I'm probably not much like the English teacher you had when you were in high school. And that's putting it mildly.
The thing you need to know about me is that I'm pretty good-looking. In fact, only modesty prevents me from admitting that I'm flat out gorgeous. I've got high cheekbones, bee-stung lips, long legs, thick blonde hair, huge blue eyes and a 34DD pair of headlights that would bring eyesight to the blind. Maybe make the lame walk too, and raise up the dead, like poor, 72-year old Mr. Peterson, who spent the last 15 years thinking he was impotent. In short, I'm your basic 5' 4", 107-pound package of prick-stiffening pulchritude. But you didn't hear it from me.
The other thing about me is that I like all the male attention that being sexy gets me. Actually, I love it. I adore knowing that, when I walk down the street, every man with a pulse is staring at me, which can be a little dangerous when one of them happens to be behind the wheel at the time. As a result, I have a tendency to raise auto insurance rates whenever I go out for a stroll. And I get off on knowing that I can give any man I want an erection just by smiling at him. And that, if I give him one of my special smiles, but don't fuck him, he'll probably be looking for some privacy to beat off as soon as I walk away.
So, while most of the other women teachers wear frumpy dresses, loose-fitting blouses and sensible shoes, I wear skirts as short as the most flirtatious girls in my class, tight sweaters and the highest spike heels I can find. As I said, probably not much like the homely bow-wow who taught English at your high school.
Coming to War Memorial was a big change for me. For the last couple of years I taught at a ritzy Beltway prep school, but I was encouraged to leave for getting too friendly with some - well, actually nearly all - of the male faculty. Their wives started a petition and I decided it was time to move on. I could have stayed if I really wanted to. I had a sort of special relationship with the headmaster and a few of the more influential members of the Board of Directors. But once the bitch club had me in their sights, things were bound to get ugly. Besides, they were all going to keep their husbands on very short leashes, and there went a big chunk of my social life.
So I started looking around for a new job and interviewed at a whole bunch of places. But the first time I walked into War Memorial, my eyes opened wide and I knew I was in the right place. I grew up in a rich suburban town and went to a classy college, but I've always had a taste for black men, with their big, thick pricks and their direct approach to sex. This place is about 70 per cent black, and the halls that day were jammed with big, horny, strong, horny, adolescent, horny, dark-skinned guys. The air was so thick with hormones you could taste them.
The boys stopped in their tracks and stared as I walked by, like hungry wolves who couldn't believe that such a tender, tasty bunny had just hopped so innocently into their midst, and I suddenly regretted the years I had wasted fucking the wimps at my snobby, lily-white private school.
From the beginning of my teaching career, I've had a policy of never fucking my students. But throughout my life, I've also always had a policy of never arguing with the little girl between my legs. She was pretty excited about the idea of teaching at War Memorial. The principal offered me senior English and I took it on the spot, knowing full well the temptations and tough decisions I would face.
On the first day of school, I made a big, big mistake, but it wasn't all my fault. I was supposed to have had a two-day orientation program. But the school district was short on funds, so they told me to just show a little early the first day and have Mr. Harwood, the assistant principal, show me around.
School starts at 8:00, so I figured I'd be there at 7:00. Wanting to make a good impression on my new boss, I wore a tiny, pleated, blue plaid skirt with a hemline 8 inches above my knees and a powder blue sweater, which wasn't quite long enough to reach the skirt. I left several buttons undone at the top and the bottom to allow a good view of my jeweled navel and substantial cleavage. And it was tight enough that, where I did button it, little gaps pulled open between the buttons. Not big enough to see anything. Just big enough to attract a man's eye like a magnet.
And my breasts do grab a guy's attention. They're big, but not at all droopy. Even without a bra, which I almost never wear, they sit firm and proud, high up on my chest like a teenager's.
To top my outfit off, I wore shiny, bright blue stilettos, a few big, chunky bracelets, a cute little choker - two strands of cultured pearls with a small heart-shaped turquoise stone - and dangly earrings sprinkled with tiny, sparkly imitation jewels.
Problem was, no one had told me about the secure faculty parking area right next to the school. I parked at a public lot a couple blocks away and walked, which meant I had to go down a narrow alleyway between two buildings to get from the lot to the street the school is on.
The alley was dark, filthy and kind of scary. It stunk of old urine and cheap wine. The windows of the buildings on either side were covered by rusty security gratings, but many had cracked or broken glass anyway. Garbage and litter were heaped around randomly. But I was used to being safe and protected, and I was too stupid or lazy, or both, to look for a different route.
At the far end of the alley were what appeared to be a couple of piles of rags and trash. But as I approached, carrying a stack of books under my arm, one of the piles began to stir, and a shabby-looking guy, who had apparently spent the night there, rose like a zombie from under the refuse. The click-clacking of my spike heels in the quiet alley must have roused him. He rubbed his eyes and sat there watching me for a few seconds. "Boo-yaa," he breathed quietly, and then sang, "Goood mornin' liddle school girl," as the other pile began to stir too. He had a lousy voice.
Now I was terrified, and I stopped where I stood. But I didn't want to show my fear, so I didn't turn around and run.
As the first guy creaked into a standing position, his companion sat up and continued the song, "Can we come hooommme wit' you?" he croaked.
Then, as he stood up and the first guy began to move toward me, they sang in unison, "Tell your momma and your poppa we're liddle school boys too."
They were bigger than they had looked when they were on the ground, and probably younger and less decrepit than they seemed as well. I put my free hand into my pocket book. "I'm no school girl," I said quietly. "I'm a teacher at the high school, and if you put one dirty finger on me, I swear you'll regret it."
"Sure, Darlin', sure," said the first, approaching slowly. "We're not gonna hurtcha. We just wanna, you know, get acquainted." He smiled, revealing rotten and missing teeth. "I'm Reggie, and this is Nate." Now I could smell gin, and the stench of stale piss had become overwhelming. "And that gentleman back there," he added, nodding in the direction from which I had come, "that's our esteemed colleague, Thomas."
Reggie and Nate were now within a few feet, but I had to risk a glance over my shoulder to see if Thomas was real. He was, and he was standing at the end of the alley, larger and more bedraggled than the other two put together, with a big, menacing grin on his grubby, ugly face.
