Coming Back For Homecoming free porn video

“That’s crazy. Let’s just stay watch the game. We’re going to get caught.”



“No, we’re not. And even if we are, what are they going to do? It’s about two years too late to expel us. And it’s not like they’re not going to call the cops. After all we’re alums. Potential donors.”



Clara was right, although that attitude came naturally to her. Although she came from an enormously wealthy family, she was not in the least snobby or stuck up. It was impossible, however, for her to be unaware of how her family’s money smoothed the road in so many ways.



From the third generation of her family to attend St. Joshua’s Academy, she had never had any doubt about attending the prestigious and pricey private school. Despite its name, the school was not Catholic. It was as WASP-y and old-money as they came. I had needed a generous scholarship to attend.



Saint Joshua’s, in addition its snootiness, was an excellent school. The education I had been given, aided by St. J’s name recognition, had opened doors for me already. I had gotten into my first-choice college, with a significant academic scholarship. Not only that, I found myself better prepared for college academics than most of my classmates. I owed St. J’s a lot, and I had already decided that when I had some money, I would in fact become a donor.



Clara and I were now sophomores in college and back for Homecoming. An on-again, off-again couple while in high-school, we had discovered that we worked better as friends-with-benefits. We didn’t see each other much during the academic year, since our colleges were so far apart, with Clara in California at Stanford, and me at Brown.



St. Joshua’s was a short drive away for me, and Clara had not hesitated to fly back just for the weekend. We met on campus, and she looked spectacular. She was wearing tight jeans and stylish brown boots. A white, fitted, cowl-necked sweater that emphasized her tiny waist and large breasts. She wore her straight blonde hair down, and it was shorter than it had been the last time I saw her. A similar outfit to ones she had worn in high school, but something about her jewelry and makeup was more sophisticated, although I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.



When we hugged hello, the feeling of her soft breasts against my chest was distracting. Any doubts about whether or not she had plans of us getting together were allayed when she dropped her hand to my ass and gave me a quick squeeze. “I’ve missed you,” she said into my ear, and despite the outward innocence of the words, the tone made her intentions clear.



We made the rounds of campus, saying hello to old teachers and friends, along with some of the current seniors we had known. The centerpiece of Homecoming, however, was a bore. The football game against rival Clark Sage Hall was turning into a rout. “We” took football seriously, and somehow, our opponent on Homecoming was always miraculously the weakest school on our schedule. The administration clearly did not want to risk the alumni being disappointed in their school on a weekend that they were expected to unleash their mighty checkbooks.



Late in the first quarter, St. J’s was up three touchdowns to nothing. Clark hadn’t been able to put together two first downs in a row, and Coach Burns was already putting in the second string.



Clara whispered in my ear, “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got an idea, before people lose interest in this slaughter.” She took me by the hand. “Let’s go to Canaan and finally check it off our list in Mr. Childress’s room.”



“That’s crazy. Let’s just stay watch the game. We’re going to get caught.”



“No, we’re not. And even if we are, what are they going to do? It’s about two years too late to expel us. And it’s not like they’re not going to call the cops. After all we’re alums. Potential donors.”



“But there’s eight hundred more people on campus than on a regular day. Old alums wandering the halls finding their pictures on the wall. We’ll never manage it.”



“Chicken?” she asked, looking smug. Even though I knew that she knew that I knew (and so on, ad infinitum) that this was a naked way of manipulating me, it still worked.



“Let’s go,” I replied, accepting her hand. Besides not wanting to be a chicken, checking off Childress’s room was sure to be fun.



We reached Canaan Hall in a few minutes. As we walked through the halls, I was struck by a strange feeling. There were flyers on the wall for clubs and events I didn’t recognize, and the senior class banner with its emerald-green “2016” just looked weird. How could the “sophomores” (as they had been when we graduated) have their banner hanging in Canaan? This school had been my home for four years, but for the first time I felt a bit like an outsider.



Soon we reached Mr. Childress’s classroom on the first floor. Clara and I gave a quick look up and down the hallway. Deserted. She tested the knob, and it turned. We opened the door. Even if other things had already changed in less than two years, it was a relief to see that Mr. C’s room had stayed exactly the same. The same bust of Shakespeare, and travel posters of Stratford-on-Avon. The dusty framed quotations by Milton, Keats, Dickens, and Hemingway (he was a fan).



