Ron Taylor: Teacher_s naughty wife

He was backed up against the side of her car and she was on him from the front. She had her hands on his waist, and her crotch rubbed insistently, demandingly, at the front of his pants. Her lips were fastened to the point of his chin and her tits pressed like hard little balls against his chest. "Holy cow!" the boy said. "I thought this kind of stuff only happened in dirty movies!"

She bit his chin, just to prove it was real and happening to him, and she felt his cock stiffen suddenly in his pants, a hard lancing column of flesh straining at the tightness of the bluejeans he wore. Joanne groaned and she writhed against him, and she didn't care if anyone saw her.

"You're making an offer I can't refuse," the boy said, and his eyes were big as silver dollars. "But if you want money, I don't have any."

"I don't want money," Joanne announced, standing back. She pointed at the bulge in his pants. Her eyes got big. "All I want is that!" And she touched him with the tip of her finger, touched the steely stiff erection in his pants.

"That's disgraceful," she heard someone say, and she turned. A fat middle-aged woman was standing a few feet away, puffing as she stared at the couple.

"It may be disgraceful," Joanne said, slurring her words, "but I'm going to get fucked, and it's a disgrace how much I need a fuck." She opened her purse, found the car keys, tossed them to the boy. "You drive," she said. "You shift the gears and I'll play with your stick." With a wink at the fat woman, she climbed into the car. Her hand was in his lap before she got the door shut.

It wasn't the afternoon she'd planned. Ronnie – that was his name, Ronnie – in the car, while she was fondling his swollen bulge and he was trying to keep the car on the road. I'm smashed, Joanne kept telling herself. I wouldn't be doing this if I were sober. Of course not. The liquor has taken hold of me, and I've taken hold of Ronnie. Fair exchange?

He lived in a trailer near the south edge of town, about twenty blocks down Tiffin Street from the campus. He had two room mates, but they were in class. So he explained to Joanne while they were negotiating the distance between her car and the front door of his trailer. It wasn't an easy journey. She had him unzipped now, and her hand was inside his pants, inside his shorts, her fist full of his stiff dick, and she couldn't stand up without assistance, so she was all over him in more ways than one. Once again she was making a public spectacle of herself, if any of his neighbors in the other trailers happened to be watching, but it seemed very unimportant. Her mind was already inside the trailer bouncing on a bed.

If Tom can find himself some young stuff, she thought, why the bloody fuck can't I do it, too? More important, she had done it. Never before in her almost ten years of marriage had she even considered the idea of committing adultery. That's what it was, she realized, and she wasn't so drunk that she didn't understand the reality. She was about to give herself, body and cunt, to a person she had only just met, and why? Because she wanted to, that's why! Wanted it more, Joanne was certain, tan she had ever wanted anything as long as she had lived. More!

It wasn't a big trailer, and the interior was a Godawful mess. But Joanne remembered her own college days, and the messy apartments and dorm rooms she'd lived in, and she just smiled, Ronnie helping her through the clutter that was strewn across the living room floor. An empty, stray beer can rolled under her foot and she went staggering, jerking on his cock as she did. "Oh, Jesus!" she heard him moan, and for a moment it seemed that he was going to come in her fist. She clenched her hand on him, squeezed hard, and his staggering shudders dwindled, then ceased.

"Almost lost it," he muttered, and by then they were standing in the doorway of a tiny bedroom. Joanne leaned against the shut door while Ronnie drew the curtains, and then he stood, facing her from about three feet away, staring at her, tilting his head this way and that, his lips curled in an unspoken question.

"I've seen you somewhere," he announced finally. Joanne shifted her shoulders as she rested against the door. "Aren't you one of the varsity cheerleaders?"

"No!" she laughed. "Of course not!"

"You're not in my American history survey class?" She shook her head again, and it occurred to her that he certainly thought she was a student at the college, just like he was. Well! she told herself. I guess I haven't gone to pieces, even if I am over thirty!

She had nothing to be ashamed of. She knew it. And she knew that she could easily pass for a college girl, though the idea of doing so had never entered her mind. At thirty-one she was still firm and slender, weighing the same 110 pounds she'd weighed as a college senior and soon-to-be-bride. And she was nicely dressed today, in that yellow springtime dress Tom had liked so much when she'd bought it last year. Smooth yellow, almost as smooth as satin, cut deep in front between the firm round mounds of her tits, and trimmed rather closely on the sides, too, the top secured with a tie around her neck. The dress was long, as was fashionable today, but slashed up the sides to allow revealing glimpses of long-thighed legs. Well! she thought. I put this dress on, expecting to take it off in a motel room while my husband drooled from the bed. I don't think my plans worked out. But I'm still going to take my dress off, and I certainly expect to see some drool forming on that lovely boy's lips. She reached up, brushing her hair out of the way, and she undid the bow behind her neck. The top of her dress fell down, baring her smooth, hard-nippled tits. Ronnie coughed and she was pretty sure she saw froth at his mouth.

Joanne held the fallen dress in place, and she breathed, and her nipples were poked out in stiff brown erections. She raised her hand, stroked her fingers across each nipple in turn, and she murmured softly between puckered lips. Ronnie made a sound, too, light and airy, and he was standing by the bed clenching and unclenching his fists. The look his face bore was remarkable – as if, she thought, he hadn't believed it was going to happen, until now. Joanne looked up, ran her tongue across her lips, and pointed at him with her free hand. "Your turn to take something off," she suggested kittenishly. "Why not your pants, love? They look as if they're about to split, you know?"

Ronnie grabbed for his belt buckle, undid it, and skinned the mug jeans down to his knees, taking his legs as they fell the rest of the way. He ware a pair of tight white torts underneath, and it was incredible how those shorts had managed to restrain his cock as long as they had. He was sporting an erection that looked really big, pushing out the tight white cloth. Joanne taught, it can't be too big. Not the way she kit, not the way she needed it. Drunk or not, she had to have him, and she didn't understand how she'd been able to go as long as she had without a man, a real man. She remembered the plastic substitute she'd used on herself this morning. God, she thought, did I really do that? Me? She shivered in a moment of self-disgust, but her eyes drifted again toward the bay's crotch and she felt only her need, the burning, wanting lust that simmered inside her. It had simmered inside her for so long it had scared her, but she wasn't scared any longer, not at all.

Ronnie put his thumbs in the waistband of his tons, jerked until the tip of his stiff rod tapered out, and she moved toward him, letting her dress fall as she moved. She stepped out of the fallen heap of yellow, moved her feet twice more, and she was standing in front of him.

All she wore under her dress was the special outfit she'd put together with the intention of seducing her husband back to love today: a lilac garter belt, trimmed in crinkly lace, and a pair of black mesh stockings. The garter straps framed her chestnut-fuzzed twat and she worked her thighs together until she felt the sure, telltale moisture beading between her labes, starting to leak out and dampen the curly hairs of her bush.