David Crane: Scandal school

He howled like a crazed wolf, and his cook went off like a cannon.

Amanda gasped as she felt the tidal wave of his cum blast into her womb, splashing into her cunt with such force that it almost drove her right across the desk. Miller had to brace his great thighs against the mighty recoil. He didn't shoot two or three separate bursts, but spent every drop of his pent-up spunk in that single gigantic geyser. It poured out under pressure in a single jet that went on and on, so that he was still spilling spunk into her when the first heavy ribbons came flooding out of her gash and soaked her crotch and thighs.

Amanda melted on his cock. She collapsed on the desk, gasping.

Miller staggered back. His dick was stuck in her. He weaved, weak-kneed, on the end of his prick as if it were a leash.

"That," Amanda breathed, "was wonderful!"

"Yeah, that was a good workout," he said. "We ought to work out together more often."

"Every day, maybe?" she said.

"Except Sundays. You got to let the body rest and recover one day a week."

"I can wear that," she smiled.

His cock had finally detached itself from her. She glanced down and was pleased to note that, although it had softened and diminished somewhat, it was still semi-erect. It looped out in a great fat parabola from his loins. The head was dripping with shards of cum and streams of cunt juice. Her crotch was soaking wet, and the crack of her ass felt as if it had been oiled or buttered. She wriggled, enjoying the luxurious sensation of being coated with cum and cunt juice.

"We ought to take a shower now," he said.

"I could clean you with my tongue, if you like."

Miller looked uncomfortable at that suggestion. Now that he had got his rocks off, he was not so tolerant of the varieties of sexual function.

He changed the subject, saying, "Do you jog?" But Amanda changed it back: "No, but I suck a mean dick."

Miller's pecker twitched. Maybe there was something to be said for the commies, at that.

She wasn't a Russian, and the French were allies, and Amanda knew her man.

Striking just the right note, she said, "Did you know that cum is one of the best health foods you can eat? It's full of vitamins and protein, and it makes your hair glossy and your complexion clear and your eyes keen."

"Is that a fact?" he said. "I never knew that."

"Oh yes. It was in Reader's Digest."

"Well, it must be true, then."

"Cunt juice, too."

"Well I'll be damned."

"It's why I drink so much cum," she said. "It's like eating yogurt. You might not like it, but you have to eat it for the sake of your health."

Red Miller understood that and nodded. He saw that he had been neglecting himself through ignorance for years, and he hoped it was not too late to rectify the mistake. It would be a terrible shame if he aged prematurely due to not eating enough pussy.

"It tastes pretty good, too," she added.

He was, wondering if he might sprinkle some wheat germ on her pussy, or maybe slice a banana up in it?

He said, "I never ate a cunt, but that was through pure blind ignorance, I'm sorry to admit. I don't suppose you would let me nourish myself from your pussy sometime?"

"Sometime?" she said, arching her brows.

"At your convenience…"

"Anytime is more like it," said the sexy school teacher who often wished she had trained to be a dietician.

Miller licked his lips. He did feel a bit under nourished.

Amanda arched her back and spread her thighs. "Come and get it, baby," she purred. She petted her sodden crotch. "This pussy is one-a-day brand."

"She didn't!"

"She sure as hell did!" Skip said.

"I don't believe it!" said Sarah Wimpole. "Miss Bridewell gave you a handjob? Never!"

Skip was sullen. "She did so!" he snapped. Skip had not intended to tell anyone about what had happened with the English teacher, but circumstances had changed his plans. When he had left the History class, Sarah Wimpole had caught him up in the hall. She had been giggling.

"Did you see John Tremont when he had to stand up in class?" she said. "He had a great big boner. Boy, did he look embarrassed. I don't know why he should of been, though." She lowered her eyes demurely. "It looked awful nice and big."

That disturbed Skip. He had had his eye on Sarah for some time, and he didn't like to hear her sound impressed by the cock of anyone else.

"Mine's bigger," he said.

"Maybe," she said, but she didn't sound too sure of that.

With his vanity hurt and jealousy gnawing at him, he had told her about Miss Bridewell. Now he was more annoyed than ever, because she didn't believe him. He sulked. He was a fullback on the football team, and girls were not supposed to doubt his word.

He said, "And she gave me two wanks for homework, and I got to bring the spunk to school in a jar."

"Bullshit," said Sarah, who looked young and innocent but had a foul mouth. She was a slender girl with frizzy red hair and nice big eyes. Her chest was flat as a boy's but her ass was firm, pert and very nubile, and her legs were long and lithe.

Rumor had it that she was not as pure as she ought to be and had, in fact, slept with more than one boy. Skip was intrigued by the girl herself and by her reputation, for the two were seemingly at odds. She looked innocent, except for her foul mouth, and Skip always found it more exciting to imagine an innocent girl doing naughty things than to think of a naughty girl doing the same thing. It was one of the paradoxes of passion.

But as he thought about it, he couldn't blame Sarah for doubting him. His was an unlikely story.

He said, "Will you believe me if I show you the spunk in a jar before I turn it in as homework?"

"Nope. Any old asshole can jerk off in a jar. How would I know Miss Bridewell assigned it?"

Skip was determined to make the girl believe him. He was an honest sort of fellow at heart and truly hated to be thought a liar or a boaster.

He said, "I'll tell you what. Miss Bridewell said that whacking off is good for you and Coach Miller says it's bad for you. I'm gonna go see Coach now and tell him what she said. I won't tell him she jacked me off, of course, but I'll tell him she said I ought to do it. I wouldn't very well lie to Coach about that, would I? I mean, he's sure to task Miss Bridewell."

Sarah nodded.

"So you come along with me and you can hide in the hallway and listen. I'll leave the door open while I tell him. Then you'll have to believe me. Okay?"

She giggled. "Okay."

And then, because she fancied Skip as much as he fancied her, and therefore liked to tease him, she said, "I wonder if she jerks off John Tremont, too? John sure did have a nice big hard-on in History class."

Giggling, she followed Skip to the gym. Normally, Skip would never have opened the door to Red Miller's office without knocking, but there was nothing normal about this situation. Sarah was right behind him, giggling, and if the coach were to open the door instead of simply calling out for Skip to enter, he would see a girl very much off limits in the boy's gym.

That was why be opened the door without knocking.

Which, in turn, was why the saw Coach Miller eating the hell out of Miss Bridewell's cunt.

Miss Bridewell was perched on the edge of the desk – a position she seemed to favor more and more these days, Skip thought – and Coach Miller, stark naked and with a cock like a club, was kneeling between her thighs, sucking and tonguing the cunt juice from her with rare gusto. His square head bobbed up and down and turned from side to side, as if he wanted to get every last crumb from the plate of her crotch. His chin glistened with pussy juice.

Miss Bridewell, her voice husky and dreamy, whispered, "Don't forget the clit, Coach, that's the best part."