Hugh Kissasse - A Little Night Nookie

In the French movie, Brigitte had just run off into the woods, with the seducee following at a gallop; but in real life, I found out there were things to contend with. Such as Mr. Zeller being a really cautious type, and running off in other directions every time a good chance came up. I suppose he had been grabbed at often enough to make him careful; he was kind of cute, what with a sort of Gary Cooper look and all.

But I finally nailed him. I got into the back of his car, and scrunched down, at the end of the school day; as I thought, he came out, got in, and drove off without seeing me. I knew he lived out on the North Road, so I didn't squeak until we were going along just outside of town, where nobody would see us. Then I popped up with a cheery hello.

Somehow, he didn't seem to be as surprised as I'd thought. His expression was a little peculiar, too-more of a smirk. In fact, as he slowed the car and turned up one of the side roads, he looked a little more like Vincent Price than Gary Cooper, and it occurred to me that he might very well be onto my little game.

"Yes, indeed, Honey," Mr. Zeller said, pulling up in a secluded spot. "I don't mind discussing your grades at all." And he smirked a little more. "Call me Sam," he suggested, leaning back, and giving me a hot-eyed look.

"It isn't exactly my grades," I told him. "It's a friend of mine, Dottie."

"Ah, yes," he said. "I thought it was a little odd that you would worry about passing English. But Dottie, now… I'm afraid she's going to have some trouble." He nodded. "But… how is it she didn't speak to me herself?"

"Well…" I batted the eyelashes, you know… that way. "She's shy. I mean, everybody thinks you're pretty… well, sexy, sort of. I mean, she told me she wouldn't know what to say if you… well, asked her to do something in return, for a better grade. Dig?"

He laughed, one of those chuckly sounds that gave me goosebumps.

"What would you think I might ask her to do, in return for better marks?" he asked, still hot-eyeing me.

"Gee, I don't know," I said, with my special round-eyed look. "Teachers… well, everybody knows teachers aren't supposed to fool around. Anyway, I wouldn't think a groovy cat like you would want to do anything with a kid, I mean… you probably have lots of chances with more experienced women, and…"

He laughed again, but there was a funny note in it this time.

"Sure," he said, "In Sodom, Connecticut. This place is simply jumping with swinging types. Look, my nubile nymphet, I used to teach in the city. I took this place because I got tired of ducking bricks and switchblades. But after a year out here in the backwoods, I'm about ready to teach in the worst school in the city. I might get killed, but I won't be bored to death."

"Golly," I said sympathetically.

He opened the glove compartment and took out a metal flask, which he opened, and tipped to his lips.

"It's referred to as Dutch courage," he said, and offered it to me. I took a small swallow, and sneezed.

"Wow!" I said. "What is it?"

"Cognac," he said. "I keep it in there for snakebites and seductions and so on. You can tell how often I've been bitten lately by the fact that it's still full."

Seductions? I asked myself. Who was supposed to be seducing who… or whom?… After all, he was an English teacher.

"In fact," he said after a minute, "I've gotten to the point where I have completely lost all common sense, Honey." He reached over, and began to very slowly and carefully undo the buttons of my blouse, as cool as a cucumber.

"Hey," I said, but there didn't seem to be much that I ought to do about it. He went on unbuttoning as he talked.

"It might interest you to know that you're about the fifth adolescent Mata Hari that's tried this in the last two months," he said, undoing the last button. He peeled back my blouse, and contemplated my boobs with a thoughtful expression, like a man shopping for grapefruit in a supermarket; he reached out and tweaked one nipple, still absently.

"Also, you might feel flattered," he said, and tweaked the other one. "You're the first I'm going to give in to." He cupped one of my bumpers in his hand, and squeezed a bit. "Yummy, m'girl," he commented. "Yes, I'm finally going to risk my professional reputation and my liberty, and throw a good one into you, young lady. Because I'm about as bored and frustrated with things around here as I can get, and because I haven't had any in weeks, and because you're as. sexy a bit of puberty as I've seen yet…" He bent over and started kissing here and there. It was pretty nice at that.

"And NOT because you're trying to get a good mark out of me, Honey girl, for your friend or yourself," he added, with another chuckle.

"You make it sound awful," I protested, wriggling around in his grasp.

"Calculating, yes," he agreed. "Awful… well, no." His hands ran up my thighs, caressingly, and around my hips; he found my crotch, and tickled it, chuckling. "The complete modern chicklet," he said, and I gasped at the effect of his busy fingers. "No bra and no pants either. Came prepared, didn't you? Well, Duck so did I. You'll see."

He let go of me, and pulled a lever; the seats folded back suddenly, and flattened down into the back of the car, and I went over backward along with them. He sat beside me, grinning down at me.

"This car used to belong to a real playboy friend of mine," he said, undoing his tie. "Believe it or not, this is the first time I've had any use for that gadget."

I noticed that his breath was coming a little faster, in spite of the cool sounding way of talking. I put my arms behind my head, and let my breasts pop up and out a bit, watching him.

"Gee, what are you going to do, Mr. Zeller?" I asked.

"Call me Sam," he said, removing his shirt. He had a nice broad chest, very hairy, and a good tan. He stared down at my up thrust boobers and licked his lips. "MY! You aren't a virgin by any chance, are you?"

"Oh, no," I said without thinking, and then I blushed.

"Good," he said. 'Though I didn't think so I'll bet there isn't one over twelve in town. So… you really want to know what I'm going to do, Honey?"

He leaned back on one elbow, kicking off his shoes, and grinned comfortably at me, sliding an arm around my waist and grasping my boob again.

"I'm going to screw you silly," he said. "I'm going to hump you till you holler. Or, to switch to the language of the sex education class, I'm going to place my masculine member between your labia, and shove it all the way up your vaginal passage until it hits your back teeth, my blonde Honeykins. Come here." And he grabbed at the zipper on my skirt, panting a bit harder.

I assumed it was time to help a bit, so I pulled down his zipper. The biggest tool I'd ever seen in real life emerged, standing straight up. It was even better than the Greek type's and it changed my whole point of view about English teachers.

"Golly!" I said. "I'll bet it could. Do what you said, I mean." He had my skirt off by this time, so I assisted with getting his pants down, while he continued to nibble me all over. It was very exciting.

In a minute, he was kneeling over me, and I was feeling wild tingly waves going over me from head to foot. This sex thing was getting better all the time, I noticed. I spread my legs apart and reached for his thing, grabbing it; it was hot as a stovepipe, and he let out a wild yip when I grabbed it. I tried to get it lined up for action, but he evidently had a new idea; the old-fashioned position wasn't exactly right, I gathered. He wanted to make a small improvement, which was a fat pillow; he got it out of somewhere under the seat, and slid up under my rear end, elevating me.

Then he knelt between my thighs and popped it in with one long, hard, delicious thrust, all the way to the very end, and held it there while I literally quivered like Jello.