The English Teacher
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- - THE ENGLISH TEACHER 2- -
It was three thirty in the afternoon as Kavita kapoor crossed the courtyard and walked through the Math building towards her English class. Her senior advanced prep English teacher Mr. khan wasn’t expecting her this time, but she ventured that he would appreciate her handing in her research paper early. Especially if it had been on Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
Still late winter, the frosty blue sky churned wisps of white clouds as she eyed her outfit with an inward smile; she wore dark blue ruffled blouse and black pencil skirt with gold laced up gladiator sandals. She adjusted her solid black satin bra so her cleavage peeked out from the opening at her neckline and applied more of her trademark nude lip gloss as she headed up the stairs.
ameen, quarterback of the high school football team, was coming down the steps as she made her way up; he wolf-whistled as she passed him. “Hey Kavita,” he said suggestively, and when she stopped dead in her tracks, he smiled the crooked smile that made all the girls at Lincoln High swoon.
But Kavita had never swooned at the sight of him, though she did identify that ameen, with his dark gray eyes, muscular physique, and dark blond messy hair, was quite the catch.
She ran a tongue over her perfect teeth and smiled back. Placing her hand on the stair rail, she turned to ameen and stepped up one more step so that her shaped thighs were in full view. His eyes went straight to where she wanted them to. Dropping her purse on the ground, she sauntered up to him and moved close enough so that her lips were just level to his. “ameen,” she said as he breathed in sharply, “my bra strap is digging into my shoulder. Could you—” She started to undo the next three buttons on her blouse so that she could press her naked bra against his chest; she breathed deep to that her breasts pressed tight against the cups.
“Course,” he told her, trying to remain equally calm as she moved her hands down his waist and behind. His hand ran up her back, reaching into the collar of her blouse to adjust her strap. “Looser?”
She laughed and slid her hands past his beltless jeans and into his boxers. Pulling him in so that his erect penis smashed against the vee of her legs, she said, “Yes, please. I don’t know why I pulled it so tight—”
He bit her ear and whispered, “Baby, your tits are huge.” Then he let go of her bra strap and moved his hands in the direction of her breast. Immediately she retracted her hands and pushed him away roughly so that he fell backward onto the step.
“Not in public.” Then she smiled and crossed one leg over his head so that she could cameenb the stairs. He looked up at her black lace panties and moaned. Looking down her nose, she replied, “That’s all you get, baby.” And then she buttoned her blouse just up over her bra and picked up her bag, making her way up the stairs in a way that made her hips sway sexily.
“That girl….” She heard ameen swear under his breath, “Damn—”
--- --- ---
Mr. khan’s room door was wide open. Kavita could see him sitting with his head in his hands at the oak desk where they had sex twice one week ago. She walked up to the door and knocked, the hollow sound reverberating through the open air. Lincoln High, the only open-air school in the district, was empty—students usually headed straight home or out to the Java Hut to hang out when the last bell rang.
He looked up, his blue eyes piercingly dark. Mr. khan, graduated from Stanford with a degree in law, was the highlight of every advanced prep senior girl’s day. The “hottest” teacher on campus, Mr. khan’s front row desks were always filled with girls in the shortest of skirts and the lowest cut camisole. Boys would sit up front too, but for a different reason: to get next to the girls.
“Kavita?” Mr. khan sounded wary as he eyed her. She wasn’t in an ass baring miniskirt like last week, but she rocked her outfit anyway, her tight black pencil skirt hugging to the right curves and flaunting her long legs.
With a short glance to her usual seat against the far wall—it was the farthest seat from Mr. khan in the classroom—Kavita reached into her bag and pulled out her f******n page long paper on Hamlet and handed it over.“For the final, Mr. khan. Surprise, surprise: I did it on Hamlet.”
He took it with disbelief. “It’s a little bit early, Kavita. It’s not due for another week.” He skimmed the first line and set it down on his desk.
“I know. But hey, I thought I might as well get it done early.” She shrugged and sat down, this time around, behind one of the desks. Mr. khan shot her another confused look, which she waved away with another careless shrug. “You look tired, Mr. khan. Anything wrong?”
He snorted, but she could sense a hint of bitterness in his expression. “Go home, Kavita. I’m married.”
Kavita stood up, leaving her purse on the table. “Wow, right to the point. You weren’t feeling so guilty the second time, Mr. khan. I didn’t even have to seduce you on Friday.”
“I—”
She frowned and cut in. “Then why’d you give in to me? First time around, fine—my fault. But what about Friday?”
It was tense silence that followed her question. A hot flush of color flamed his cheeks as Mr. khan scowled and looked away. “I think my wife’s cheating on me.” Standing before him, green eyes curious, she asked him how he knew. “I found a condom, Kavita, in the bathroom. It didn’t belong to me, and it was used.”
“How long?”
“Two months ago.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “My neighbor? Her co-worker?”
“Both.” When Mr. khan’s eyes threw daggers, Kavita laughed. “I’m only k**ding, Mr. khan.”
Her teacher ran a hand through his hair. “Look Kavita, you’re my student. I can’t have sex with you. Especially unprotected sex. It’s not right.”
Rolling her eyes, she leaned against the table. “Do you have k**s?”
“No.”
“Do you love her?”
For a moment, Mr. khan was stunned by the question. It took him a moment to ponder, but then, very carefully, he answered, “No, not anymore. I haven’t for a while.”
She took a pencil from his pen cup and pinned up her curled blond locks with it. “Then I don’t care.” She came around to his right and leaned over onto the desk, messing up his stacks of papers that needed to be graded. Her breasts were in apparent view to the teacher and her ass in apparent view to anyone who passed by the door.
