The Field Trip: Part 2
Authored by: Psyche
Alone in the locker room, I do my best, with the limited resources at my disposal, to rinse the cum out of my hair, splash water on my face, disperse the odors of bodies and sweat that seem to permeate the very pores of my skin. I open the bag that Master Drake has left for me: “a change of clothes” he said. We do not share a similar fashion sense. In the bag, I find some leather panties. They are not a thong, but they lace up the back, and they are slitted. From the privacy of my changing stall, I am appalled. “Oh well,” I figure, “I probably won’t be wearing them for long anyway,” and on they go. They are snug, hugging the curves of my ass. Next up? A balconette bra. I roll my eyes. My nipples protrude garishly from the “cups.” There better be some actual clothes in here I think to myself. Further investigation reveals a very short cut-off denim skirt, its frayed edges hover just beneath the cheeks of my ass. And the coup de grace? A t-shirt. A Christmas tree green, GREEN LANTERN t-shirt. It is very small. When I pick it up, I actually emit a groan. I check the tag. It reads “youth: medium.” I yank it over my head. The circular green lantern logo stretches to an oval across the span of my tits. The hem falls just above my navel. I run a brush over my hair, leaving it fall in waves across my shoulders, as if it could somehow restore an iota of my modesty. I slip on some tennis shoes and dart out the door.
In the locker room, I see the gazes of other women. They are shocked by my scant outfit. I do not stop long enough to tell whether it is jealousy or judgment I see in their eyes. I yank open the door, and rush out, scurrying to the parking lot where Master Drake is waiting.
I find him parked in his car, a dark gray sedan. He is eating some dinner but he offers me none. Instead as I open the passenger side door, and slip in beside him, he runs his hands along the bottom of my breasts and later down the fronts of my thighs. He reaches over me, buckles me in. He unbuttons my skirt and pulls it down, just a little, revealing the smooth sheen of the kid leather hidden beneath. He kisses my mouth, and I can taste the salty grease of carnival food.
“are you ready, pet?” he asks, as if my answer mattered… I nod, and we are off.
Soon we are speeding down the residential streets, leaving the twinkling lights of the park behind us. Master Drake is driving haphazardly. I can personally attest that he has nothing to drink, still his driving is erratic for someone typically so controlled. We careen across corners with abandon until… inevitably… I see the flash of red and blue. We are being pulled over. I rush to pull up my skirt, restore my decency, button my fly, but Master Drake puts a restraining hand on mine. He tells me it will be alright. I trust him.
The officer is a woman. A tall, compact woman with skin the color of caramel apples. As the flashing lights swirl around us I see far set, almond shaped eyes, a long, sleek nose, a mouth like a just opening flower. Her body could stop traffic, but her voice is no nonsense as she asks Master Drake for his ID. He meets her directly, with a gaze that has stopped me a million times. He holds her in his sight as he reaches over me to open the glove compartment. As he hands it to her, he lets his hand rest on my lap.
I feel her eyes drop. She is looking at where his hand has fallen, on my exposed thighs, she doesn’t say anything as my master, my teacher, pushes my skirt down past my knees and pushes his middle and index finger through the slit in my panties and into the slit that waits above. I wriggle a little at his touch. The lights, still rotating, bounce off the curvy outline of my cleavage. He is speaking now, explaining to the officer how sorry he is… how embarrassed he is to be caught speeding. He promises it will never happen again. All the while he is finger fucking me. I don’t know how else to say it… from time to time he pulls his fingers out and feeds them to me, placing them in front of my nose so that I smell my scent and against my tongue so I can savor its tangy flavor. The officer’s voice is rote as she explains she will have to give him a ticket. He tells her that’s a damn shame and asks her for her name.
“Officer Rose” she responds, her dark eyes watch my every spasm; her eyes never leave me.
“Well, Officer Rose,” my master says soothingly, reaching over and opening my car door, “perhaps we can work something out.”
Master Drake undoes my seatbelt with his free hand and slides my body around in my seat so that I am facing Officer Rose. He runs the side of his hand between my breasts and then between my inner thighs, spreading my legs as he does.
Officer Rose lowers her body to a crouching position, her eyes are level with my… well you know… where. She snaps off her flashlight. In the dim light of the car’s dome light, she instead bends over and touches my inner thigh. Her hands are smooth and gentle as she massages the muscles and the span of my legs, her hands inch closer and closer to my crotch. Her dark eyes reflect the flashing lights of her squad car as she leans her face in close to me… she takes a long, deep whiff of my scent, exhales like she has sniffed some fine wine. Master Drake is watching her, expectantly. She nods her assent.