Everything was the same. His odd configuration of student desks. The stacks of ungraded papers on his desk. The storage closet, with its door always ajar because the key was lost, and he did not want to risk locking his AV equipment away by accident.



“Well,” Clara said, “The whole ‘safe-shelter’ thing is going to make this a little less risky.” She pulled the shade on the window and locked the door with the thumb latch. After one school shooting too many, the administration had implemented new safety measures, including the ability to take “safe shelter” in in almost every room, which meant that rooms had to be lockable from the inside and without a key. And the windows on the doors had to have shades to block lines of sight into the room. Before we graduated and when we were still playing our game of checking off a room in every building, most rooms had not yet been equipped with the shades and keyless interior locks.



As soon as she was done, she stepped into my arms. My hands went to her waist, and her arms went around my neck. She looked up at me and smiled, and even though I knew it wouldn’t have ended well, I momentarily regretted not having gone to Stanford with her. We kissed, and she tasted perfect. Her perfume was light, and her breath tasted of mint.



“You didn’t really pick a good outfit for this,” I commented. “Not exactly easy access.”



“It’s too cold for a skirt. Besides, my ass looks fantastic in these jeans, and I wanted to look good for Homecoming.”



“Your ass looks great,” I agreed, “but those are skin tight. How long is it going to take to peel them down and back up again?”



She brought her hands to my chest and said, “Speaking of looking good… Have you been working out more?” This wasn’t flattery, as Clara’s compliments were always genuine. And I had been working out a lot more. Of course, it was nice that she had noticed.



She raised her arms over her head, inviting me to pull the sweater over her head.



“Just like that?” I asked. “Maybe I need to be wooed,” I joked.



“No time for that,” she answered, keeping her arms up insistently. “After halftime no one’s going to stick around to watch the rest of that slaughter, and all the alums will be wandering around. Besides, once you take off my sweater, you can consider yourself ‘wooed.’”



She was right. I pulled the sweater over her head and tossed it aside. She was wearing a skimpier bra than I would have expected. Her nipples were visible through the thin fabric, and as always I was struck by the perfection of her tits. A bit too big for her frame, they were marvelously firm, without even a hint of sag. I supposed that would change when she got older, but for now they were amazing. I brought my hands to them and cupped them, staring.



“Ahem, my eyes are up here,” she scolded.



“Naah, I made my choice,” I responded, not taking my eyes from her breasts, even as I reached behind her and unhooked her bra with one hand.



Her eyebrows went up. “Someone’s gotten better at that.”



“You will observe,” I said proudly, “that I accomplished that amazing feat, not only without looking, but with my left hand.”



“You’re left handed, you dork,” she said, but with a happy, friendly tone. It was good to be back with my old friend.



“True,” I admitted, pulling her bra away from her body and letting it fall to the ground.



Her breasts were lovely, and I loved the thrill of seeing her undressed in our old classroom. We had managed just about every other building, but Canaan Hall had eluded us until now.



“C’mon. Kiss them,” she urged. Clara had the most sensitive nipples of any girl I had known, or ever would. She loved having them sucked, and on one memorable occasion, I had brought her to orgasm just by attention to her nipples, without touching her anywhere else.



“A man’s gotta do…” I said, lowering my lips to her left nipple. Her breath caught in her throat as I tongued it, licking my way around it. It had been too long, and I didn’t have the patience to tease her. I was sucking it almost right away. Her hands clutched my head, and I heard her say, “Oh God, that feels so fucking good.”



I turned my attention to her other nipple, and soon she was pulling at my shirt, untucking it from my pants and unbuttoning it. She was able to take my shirt off as I sucked her nipples, but I had to take my mouth away in order to try to pull her pants down.



I was able to unzip them, but then I hit a snag. They were just too tight to come down easily. Finally, she had to help. She put both hands on the waistband and shimmied them down her hips and ass. She jiggled as she worked, and I enjoyed the view until she finally had them down around her calves.