Thomas, whose voice was worse than Reggie's, repeated the last line of the song, "I'm a liddle school boy too," then chuckled and started sing-songing quietly to himself, "School boy, school boy, I'm a liddle school boy."
I felt Reggie's hand stroke my arm, pulled sharply back from his touch and whirled to face him. "I'm not kidding and I'm not flirting. I don't want you ass holes touching me," I screamed. Behind me, I heard Thomas' frenzied laugh.
"Hey, hey, ya don't have to get all historical and everythin'," said Nate, who seemed to be getting angry.
I tried to keep walking, but they blocked my path.
"C'mon, Sweetheart, just linger here awhile and chat with us all about your role in the educational system," wheedled Reggie. "Fraternize with the hoi polloi, as it were."
"Maybe we can teach you a couple of things," snickered Nate. As he spoke, he reached for my waist and Reggie put his hand on my arm again. Thomas couldn't stop laughing.
Now, I may climb all over the cock of every halfway cute stud I meet. And I do have a tendency to suck off any guy who asks me real nice. But nobody ever fucks me unless I want him to. Nobody. Not ever. Especially not Reggie and Nate, and real especially, not Thomas.
They left me no choice. My hand came out of my pocket book spraying Mace into Reggie's and Nate's eyes at point blank range. They howled in pain and instantly covered their faces with both hands. I kneed Reggie in the crotch as hard as I could and he collapsed, screaming even louder than before, now clutching at his groin, then his face, then his groin again, as if he couldn't decide which hurt more. I dropped the Mace and, holding my books with both hands, brought them down on Nate's head with all my strength. He slumped to the pavement, unconscious.
I grabbed the Mace again and spun around to face Thomas, holding the tiny spray can horizontally, like a thug with a 9mm gat. He had come a few feet down the alley, but stopped, held his hands up and started to back away, still sporting that crazy, shit-eating grin.
I turned back to Nate and kicked him in the balls, hard, for good measure. He was still unconscious and couldn't feel it at the time, but when he came to, I wanted him to have a reminder of how bad his manners had been.
When I looked up, I realized a small crowd had gathered at the street end of the alley. They began to applaud. I straightened my clothing, took a deep breath, stepped over Reggie and Nate and marched out to the sidewalk.
"Thanks for the support," I said sarcastically to one of the men in the crowd.
"I was going to run down there and rescue you," he replied, "but before I could change into my Spiderman suit, you creamed them, really creamed them."
"Same here," said another guy, who wasn't half-bad looking. "You were awesome, girl."
"Thanks," I said, and smiled at them. But I didn't have time for flirting. I wanted to get to school quick.
Just as I turned down the street toward War Mem, a cop car pulled up, siren wailing and lights flashing.
"When I saw what was happening, I dialed 411 on my cell," explained a girl, probably one of the students. "Are you really a teacher," she asked. "You must be new. What's your name?"
"Denise Davenport," I answered. "And you probably mean you dialed 911, because 411 is Directory Assistance"
"That too," she replied brightly, "but first I had to call 411."
"Why's that," I asked suspiciously.
"To get the number for 911," she answered, as though I should have known.
"Which, coincidentally, just happens to be....911," I observed dryly.
"Who'd have thought it?" she bubbled.
Any way, that was the end of my plan to get to school early and make a good impression. The police arrested Reggie and Nate and put them in the back of the car, then spent more than 45 minutes interviewing me and most of the witnesses, taking names and addresses and asking all kinds of questions. Meanwhile, the sidewalk was crowded with kids walking by and taking in the scene on their way to school. But it wasn't a complete waste of time. One of the cops was really hunky and we exchanged glances and phone numbers.
By the time I got to school it was almost first bell. I had to ask directions to my homeroom, and it turned out to be on the third floor, south wing. When I got there Little Miss 411 was sitting in the front row, beaming her biggest smile and every student at every desk knew exactly what had happened on my way to school. The administration had chalked a formal greeting on the blackboard, but someone had erased my name and replaced it, so that the salutation now read, "The students of Homeroom 327 warmly welcome DENISE-THE-BEAST."
As I walked to the front of the room, my slut sense began to tingle something fierce. Okay, one other thing you need to know about me is that I have this sixth sense. I call it my "slut sense". You've heard of Spiderman's "spider-sense"? The back of his head tingles whenever he's in the presence of danger. Well, I've got sort of the same thing. Whenever I'm in the presence of a guy who's a truly great fuck, even if I haven't seen him yet, or don't even know there's anyone there, my clit tingles.
The little girl between my legs perks up lots of other times, of course: when I kiss a good-looking guy, when I watch a Humphrey Bogart movie or hear a romantic song, when I put my hand in my panties and stroke it, stuff like that. But whenever it begins to smolder for no apparent reason, it means there's some seriously-hung beekcake nearby. And as I entered Homeroom 327 it was tingling so hard, I could barely walk. More than any time since that sweaty afternoon in the Sixers' locker room.
I looked quickly around and a tall, handsome black kid with a short-sleeve shirt and dreamy muscles caught my eye. Must have been about six-foot two and 220 pounds. Just then, the bell rang and the students were out of their seats pushing past me, pouring out into the corridor, giggling and looking at me over their shoulders.
I went to my desk and checked on the seating chart. His name was Joey Jurgensen. I had been given basic information about all the kids and looked him up. He was 18 and on the football team. I later learned he was the starting centerfielder, or quarterback, or something. I couldn't be certain that he was the one who set my slut sense off, but I sure hoped so.
Despite my, shall we say, "busy" social life, I take my profession seriously, and I'm actually a pretty good teacher. If I were ever going to violate my rule against having sex with my students, it would ease the guilt a little if that kid were as good-looking as Joey.
After my homeroom kids left, things calmed down for a while. I had a minute or two to look around my new classroom. The building was probably 60 or 70 years old, with high ceilings. I was pretty sure my room hadn't been redecorated that whole time. It had tall windows, crumbling plaster and old, dark, wood trim. There were big, old-fashioned, cast metal, steam-heated radiators, which would probably be way too hot in the winter.
First period was general college prep English. Like all my classes, they were good kids, fairly well-behaved and mostly 18 and 19. Every one of them knew all the details of my encounter with Reggie, Nate and Thomas, of course.
