Unknown: High School Scandals

Dallas’s hands caressed the smooth cheeks of her ass, his fingertips sliding across her feathery little anus.

He gave himself up to the feasting, to the way this lovely young girl squirmed against his mouth, as she fucked his face in the closest of intimacies. Eyes closed, he rocked Into her pussy, chewed and suctioned and lapped, riding the pounding of her pelvis, rolling with the swinging of her hips.

“D-darling!” she gasped. “I-oohh!-I’m coming, darling-I’m coming!”

His fingers dug convulsively into the cheeks of her sleek ass as her thighs tightened around his head, as her heels beat a tattoo on his back. He felt the surge of her orgasm as it shook the length and breadth of her tender cunt, as her climax seemed to loose an even hotter and sweeter flooding of inner lubrications.

Kathy Collins fell back then, momentarily spent, her flames dying and her legs drifting down from his shoulders. He let her melt softly onto the carpet, glowing girl, red golden girl so open and giving. His hands caressed her inner thighs, felt the wet silken mounding of her pussy, trailed over her heaving young belly and found the excitingly shaped perfections of her tits. The nipples were rigid under his teasing, and Dallas thought he had never seen such loveliness.

His shaft was as hard as those nipples, throbbing more with the hungry surging of blood within it as his balls pumped so insistently below. His hands continued to roam over her skin, searching the flawless smoothness, finding the velvet valleys and lingering there in awed adoration. Kathy Collins was such a beautiful girl, modeled small, but with exquisite jewelling; a fineness that fitted thigh to hip, that hinged the knee and sculpted the delicate foot.

He poised above her, watching her lashes rest against the curve of her cheek, seeing the damp humidity of her mouth and the graceful line of her throat. And nowhere could he find in that appealing pixie face, the stamp of her father.

Craig Collins should have been born with a hardhat welded to his bullet head, and probably had emerged with his fists swinging. The man was build powerfully, square-jawed and muscled, and not all his muscles were on his chunky frame; a lot of them were in his head.

Collins operated a successful string of cut rate hardware stores, and his headquarters was only a few blocks from the high school his only child attended. A widower, he appeared to have no vices other than a closed mind and a wide open mouth. It was too bad that he was the most influential member of a school board already shaky from a recent homosexual scandal in the junior high.

“Dallas,” Kathy Collins said to him, soft purple eyes open now. “That was the greatest. You were wild with me, but so, so tender, too. It was wonderful, darling. Now let me do it to you.”

Slowly, he spread his knees and slid up her legs, feeling the satiny brush of her slim hips against his inner thighs as he moved. What would redneck Craig Collins do if he could see his daughter now, naked and freshly sucked and now ready to give head to her teacher, especially the teacher that Collins was trying to have fired for growing his hair too long?

After the original shattering explosion, Collins would no doubt shout, “See, damnit! I told you that hippie bastard would contaminate all our kids! See, you should have listened to me when I first said fire the hippie son of a bitch.”

Dallas moved up the girl’s waiting body, his knees beside her chest now, looking down at the darling little tits, at the intense face with its torrid pink lips waiting, too. Her eyes stared up and locked with his own, passionate eyes, direct and unashamed, glowing with. a sensual vibrancy.

She touched his sack, her little fingers moving around and under it like quick butterfly wings seeking nectar, searching pollen. She stroked the underside of his cock as it loomed high above her, feeling along its length in soft fondlings that made Dallas tremble in excited response.

Of all the girls in his classes, of all the tight bottomed, braless titted kids who swung their asses at him and showed their thighs to him, he had to choose this one, the most dangerous one. They all meant trouble to a teacher, because most of them were underage and hotter than Chile Rellanos, and if he had a damned bit of sense, he’d still be avoiding them like the ticking tune bombs they were.

But no; Dallas Bradburn had to let his dick get hard for this special kid, this red-haired temptress with the sultry purple eyes: And of all places to lay her, here be was in his own apartment. Damn! Craig Collins would get him lynched first and legally dismissed from his job afterward, while he was still swinging from the crossbar of the football goalposts.

“Ummm,” Kathy Collins breathed, running her fingertips lightly over the shivering head of his stiff cock, and he just didn’t give a damn about her daddy or the school board or anything else in a screwed-up world.

There was only the beautiful, willing girl, and the new universe revolved about her now. He dropped his weight upon his heels and presented the head of his shaft to her lips. Kathy’s fingers curled lovingly around the pole, and her soft lips kissed the blunt tip.

He touched her cheekbones gently, looking down as she ran a quick red tongue around the head of his prick. The sensation was thrilling, tantalizing, and Dallas felt a shudder rake him, felt the sudden contraction of his aching balls.

All the classroom hours he had tried to avoid even looking at this sexy kid, all the tortured dreams that had brought him awake with a stiff rod and a dry mouth; everything pointed to here and to now, to this matchless kind of love they had made together and would continue to make. He gave her the head of his cock, fed it into the open lips and knew the wet, hot caress of her retreating tongue as she drew it into her mouth.

Dallas heard her sigh as she took in his shaft, as she buried the head far back upon the cushion of her tongue and brought her cheeks in to grip it. Her fingers continued to play around his root, to dip beneath the hairy sack of his balls, and to tickle along the underside of his pole all the way up to where it was surrounded by her avid lips. Eyes closed, rocking gently back and forth, Dallas gave himself to the sucking, to the dedicated attention this marvelous girl was paying to his cock.

“Oh come now,” the man said from behind his shiny desk. “Your hair can’t be all that important to you, Bradburn.”

Dallas looked at the principal, then at the straight backed chair he hadn’t been invited to use; he stood loosely, and even smiled a little. “So it can’t be all that important to the school board, either, Mr. Kingston.”

The principal peered up through black rimmed glasses. “No member of the school board feels his career threatened. I am certain if they did, each and every one of them would accede to the wishes of the community-and immediately, I might add.”

Dallas continued to smile, although his lips felt a little stiff. “Has the community taken a vote on my hair. I wasn’t aware of that, Mr. Kingston.”

The principal grunted, looked at his desk to shift a ballpoint pen and a notepad from the left of his desk top to the right side. He lined up the pen precisely with the pad and said without looking up, “That’s not very humorous, Bradburn. You know very well what I mean, and I hope I don’t have to call you into my office again.”

“I hope not,” Dallas said.

Kingston glanced up. “Then you’ll cut your hair?”

“I didn’t say that,” Dallas answered.

A pompous man, Burdett Kingston was grey and short, but made up for his lack of height by having his big desk raised on a sort of a dais. His chair was high backed and majestic, and he had probably meant people to be awed by it, Dallas thought. But the maneuver had failed; the throne served only to dwarf the man in it. Nevertheless Kingston had power over his fiefdom, and if that power was less than absolute, it wasn’t because the man didn’t try to make it so.