“Good enough,” she announced. “I’m not dealing with how tight these are on my calves, or my boots. Your turn.”



“Observe,” I boasted, as I unbuckled my belt. I undid my fly and unbuttoned my pants, and they fell straight down my hips and to the floor. My cock was hard in my boxers, and Clara reached into my underwear and pulled my erection through the opening, and stroked it eagerly.



“Jesus, it’s good to see this guy again,” she said. “And it’s so hot to be doing this here.”



She looked amazing, standing there in her boots, with her jeans most of the way down her legs. She was wearing a tiny black string thong. No surprise — had there been even one square inch more of fabric, her jeans might not have fit over it.



She kissed me hungrily as she stroked my cock, and I moved her thong to the side and rubbed her pussy. Her actions were sending chills down my back, and her breathing was also a little ragged from my attention.



“Okay, let’s do this before we run out of time,” she announced, turning around to face away from me, toward the window.



I had no objection to hurrying, since I was more nervous about being caught than she was, and I pressed my cock against her from behind. She met my pressure with a push back, and I enjoyed the feeling of my cockhead against her slick lips.



Before I penetrated her, I realized something. “Are you looking out the window? Is that why we’re doing it this way?”



“What can I say? It’s a perfect fall day. We don’t get these in California. I want to ‘peep some leaves,’” she answered, jokingly, before continuing, “Actually, I love the idea of watching everyone going about their normal business, while I watch them, and no one has any idea of what we’re up to, watching them while we have sex.”



I conceded the point mentally, and I started to push my way into her. She moaned as I did, but before I was even halfway in, she hissed, “Abort! Abort!” She pushed me away from her and stood up. She tried to pull up her pants, but they were so tight that she wasn’t having much luck, and she bounced around the room trying to get them up.



“What?” I asked, but then I saw what had alarmed her. From the window, we had a perfect view of the campus path leading to the main doorway of Canaan Hall. Walking up that path, and just disappearing from our line of sight as they came to the main door, were Mr. Childress and Ms. Wagner. They were clearly together, and while Canaan Hall was a large building, the chances were good that Mr. C was coming to his classroom.



“Do we have enough time to get out of here before they get here?” I asked, pulling my pants up and finding my shirt.



“Maybe… if… I… could… get… these… damn… pants… back… on…” Clara swore as she tried to wrestle her pants up her thighs. She was still topless, and it was going to take more time than we had to get her presentable. Even though I was just about ready to be able to beat a retreat, I wasn’t leaving her behind.



We heard their voices in the hallway. It was too late. We looked at each other and said “Fuck!” at the same time. Her pants were still only up at her knees, and she grabbed up her sweater and looked around in a panic. So much for not caring about getting caught.



The voices outside were getting closer, but soon their approach slowed. Were they just talking in the hallway? “Quick, the closet,” I whispered, and we scooted toward the closet. Before we got there, she stopped short, and I bumped into her from behind.



“My bra!” she said, just before we were about to squeeze into the closet. I reversed course, and found the bra, but when I was on my way back to the closet I remembered the shade. For the shade to be down was unusual. We knew that teachers were supposed to leave them up under most circumstances in order not to be suspected of indiscreet behavior with students. Mr. C would know something weird was going on if the shade was down. But was he far enough away from the door not to see if I raised the shade?



I took a chance and pulled on the shade, guiding it as it rolled itself back up, I didn’t want it to snap up and make noise. I flew into the closet and piled next to Clara. It was a tight, snuggly fit, and I started to close the door completely, when she told me no. “He makes a point of leaving it open, so that he doesn’t lock it by accident. He’ll probably try to open it if he finds it closed,” she whispered.



We closed it as much as we could. The voices came closer, and soon the doorknob rattled, but the door didn’t open. “I forgot the lock!” I whispered in dismay, even as I enjoyed the feeling of Clara’s almost bare ass against the front of my pants, which I had not finished zipping or buttoning up.



There was nothing to do but wait, and soon we heard the sound of the key in the lock, and the door opened. Through the crack in the door, we had a partial view of Mr. Childress and Ms. Wagner as they came in.



“…weird. I could have sworn I left the door unlocked,” Mr. C said as he and Ms. Wagner came in.



