Ward Michaels - Lessons After School

Betty walked across the room to the record player. Her steps were a bit unsteady. She really could not hold her liquor. It was a constant source of annoyance to her. She bet people like Susie Walters could drink and not show it the way she did. Of course, Susie probably had plenty of chance to practice. Flipping the switch to start the turn table, Betty resolved to put the student and her love life out of her mind.

There was a sudden clatter from the kitchen. "Goddamn son-of-a-bitch!" she heard Ben curse.

Betty stuck her head around the corner of the kitchen wall. "What happened?" she asked.

Ben stood there, a large metal baking pan at his feet, the front of his pants splashed with grease. He looked miserable, like a little boy who had wet his pants. "Aw, I was just putting some of yesterday's dishes out of the way, and look what happened. These slacks just came back from the cleaners too! Now I'll have to send them out all over again."

"Maybe we can clean them up enough so you don't have to," Betty said. She tore some paper towels from the roll suspended under the counter's edge and knelt before the young chemistry teacher. She began blotting up the grease as best she could, hardly thinking about what she was doing, simply reacting to the emergency at hand. She rubbed vigorously at the stained fabric, trying to remove the grease before it soaked in. Suddenly, she was aware of something hard under her fingertips. With a suppressed gasp, she sat back on her heels.

"I have some cleaning fluid if you want to use it," Ben said, his voice oddly soft.

Betty stared straight ahead of her at the gigantic engine outlined so clearly in his thin slacks. She had actually been touching the flaring tip of it, rubbing it, making it harder than before. What would he think of her? Something like that was what she imagined a wanton like Susie Walters might do. Her heart was beating so loudly she could hardly hear herself think. Was it her imagination, or could she catch the musky scent of Ben Sommers' crotch?

"I, I think maybe you should help me up now," she said weakly.

"Yeah, I guess it's a lost cause," Ben said cheerfully, holding out a big hand to help her to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go change."

"Anything I can do to get dinner started?"

"You can clean the lettuce if you want. I'll get into some cutoffs and be right back."

By the time Ben reappeared, Betty had the lettuce torn apart and draining on paper towels. She glanced down at his very short, frayed cutoffs. They revealed strong, deliciously hairy legs, muscular enough for a swimmer or a long distance runner. Sinewy as they were, they were well proportioned and powerful looking. She simply stood there staring at him.

"There," Ben said, "now I'm ready to broil those steaks. How do you like yours?"

"Medium well," Betty mumbled, trying to keep her mind on his question.

"Can't do it. My oven only goes to medium. You'll love it." He switched on the broiler. "How about another drink?"

"No, really. I couldn't possibly."

"Suit yourself. The steaks won't be long anyway, once the oven is heated. How about helping me set the table?"

As Ben handed her napkins and silverware, Betty realized that his skimpy cutoffs made his crotch bulge even larger than it had seemed before. She could not help wondering how big a penis he had, and her thoughts went back to the huge, fleshy looking lump between Dale Paulson's thighs. Had he kneaded and scratched at it for her benefit, to draw her attention to it? That was silly. Surely the boy saw her as a teacher, not as a woman. Still, all the direct looks he had been giving her while in her class made her wonder what went on in his criminal little mind.

Ben set down a sizzling platter before her. On it was one of the largest steaks she had ever seen.

"Oh, Ben!" Betty exclaimed, "I'll never be able to eat all that."

"Sure you will. Wash it down with this." He plumped a bottle of red wine down on the table. "Oh, no, not after three drinks. I'll pass out."

"Don't be silly. It's good for you." Ben filled her glass and then sat down opposite her. He raised his own glass and toasted. "To the end of the school year." They clicked glasses.

Ben looked across the small dinette table at the English teacher. In the half light of evening and in the wake of three drinks, she looked even better to him than before. She was pretty, he thought, with her light blonde hair and those violet colored eyes. He longed to see her naked and tried to imagine what she would look like without her plainly tailored school clothes. She had been the constant topic of conversation among all the men teachers, ever since she came to teach the first day. They claimed even the principal had an eye for her, as old as he was. Now Ben had her where he had been wanting her, in his apartment, and she was already about half drunk. A little more wine, and there was no telling where this might go. Once again, his huge cock began nosing his way to erection, only this time there was no pants leg to hide it. He felt the cool air hit its tip as its blunt roundness peeped from the edge of his faded cutoffs. It was a good thing they were at the table, otherwise he might scare Betty off.

He let his eyes sweep over the girl. Her violet eyes gazed innocently across at him under finely arched brows and long, curving lashes. Her full mouth looked as though it was capable of delivering deep, open kisses, given the right man and the right situation. The red, lush lips could also suck every last drop of seed out of his roiling balls, he was sure. Even to suggest such a thing, though, would send Betty racing out into the night.

The girl's long, creamy looking neck appeared very kissable, and he could imagine himself running his full lips over it, turning her on in ways she had not thought possible. Her whole body, he thought to himself, his itching penis growing even more erect, was nearly perfect. It was designed to give ultimate pleasure to the man who could find the key that unlocked her pent up passions. He let his eyes roam over her fine, pointy breasts. They were not exceptionally large, not like Susie's, but they were perfect in shape, and he longed to wrap his wet, hungrily licking mouth around each of them, sending her into excited, squirming ecstasy. Right now, Ben could almost feel the satiny smoothness of her flesh against his hot lips. He poured her another glass of wine.

He was probably crazy, he thought ruefully. This was not even a real date. It was a spur of the moment scene. Betty would probably simply thank him for the dinner and go home. Still, he had noticed in the kitchen that her violet eyes kept straying time and again to the bulge in his shorts. Those faded old pants had helped him out with a woman more than once. He had had them for years and thought several times he should cut a notch in the leg hole for every girl he laid as a result of displaying himself in them.

"It was wonderful, but I can't eat another bite," Betty said, pushing her plate away.

"You did pretty well. There's not much left but the bone." Ben got up to clear the table, thankful that his erection had subsided enough so that the cherry red head of it no longer protruded past the edge of his leg hole.

"Why don't you sit down on the couch and listen to the music. I'll be with you as soon as I put these things in the sink."

"Can't I help?"

"It'll just take me a minute. Here, take the wine with you." He was pleased to see that she did not resist the suggestion.

Betty settled herself on the sofa, feeling warm and comfortable. The wine made her feel as though she glowed softly, inside and out. She poured another half glass and sipped at it slowly.

Ben came and sat down in the chair facing her. "Why don't you kick off your shoes and relax?" he asked.

"I think I will," she answered, smiling at him. Taking off her low heeled shoes, she dropped them to the floor and put her stockinged feet up onto the coffee table. "That feels good," she said with a sigh. Betty stretched languorously, the hem of her sweater lifting a little to show her taut, smooth abdomen with its deeply indented navel.