In seconds it seems like, my shirt is off, my hands are shackled above my head. My panties, as expected, are off, and lie on the side of the road. Officer Rose’s face is pushed flat into my pussy. She nips and bites the skin around where my legs form a V. She kisses my clitoris and sucks it between her teeth. Before she can completely climb in the car, before she can begin to recline my seat, Master Drake is unbuttoning her crisp blue blouse. He is tugging at the clasp of her lacy cream bra. Before I know it she is on top of me, her caramel breasts are floating above me. She is sitting on my legs, her long arms bending down, her gentle hands are no longer so gentle. Now HE has climbed over my seat, is cramming himself into the back seat, his arms outstretched in front of him as he lowers himself toward my open, panting mouth. He rubs his rigid cock along my nose, across my cheekbones. He holds it in my mouth, against the fat of my lips but he does not let the tip pass my teeth just yet. Officer Rose is fingering my master’s ass hole… it makes me color to see her. Her arm extended across my front. Her other still pumping and probing me, still she reaches, she circles his ass hole, running the tips of her long fingers across the rim. She leans into him, kissing the top of his back, between his shoulder blades. Meanwhile he, becoming more excited, has parted my teeth with his dick, he is moving quickly, but jerkily. His balls smack me against my chin and neck. The top of my head is shoved over the back of my seat. He is taking me hard because, in back of him, Officer Rose has entered his ass with her finger. She is rotating it, pushing, exploring, removing. She takes her finger and runs it along the center of my torso, between my breasts down to my naval. She leans in and begins to rub her breasts against mine. Her head rests against my master’s back, it is being jolted each time he presses down on me, but she sways to his rhythm. With her other hand she continues is touching herself, and then touching me. Our juices mingle. She covers my master’s mouth with her hand and he licks her fingers, one after the other. Her screams. They are higher than mine, louder. My master is grunting as the thwack thwack sound of his balls hitting my chin becomes faster and faster. My body is being pressed in on all sides. I can barely move at all. My eyes are watering and my nose is running. I am gagging. Officer Rose can feel my heart racing under hers, feel my rib cage rattle as I gasp for air. I think I am cumming. I think I am dying. Then, suddenly, there is an explosion. My mouth is filled with the familiar sting of salt as it is filled. The two lovers stroke my hair and exchange kisses above my head. They lick the cum off of my face and catch the little droplets that roll down the sides of my mouth with their fingertips. They feed each other. I am their plate. I am their meal.
When it is over, Master Drake watches appreciatively as Officer Rose dresses me. Like my mother used to do for me years ago, she pulls my shirt over my head, buttons my skirt… She kisses my breasts, strokes the round edges of my ass. She kisses Master Drake once on his dick before she dresses herself and steps out of the car. As she turns to leave, she stops. Bending over, she picks up my panties, black kid leather, which had been abandoned on the road. She looks at me. I reach out, she pulls back her hand, smiles past me, meeting my master’s eyes once again, and sticks them in her pocket before she disappears into the night.
The End
For: Master Drake
Friday, July 30, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The Sharing
..so I'm standing a few feet in front of you... you're hard and
eager... my clothes are about to come off, when BAM, your front door
flies open. In walks... my husband. Yes. He strides across the floor
and grabs me by my hair. You don't know what to expect.
*He pushes me to the ground, then he looks at you and smiles
*He grabs the sides of my face, whips out his cock and shoves
it down my throat. I am on my knees, my back is to you. My husband
lifts the back of my skirt and exposes my ass to you. He spreads my
cheeks and invites you to help yourself.
*You are frozen to your chair.
*He is thrusting his cock in and out of my mouth, ramming it
down my throat. I am gagging, choking, my eyes are bugging out, my
body is trembling.
*Suddenly, forcefully, he cums... he sprays my face and my
hair. He fills my mouth.
*Then he gently turns me over. He lays me across an ottoman
at your feet. He undoes the buttons of my dress.
*My back is arched over the low seat. My wet vagina is
beckoning to you. My husband straddles my chest. He turns away from
you.
*I squeeze my breasts together and he humps my chest.
*Relentlessly.
*From the outside, people can hear him groan. He asks you
again, to partake. People can hear me begging you to fill me up. I
call your name. Surrendering, please, take me.
*Cum and sweat begin to trickle down my body. They pool in my
navel and slide down into my crotch. My body is slick, my nipples are
erect....
*My husband comes again, this time sending a fountain of cum
down my body.
*Then he gets up.
*He dresses.
*He leaves me spread upon your ottoman, begging you to finish the job.
*He tells me to be home by dawn.
*Then he gathers his stuff and walks out your door.
What will you do next?
For Cormack
eager... my clothes are about to come off, when BAM, your front door
flies open. In walks... my husband. Yes. He strides across the floor
and grabs me by my hair. You don't know what to expect.
*He pushes me to the ground, then he looks at you and smiles
*He grabs the sides of my face, whips out his cock and shoves
it down my throat. I am on my knees, my back is to you. My husband
lifts the back of my skirt and exposes my ass to you. He spreads my
cheeks and invites you to help yourself.