“Well, you should get into the habit of locking your room. I can’t believe you don’t. You’re asking for trouble,” she told him.



“Susan, you know I lose keys all the time.”



Through the gap in the door, we could see both of them as they moved farther into the room. Clara was bent over a bit, and I was hunched over her, so my head was directly above hers. We were curious, but it was also about the only way we fit into the closet, which was already mostly full with an overhead projector and piles of books.



Ms. Wagner took off her jacket. She was wearing jeans (not nearly as tight as Clara’s), but the young teacher definitely had a nice figure. Under her jacket the brunette had on a white and green St. J’s polo shirt that stretched pleasingly across her full breasts (though not nearly as full as Clara’s). As she hung the jacket on the back of one of the desk chairs, she commented to Mr. C, “Can you believe what some of those girls who came back were wearing?”



“I’m not sure what you mean,” he responded mildly. “But you must have been suffering not to be able to give them dress code slips.”



“Half of them weren’t even wearing pants, just tights.” she protested. “But I’ll tell you who was wearing a pretty spectacular pair of pants,” she continued. “Clara Collins. Did you at least see her?”



“I uh.. didn’t notice,” he said, clearly lying.



Ms. Wagner put her hands under her breasts, cupping them from below to emphasize them. “Oh Mr. Childress, I think I need an extension on my paper…” she said, doing a pretty fair impression of Clara.



I took a risk and whispered in Clara’s ear. “She’s got your number,” and I got an elbow in the ribs for my trouble.



Mr. C answered, “Well, it’s not my fault that the young lady has been endowed by nature with certain uh… endowments.”



“I take it you like these ‘endowments,’ Martin,” she commented, a slight edge to her voice.



“It’s not as if I have ever actually uh … seen her endowments, nor will I ever,” he responded.



I whispered right in Clara’s ear, “Of course, if he had come in here maybe thirty seconds earlier…”



Ms. Wagner walked to the door and lowered the shade. She also re-locked the door. Clara and I both looked at each other with a questioning look on our faces. Surely they weren’t going to–



Mr. Childress continued, as Ms. Wagner walked back towards him, “And you might have been a little less obvious in your uh… admiration of some of the more recent male graduates, especially a particular member of the wrestling team.”



Clara and I looked at each other again. I used to wrestle. Did he mean me?



“I think I was very subtle,” Ms. Wagner replied, “Only your jealousy allowed you to notice. And you have to admit that young Mr. Slater is a physical specimen, and he’s filled out quite impressively.”



At this, Clara pushed back against me with her ass, rubbing it against the front of my pants. My erection, which had disappeared in our panic to hide, was back, and pressing against her urgently. Ms. Wagner was attracted to me? This was more surprising than Mr. C noticing Clara’s body, because, well, it was obvious to me why any man would notice her. Ms. Wagner had always struck me as above all that, almost cold. Clearly I’d been wrong.



Mr. Childress sat down in his desk chair, which was very close to the supply closet. He looked at his watch and sighed. “We’re expected back out there to uh… schmooze at halftime. We don’t have much time.” He swiveled the chair out so that he wasn’t facing his desk.



Even as he spoke and moved his chair, Ms. Wagner was walking towards him. She crossed her arms, took hold of her shirt tail, and pulled her shirt over her head in one fluid movement. Her “endowments,” while not as generous as Clara’s, were impressive, and I found myself wondering how I had never noticed her breasts before. She was wearing an incongruously skimpy and racy pink bra. Her stomach was flat and toned, and I was surprised at how good her body was. As she approached, Mr. C unzipped his pants. Ms. Wagner sank to her knees in front of him.



I risked an almost silent “Holy shit!” to Clara, who looked as stunned as I did. Her hand reached back and found my cock, and she pumped it slowly. I reached around and slid my hand down the front of her tiny panties. Her pussy was wet, and I rubbed it hard and insistently.



Ms. Wagner was pulling Mr. C’s cock out of his fly, and when she revealed it, it was Clara’s turn to breathe “Holy shit!” to me. Mr. C’s cock was enormous. Semi-erect, it was far bigger than mine (and I’ve never thought I was small). It looked as if he should be working in porn, specifically those “big dick” videos.