We talked about my plan for the year, which was to read a few of the classics and make sure they were able to write an acceptable expository essay.
The girls didn't know quite what to make of me. Was I competition, or were their boyfriends too young to interest me? The boys, however, were a lot less ambivalent. I could tell from the way they looked at me that I was very much to their taste. But one of them went a little too far.
To get to know the kids, I'd been going around the room having them tell me their hobbies and interests. Shawn's answer was, "Boning on the davenport." The class exploded in laughter, catcalls and wiseass remarks. I doubt many of them got the double-entendre, because most of them probably don't know that a davenport is a couch. But they sure got the idea that Shawn was joking about having sex with me.
Now, I have no problem with the boys drooling all over me in class. If I can keep their attention, maybe I can actually teach them something. But I need to keep some degree of order and decorum, or things will get out of control real fast. So I had to make an example out of Shawn and send him to the office. But I did take note of the fact that he has a pretty decent vocabulary and put him on my mental list of promising students.
Second period was free time, so I went to the office to see Mr. Harwood and get my orientation. He's a tall, trim, handsome black man who appears to be about 45. When we shook hands, I held his for a couple of seconds longer than necessary and briefly placed my other hand on his muscular forearm, then sat down in the armless chair in front of his desk and crossed my legs with a flourish. He was still standing, which gave him a good view down the front of my sweater.
He also knew about my little alleyway adventure, of course, and had been the one who dealt with Shawn, so the first thing on his orientation agenda was to explain some kind of faculty dress code.
"Now, Ms. Davenport, we here at War Memorial High School have a dress...," Harwood began.
"Please, call me Denise," I interrupted sweetly.
At this point I realized that I had at least two problems. One was the rules Harwood was about to try to enforce. The other was that I hadn't been fucked in over 12 hours and I was getting pretty horny. But I thought I had a solution to both problems. It was the same old solution I apply to most difficulties. You see, for me, sex is like duct tape is for most guys. Any time a guy gets into a little predicament, he reaches for the duct tape. Me, whenever I have a problem, the first thing I try is a little romance, a little flirting and a whole lot of getting myself stuffed full of stiff cock.
"Sure," he answered and most of my friends call me...," he hesitated as if a little embarrassed, "...'Jelly'."
" Jelly?" I asked, letting my tone and expression convey interest, bordering on amusement. "It's obviously not short for 'Jelly-belly'," I added in reference to his obvious fitness.
"No, no" he explained, "It's actually short for 'Jelly Roll'."
" Jelly Roll Harwood?" I said letting my growing amazement show.
"It's because I'm a big fan of the early jazz and blues musicians, like Jelly Roll Morton," he replied, "But my real name is Longfellow, because my mother has always been fond of the American Romantic poets."
"Longfellow...Jelly Roll...Harwood," I said slowly, lingering on each word. "That name's more than romantic. It's deliciously exciting. Almost seductive," I purred. By this point, my clit was beginning to pulse and tingle. It wasn't my slut sense. It was just his masculine presence and, mostly, his name. As I said, when the little girl talks to me, I listen, and right then, she was speaking up loud and clear. I figured I really just had to find out if he would live up to his name.
I braced my hands on the chair behind me to thrust my breasts out seductively. I uncrossed and recrossed my legs just because I know how much men like to watch me do it. Then I did it again just because it made my clit feel so good. There was a noticeable and rapidly growing bulge in Harwood's pants. When he noticed me eyeing it, he quickly sat down, but that apparently made him sort of uncomfortable. He squirmed for a few seconds, then reached down into his lap to adjust something out of my view. If he could have turned red, he would have. "Anyway, Denise," he started carefully, then paused for a deep, calming breath, "I think we should begin your orientation with the school's faculty dress code. Your sweater buttons, for example...,"
"Jelly," I interrupted, lingering on his name and then pausing for a second, giving him my prettiest pout, " I can call you 'Jelly' can't I?" Then, without waiting for an answer, "Of course I can. I feel like we're friends already. And I think I know where you're going with this button thing, but I'm an optimist, you see, and to me, this sweater is half buttoned. Someone with a more negative attitude might think it's half unbuttoned, but not me because I always think positively."
"One thing for damn sure," he muttered, almost under his breath, "It's positively all the way full."
"And I always look on the bright side," I continued with a little smile, pretending I didn't hear his appreciative remark. "It could always be worse. I could have come to school like this," and I proceeded to slowly and teasingly undo the remaining buttons.
He started to stand, but then thought better of it, put up his hands in a 'stop' gesture and started blustering incoherently, "Wait...don't...you can't...please stop...I...I...ooooh." He paused and took another deep breath.
By then I had finished and placed my hands demurely on my lap, looking fixedly into his eyes, my lips slightly pursed. Each breast was modestly covered by one side of the sweater. Only the space between them was visible. He tried valiantly to return my gaze, but his eyes kept slipping further down.
He breathed deeply several more times, then began again, barely under control, "Denise, we cannot permit suggestive, provocative..."
I interrupted again, "But you see, Jelly, my behavior is only suggestive if you're open to the suggestion." I paused, cocked my head and smiled as if to ask, Are you? "And my clothing is only provocative if you're willing to be provoked. So the problem is as much with you as with me."
"But Shawn...," he began.
"Shawn is a sweetheart," I said, "And on my list of promising students. I just had to do something so the other kids wouldn't think they could get away with anything. Slap his wrist and send him back to me. He and I are going to be just fine."
"What about the men...in the alley...," he started.
"Now that's something we need to talk about," I broke in gently. "You need to tell me about the faculty parking lot, where it is and how I get into it. We can always talk about my wardrobe later."
"It's right out there," he said, pointing toward the open window.
I got up and walked to the widow, making sure to give my skirt that little flounce that men love. I grabbed my sweater with one hand so it wouldn't fly open and leaned out the window, bending at the waist with my legs spread for balance. I carefully inspected the school yard below so that he got a good, long look at my almost-bare ass. My pink thong panties barely covered the center of my asshole. If he was looking, which I know he was because I could hear his breathing, he could clearly see the puckered edges.