*You are frozen to your chair.
*He is thrusting his cock in and out of my mouth, ramming it
down my throat. I am gagging, choking, my eyes are bugging out, my
body is trembling.
*Suddenly, forcefully, he cums... he sprays my face and my
hair. He fills my mouth.
*Then he gently turns me over. He lays me across an ottoman
at your feet. He undoes the buttons of my dress.
*My back is arched over the low seat. My wet vagina is
beckoning to you. My husband straddles my chest. He turns away from
you.
*I squeeze my breasts together and he humps my chest.
*Relentlessly.
*From the outside, people can hear him groan. He asks you
again, to partake. People can hear me begging you to fill me up. I
call your name. Surrendering, please, take me.
*Cum and sweat begin to trickle down my body. They pool in my
navel and slide down into my crotch. My body is slick, my nipples are
erect....
*My husband comes again, this time sending a fountain of cum
down my body.
*Then he gets up.
*He dresses.
*He leaves me spread upon your ottoman, begging you to finish the job.
*He tells me to be home by dawn.
*Then he gathers his stuff and walks out your door.
What will you do next?
For Cormack
Monday, July 26, 2010
Virgin Voyage
Hello and welcome to Psyche's Summer, a web log dedicated to chronicling the fantasies and intrigues of men and women across the internet. I hope you will enjoy the stories I have written. Before we get started, I would like to dedicate this site to two men.
Master Drake. I do not know your real name; I have never seen your face, but yet this site is dedicated to you for the many ways you have already impacted my fantasies.
And to the other man in my life, a man whose face I know well, but whose name will remain shrouded. My fantasies are always for you
Master Drake. I do not know your real name; I have never seen your face, but yet this site is dedicated to you for the many ways you have already impacted my fantasies.
And to the other man in my life, a man whose face I know well, but whose name will remain shrouded. My fantasies are always for you
The Assignment
The assignment:
It was 8th period… the end of the day. I was sitting in Mr. Drake’s English class… my favorite, and I was being bad. Of course no one knew this. You see I am the type of girl who doesn’t stand out. I was sitting on the side of the classroom, closer to the windows, two rows from the back. I was supposed to be writing a short story… well, I was writing a short story, but not the kind I was supposed to be…
Do you see me? Ignore all the bright and shiny girls with their glossy lips and too-tight blouses. I am the girl in two French braids, the one studiously bent over her work. The cuff of my white blouse is wrinkled over my black sweater… my pleated skirt is slightly askew. There is a rip in my tights, a long narrow run, but it is up by my thigh… so no one will see. As I said, I am bent over my work, my pen flies across my page. My lips are parted slightly as I write. I am so engrossed that I do not notice that Mr. Drake… Oh, Mr. Drake! ….he has stopped by my desk… he is reaching for my paper.
I try to cover it, to rescue it… but it is too late. It is in his hands. I flush as he reads:
I look up. My face red. I cannot read Mr. Drake’s reaction. All I know is that my secret is out. My fantasy, long harbored, of fucking my English teacher, is no longer a secret. The bell rings, I am ready to run out of the classroom, but as I stand. He is there. Oh God, his hand is on my arm. I look up at him, for he is quite taller than me. My eyes are watering so I can barely see…
“Stay after class a minute, Donna” he says… barely audibly.
I sicken, in the pit of my stomach. I want the ground to swallow me whole, but somewhere, inside of me, I am excited too. My clit. I can feel it stiffen… I try to ignore… the wetness between my thighs… the familiar stirring… longing.
“Donna” he says…. He is sitting at his desk now. I am standing on other side, my head still bowed in shame. The other students have left, the door is closed.
“Donna….” He repeats my name. I try to quench the inner desires rushing up on me… act like the flush of my face is just embarrassment… a tear… I can’t make it stop… rolls down my cheek…
In a flash he is beside me, cupping my chin in his hands. Forcing me to look up at him. And as I watch, his head lowers, and then, he is fondling my mouth with his. Gently at first, then harder, he is pushing his tongue into my mouth. My arms flail in surprise, I drop my books which clatter to the floor unnoticed. He lets me go. My eyes meet his. He is smiling.
Artfully, like he has done this a thousand times, he pulls off my cardigan, leaving my thin, white blouse with the wrinkled cuffs exposed… he guides me around to his side of the desk, sits down in his chair and gestures for me to do the same…. to sit with him… on him. As I awkwardly perch on his knee, I can imagine he can hear my heart beat. It’s almost like that man can read my mind because at that moment he pulls me, my body, close to his chest. But it’s not his heart beat I feel… no, it’s the stiff, hard, throb of his dick, poking me in the hip as he slides my body close to him. I can feel his breath on my neck, feel his hands as they untuck, unbutton my blouse and slide up my shirt. All the time he is whispering my name.
