J Long - Three horny teachers

"You little turd! Yvonne, I oughta beat the living stilt out of you! Christ! Look at your mouth – it's disgusting!"

Yvonne tried to look at her mouth, couldn't, so she ran her tongue over her lips.

"Stop that, you cocksucker! Put that tongue back where it belongs! Oh, Jesus! Yvonne! What am I gonna do with you? You never seem to learn, do you?"

Yvonne gulped; her mind zoomed back to where she was now. Sitting in Coach Hudson's office. "Oh, I'm sorry, Coach Hudson, what'd you say?"

Bernice rubbed her eyes in exasperation. Jesus! When was she gonna do with Yvonne? How the hell could she save this edible piece of pussy from acquiring a taste for cock? God, if she lost this one to the taste of prick, it would make the fourth girl this semester.

Bernice tried the old scare-'em-with-pregnancy routine.

"You know, Yvonne, you're pretty fucking stupid. Shit, that kid could've gotten you pregnant or some thing."

Yvonne pouted. "From sucking his cock? Gosh, Coach Hudson a girl can't get pregnant when she sucks pricks. Besides, I'm safe. I'm on the pill."

"What?!"

Yvonne gulped. Oh, God! Boo-boo number three today. But she couldn't help it! Coach Hudson just scared the living shit out of her! God, just look at her.

Congress tennis shoes-size ten. Baseball capsize eight. No bra, size forty tits. With bra size forty-one tits.

Bernice was a lot of woman in all the right places. Hell, just sizing her up would take a lot of time.

Yet, in many ways, Bernice was beautiful. Take her hair – worn short so it had a lot of bounce when she showed girls the nifty trick of a three-on-one shot-on-goal in field hockey. Take her eyes – dark and brooding, eyes capable of giving the come-on sign or the caution light. Take her lips – very full, and rich, and creamy. Take her tongue, that muscle in her mouth that could strike fear in any girl when it was deep in her cunt, reaming out her pussy like a rubber coat hanger.

In many ways, Bernice Hudson was not beautiful. Take her hands – creepy hands that would make a girl's flesh crawl as they mauled her tits, or her cunt, or her asshole. Take her tits – huge and stupendous, too big for a mature woman to suck an, so they were usually forced upon naive and innocent chicks like Yvonne. Take her pussy – raw, red and muscular, able to bite and nip. A young girl's tongue, or tit, or clit.

Take her or leave her, Bernice Hudson was beautiful in an ugly way.

That's what Yvonne faced now as she looked past the propped-up tennies and sucked up enough come to stare Coach Hudson eyeball to eyeball.

"What did you say, Yvonne?" Bernice asked in a steady voice, controlling the rage that ran through her clutching fingertips – fingers that gripped a thick volume of Sappho's Ode to Lesbos. "Did you say you were on the pill?"

Yvonne looked at her petite feet, at her pretty white cotton socks, over to the left where her eyes settled on a little figurine of Gloria Steinem holding a burning bra in an upraised fist.

"Yvonne! Listen to me! Goddamn it! Are you on the fucking pill?"

Yvonne snapped out of her wandering. Oh, gash, she didn't want to be here. She walked the floor to come alive, turn into a monster, devour her, swallow her and send her to the boiler room where she could be boiled in hot water far the irreparable sin she had committed.

"Yes, yes," she whispered, crossing her legs and swinging them to and fro, wondering when the floor would become a monster.

"All right, you little fucker!" Bernice exclaimed, setting down Sappho and planting her Congress tennis show into the floor and rising to her flail six feet. "Who was the mother-fucker who gave them to you?"

God! She couldn't tell Coach Hudson who gave the pills to her. She'd get killed. Coach Higgins would kill her if she told anybody that he'd given her a year's supply of his wife's birth-control pills. Jesus! Hurry, floor! Eat me! Eat me all up!

"yvonne! Goddamn, I'll cut your clit off if you don't tell me!"