I turned around and stood up. "Don't see it," I said. I clutched the sweater up tightly under my breasts, which exposed more of my midriff and caused the top of the sweater to open even further. The left side slid off down over my shoulder onto my upper arm, but still covered the breast.
My new friend Jelly Roll was shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He also seemed to have developed a little stutter. "Over th-th-th-there," he said, pointing off to the left side of the window.
I leaned out again and turned sharply to the left, lifting my left leg in the air to do so, giving him an even better view than the first time. I turned to face him again. "Still can't see," I lied. "Why don't you be a sweetie and come over here and show me."
"I, uum...I...don't," he said hesitantly.
"Come on," I said with a bright smile. "I won't bite. I promise."
"It's not your teeth I'm worried about," he mumbled as he stood up awkwardly. He shuffled toward me, stooped over in a vain attempt to hide the fact that there was apparently a very large snake doing a slow dance behind his zipper.
He leaned out the window and pointed to the left. "Over there," he said.
I squeezed in to his left, still holding my sweater closed with my left hand, and now using my right to hang tightly on his well-muscled arm for support. "Oh, yes, now I see it," I said after a second.
As I drew back in from the window, I kept my grip on his upper arm and we wound up facing each other, only inches apart. I let go of my sweater and the left side slid further down my arm, exposing one breast and its erect nipple. I stared up into his eyes and moistened my lips, then reached up and caressed the back of his neck. He lowered his lips to mine and we kissed, gently at first, but with increasing passion as our tongues explored each other's mouths.
After a few seconds, I reached down and began to massage the stiff lump in his pants. He groaned and began to roll my exposed nipple between his strong but gentle fingers. I opened his fly and reached in to stroke his impressively large and now completely rigid cock.
I pulled my mouth reluctantly off of his, and whispered, "Does your door have a lock?"
He looked at me dumbly for a second, then answered, "Uh huh."
"Then, for Christ's sake, lock it," I hissed urgently.
He shambled over to the door, holding his fly closed with one hand and turned a knob to lock the door. I moved next to the chair I'd had been sitting in, and he hurried back. We fell into a desperate kiss as he vigorously massaged my breasts and I undid his belt and the waist button of his pants. As soon as they fell to the floor, I pushed him gently back onto the chair.
I paused a second to admire his long, steel-stiff, jet black cock. It was the most gorgeous thing I had seen since the last black cock I'd fucked. I grabbed it tightly with both hands and pumped it up and down vigorously.
He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned loudly, "Aaaaghhhh...OoooohOOOh." Quickly, his eyes flew open again and he whispered, "We have to be very quiet."
"I'll be in charge of taking you to heaven and you be in charge of keeping very quiet. All right?" I answered in a low voice. "My part's easy," I added.
I leaned over and began to nibble all sides of his cock, starting at the top and working my way to the base until my bright pink lipstick was smeared all over it. He gripped the edge of the chair tightly, as if he might otherwise slide off, and bit his lip. I then ran my tongue, with excruciating slowness, up the length of the underside of his shaft. He was barely able to muffle the explosive little grunts that tried to burst from his mouth. By the time I reached the bloated head of his twitching boner, he had to let go of the chair with one hand and bite the webbing between his thumb and forefinger to keep himself from screaming with pleasure.
Ordinarily, I would probably have taken him down my throat and given him a good sucking before moving on to the next phase, but I didn't think he could wait that long. And I knew I couldn't. My little girl was aching and throbbing like a bad tooth, telling me it was time to get that beautiful, hard slab of dark meat into my dripping wet pussy.
I stepped out of my panties with my left leg, leaving them dangling from my right thigh, and stood facing him, straddling his lap. I reached down and pulled his hand off his mouth, kissed him deeply, then whispered in his ear, "Don't worry Honeybunch, not much longer now. Momma's going to put you out of your misery real soon."
I rested my arms on his broad shoulders and slowly, teasingly lowered my hips until the entrance to my tunnel of love pressed gently against the head of his rigid cock. The viscous liquid from my cunt drooled thickly and slowly down his shaft. His eyes were still tightly closed and his head was thrashing from side to side in wild anticipation of the ecstasy to come. Just watching his frenzy was exciting me to the point that I was ready to cum, too. I moved my hips back and forth, rubbing the tip of his prick against my inflamed clit, arousing me even further.
"Open your eyes and look at me, Boyfriend," I murmured.
"Can't," he gasped quietly. "You're too damn sexy. Don't want to cum before I get in."
I get a lot of flattery, but that was one of the best compliments I had been paid in some time. His fierce need to fuck me made me even hotter to get fucked. My painfully stiff clit began to flutter and jerk in time with my quickening heartbeat.
"Babycakes," I cooed, "You deserve every bit of what you're about to get." I let my weight rest on his cock, and the head of his hefty hunk of stiff love muscle slowly began to sink into me, increasing my pleasure by the second, pushing me closer and closer to euphoria. I was sorely tempted by a nearly uncontrollable desire to stuff his cock all the way in immediately. But I enjoy teasing myself as much as I love teasing a man. So I resisted and closed my eyes in blissful expectation of the long ride down, and gradually began to squeeze his rigid manhood into my impatient pussy.
But he couldn't wait. I felt him grab my hips and urgently pull me down, quickly impaling me to the hilt. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me wildly, with an expression which, under other circumstances, I might have interpreted as crazed terror. A micro-second later, I felt the strong pulse of his cock as it began firing heavy slugs of man-goo deep within me, and my own orgasm exploded. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and began to bounce furiously up and down, repeatedly driving his thick, black lance as deep into my pussy as I could force it, stabbing myself with it in over and over until we were both spent.
When we were still, I rested my head on his shoulder and nibbled dreamily on his neck, his ear, any tender little spot I could find. He held me close and gently caressed me as we recovered enough to straighten our clothing and go back to work.
Suddenly, the bell rang harshly. I jumped up and his thick cum poured out of my cunt, drenching his bare thighs. "Shit," I spat, "Second period's over. I've got..what?...10 minutes to get to the Teachers' Lounge, clean up in the ladies room and get back to my classroom for third period."
"Use my bathroom, over there," he said pointing to a door in the far wall of his office.