Ms. Wagner licked him from the base to the tip. It was unreal that we could be seeing this. It was like watching your first celebrity sex tape, the kind where at least one of the celebrities is actually famous to begin with, and you watch it thinking, “Am I really seeing this?” Mr. C was one of my favorite teachers, and I had been looking forward to catching up with him. Despite her somewhat aloof personality, Ms. Wagner had taught me a lot. I had hoped to tell her how her help with writing had gotten me through some writing-based classes that my college classmates struggled with.



When she got to the tip, Ms. Wagner opened her mouth wide and took the huge cock into her mouth. It was big enough to stretch her lips wide, and she struggled to get it more than a few inches into her mouth. She stroked the rest of his shaft with her hand, and her fingers barely went around his thickness. Mr. C, for his part, sat back and looked content.



The surreal sight in front of us was turning me on, and my cock throbbed in Clara’s hand. I adjusted the position of my hand so that I could slide a finger into her pussy. She inhaled sharply, but with a clear control of her volume. Despite having Clara pressed against me as a perfect and delightful armful, I started imagining that it was me in Mr. C’s chair, with my surprisingly sexy writing teacher on her knees in front of me, giving me a blowjob.



I wondered if Clara was having similar thoughts. Mr. C was known to be a triathlete, and so despite being in his early forties, he always looked fit and trim. A bit tweedy and nerdy, but sort of in the “handsome nerd who doesn’t realize he’s good-looking” mold. A lot of the girls had had crushes on him, including Clara. Her hand stroked my cock a bit harder, and my finger explored her wetness more deeply and urgently.



We watched Ms. Wagner suck Mr. C for a few more minutes. His cock was getting visibly wetter with her saliva, and it seemed that she was able to get her lips a bit farther down his erection, although nowhere near all the way. She was making little “unh… unh… unh…” noises as his cock reached her limits, and Mr. C was making quiet moans of pleasure as his hands went to his colleague’s head and guided her actions.



Without warning, she stopped what she was doing and stood up quickly. Clara’s hand froze on my cock, as did my finger in her pussy. My heart was hammering in my chest, to the point where I almost wondered if it was audible. Had she seen us? The angle was such that she had some sightline to the closet door, whereas Mr. C had none.



Instead she pulled down her jeans. She had a much easier time than Clara, and she was wearing pink lace panties that matched her bra. Kicking off her shoes, she stepped out of her pants and turned around, revealing that her underwear was a thong. Her ass was toned and firm, and once again I was surprised that I had never noticed her in that way, even in the semester we had had together.



She faced away from Mr. C (and us), and leaned over one of the student desks. “My turn,” she announced. “We don’t have much time,” presenting her ass and pussy to him. Mr. C stood up, his huge cock bobbing wetly in front of him, and he pulled down her thong so that it was around her ankles. Before his body blocked our view of her, we both got a chance to see Ms. Wagner’s bare pussy and even her puckered anus. My cock pulsed in Clara’s hand, not only at the sight in front of me, but at the thought that I was seeing something that neither of them had any idea about.



Mr. C knelt down behind Ms. Wagner and buried his face between her buttocks. He was licking her pussy loudly and wetly, and she moaned at what he was doing. His face was pressed firmly against her rear. He licked at her eagerly, and she made quiet noises of intense pleasure. Like us, they were also trying to be quiet. It occurred to me that they were taking a much greater risk than we were. The school had no qualms about firing teachers, even if it might look the other way when it came to wealthy alums, or those who might become rich.



After a few moments, he stood, and she rested her top half on the desk she’d been leaning on. She reached behind her and spread her cheeks, to give him better access as well as a perfect view. I marveled at the delicate, so clearly wet pinkness of my former teacher’s pussy, until his body obscured our view again.



As he thrust into her, the desk she was leaning on slid on the floor, which made them move with it to stay stable, and the angle changed. We now had more of a side view, and the sight of his huge cock stretching her lips was visible to both of us. Clara reached back and slid her thong to the side, and she pressed the head of my cock against her wet pussy.



