Parent Teacher Conferences (Part 1)

Mrs. Wilson parked the car in the nearly empty lot of her step-daughter’s high school and let out a deep exhale.

“I always need to clean up her messes,” she thought to herself with resignation as she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. She touched up her makeup a bit, let out another sigh, and opened the door.

As she walked closer to the illuminated building, another parent she knew was walking out of the building. She gave her a nod and a fake smile as her high heels clicked against the pavement and walked through the open door. She checked the map and found the right room: Mr. Davis, English teacher.

It was the tail end of parent teacher conferences, and the hallway was mostly empty. With a brisk gait, she made her way to his room at the back of the school.

The email had come at a terrible time. She had just gotten chewed out by her boss for something that wasn’t even her fault, and then her phone went off with an email from Melissa’s English teacher.

“Hello Mrs. Wilson,

I’m hoping this email finds you well. Sadly, we have something rather important to discuss. Melissa’s behavior in class recently has been troubling. However, today there was an incident that crossed the line. I’d rather discuss this incident in person as opposed to over email. Luckily, parent teacher conferences are tonight. I will be in the building until 8. Hopefully you or your husband will be able to attend.”

She immediately texted her husband, telling him she was having a rough day at work, asking if he could go and talk to this teacher and figure out what the little brat had done now.

He said no. Of course he said no. He was too “busy” with work. Too busy drinking with his pathetic friends is more like it.

So here she was, still in her tight pencil skirt and button-up blouse from work, hair in a tight bun, glasses askew on her face, high heels echoing through the empty hallways, and getting ready to clean up another mess made by her step-daughter.

She wondered vaguely what it was this time. Dress code violation? Getting caught with a boy in the bathroom? Plagiarizing an essay? Drinking in class? Showing up high? She wouldn’t put anything past that spoiled bitch at this point.

She reached the door and knocked gently. A firm voice responded: “come in.”

She put on a brave face, steeled her nerve to channel her inner “Karen” to hopefully sweep this incident under the rug, and walked into the classroom.

“Hello Mr. Davis,” she said firmly. “I’m Mrs. Wilson. I’m here about my daughter Melissa. I read your email and…”

Her tongue caught in her throat when she looked up and saw the teacher.

He was on the young side…probably between 28 and 30. His dark green eyes were piercing, his dark hair and close cropped beard showing off the angle of his face. His shirt was tight, hugging his well toned muscles. His slacks were tight too, hugging his…she bit her lip and dragged her eyes upwards, chasing the thought away.

Every school had one. Even when she was in high school, she remembered the way her and her friends would obsess over the “hot teacher.” Seeing him leaning back against his desk, arms crossed, stern look in his face…it made her feel like a teenager again.

“Mrs. Wilson. I was beginning to think no one was going to show. Which wouldn’t surprise me too much. The apple tends to not fall too far from the tree. Take a seat.”

His voice was direct. Commanding. Despite herself, despite her intentions to try and bulldoze the conversation, she felt her body obey. She slid into a seat.

“Im not sure what you mean about apples and trees,” she managed to protest. “Melissa is my step-daughter.”

“Step-daughter…” he said, weighing her words as he slowly walked to the front of the class. She was sitting in the first desk of the front row. His eyes slide along her legs. She crossed them and uncrossed them nervously, accidentally forcing her tight skirt to hike up a bit too far.

He stood in front of her now, full of authority, and looked her up and down. She didn’t like the way he bit his lip as he looked at her…it made her face flush.

“My mistake,” he finally said. “I thought there was some resemblance between you and Melissa. Speaking of which,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back again, this time against the white board, “we have a lot to discuss. Melissa has been having some…issues in my class.”

Mrs. Wilson fidgeted in her seat. Despite her best efforts, her gaze kept coming back to the teacher’s chest, to his face, his eyes…and to the not unnoticeable bulge in his pants. She felt woozy in his presence, yet tried her best to maintain her pose. How any young woman got anything done in his class was a mystery to her. She was sure this was the teacher they all gossiped about.

“I know she can be…a handful sometimes. And even though she is 18, she really is just a kid. We just…we need to get her graduated. We need…I need her out of the house. So…what did she do this time? Is this another dress code violation?”

Mr. Davis chuckled. Goosebumps appeared on Mrs. Wilson’s bare thigh.

“Mrs. Wilson, I’m no stickler for the dress code. If I were, Melissa and her friends would get a citation every single day. No, I’m afraid what Melissa did was a little bit more serious than that…”

Again she was forced to bite her lip as he walked closer to her. She could swear she detected movement in between his legs. She felt the blood rushing from her face, from her extremities, felt heat build between her legs like she hadn’t felt in years with her husband. It made it hard to think straight.