I rushed in, did what I could to make myself presentable, reapplied my lipstick, pecked Jelly on the cheek and ran for the door. I forgot it was locked and almost broke my wrist trying to open it, but got through eventually.
"We'll talk about the dress code soon," he called as I left.
"Absolutely," I answered over my shoulder, knowing that the subject would never come up again.
Third period was about the same as first. One of the boys commented that I "sure live up to my initials" (double D), so I told him to go introduce himself to my new friend, Mr. Harwood. And then it was lunch.
As in many schools, the cafeteria is in the basement. I think they do that so there are no windows to open and students can't escape the disagreeable odors of school cooking, thus ruining their appetites and saving money on food.
After picking at a salad, I headed back up the stairs to my classroom. On the first floor I noticed a group of six youthful black boys, probably freshmen, standing around, as if waiting for something. As I started up to the second floor, they fell in behind me. Before I got to the halfway landing, the giggling started. They were obviously looking right up my skirt.
When I got to the landing, I stopped and the snickering ended abruptly. I turned around and smiled at the boys, who had frozen, several steps below me. "How's the view from down there?" I asked.
Flustered, they muttered embarrassed non-answers and a couple of them began to back slowly downwards.
"No, no," I said. "Don't go. Is this what you wanted?" I grinned, and pirouetted quickly on my right foot, causing my little pleated skirt to float up waist-high, showing off my pink panties. As I did so, I extended my left leg and spread my arms like a ballet dancer. Their mouths dropped open and their eyes popped out like those Looney Tune wolves with spring-mounted eyeballs. I raised up on my left foot and whirled back in the opposite direction, giving them a second peek.
In fact, I think I gave them a better show than they could have hoped for. Under ordinary circumstances, my panties are see-through sheer. But at that moment, they were still soaked with Harwood's semen and my own cum, making them as transparent as glass, and giving the boys a clear look at my hairless, pouting pussy. And, if they weren't too stunned to notice, they could also plainly see my new pubic tattoo: a small, lacy, red heart inscribed with the words, "INSERT COCK(S) BELOW."
Then I put my hands on my hips, assumed my best teacher's scowl and said evenly, "Now get out of here. Don't tell anyone about this, ever. And go find girls your own age to play with." They scurried down the stairs so quickly, two of them tripped and sprawled, one on top of the other, at the bottom. But as soon as they got out of sight around the corner, they exploded into gales of laughter.
Now, you don't have to tell me I probably shouldn't have done that. And actually, okay, forget the "probably." I'm not sure why I did it, except that I'm a natural born show-off, and it was exactly what those guys wanted. And, it does please me to know that, for the next several years, there will be a half-dozen boys thinking fondly of me every time they beat off.
Next period was AP English. I recognized a few of the kids from my homeroom. One was Joey. He sat with two friends, Robert and Denzel. (His "posse," he called them.) They're black, too and also from my homeroom. Robert is a huge guy, not fat, just really, really large, probably six-foot four, 250 pounds. He shaves his head, which looks good on him, sort of like a black Mr. Clean. And Denzel is tall and slender, with dreadlocks and big, strong hands. He's almost as good-looking as Joey. They walked into the room together and, as soon as they did, my slut sense went crazy. So it had to be one of the three. I was still pulling for Joey.
Sitting right in front of them was another kid from my homeroom, a little nympho named Anjellika. She's petite, about 5 feet, with a trim athletic body. How did I know she's a nympho? Well, first of all, as they say, it takes one to know one.
Secondly, she was practically wearing a "FUCK ME NOW" sign. Her hair is bleached to a honey blond, in sexy contrast to her café au lait complexion. She wore way too much makeup and her spike heels were every bit as high as mine. Her tight little tee shirt stopped just below her small breasts and allowed the boys to keep easy track of the state of her nipples at all times. And then there was her skirt, so short and tight that, every time she walked, every time she sat, hell, every time she breathed, it rode up to give the whole school a glimpse of her tiny, frilly panties. She was also wearing a curious black leather chocker with the silver letters "BOB" on it.
Is she Robert's girlfriend? I wondered.
Joey and his friends were all over Anjellika, and her nipples proclaimed to the world how much she appreciated their attentions. I didn't realize it yet, but I was pretty fucking jealous.
Anyway, this class is supposed to focus on creative writing. So I'd planned to start right out with haiku, because they seem so simple, but allow a lot of room for originality. I figured it would give the kids a way to begin to get a feel for the creative process.
I explained the conventions for one style of haiku: three lines, the first of which is five (or fewer) syllables, then seven, then five again, with a break after the first or second line, no pronouns and a focus on natural subjects.
Then I gave them an example:
Small pond full of life
The quiet song of water
Sung by wise old carp
They all sort of looked at each other as if I were a two-headed insect speaking Serbo-Croatian. It was hard to concentrate because my slut-sense was still tingling like mad, but I took a deep breath and explained the rules again, then asked them to all try one.
I gave them a few minutes, during which Robert and Denzel whispered continuously to each other, frequently glancing up at me and smirking. Joey glanced at me a few times too, but he seemed more serious about what he was doing. Once, though, when our eyes met, he smiled warmly.
While the kids worked, I looked up Robert and Denzel. They were both 19 and on the football team with Joey. I also looked up Anjellika: 18 and pulling down high honors. And, as I would have guessed, a cheerleader. I'd also guess she's fairly familiar with the inside of the boys' locker room.
After a bit I asked for volunteers to read their work. Anjellika seemed eager, so I called on her first. She stood quickly, thrust out her proud little tits, shifted her weight prettily from one foot to the other and recited in a clear voice:
Two bodies as one
Dance and twist and gently thrust
Fire burns deep inside.
Most of the kids snickered loudly and one called out, "I know what she's thinking about."
Another answered, "Yeah, same thing as always!"
I shushed them and told Anjellika I thought her poem was really articulate, moving and well-written. But I reminded her that haiku were usually on natural subjects.
"I think my subject's pretty damn natural," she retorted to the further amusement of the class.
Some of the other students read theirs, which weren't as good, but at least showed they were trying. Then it was Joey's turn. He stood and cleared his throat.
"Don't be nervous," I said, trying to ignore my slut sense.
"Not nervous," he said, almost absently.
"Or embarrassed," I added.