My cockhead slid up and down her lips, and moments after Mr. C had thrust his way into Ms. Wagner, I pushed myself deeply inside Clara. She felt hot and perfect, and exquisitely tight around my cock. I found myself wondering how much Mr. C’s huge organ would stretch her. Clara was mostly a shadow in front of me. The little bit of light that came in through the door lit up only a sliver of her body, and it also had the effect of ruining my night vision, so everything except that illuminated area was hard to see.



As I thrust into her, she put her hand on the doorframe to keep her balance, and I put my hand on top of hers, also needing to make sure not to tumble out of the door into the room. Mr. C was thrusting into Ms. Wagner harder and faster, and she was taking it all with little moans and gasps of pleasure.



He brought his hand to her buttocks and rubbed her asshole with his thumb. She arched her back at the added stimulation. We heard him say, “One of these days, Susan…”



Her response was to the point, although it took her a while to get it out, as she could only manage a few words each thrust. “Not in… this lifetime… That monster will… never fit… up there…” In response, he pressed his thumb slowly and firmly into her back passage, and she said, “Oh, Jesus God!”



I was intrigued. Her words suggested that she would consider the act with men less ostentatiously endowed than Mr. C. As I thrust slowly into Clara, I imagined that I was in Mr. C’s place. That my cock was buried in her pussy while my finger got her back passage ready. That when she was ready I pressed my swollen cockhead against her rosebud until it pushed its way in…



Even as Mr. C thrust harder and faster into Ms. Wagner, I moved slowly inside of Clara. We could not afford to move faster and make any more noise. In a way it was good, because our current pace would not allow either of us to cum, and the noise of an orgasm might be impossible to stifle completely. Clara clamped down on my with her internal muscles, holding me tight for a few seconds before relaxing, and then squeezing down on me again.



The sensation was incomparable. We had never maintained such a slow pace for so long, and I was appreciating the feel of her pussy in ways I never had before. Soon, Mr. C was pounding into Ms. Wagner with a bestial pace and urgency. I pinched Clara’s nipples, careful not to do it too hard and make her make any noise.



He called out, “I’m getting close…” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, she pushed him away, and whirled to kneel in front of him. Still wearing her pink bra, but with her panties around her ankles, one former teacher knelt in front of another and pressed his cockhead against her tongue. Her hand flew up and down his shaft, she was masturbating him into her mouth.



A moment later, cum erupted out of his enormous cock, and she closed her lips around the head. As she pumped his member, we saw her swallow, and swallow again. When it seemed he was mostly done, she deliberately and slowly brought her hand up his cock with a tight grip, milking the last drops out of him. He trembled as the last aftershocks of his orgasm rolled through him.



She stood up and gave him a soft, lingering kiss, and it dawned on me that it was their first kiss since they had walked into the room. Moving quickly, she pulled up her thong, pulled her shirt over her head, and got back into her jeans. She was stepping into her shoes as Mr. C tucked his cock back into his pants and zipped up again.



“That was certainly a hot way to finish,” he said.



“I didn’t want to feel like I was leaking for the next couple of hours,” she answered, “And I like the way you taste. It’s a win-win.”



“I’m sorry that you didn’t uh… cum,” he said, a bit awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to cum so quickly.”



She put her jacket on, and they headed to the door. “It’s all right,” she told him. “We had to be fast, and besides, there’s always the second half.” She raised the shade. He unlocked the latch, and with that, they were out the door. Soon we could hear their footsteps receding down the hallway.



“Holy fuck!” I exclaimed, thrusting more urgently into Clara now that we could make noise.



She pushed her hips eagerly back against me, enjoying the feeling of being able to move. “Can you believe that?” she asked, wonder in her tone. “We just watched Mr. Childress fuck Ms. Wagner and cum in her mouth!” She moaned as my finger rubbed underneath her clit.



“And what about both of them having the hots for us?” I asked, thrusting into her as deeply as I could, making her really have to brace herself against the doorframe. Her movement made the closet door open a little, but we chose to stay in our cozy little hideaway. I think we had both come to like it. Besides, coming out into the open meant that we might be seen, now that the shade was back up and the door unlocked.