“I, I….” I don’t know what to say….
In a second, his hand is to my mouth, hushing me as he bows his head and begins to kiss my neck. He is not doing this at all gently. I do not know how I am going to explain the marks he will leave to my mother… I can feel him, his hands, they have reached back and unfastened my white bra. He is touching my nipples, rolling them around in his fingers and kneading my breasts. He pushes my head down with his chin, so that all I can do is watch. I am mesmerized as I see my large, pale breasts, my rosy nipples, soothed and plucked by his rough hands.
“Donna. How long have you …” his voice trails off as he turns me to face him, burying his face in between my two breasts. Pinching and squeezing… groping like a blind man, he continues… “how long have you been writing?”
“Writing?” I ask innocently, pulling away.
“Writing” he responds knowingly, pulling me back to him “about me.” I color, wondering how long he has known my secret… He has made short work of my blouse and bra which are lying in a heap on the floor. I feel his hands again, his mouth is still cupping my golden breasts, but his hands have moved downward. He is reaching between the waistband of my skirt, stretching the elastic of my tights, and pushing aside the flimsy material of my cotton panties. I feel his hands touch me. Touch my clitoris. It is electric. I stiffen. My nipples harden. He bites them. I am wiggling on his lap.
“I want to see the other stories, Donna” That’s what he says as he unbuttons the single button fastening my skirt. It too falls to the floor, a pleated puddle at my feet.
“I want you to bring them to my house”
“But aren’t you married?” I gasp.
“That’s not your concern” he responds.
With that he lifts me off of his lap, standing me up in just my tights and kitten pumps.
“or to my faculty meetings” he says as he pushes me to my knees.
“or even right here in the classroom” he grunts as he gestures for me to unfasten his belt.
I do as he says, clumsily. I fumble with the clasp of his buckle. He grasps the crown of my head in his hands and rises to his feet.
…his cock. There it is. What I had dreamed of, written about. It is long, longer than I had anticipated in my girlish inexperience, reddish-purple, veined and ridged, it has a life of its own. He doesn’t need to speak, I know what is expected of me. I am scared. I feel his warm hands on my scalp. I know I cannot get away. I lean in, I spread my lips, my teeth part… his dick fills my mouth. He does not tease or bother to ease me in. He pushes my head so that my nose is buried in his pubic hair. One loonnnggg awful-wonderful drag. The cords of saliva fall away as he releases, allows me to pull back for just a second… a second to just inhale before he pushes in again. Beads of sweat break out along the underbelly of my breasts, across my brow… he is rocking as he pushes me deeper. The words I had written come true. I am gagging as I feel the tip of his cock hit my throat. I stumble on all fours, my mouth slips off his cock. He lifts me up off of my hands and resumes. He is relentless. Over and over, his cock grazes my throat, my eyes are bulging out of my head, my small body is in spasms…. shaking and writhing… My head is tilted back, my nostrils flared, I have to remember to breathe…. He pushes the weight of his entire body against my face. The back of my head is pushed back against his desk… breathe…. It is too much… I feel a well of visceral pleasure and pain rage up inside me…. I try to push him away… but he is pushing me hard… harder… when suddenly, he stops. He lifts my chin, and caresses my face. He picks me up off of the floor. My black clad legs are dusty on the knees. The run in my tights looks like a scar. Mr. Drake tells me to strip. I do as he says. I peel away the hose, the little pink panties. I wait. Mr. Drake goes to the window. He looks out. He returns to his desk and takes a drink. He takes off his shirt and drapes it over his chair.
I stand, stark naked, next to him, but he ignores me… for more than ten minutes. My nipples are erect; I don’t know whether from the cold or the heat. My face is drenched in sweat and saliva. My cunt. My cunt is ready for what it knows is to come.
After a period, in which Mr. Drake reads his paper, calls his wife and eats a candy bar, he finally sits down. He tells me to pick my books up off the floor and set them out of the way. As I bend over, I feel his eyes linger on my tight, pink ass. I do as he says. Of course.
Finally he takes my hand. My tiny hand in his much larger one. He leads me back to his desk. He tells me how smart and pretty I am. He kisses my breasts, touches my thighs. He lifts me up and sits me on his desk. I am facing him, my naked legs just barely spread. He sits at his chair. He strokes my calves. The hairs on my arms stand up. He runs his fingers across the inner ridge of my thighs. My muscles tense. Then Mr. Drake grabs each of my legs and slides them apart. I want to explain to you at this point, that I am not a virgin. I lost my virginity… like most girls my age do, to an under-experienced boy whose mouth was stuffed with pretty promises. I had not regretted it; although I had not really enjoyed it…. I had been 16. Since then I had had a boyfriend, well…. I have a boyfriend, I guess I should say… Bobby. He was… I mean, he is a nice boy. My parents like him ok. We had done it too… a few times. First time on a Sunday afternoon while Mom was still at the grocery and dad was downstairs watching the game. That was last year. But now we were getting ready for college… things are changing… and I had never had sex like this.