"Not that either," he answered, "Just making sure it's right." Then, in a quiet voice, which still filled the room, he read:
Angry storm rages cruel
Frightened doe lays down to hide
Safe 'neath mighty oak.
"That's wonderful," I enthused. "But is it really about nature? Or is it a metaphor for strong people protecting weaker ones? Or men protecting women? And maybe the storm represents urban violence?"
"It can be anything you want it to be, can't it?" he asked, deflecting my questions with one of his own.
Oh, shit, I thought. Good-looking, athletic, smart....and sensitive? My rule against fucking students is in real danger now.
"Of course it can," I said. "Anyone want tell us what they think it's about?" I asked, looking around the room.
"I think it's about 17 syllables long," called out one of the girls.
"I think quarterback Joey is the fawn, the storm is the Central High defense and the oak is our offensive line. I just hope he doesn't lay down and hide in the game Friday night," grinned a big guy named Cedric in the back, who I later learned is another football player.
Joey, still slumped in his chair, grinned back at him and made a hand gesture I didn't recognize. The class erupted in giggles. The big guy returned a gesture I certainly did recognize, and the kids laughed even louder.
"Okay, okay," I yelled, trying to quiet them, "I'm glad you've got that out of your system." Then, when they could hear me better, "Your turn, Denzel."
He stood and looked around the room, smirking.
Damn, I said to myself. Wrong choice, teach. Here it comes.
Denzel paused for effect, then read loudly:
The students ponder
A teacher's swelling bosom
Silicone at work?
"Right," I said sternly. "Mr. Harwood is in his office, Denzel, waiting for you to tell him what a jerk you are."
He paused, as if he didn't understand what I meant.
"Go there, and tell him...NOW," I explained.
It wasn't just a matter of maintaining class discipline. I was deeply offended by the suggestion that my exquisite and very natural breasts might have been purchased at a doctor's office.
As Denzel left the room, my slut sense didn't stop, but the tingling definitely diminished a little.
"Okay Robert," I said evenly, with just a touch of residual sternness. "Let's hear yours...and it had better not be as flip and rude as Denzel's."
"Actually, Miss Davenport, I don't have one," he squirmed.
"Then what were you doing while everyone else was writing their haiku?" I demanded.
"Helping Denzel with his," he snorted, struggling not to burst into laughter.
"Then you'd better go help him in Mr. Harwood's office, too," I replied.
As he walked out, the tingling decreased a little more. It didn't go away completely though. In fact, it was still buzzing pretty damn strong. So it had to be all three of them. Mainly Joey, I was happy to realize. But Denzel and Robert were also serious stud material.
A couple of other kids had good poems too. When everyone had read theirs, Joey announced that he had written a second one.
He stood, staring unwaveringly at me, and read:
Lovely butterfly
Flutters by hungry spider
About to be lunch.
"Again with the metaphors," I commented, as my clit simultaneously trilled like a thrush and throbbed like a toothache.
Any further discussion was cut off by the bell. I quickly assigned some reading on the different meters used in formal poetry, and the class crowded out into the hallway.
I struggled through my last two periods, American Prose and Business English, thinking mostly about Joey, Robert and Denzel, and then about Joey some more.
When the dismissal bell rang and the students and most teachers drained out the front door, I stayed to go over seating charts, learning names, and to make some revisions to my lesson plans. As hard as I tried to concentrate on my work, the way my slut sense had buzzed my clit for almost an hour had me wearing a pretty serious set of horns. My hand kept absent-mindedly finding its way between my legs and into my panties and, every time it did, I found myself thinking of Joey.
Finally, I gave in. I went to the door and looked up and down the hallway. Empty. I went back to my chair behind the desk and sat, slumped, legs spread widely. I closed my eyes and pictured Joey in the locker room, getting undressed. I imagined a long, black cock dangling between his legs. I slid my hand into my panties and touched my clit gently. Hot pleasure radiated from it.
I fantasized myself as a cheerleader, caressing, kissing, then sucking his stiff prick. Robert, Denzel and a bunch of other young studs came into the locker room, and I stoked myself more vigorously, grasping my clit between my fingers and pulling on it, stretching it, rubbing it. One after another, the teammates fucked all my holes, spraying their cum all over me. But Joey was always there, first in my mouth, them my cunt, then my ass.
I came quickly and relatively quietly, but it didn't help much. I tried again to get some work done, but couldn't stop thinking about Joey.
I gave up on accomplishing anything and decided to leave. On my way out, I walked quietly down the third floor corridor, toward the boys' room. As I approached it, my slut sense quickly awoke. My clit stiffened and began that familiar, aching tingle.
I stopped in front of the bathroom's open door and heard rustling and what I thought might be muffled groans. I crept into a small entryway and peered around the corner into the main part of the large room. The school janitor hadn't cleaned it yet, and it was filthy from a day's hard use. The floor was covered with used paper towels and small puddles.
Along the left side of the room, under a wall of tall, dirty, translucent windows, the kind with wire embedded in the glass, was a row of about fifteen sinks, water dripping from many of the faucets. Eight or nine stalls were lined up along the right wall. Several of the doors were broken and dangled uselessly from their hinges. Past the stalls, the room opened out a little. I assumed that was where the urinals were, but I couldn't see them because the stalls blocked my view.
What I could see, sticking out past the last stall, were the shapely calves of a girl who was kneeling, facing toward where I figured the urinals would be. And on her dainty feet, I recognized Anjellika's slutty shoes.
I strode quickly past the stalls, my own slutty shoes clicking sharply on the tile floor. When Anjellika came into full view, so did Joey, Robert, Denzel and Cedric.
All four guys had their pants down around their ankles. No surprise there. What was astonishing, however, was the length and the girth of the four magnificent black slabs of stiff manhood Anjellika had all to herself. I didn't have a measuring tape, but I do believe I was looking at almost 50 inches of rigid black man-flesh. Selfish girl. This time I recognized the twinge of jealousy for what it was.
Anjellika grasped Joey's cock, the biggest of the four monsters, in her right hand. She held Robert with her left and her mouth was full of Denzel. His hands had a firm grip on the back of her head. Cedric stood, rather impatiently waiting his turn, directly in front of her. The four young men looked at me calmly. Anjellika turned her head just enough so that she could see me out of the corner of her eye, but didn't stop sucking on Denzel and made no move to stand.