My finger movements on her clit were getting her close, and I felt a bit smug at the fact that I was going to make my partner cum, while the guy with the huge dick had not. She trembled in my arms as I increased the pace of my thrusting. Soon I felt her pussy really clamp down hard on me as she came. She was quieter than usual, and I think that even though we now had freedom, our brief “imprisonment” had sort of put us in a quieter mode.



Despite being quieter, the tremors that ran through her body seemed more powerful than ever, and at one point it even felt as if her pussy was holding me as tightly as a hand could squeeze. I felt my orgasm start to creep up on me as I pounded into her, and I asked, “So, do you want to be neat and tidy like Ms. Wagner, or should I cum inside you?”



“Give… me… a minute…” she panted as she recovered from her climax. I paused in my thrusting, because otherwise the question was going to be moot. I moved slowly inside her once again, the easier pace bringing me back from the brink.



She opened the closet door a little more, and the cool air that came in made me realize how hot it had become in our little Eden. “That’s a good question,” she said. “I love it when you cum inside me, but that little priss has a point about the mess.”



She made her decision and disengaged. Like Ms. Wagner, she turned and knelt. There wasn’t enough room to keep the closet door closed like that, and it opened about halfway. While it was unlikely that anyone could see, because the angle of the door mostly shielded her, anyone giving more than a casual glance would be able to see her be-thonged ass (and her jeans bunched around her legs) as she knelt just inside the closet door.



“Do you want to do the honors, or should I?” she asked, just before she pressed my cockhead against her tongue, the same way Ms. Wagner had with Mr. C.



“You do it,” I told her, touching her hair as she began to stroke my cock with her right hand. In seconds, the orgasm boiled out of me, and she closed her mouth as I spurted jet after jet of hot cum into her mouth. She swallowed once, and then milked a few more drops from me.



She stood up and kissed me, her bare breasts soft against my chest. I hadn’t had time to button my shirt back up, and the feeling of skin to skin contact was heavenly. I tasted my cum on her tongue, she had given me back some of my cum, the way we had discovered that I enjoyed in our senior year. Two buildings over in fact.



“You will observe,” she said mimicking my earlier boast, “that I made you cum in about twenty seconds, using my right hand.”



“Who’s the dork now, Dorky McDorkison?” I laughed.



We kissed again, this time more slowly, without any hurry. When we were done, we put on our clothes. I laughed as she jumped around, finally able to get her pants all the way up. She gave me a mock glare as I watched her breasts bounce, and soon we were both laughing.



When we were dressed again, we inspected each other to make sure we were presentable. She straightened my collar, and I smoothed a few stray strands of her hair. I poked my head out the door and announced that the coast was clear. We walked down the hallway together, and out the door of Canaan.



Soon we were back in the throngs of people milling around near the football stands. The score was 35-3 at the half. “Burnsy is getting sloppy in his old age,” I commented. “Letting the other team get a field goal like that.”



At one point, we ran into Mr. C and Ms. Wagner. Although I felt awkward, Clara was having fun, and she was merciless. She found a way to ask them about the school’s new capital campaign. This allowed her to use the word “endowment” over and over again. Every time she said something about the “size of the endowment,” or the “importance of large endowments,” I felt as if I could see our teachers wince, especially when Clara made sure to take and hold deep breaths for Mr. Childress’s sake.



The man fought a good fight, but eventually his eyes did drop to her chest. Personally, I think he held out heroically, but Ms. Wagner was clearly not happy with him. It was a good thing for him that Clara was wearing a sweater and not a blouse that showed any cleavage, or he wouldn’t have been able to tear his eyes away.



I got a bit braver, and when Ms. Wagner asked me how school was going, I made sure to talk about my attempts to bulk up and maybe try out for the club rugby team. “I need to get bigger, but I think my workouts have started to make me ‘fill out’ a bit.” I looked for a reaction to that phrase, but she was a good poker player.



Eventually we said our goodbyes, and moved on to the next clump of people to talk to, but not before Clara commented that she was sure he didn’t miss how she always used to ask him for extensions on her papers. As we moved away, we strained our ears and heard bits of their conversation, which sounded a bit panicked.



“… just a coincidence…”



“…no way they could have…”



“Unless…”