Repressed Sexual Thoughts

Lusting after Teacher
2003-05-15 @ 2:22 a.m.

It's late after school. You've been in the library working your ass off on a retarded, gay english project with a group of people that you thought you would be able to work with but now just want to kill in their sleep. Around 6:30, you finish! Yay! Oh, but you remember you left your literature book in your 6th period class, which happens to be AP US History with Mr. Popp. And God knows you're gonna have to read like 30 pages out of that damn book for a quiz in english tomorrow.

So you go back to the class, hoping to god that it's still open. Turns out, Mr. Popp's still there, typing away at his computer, finishing up some emails. You think you will just slip in and get your book, but he calls you over.

"Listen, I've noticed that you're not doing so well in this class. I don't think you've been reading at all for our reading check quizzes. You seem distant, and rather sleepy during lectures. Granted, I know they're not the most exciting things in the world, but you should be awake for the majority of an AP class. I just think you're not putting in the right amount of effort."

Suddenly, you break down, right there, right in front of him. You tell him that things have been really hard at home, with your dad still out of work, things in physics, comp sci, and precalculus have NOT been going well either, and the fact that your boyfriend just broke up with you just compounds your misery. Tears are flowing and you're trying to stop them with the scratchy tissues in his room.

Mr. Popp obviously can't stand to see you like this, so he puts his arms out and you walk into his caring embrace. "Oh I'm so sorry, I had no idea how things were going for you. I could sense that something wasn't right though. Shh, shhh, it's gonna be all right."

He hugs you gently for about a minute, and you notice how good he smells, how soft his hair is, and how amazingly well your bodies seem to fit each other. You can't help yourself, and you slowly turn and kiss him on the neck. He seems a little startled, but he surprisingly doesn't pull away. You work your way up to his cheeks, his forehead, and finally to his lips. His soft, luscious, AMAZING lips. He's getting into it, you both are, kissing with more force, more pressure. You start to undo his belt buckle and he starts unbuttoning his shirt. You feel his hardness, your pussy becoming absolutely wet with anticipation at having his surprisingly large cock come inside you.

He takes off your shirt and lifts up your skirt, sliding his fingers up your trembling thighs. He slowly, ever so slowly, starts to slide his fingers in and out of your pussy. You gasp with startling pleasure, and he gently lays you down on the ground behind his desk. He pulls down his boxers and you feel his cock stretching your deep, wet cunt. He fucks you, but gently, and softly, and sweetly, as the song goes, haha. All you can do is bite your lip to keep from screaming out in pure joy.

Then he slowly pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices. He masturbates himself to climax, neatly depositing his cum in some of those tissues you were just crying in. He then crouches down and proceeds to lick and play with your clit, until you orgasm. It's simply too much pleasure for you and you grab his hair and pull his head away from you. He doesn't mind though. He looks into your eyes and then slowly kisses you, biting your bottom lip and tugging on it slightly. You can taste yourself in his mouth. It's quite a rush.

You lay in each others arms for another whole hour, sleepily taking in the little things you never noticed about his room, running your hands through his hair and his chest hair.

Wow, you think. This is the best time I have EVER had in THIS room!

He gets up and starts to put on his clothes, straightening out his tie and his hair. You're still laying on the ground behind his desk. "I'm sorry to be in such an unromantic rush, but my wife said she'd call me around 8 to bring me dinner because she knows how busy I am right around this time, grading all of you guys' essays and trying to get final grade reports in. You understand, right?"

You sigh. That skinny little blonde bitch. Just then, his phone rings and Mr. Popp, or Steven, as you've taken to calling him in the past hour, gets up and sits on his stool.

You still being on the floor have a great front row view of his crotch. Not being able to take the temptation anymore, you undo his belt buckle and unzip his khakis. Clearly not in a position to make any utterance of protest, Steven squirms a bit but its all in vain. You pull out his throbbing cock and start to flick your tongue along its shaft. Sucking, kissing, slightly nibbling. You've got the head of his dick in your mouth and are rubbing it with your hand, first slowly, then quickly. His voice becomes quite breathy and you wonder if his wife has any idea that he's getting a blowjob from his favorite student. He uses his free hand to push your head back and forth, almost making you gag but overall making you so much more hot and excited.

"Hold on a sec, Mr. Cone wants to talk to me about something," he says, then he holds the phone away from him and lets out one big sexy moan as he blows his load into your awaiting mouth. You laugh to yourself as you realize some of it has gotten on your blouse. "Maybe I should save this for evidence, haha," you think to yourself. You get up off the floor and grab Stephen Popp by the hair and french kiss him hard, letting his own jizz flow freely into his own mouth. He seems surprised, but goes along with it, swallowing the majority of his own nectar.

"Well Mr. Popp, if you ever planned to run for office, I think you've got the getting-blowjobs-under-your-desk part down pat," you say. He laughs, looks deep into your eyes, and softly kisses your lips. "Maybe we can do this again the next time you need an A in my class."

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