Yvonne's eyes opened wide. Cut off her clit! No! Coach Hudson wouldn't do that… would she?

"You're damned right I'll cut off your clit!"

Oh, Jesus Christ! How she wanted to be a little piss-ant and run around the floor until she found some nook or cranny to get down to that fucking boiler room before Coach Hudson found her and cut off her clit.

Yvonne's eyes searched left and right. Ah-ha! There's a cranny!

Then a size-ten Congress tennis shoe covered the cranny.

Then a creepy hand was on Yvonne's gym blouse, undoing the buttons.

Then Yvonne got very scared. Her titties started aching three seconds before that pair of monstrous hands clutched her taut tits in a death grip.

"Aaaaaaiiieeee! Stop! You'rehurting my titties! Oh, please!Don't! They're too sensitive!"

Bernice twisted Yvonne's nipples ogre-fashion. "You mother-fucking cunt! I'll teach you to suck a man's ugly prick! I'll teach you to answer me! Here, how's this feel?"

Yvonne gasped. She no longer could look down at the monstrous floor in search of nooks and crannies because the monstrous normal-lesbian coach was eating her titties ogre-fashion, her lips chewing and biting on her sensitive nipples.

Tears came to Yvonne's eyes. Oh, God!

"aaaaiiiieeee! Please! Oh, God! Miss Hudson! Stop! Oooohhhh! You're hurting my titties! Please! You're chewing them off! Aaaaiiieeee!"

Bernice drooled. Her mouth also drooled. So much fine tittie. So much delicious young tittie. Oh, sweet little! She had to have Yvonne's titties! Her hunger had just started. Her appetite for tit-meat soared.

"Aaaaiiiieeee! Please! Oh, God! I'll promise I'll never suck a man's cock again! Aaaaiiiieeee!"

The tittie-chewing stopped.

The ogre lifted her head, gazed angrily at Yvonne with fiendish eyes. Clammy hands maintained an agony-filled grip on the young girl's tits.

"Oooohhhh! Please! Miss Hudson! Let go of my titties! Please!"

Bernice shook her butch haircut. "Tell me, Yvonne. Tell me who gave you the pills. Then you can walk out of this office with your titties intact."

"Oh, God! I-I can't tell you. M-Miss Hudson. He'll kill me for sure!"

"what?! A Man gave you those pills?! A prick did it?!"

"Aaaiiieee! My titties! My nipples! Stop! Oh, God!"

Bernice took out her anger on those thirty eight-inch tits. Why not? They weren't hers. Shit, they didn't even look like… hers. Hers had droopy nipples, not like these pert things that were turning an angry red under the brutal treatment her maniacal hands were giving them.

Bernice let go of Yvonne's tits.

Yvonne let go of the arms of the chair. She slithered to the floor, and her hands administered first-aid to her bruised and battered titties.

"Oh, God!" Yvonne moaned. "My titties I'll never feel the same. Oh, God! They're so bruised!"

Bernice watched the cock-seeking whore slither on the floor. The fucking cunt!

Bernice's tennis shoes squeaked as she spun around and went to her locker.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

She opened the locker, lifted up a stack of Amazon and Batwoman comic books until she found what she was looking for.

Yvonne was stunned.

At first, because Coach Hudson had her back to her, Yvonne thought she was puffing on a field-hockey helmet. She saw the leather traps as they joined at the back of her short-bobbed hair.

Then Bernice turned around, marched towards Yvonne.

No! No! No!

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

That was when Yvonne realized that it wasn't a field-hockey helmet on Coach Hudson's head. From the back it had certainly looked like a field-hockey helmet. But from the front it certainly didn't look like a standard-issue field hockey helmet.

Unless they were purposely making field-hockey helmets for unicorns to protect the horn that spiraled out from the middle of their foreheads. But field hockey wasn't played with unicorns or horny-headed polo ponies.