Donna Allen - After class with teacher

"Oh, fuck!" he cried, bellowing raucously and pumping his cock in and out of her cunt in a frenzy.

With each stroke she felt his thick cockshaft rasp against her cunt and his balls slap against her ass. She bucked her ass up to meet his wild thrusts. Her finger pistoned in and out of his shitter as she yelled for him to fuck her harder.

Finally he stiffened and grunted and yelled that he was coming. She wailed for him to shoot it into her. Her eyes closed, her teeth clenched, she spasmed and came as he began spurting his hot jism into her pulsating cunt.

When it was over and she'd recovered her senses, she thought, with a giggle, of the wild session she'd just had with this teenage boy. With a happy smile, she turned over and fell into a deep sleep.

Later in the day, after Eddie left, she regretted the whole thing. All the sucking and fucking and the wild lewd things she'd whispered to the boy. She stripped the bed and threw everything into the laundry basket. She took a hot bath and tried to scrub away the memory.

As she scrubbed her body, she found her mind kept returning to the wonderful afternoon. She'd fucked him again before sending him home, mounting him and feeling his big prick reaming out her fuck-channel. She shivered at the memory. The negative aspect was that she had to face him in class every day. She had, to stand up in the front of the room and act her role of teacher, when one of her students knew every nook and cranny of her body. She liked teaching and she didn't want anything to spoil her job.

She got out of the tub, her cunt once again hot and ready for fucking. Was she turning into a nymphomaniac?

The following Friday Gloria breathed a sigh of relief. A whole week had gone by and there were no repercussions from her wild session with Eddie. Apparently he had kept his mouth shut.

After her ten o'clock class, the principal, a man of about fifty or fifty-five called her into his office. She felt a quiver of apprehension down her spine and was relieved when he asked her to have lunch with him.

"I know your next class isn't until two-thirty," he said. "I make it a point to get to know all my teachers. You've been here two weeks now, and you're doing a grand job. It's time we got to know each other on a personal level."

He smiled, the smile of a father figure. Gloria agreed with him, and they made a date for lunch at twelve-thirty.

"There's a new restaurant a few miles down the highway," he said. "I've wanted to try it and this is a perfect opportunity."

Gloria wondered if this would be a business lunch or something more. She had noticed the way he'd looked at her from the first day she'd taught here. Arthur Bolton knew she was married, and so was he, but she'd heard rumors that he had an eye for the ladies. When he'd asked her to have lunch his eyes hadn't left her tits and ass. When she left his office she felt his eyes on her legs in her high heels and sheer stockings.

What will be, will be, she decided philosophically.

They met in the teacher's parking lot. They got into his car and chatted casually about the weather and the school. Gloria decided to go with the flow, and she let her short skirt ride up to expose her knees and creamy thighs. Mr. Bolton noticed immediately, and his eyes shifted from the road to her nylon-covered legs. She hoped he wouldn't crack up the car.

"I have high hopes for you," he said. "You're going to turn out to be one of my best teachers."

She smiled. "That's very nice to hear, Mr. Bolton."

"Yes, my dear, and the rest of the staff agrees with me," he smiled.

Then, as if to reinforce his words, he put his hand down on her knee and lightly squeezed.

She didn't say a word, afraid that anything she said would be construed as a sign of rejection on her part. There was little traffic and she wasn't worried about him driving one handed.

They chatted about the students and other teachers, and he continued stroking her knee. Gloria drew in her breath when his hand began to move up toward her thigh. When his fingers reached mid-thigh, he was talking about Mrs. Bolton. By the time his fingers reached the top of her thigh Gloria knew that he and Mrs. Bolton were swingers.

"This isn't something we advertise to everyone," he said. "Some people disapprove, and that's understandable. But we find it keeps our marriage exciting. Eleanor and I have been married for twenty years, and we don't think it's possible to stay excited by only one partner. Don't you agree?"

Gloria agreed. At this point in her life she agreed in spades, but she didn't tell him that. She wasn't sure if he was propositioning her, or if he was fishing to see if she and Frank would be interested in swinging as a couple.

His hand continued stroking her thigh and Gloria wondered what he had in mind. She wondered if he had a hard-on. She'd had no experience with men his age, and she didn't know what to expect.

Eventually, just before they pulled up in the restaurant parking lot, his fingers moved to her cunt. She gasped softly as his fingers fondled and stroked her cuntlips through the nylon of her panties.

They fell silent now, both of them concentrating on his fingers and what they were doing to her pussy-meat. She was wet by now, her crotch soaked through with cuntjuice. She was embarrassed by the flow, and she squirmed on the seat, but he kept his hand where it was. He mashed his hand over her cunt mound, and ran his middle finger up and down between her cuntlips. When he'd parked the car, he finally pulled his hand out of her crotch.

Once inside the restaurant. Bolton asked for a secluded booth. Although the booth had two seats facing each other, they sat beside each other on one side, their backs to the restaurant and their thighs touching.

They ordered gin and tonics, and when the waitress was gone Bolton again moved his hand between Gloria's thighs. She moved her legs apart to give him more room. He moved his middle finger around and found her cunt. She moaned softly when he began a slow and steady rub of her passion button.

"Oh, Mr. Bolton, that feels wonderful, but I don't know how much I can take!" she hissed.

"Call me Arthur," he said. "Outside of the schools call me Arthur. God, you're wet! I knew you'd be a hot-blooded number. I love when a woman gets real wet. So does Eleanor." Gloria looked confused.

"Mrs. Bolton. She's no lesbian, you know. She's all woman. Some people think people who swing are homo, but that's not true. We just like to enjoy everything at the banquet," he chuckled.

Gloria smiled. She'd been somewhat in awe of him when she came to the school. He was so dignified and stern looking. Now that she was getting to know him, she realized he wasn't stem at all. She no longer felt embarrassed by her wet crotch, either, he obviously liked it when a woman was wet. Her pants had been constantly wet since she was young, and it was nice to know that some men liked it. Then she thought of what he'd said about his wife. And some women, too!

"Why don't you take your panties off," he murmured. "Then we can really enjoy our lunch."

She nodded, getting up and walking a little unsteadily to the ladies' room. She was a little dizzy from the drink, and from excitement. She wondered why she didn't feel guilty, but she didn't. It wasn't as if Frank was interested in fucking, so no one could blame her for looking for pleasure outside of her marriage.

When she reached the ladies' room she locked herself in, a booth and stripped off her panties and hose. She stuffed them into her purse and wiped the insides of her thighs with toilet tissue. She dabbed at her cunt, too, to get up the excess cuntjuice. Then she slipped her shoes back on and returned to Arthur Bolton.

He got up and let her sit on the inside of the booth. She took another sip of her gin and tonic and they ordered lunch. He patted her cheek, and she suddenly felt shy. He's old enough to be my father, she thought. When she'd been younger she'd wanted her father to fuck her. Maybe that was why she felt the attraction for Bolton. He reminded her a little of her father.