired her muscled arms and lightly defined abs. I almost began to feel self-conscious about my own body – which hadn’t seen the inside of a gym in god knows how long – before she quickly refocused my attention to more important things.
She leaned back down and kissed me hard as I relished the sensation of her bare chest pressed against my own. She took her time kissing and biting my lips, neck, collar bone…finally moving down to suck on one hardening nipple while pinching the other. I moaned and ran my fingers through her short hair as she covered my chest in kisses and bite marks, squeezing and sucking on my tits as she went.
Finally, still moving her mouth across my chest, she deftly unbuttoned my jeans before sitting back to peel the tight denim over my hips and off my legs. She stared down at me, now in only black lace undies. The lust in her eyes made my head spin as she leaned back over me, now moving at a much slower pace. She kissed me, softly this time, as she ran her hand up my side and back down over my stomach. I gasped as she rubbed my pussy through my underwear for a few moments before moving her hand back up to toy with the lace waistband.
“Tell me what you want,” she said. Fuck. I simultaneously loved and despised the request, so hot yet requiring so much vulnerability.
I stare at her for a moment, no doubt turning red, before saying, “Touch me. Please.”
“I am touching you,” she teased, moving her fingers just a hair lower.
“Please,” I said, desperately trying to avoid embarrassing myself.
“Please what, baby?”
I swallowed. “Please…please finger me.”
She smirked again and leaned closer, holding my gaze as she slowly moved her hand under the waistband of my panties. As she lightly grazed my hard clit with her fingers, I gasped and my legs reflexively snapped closed. She roughly pushed them apart again, leaving a hand on the inside of my knee.
“Stay,” she commanded. I nodded quickly, my head spinning in ecstasy as this gorgeous older woman dominated me. “Good,” she smiled. I shuddered.
Despite my best efforts, I squirmed and gasped as she returned to rubbing my clit and vulva before slipping a finger inside my wet pussy.
“Is this what you want?” She teased.
“Yes,” I breathed, “Yes, please.”
“Please what?”
“Please finger me,” I begged.
She kissed me hard before sliding my panties off and tossing them to the floor. She moved her hand back between my legs and started to move her finger slowly in and out of me before adding another and picking up her pace. As her fingers moved inside of me, she began rubbing my clit with her thumb, and I struggled to keep my legs open. She started kissing me again, and I reciprocated feverishly as she began finger-fucking me in earnest until I was moaning loudly.
“You want me to fuck you, baby?”
“Yes, please,” I begged, hoping she meant with more than just her fingers.
She continued for a few more moments before abruptly stopping and getting up from the bed. I whined at the loss of contact and lifted myself onto my elbows to see where she was going. After digging through a drawer for a moment, she pulled out a strap-on harness with a thick, purple silicone cock and shook it at me teasingly. I giggled nervously.
I watched lustfully as she unbuckled her belt and pulled off her jeans and boxer briefs before stepping into the harness and tightening the straps around her muscular thighs. She grabbed a bottle of lube from the dresser before returning to the bed and kneeling beside me. She poured a generous amount of lube onto the dildo, moving her hand up and down the hard shaft to coat it. She squeezed more lube onto her fingers before returning her attention to me, rubbing my clit before slipping her fingers inside of me again. I moaned at the slick sensation as she added to my wetness.
“You ready, baby?” She asked.
“Yes,” I moaned. “Yes, please fuck me Coach.”
She smirked and held my thighs to either side of her body as she lined up the cock with my pussy and slowly pushed it inside of me. I moaned as her cock filled me and she began to pump in and out. I gasped and gripped the sheets as she began rubbing my hard clit, fucking me faster and faster.
“You like this, baby?” She asked. “You like me fucking you?”
“Fuck, yes,” I groaned, “I love you fucking me, Coach. Fuck. It feels so good.”
I moaned and squirmed and panted as my former teacher pounded into me with her hard cock and rubbed my clit with one calloused hand as the other gripped my thigh.
“Fuck, Coach, I’m so close,” I moaned as I neared the edge of orgasm.
“You want to come baby?” She asked.
“Yes, please Coach, please let me come,” I panted.
“Do it,” she said. “Come for me, baby.”
I came hard as she continued fucking me and rubbing my clit until I grabbed her hand, too oversensitive to continue.
“Fuck,” I said, breathing hard as I came down from my orgasm. She stood and loosened the straps of the harness, dropping it to the floor before crawling back in bed next to me and pulling me against her, spooning my exhausted body and kissing my shoulder.
“Was that good, baby?” She asked.
I smiled and curled into her, “So good.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/lmaqxq/ff_reconnecting_with_my_butch_lesbian_history