Mr. Drake is talking to me now. He is telling me that I am in danger of failing. I do not see how this is possible I say, as I have the highest average in his class. He smiles as he slips his fingers into my…. cunt. He says that I USED to have the highest average in his class, but due to my woeful job on the short story assignment I will require extra credit just to pass. He withdraws his fingers and proffers them to me. I am confused. He tells me to lick them. I do.
He continues. In order to pass he thinks, I must do some after school study sessions. With him. Once or twice a week, he thinks. Also, he says, I may need to do an independent study. Assignments tailored just for me. He slides his thumb and forefinger back into me, but this time is different. I feel his other fingers stretch… reach, his pinky just brushes my ass hole. I shiver. He leans forward. He is intent. Do I agree to his terms, he wants to know. He removes his fingers and after I lick, this time he places just his thumb inside my wet wet cunt. His index finger he puts up my ass. He pinches me together like a clamp as he waits for my response. I nod mutely. He asks me again.
“yes… yes. I agree to your terms.” I manage to croak.
“yes whom?” he asks me, applying more pressure.
“yes, master… I mean Mr. Drake” I am lying back on my elbows on top of his desk. His torso lowers over me. He laughs and tells me that I should indeed refer to him as Master… Master Drake during these after school sessions. He asks me what I want. I tell him to fuck me. He makes me say please.
“please Master Drake”
“please what, pet?”
“please fuck me and make me cum.”
Master Drake pulls me off his desk. I can see where my wet juices have left a moist imprint on his desk calendar. He lies my torso across his desk, my ass in the air. And he takes me. I can smell my own heat… my juices on the wet paper against which I lie. He takes me first in my cunt. He grabs my hands and holds them behind my back. He is pounding me, taking me so hard, my feet lift of the floor and push against his legs and chair. He is palming the cheeks of my ass now, pushing up against my writhing body. I am groaning. I can hear people pass in the hallway. If they notice what is going on in room 213, they do not say. My toes and fingers curl as I feel his rock hard cock glide through my tight pussy, hitting my cervix. Again and again. I am cumming… over and over. My muscles wrap around him, damp and smooth. His dick glistens with my wetness. I can hear his breath though I cannot see his face. I can feel his hands and fingernails leaving imprints on my ass. Back and forth, harder and harder. I am screaming. I reach up with my hand to try to muffle the sound, but he pulls it away. I let out a hoarse cry with each thrust. He is on the desk now himself. Pulling me up beside him, pushing my head down so that only the bottom half of my body is extended to him. He fingers the rim of my ass. He caresses it. He licks the sides. I am lying on my haunches. I am trembling. The juices of my body spill down his thighs. His dick is wet with it. Straddling my legs. He grabs my belly, forcing my ass closer. Master Drake. He pushes his cock, his stiff hard dick, right into my ass hole. I bellow from pain. He is immune to my struggles. I can feel the walls of my ass hole refuse to give way, but Master Drake does not give up. He doesn’t push so much as pull me closer, by my belly… by my will.
Soon he is in me, and his fingers are in me too. I can feel them rubbing against each other. My teeth are clenched. With his other hand he has grabbed my hair, entwined it through his fingers. He is riding me. The sides of my ass shake with each tremendous push. He is grunting with pleasure. My unpracticed holes are now opening wide for him. Wider and wider, harder and harder. The pain and pleasure wash over me in waves… with each push I am cumming. I can feel his cock begin to twitch inside of me. His great, veined dick. It seems like time stands still for a second. I can see the hands on the clock. They read: 6:22. Then he cums. It squirts all over my ass and down my thighs and pools in thick puddles on the now ravaged desk. Master Drake runs his hands through the puddles and lets me lick it off of him. He runs his sticky hands through my hair and over my breasts. He lets me clean and massage his tired cock with my pillowy lips. He sucks the last juices off my clitoris and then stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
I lay in a weak kneed heap. He lifts me gently to a standing position. He strokes my breasts and dresses me. My panties and bra. My gray little skirt and wrinkled white blouse, my ravaged tights and my girlish shoes… He whispers that I made him proud today; that I have a gift. He looks at me and tells me that gifts like mine are meant to be shared. He reminds me that I have promised to bring him more of my stories. He opens his classroom door and gently pushes me out. Wait for my instructions he whispers. I nod, look back, but he has already shut the door.