"Anjellika," I said, assuming my most authoritarian voice, which was hard to do because the sight of all that beautiful black meat had me very excited. "I'm very, very disappointed," I continued with difficulty. "You're a smart girl. And talented. You could go to college or drama school. You could be an actress, a model, a scientist, a teacher. Anything you want." She stopped sucking, but kept her mouth around Denzel's prick.
"But something like this could get you expelled from school," I continued. "And, even if it doesn't, well, it would still be on your record....." I trailed off, the implication clear. "If you stand up now and walk away, I think I can see my way clear to pretend this never happened. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to walk down the hall and get Mr. Harwood."
She hesitated for a few moments, sensing that my concern for her welfare might be less than sincere, and probably wondering if I wanted her boyfriends for myself. Finally, she jerked her head back, popping Denzel out of mouth loudly, then slowly stood, her jaw clenched angrily, and backed out of the bathroom, straightening her little skirt and pulling her tee shirt down over her breasts as she went.
"Bitch," she spat hoarsely. "Hope they hurt you. In fact, I hope they fuck you 'til you bleed." Then she was gone.
"See you at Jamal's," Robert called after her.
"What a lovely sentiment," I said, and then, after a slight hesitation, "You guys wouldn't hurt me, would you?"
They answered in schoolboy unison, "No, Miss Davenport." They grinned and made no effort to pull up their pants.
"Good, of course not. Now, not a word of this to anyone. You know...for Anjellika's sake. But, now that she's taken care of, whatever am I going to do with you naughty boys?" I made a show of scratching my head perplexedly.
Their big boners were, if anything, standing even harder and straighter than before. A few moments passed silently while I pretended to ponder their fate. But, I was, in fact, hypnotized by the sight of a quartet of thick, stiff, black cobras dancing and swaying slowly no more than ten feet away. I stared and licked my lips. My clit and nipples grew harder by the second.
The truth is, I was seriously conflicted. I really wanted those four perfect cocks deep inside of me. But, if I let that happen, I'd feel guilty about breaking my rule against fucking students. And maybe even a little guilty for pulling rank on Anjellika and stealing her boyfriends. Or maybe not. After all, why should she get them all to herself.
Wordlessly and almost simultaneously, the four young hunks stepped out of their pants and began moving toward me at a languid, almost indolent pace. They spread out a little at first to surround me, then closed in from three sides. If I had wanted to escape, I would have been trapped. But escape was the furthest thing from my mind, and they knew it.
Joey was closest and on my left. Denzel and Cedric were directly in front of me, and Robert to my right.
"Think of anything yet?" asked Joey.
"Am I going to have to get Mr. Harwood in here?" I threatened in mock indignation.
"Don't know," said Denzel. "From what I've heard, he wouldn't mind a taste. Is there enough to go around?"
"Mr. Harwood's gone home for the day. I saw him leaving," Robert said.
"I think you young ass holes are too smart for your own good," I purred, unable to look away from Joey's enchanting, dark brown eyes. "You probably think you can do the same thing to me which I caught you doing to your slutty, little girlfriend." But all I could think about was how desperately I needed these gorgeous young guys to fill my hungry holes with their stiff beef. If I were ever going to break my rule about not having sex with my students, these would be the ones to do it with.
By now, Joey was within reach. I turned to face him and delicately grabbed his right wrist, slowly dragging his arm around my waist. I slid my other hand around the back of his neck and, tilting my head back, pulled his mouth down to mine and began to nibble on his lower lip. Seems like I've made a decision here, I thought.
Joey's hand slipped up under my sweater and found a rigid, sensitive nipple. I let go of his wrist and grabbed his huge, dark love-pole. At the same time, I thrust my tongue deep into his mouth. He reciprocated energetically, as his free hand crept gently under my skirt and into my panties to roll my throbbing clit between his strong fingers.
There's no turning back now, I thought. It's my first day of school and I'm about to be gang-fucked by a bunch of horny black teenagers in the filthy third-floor Boys Room of an inner city high school. Can it get any sweeter than this?
"You know," I moaned, "Now I feel sorry for poor Anjellika."
"Don't," said Robert, "In a few minutes, she'll be at a party at Jamal's, where there are plenty of other guys to keep her company. And we'll make it up to her when we get there."
"And probably three or four more times in the back of her father's van after the party," snickered Denzel.
Joey pulled his hand from under my sweater to grasp me gently under my chin. He then turned my head to the right to face Cedric, who I gave my best parted-lips, narrowed-eyes expression of intense sexual need. He pressed his open mouth firmly against mine and gently massaged the breast Joey was ignoring.
Joey turned my head a little further to the right and I locked lips with Denzel, who already had his right hand in my panties beside Joey's. He ran his fingers gently along my puffy cunt lips, then teased them apart and tenderly inserted a finger into my dripping pussy, as I groaned in loud appreciation. His left hand pulled down the back of my panties and sensuously kneaded my right ass cheek. I dropped my hand from Joey's neck to yank fiercely on Denzel's big prick.
Joey then turned my head even further to the right and I found myself tongue-wrestling with Robert who, mostly behind me, reached around and caressed my inner thigh with one hand. With the other, he found his way to my pussy from the back and wet his fingers with its thick, slimy juice, then ran them around my tight, sensitive sphincter.
"Oh, God, YESSSsssss," I hissed, my hips instinctively thrusting back and forth. I whispered in Robert's ear, "Stick them in. Make me cum." Then I began to raise my voice, "PLEASSSSSE make me cum."
"Boys, I think we should oblige the lady," drawled Joey and unbuttoned my sweater roughly and quickly so he could attack my nipple with his mouth. Cedric sucked on the other and ran his strong, rough hands over my back. At the same time, Robert slipped two fingers up my ass. Denzel wedged three into my cunt and briefly reclaimed my lips with his mouth.
I pulled away from Denzel's kiss and began to scream my enjoyment, my howls timed to their digital thrusts, "OOOOH! OOOOH! OOOOH! OOOOH! ShhhhEEEEEiiiiiiiit. DO IT...DO IT...DO IT!!!!!" It's a good thing there was no one left on the upper floors of the school, because I could have been clearly heard anywhere on the entire third floor and most of the second, not that I would have cared at that point.