“Melissa had an essay due today. A literary analysis of “The Things They Carried.” Sadly, it was pretty obvious that she plagiarized.”

He grabbed the top paper in a stack on the counter next to her desk, and placed it in front of her. Mrs. Wilson picked it up and pretend to read it, but could hardly focus on the words. Her palms were sweaty. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs again, and realized with a shock that her black thong was practically soaked through.

With an effort, she said, “well…yes…I can see that she clearly plagiarized this.”

What was she doing agreeing with him? This wasn’t the plan, not at all. She was going to be a bitch, she was going to threaten him, she was going to do anything to make this go away. And instead, she found herself practically in a trance, mirroring his words.

“Well the plagiarism itself isn’t the only issue,” he said. As he did, he leaned back against the desk right next to hers. Mrs. Wilson could barley breath. His bulge was there…right there…impossible to miss. “Oh shit,” she thought silently, realizing she was staring. She forced her eyes up to his face and saw a knowing smile curl at the corner of his lips.

“The real issue is what she did when I kept her after class to discuss it,” he continued. “I told her that she would receive a zero on the assignment, and the incident would be flagged in her transcript. She was defiant…inappropriate…I don’t really know how to say this….Melissa offered me a sexual favor in order to look the other way.”

Mrs. Wilson’s jaw dropped. Even for Melissa, this was a new low. But could she really blame her, asked some dark part of her that was stirring in its cage, deep inside her. Something primal.

I mean, look at him, the tiny voice said.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” she stammered. “What exactly did she…offer?”

Mr. Davis smiled again. There was something about him…some sadistic authority that radiated from him.

“She offered to give me a blowjob in return for me looking the other way.”

As he said it, his hand rested against his bulge. Her eyes followed. She saw it throb…she wasn’t imagining it. This…pervert, this sicko, was actually getting turned on remembering it.

“Actually, her exact words were ‘let me choke on your cock and we can pretend like this never happened.’ I know I don’t need to tell you how serious this matter is…I’ll have no choice but to bring this to the principal, and have Melissa expelled.”

Mrs. Wilson’s rational side made an effort to push through the desperation fueled fugue clouding her mind. If Melissa was expelled, she would never go away to college. She would be stuck with her. She uncrossed her legs, feeling wetness sticking them together, placed her hands on the desk in desperation, and looked up at his hypnotizing eyes. She didn’t notice that a button on her top had come undone, exposing more cleavage than she was used to showing.

“No please. No no no. Please don’t Mr. Davis. Please, I’m begging you. There has to be something…some arrangement or deal or…anything! Just please, Melissa has to graduate. I’ll do anything to help make this go away. Anything!”

“Anything,” he said, chuckling to himself. “You sound just like her…so why don’t you make me the same offer she did?”

Mrs. Wilson felt saliva gather at the edge of her lips. “I…don’t think I understand…”

He stood up, his bulge now threatening to punch a hole through his trousers. She couldn’t help but stare. It seemed…massive. Monstrous.

“It’s simple,” he said. “Choke on my cock, just like your filthy little step-daughter wanted to, and this can all go away.”

“I…I can’t…”

Mrs. Wilson tried in vain to offer an alternative. But she couldn’t focus. She felt wetness sliding down the inside of her thigh. Her nipples were erect agaisnt her bra. She couldn’t think.

“I think that can be arranged…”

“ I had a feeling you’d say that,” he said with the same sadistic tone in his voice. He hadn’t even waited for her confirmation before he had started to unzip his pants. With an effort, he managed to maneuver his cock free. Is sprung from the zipper in his pants, thick and long, veins protruding. It was a monster…easily ten inches long if not more, and so thick she didn’t think she could wrap her hand around it.

Before she knew what she was doing, she tested her hypothesis. It was like she was having an out of body experience. She saw her left hand reach out and wrap around the teacher’s monster cock, noticed the way her wedding ring caught the fluorescent light, felt it throb and grow ever harder in response to her touch.

She had never cheated on her husband. Never even considered it. And here she was, her hand wrapped around her step-daughter’s teacher’s cock, soaking wet, and more desperate than she had ever felt before. The tiny voice from deep inside her wasn’t so tiny anymore. It was in control now. She heard it speak with her voice.

“Choke me on your cock, Mr. Davis.”

He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her down as he stood up.

“Good girl.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/rq8ac9/parent_teacher_conferences_part_1