The End
Written for Master Drake
It was 8th period… the end of the day. I was sitting in Mr. Drake’s English class… my favorite, and I was being bad. Of course no one knew this. You see I am the type of girl who doesn’t stand out. I was sitting on the side of the classroom, closer to the windows, two rows from the back. I was supposed to be writing a short story… well, I was writing a short story, but not the kind I was supposed to be…
Do you see me? Ignore all the bright and shiny girls with their glossy lips and too-tight blouses. I am the girl in two French braids, the one studiously bent over her work. The cuff of my white blouse is wrinkled over my black sweater… my pleated skirt is slightly askew. There is a rip in my tights, a long narrow run, but it is up by my thigh… so no one will see. As I said, I am bent over my work, my pen flies across my page. My lips are parted slightly as I write. I am so engrossed that I do not notice that Mr. Drake… Oh, Mr. Drake! ….he has stopped by my desk… he is reaching for my paper.
I try to cover it, to rescue it… but it is too late. It is in his hands. I flush as he reads:
It was the hottest day of the summer. Too hot for amusement park rides. Too hot
for the little white dress Donna was wearing, for sweat and sunlight were beginning
to mingle and now the thin faint line of her areola was just apparent through the light. Donna noticed but didn’t mind. She was hoping that it would be just enough to entice him: her lover… her secret lover.
On the ferris wheel with her lover, while the other students ambled about. Donna
was alone with the divine Mr. Drake, who had indeed noticed the dark circles that were becoming more and more obvious under the damp, sweaty fabric. Donna leaned forward eagerly, maybe too eagerly, for she was much younger, much less experienced
than Mr. Drake… too ready to please. Slowly, gently, Mr. Drake touched Donna’s arm,
pushing her gently to a recumbent position. Letting his hand linger, while his other hand inched up the loose folds of her dress… then touching, pressing her dark hair to her head,he bends over, and as their car begins to ascend, he bows his head and kisses the top of her breasts. First one, then the other.
Donna exhales with the force of bottled up anticipation and in her panty-less nether
regions, she can no longer distinguish her sweat from other juices. Mr. Drake is caressing Donna’s body which lays reclined. His hands are flat, running down the length of her body, and now, up and under the folds of her skirt. Donna’s head tilts back and there is a gasp as Mr. Drake’s cool hands enter her. Slipping in and out… rubbing her own juices up and down her girlish thighs.
Mr. Drake looks at Donna, and she knows what he wants. Disregarding park regulations,
Donna slips out of her safety harness and bends down on the hot metal floor of the car. Unzipping her teacher’s pants, Donna parts her mouth, inhales, and plunges downward.
As the ferris wheel begins to spin, Donna’s mouth moves up and down Mr. Drake’s
long, hard cock. Perspiration breaks out on his brow as her warm, soft mouth embraces
him…. Up and down…. Around and around… Her saliva, moist… her tongue firm, her
teeth, gently grazing the ridges of his cock. Mr. Drake wants it faster though. Now he grabs Donna’s head, one hand on each side; he is pushing her, harder and harder. She is beginning to retch, to gag and convulse. The wheel is spinning faster… Donna’s world is going in circles…. Mr. Drake is grabbing her hair, forcing her down, further and further… his palms are sweaty… as the ride begins to slow, Donna emits a guttural cry, a rasp as Mr. Drake fills her mouth with his frothy white cum. Donna is sucking, licking as….
I look up. My face red. I cannot read Mr. Drake’s reaction. All I know is that my secret is out. My fantasy, long harbored, of fucking my English teacher, is no longer a secret. The bell rings, I am ready to run out of the classroom, but as I stand. He is there. Oh God, his hand is on my arm. I look up at him, for he is quite taller than me. My eyes are watering so I can barely see…
“Stay after class a minute, Donna” he says… barely audibly.
I sicken, in the pit of my stomach. I want the ground to swallow me whole, but somewhere, inside of me, I am excited too. My clit. I can feel it stiffen… I try to ignore… the wetness between my thighs… the familiar stirring… longing.
“Donna” he says…. He is sitting at his desk now. I am standing on other side, my head still bowed in shame. The other students have left, the door is closed.
“Donna….” He repeats my name. I try to quench the inner desires rushing up on me… act like the flush of my face is just embarrassment… a tear… I can’t make it stop… rolls down my cheek…
In a flash he is beside me, cupping my chin in his hands. Forcing me to look up at him. And as I watch, his head lowers, and then, he is fondling my mouth with his. Gently at first, then harder, he is pushing his tongue into my mouth. My arms flail in surprise, I drop my books which clatter to the floor unnoticed. He lets me go. My eyes meet his. He is smiling.
Artfully, like he has done this a thousand times, he pulls off my cardigan, leaving my thin, white blouse with the wrinkled cuffs exposed… he guides me around to his side of the desk, sits down in his chair and gestures for me to do the same…. to sit with him… on him. As I awkwardly perch on his knee, I can imagine he can hear my heart beat. It’s almost like that man can read my mind because at that moment he pulls me, my body, close to his chest. But it’s not his heart beat I feel… no, it’s the stiff, hard, throb of his dick, poking me in the hip as he slides my body close to him. I can feel his breath on my neck, feel his hands as they untuck, unbutton my blouse and slide up my shirt. All the time he is whispering my name.