Joey pulled my sweater down over my shoulders as far as my elbows, which had the effect of loosely pinning my arms behind me. Between screams, the four of them took turns kissing me. The three who weren't working on my lips at any given time used their mouths and tongues on my nipples and the sensitive places around my neck and ears.
I grasped and grabbed frantically at the four divine hunks of hard, dark man-flesh which swayed in and out of my limited reach, as the boys alternately stood straight or bent over to kiss or lick or nibble some tender part of my body.
As I grunted and squealed my way quickly toward orgasm, Cedric crammed his index and middle fingers up my ass next to Robert's. At the same time, Denzel managed to force two more fingers into my inflamed pussy, so that most of his big hand was now in there. Robert's free arm wrapped itself tightly around my upper body. Their other hands roamed all over my body, caressing, massaging, stroking all the most intimate and responsive areas.
Their legs rubbed against my legs. Their chests and arms pressed against my back and arms and stomach. Almost every inch of my smooth skin was in contact with hot, dark, horny brawn. And it was as if I carried some kind of electrical charge, which gave off happy, warm little sparks wherever they touched me.
Before long, wave after wave of blissful climax swept over me. I continued to shriek my satisfaction in a series of inarticulate wails, yips and yowls. My hips pistoned back and forth wildly, as if fucking a dozen invisible cocks, making my tiny, pleated skirt flap like a flag in the wind. Denzel leaned over and planted an urgent kiss on my mouth. I almost bit his tongue off.
When I go all multi-cum, which is pretty much every time I get ganged, I don't completely calm down between orgasms. There's this constant base-line buzz of excitement from which I repeatedly build to heavenly explosions of intense pleasure.
So when my first climax was done and I sank to my knees, landing amid the squalid trash on the floor, it wasn't because I was spent and exhausted. It was because I was ready to take it to the next level. I pulled my sweater back up so that it was mostly over my shoulders and I could move my arms freely again
Ironically, I realized I was kneeling in exactly the same place Anjellika had occupied when I first entered the boys' room. Someone coming in now would see my shapely calves and my slutty shoes and would instantly have a pretty good idea of what was going on.
"What a beautiful sight," said Robert, moving around to my left side and swinging his eager cock to brush heavily against my mouth. God knows how long he had been hard, but he was drooling copious, sticky pre-cum, which smeared all over my glossy lips. The savory taste and musky aroma whet my ravenous appetite.
I turned reflexively and tried to catch his rigid rod in my mouth, but I was too late. Getting my instincts under control, I grabbed it gently and slowly licked the length of the underside from base to tip. When I got to the end, I ran my tongue around the swollen head and then began to nibble at it as he groaned loudly and leaned forward, reaching his hands around the back of my head. I pursed my lips over the winking eye and looked up at him, expectantly.
Robert took a deep breath and slowly sank his black monster into my mouth. I opened my throat and, to his surprise, swallowed the whole, long shaft with little difficulty.
"Oh." he gasped in surprise. Then, "Aaaaaaaah....Ooooooooh," he moaned. "Goddamn, you're good!"
I came up for air. "Practice makes perfect," I said.
Joey, Cedric and Denzel were so turned on by the sight of Robert's huge prick disappearing completely into my pretty little mouth that they crowded in, stroking themselves and wagging their black erections in my face, trying to get my attention. As if I might not notice their handsome hard-ons! I grabbed Denzel's and Cedric's and fondled them gently to keep them happy while I locked eyes with Robert and devoured him again, holding him in my throat for a moment. I felt him shudder, like he might be about to cum. Not yet, you impetuous boy, I said to myself, and let him slide carefully out.
As soon as my mouth was empty my lips dove enthusiastically for Joey. Ever since I first saw him, I'd been fanaticizing, both consciously and sub-consciously, about stuffing my mouth, and other openings, full of his meat. Now that I had the opportunity, I wasn't about to waste it. Robert was a nice kid, and a stud in his own right, but he would have to wait a bit. I was busy worshiping Joey with my tongue and my lips.
I licked, kissed and nibbled every inch of his impressive prick while he ran his fingers through my hair and groaned gratefully. Then I took his head fully into his mouth and hesitated, looking up into his eyes.
I'd never taken a cock as thick as his into my throat, and the first time, I only got him half way down before I began to gag and had to come up for air.
"You don't have to do that," he said softly.
"Maybe I like it," I gasped defiantly, a heavy gob of saliva drooling from my chin.
The second time, I managed to swallow about three-fourths of his cock before I had to give up. It hurt a little, but less than the first time.
"Just need a little more practice," I croaked hoarsely. It wasn't just that I desperately wanted to give Joey as much pleasure as I could. That was part of it of course, but I knew plenty of other ways to do that. The main thing was that my pride was on the line. What kind of self-respecting slut couldn't throat any man she chose to? A girl has to think about her reputation, you know.
I lowered my head for a third try and this time it went smoothly all the way in. My nose pressed hard against Joey's pubic hair and his balls bounced under my chin. He closed his eyes and let out a long, low moan, holding tightly onto my shoulder and the back of my neck. I shook my head gently from side to side, then moved it in small circles and his cock shifted just enough in my mouth and throat to start him shivering blissfully.
Always leave them wanting more, I thought and pulled back from Joey, let go of Denzel, grabbed Robert and turned my head so that my open mouth was only inches from Denzel's big boner. He obviously thought it was his turn, but I had some business to take care of first.
"Say you're sorry," I demanded.
"Sorry? Sorry for what?" he wailed and tried to stick his throbbing cock into my mouth. I moved quickly, and he missed and almost fell over.
"For that 'silicone' remark," I explained in my wounded-little-girl tone of voice.
"Oh, SHIT. FUCK, SHIT, yessss, I'M SORRY. Okay? You've got great tits, natural tits, real natural tits, playmate-of-the-year tits," he shouted and immediately shoved his cock at my face again.
I dodged it easily and said calmly, "Apology accepted."
He grabbed my head to keep me from moving out of the way and lunged again. This time I caught his big dick in my mouth and sucked enthusiastically for a while then swallowed it repeatedly.
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