“I, I….” I don’t know what to say….
In a second, his hand is to my mouth, hushing me as he bows his head and begins to kiss my neck. He is not doing this at all gently. I do not know how I am going to explain the marks he will leave to my mother… I can feel him, his hands, they have reached back and unfastened my white bra. He is touching my nipples, rolling them around in his fingers and kneading my breasts. He pushes my head down with his chin, so that all I can do is watch. I am mesmerized as I see my large, pale breasts, my rosy nipples, soothed and plucked by his rough hands.
“Donna. How long have you …” his voice trails off as he turns me to face him, burying his face in between my two breasts. Pinching and squeezing… groping like a blind man, he continues… “how long have you been writing?”
“Writing?” I ask innocently, pulling away.
“Writing” he responds knowingly, pulling me back to him “about me.” I color, wondering how long he has known my secret… He has made short work of my blouse and bra which are lying in a heap on the floor. I feel his hands again, his mouth is still cupping my golden breasts, but his hands have moved downward. He is reaching between the waistband of my skirt, stretching the elastic of my tights, and pushing aside the flimsy material of my cotton panties. I feel his hands touch me. Touch my clitoris. It is electric. I stiffen. My nipples harden. He bites them. I am wiggling on his lap.
“I want to see the other stories, Donna” That’s what he says as he unbuttons the single button fastening my skirt. It too falls to the floor, a pleated puddle at my feet.
“I want you to bring them to my house”
“But aren’t you married?” I gasp.
“That’s not your concern” he responds.
With that he lifts me off of his lap, standing me up in just my tights and kitten pumps.
“or to my faculty meetings” he says as he pushes me to my knees.
“or even right here in the classroom” he grunts as he gestures for me to unfasten his belt.
I do as he says, clumsily. I fumble with the clasp of his buckle. He grasps the crown of my head in his hands and rises to his feet.
…his cock. There it is. What I had dreamed of, written about. It is long, longer than I had anticipated in my girlish inexperience, reddish-purple, veined and ridged, it has a life of its own. He doesn’t need to speak, I know what is expected of me. I am scared. I feel his warm hands on my scalp. I know I cannot get away. I lean in, I spread my lips, my teeth part… his dick fills my mouth. He does not tease or bother to ease me in. He pushes my head so that my nose is buried in his pubic hair. One loonnnggg awful-wonderful drag. The cords of saliva fall away as he releases, allows me to pull back for just a second… a second to just inhale before he pushes in again. Beads of sweat break out along the underbelly of my breasts, across my brow… he is rocking as he pushes me deeper. The words I had written come true. I am gagging as I feel the tip of his cock hit my throat. I stumble on all fours, my mouth slips off his cock. He lifts me up off of my hands and resumes. He is relentless. Over and over, his cock grazes my throat, my eyes are bulging out of my head, my small body is in spasms…. shaking and writhing… My head is tilted back, my nostrils flared, I have to remember to breathe…. He pushes the weight of his entire body against my face. The back of my head is pushed back against his desk… breathe…. It is too much… I feel a well of visceral pleasure and pain rage up inside me…. I try to push him away… but he is pushing me hard… harder… when suddenly, he stops. He lifts my chin, and caresses my face. He picks me up off of the floor. My black clad legs are dusty on the knees. The run in my tights looks like a scar. Mr. Drake tells me to strip. I do as he says. I peel away the hose, the little pink panties. I wait. Mr. Drake goes to the window. He looks out. He returns to his desk and takes a drink. He takes off his shirt and drapes it over his chair.
I stand, stark naked, next to him, but he ignores me… for more than ten minutes. My nipples are erect; I don’t know whether from the cold or the heat. My face is drenched in sweat and saliva. My cunt. My cunt is ready for what it knows is to come.
After a period, in which Mr. Drake reads his paper, calls his wife and eats a candy bar, he finally sits down. He tells me to pick my books up off the floor and set them out of the way. As I bend over, I feel his eyes linger on my tight, pink ass. I do as he says. Of course.
Finally he takes my hand. My tiny hand in his much larger one. He leads me back to his desk. He tells me how smart and pretty I am. He kisses my breasts, touches my thighs. He lifts me up and sits me on his desk. I am facing him, my naked legs just barely spread. He sits at his chair. He strokes my calves. The hairs on my arms stand up. He runs his fingers across the inner ridge of my thighs. My muscles tense. Then Mr. Drake grabs each of my legs and slides them apart. I want to explain to you at this point, that I am not a virgin. I lost my virginity… like most girls my age do, to an under-experienced boy whose mouth was stuffed with pretty promises. I had not regretted it; although I had not really enjoyed it…. I had been 16. Since then I had had a boyfriend, well…. I have a boyfriend, I guess I should say… Bobby. He was… I mean, he is a nice boy. My parents like him ok. We had done it too… a few times. First time on a Sunday afternoon while Mom was still at the grocery and dad was downstairs watching the game. That was last year. But now we were getting ready for college… things are changing… and I had never had sex like this.
Mr. Drake is talking to me now. He is telling me that I am in danger of failing. I do not see how this is possible I say, as I have the highest average in his class. He smiles as he slips his fingers into my…. cunt. He says that I USED to have the highest average in his class, but due to my woeful job on the short story assignment I will require extra credit just to pass. He withdraws his fingers and proffers them to me. I am confused. He tells me to lick them. I do.
He continues. In order to pass he thinks, I must do some after school study sessions. With him. Once or twice a week, he thinks. Also, he says, I may need to do an independent study. Assignments tailored just for me. He slides his thumb and forefinger back into me, but this time is different. I feel his other fingers stretch… reach, his pinky just brushes my ass hole. I shiver. He leans forward. He is intent. Do I agree to his terms, he wants to know. He removes his fingers and after I lick, this time he places just his thumb inside my wet wet cunt. His index finger he puts up my ass. He pinches me together like a clamp as he waits for my response. I nod mutely. He asks me again.
“yes… yes. I agree to your terms.” I manage to croak.
“yes whom?” he asks me, applying more pressure.
“yes, master… I mean Mr. Drake” I am lying back on my elbows on top of his desk. His torso lowers over me. He laughs and tells me that I should indeed refer to him as Master… Master Drake during these after school sessions. He asks me what I want. I tell him to fuck me. He makes me say please.
“please Master Drake”
“please what, pet?”
“please fuck me and make me cum.”
Master Drake pulls me off his desk. I can see where my wet juices have left a moist imprint on his desk calendar. He lies my torso across his desk, my ass in the air. And he takes me. I can smell my own heat… my juices on the wet paper against which I lie. He takes me first in my cunt. He grabs my hands and holds them behind my back. He is pounding me, taking me so hard, my feet lift of the floor and push against his legs and chair. He is palming the cheeks of my ass now, pushing up against my writhing body. I am groaning. I can hear people pass in the hallway. If they notice what is going on in room 213, they do not say. My toes and fingers curl as I feel his rock hard cock glide through my tight pussy, hitting my cervix. Again and again. I am cumming… over and over. My muscles wrap around him, damp and smooth. His dick glistens with my wetness. I can hear his breath though I cannot see his face. I can feel his hands and fingernails leaving imprints on my ass. Back and forth, harder and harder. I am screaming. I reach up with my hand to try to muffle the sound, but he pulls it away. I let out a hoarse cry with each thrust. He is on the desk now himself. Pulling me up beside him, pushing my head down so that only the bottom half of my body is extended to him. He fingers the rim of my ass. He caresses it. He licks the sides. I am lying on my haunches. I am trembling. The juices of my body spill down his thighs. His dick is wet with it. Straddling my legs. He grabs my belly, forcing my ass closer. Master Drake. He pushes his cock, his stiff hard dick, right into my ass hole. I bellow from pain. He is immune to my struggles. I can feel the walls of my ass hole refuse to give way, but Master Drake does not give up. He doesn’t push so much as pull me closer, by my belly… by my will.
Soon he is in me, and his fingers are in me too. I can feel them rubbing against each other. My teeth are clenched. With his other hand he has grabbed my hair, entwined it through his fingers. He is riding me. The sides of my ass shake with each tremendous push. He is grunting with pleasure. My unpracticed holes are now opening wide for him. Wider and wider, harder and harder. The pain and pleasure wash over me in waves… with each push I am cumming. I can feel his cock begin to twitch inside of me. His great, veined dick. It seems like time stands still for a second. I can see the hands on the clock. They read: 6:22. Then he cums. It squirts all over my ass and down my thighs and pools in thick puddles on the now ravaged desk. Master Drake runs his hands through the puddles and lets me lick it off of him. He runs his sticky hands through my hair and over my breasts. He lets me clean and massage his tired cock with my pillowy lips. He sucks the last juices off my clitoris and then stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
I lay in a weak kneed heap. He lifts me gently to a standing position. He strokes my breasts and dresses me. My panties and bra. My gray little skirt and wrinkled white blouse, my ravaged tights and my girlish shoes… He whispers that I made him proud today; that I have a gift. He looks at me and tells me that gifts like mine are meant to be shared. He reminds me that I have promised to bring him more of my stories. He opens his classroom door and gently pushes me out. Wait for my instructions he whispers. I nod, look back, but he has already shut the door.
The End
Written for Master Drake
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