Mr. khan’s eyes flickered from her breasts, to her legs, and then to the open door. “Kavita—”
“You can kick me out, Mr. khan,” she said, her soft mouth relaxing. “Or you can go close and lock that door.”
He stared at her in another moment of disbelief. What was it about Kavita that was so intoxicating? Was it her perfect breasts, her tight ass? He had wondered why in his class she always sat at the back of the room; but she participated in class—in fact, she was one of the most brilliant students he had ever met. But there were moments when she would be studying Shakespeare with her head against the wall, book raised up to eye level, and a pencil in between her candy coated lips and he would become hard for her. Sometimes she wouldn’t even listen to lecture, but would thumb wrestle with James Hart, the track team captain. She would stifle a laugh and he would lose his place in lecture, the jealousy against a hormonal high school boy running tight through his veins.
And then she would show up in his classroom with a paper one week early and seduce him while he protested that the act was against his better judgment….
Suddenly the wind blowing through the door was too cold. While his student’s green eyes watched him, he got up from his hard wooden seat and went to close the door. The heavy yellow door clicked shut.
“Sit down,” she said, standing as she pointed a nude colored nail at his chair. “I’m going to fuck you, Mr. khan.” She started to unbutton her blouse, revealing breasts that were nearly popping out of their black satin restraints.
“Again?” He allowed himself to join in her tease. The sight of her breasts made his mouth water, but she wasn’t done undressing. She maintained a distance from him, removing laces of her gladiator sandals slowly as to emphasize and boast her perfect body. Then, without removing her skirt, she pulled off her panties.
She smirked at his question and picked up her essay. “I’m going to fuck you, Mr. khan. You’re going to read the thesis in my paper.”
He became hard at the thought. As she handed him a red pen, she made him sit still as she stripped him of his clothes. Off came his tie, ironed blue shirt, and dark wash jeans.
“You’re taking the boxers off yourself,” she told him. His erect penis was an obvious sign that he wanted her, but the speed that his boxers were removed by the owner was an even bigger sign. “Go on, Mr. khan. Read.”
He skimmed the first line of her paper as she straddled him and removed her bra. Placing a cold hand on his cock, she started held it straight up, her breasts bobbing in front of his face. He wanted to relieve himself of the torture and grab her, but forced his eyes to read on. “Good intro,” he told her truthfully.
“Not too much?”
He shuddered when the tip of his cock started to penetrate. “I fail to see how you’re going your tie thesis together, though.” He fixed a grammar mistake on her paper with his pen.
“Oh.” And then she came down on him. It was an immediate feeling of arousal as she positioned herself; he couldn’t help himself—one of his hands went into the waistband of her skirt as she shuddered with pleasure.
“Right here—I don’t know what you mean by”—he let out intense groan of satisfaction as she rode him—“…this…” Once he had recovered, he turned her attention to a line in her third paragraph.
She shook her head, pressing a pert breast against him and driving his senses wild. “I expand on it later; just keep reading. You’ll understand it.”
He read on. “Right, I see now….” Failing to keep up with her request for him to stay out of her dominance, Mr. khan started to thrust upward, and Kavita had to grab his muscular shoulder to keep up.
“Mr. khan,” she said softly, and he looked at her. She lifted up the hem of her skirt and allowed him to watch while she ground against him. He let out a hot of breath air, kissed her mouth roughly, and turned back to the paper. She rocked harder.
“This paragraph is really good here—”
She tore the paper away from him and threw it on the ground, drawing his attention to her. He thought it was a funny move—it wasn’t as if his attention had ever left her. “Fuck the paper,” she said, frustrated, “—read it later. I want you to fuck me right now, Mr. khan. Fuck me hard and focus.”
“Are you sure?” he teased.
She rolled her eyes and smashed her mouth against his. That did it for him—drove him off the edge. His naked ass slapped against the hard wooded seat as he thrust deeper into her. She moved her leg so that he could penetrate better, and gasped when he took charge, grabbed her ass and forced her deeper. It was a gyration of two bodies moving in perfect rhythm; Mr. khan focused his attention on giving her pleasure and making her breasts bounce with each thrust. It was an exhilarating ride as her earth shattering orgasm shook him; she moaned so loud that the neighboring teachers, if they were working after hours, would have heard clearly.
She sealed her mouth over his and started to grind again. He was panting from the work, but he somehow could never get enough of her. Grabbing her left breast and squeezing it, he raised his right hand to her head and increased the pressure of their kiss. She was laughing, as she always seemed to be during sex, and responded by slipping a tongue inside his mouth.
“Are you angry with your wife?” she asked between his kisses.
He shrugged, and went down to wrap his mouth around her big breasts.
She watched him as she rocked again, saying only, “Revenge is sweet, Mr. khan.” And then, when he made no answer, she pulled away from him and reached into the pocket of his dropped jeans and retrieved his cell phone.
“Kavita—” She laughed as she thrust her hips against his. His thoughts were shaken as he groaned with pleasure, but there was still enough consciousness in him to ask, “What are you trying to do?”
“I’m going to let your wife hear your heart beat while you make love to me,” she told him, and before he could stop her, she pressed the “dial” button on his cell phone with one painted nail.
He heard the ring tone once, and then twice, and then three times. Kavita had started to pick up speed. A loud moan escaped from his lips just he heard his wife’s familiar voice.
“Hello? saleem?”
Kavita gently wrapped her lips around his, silencing his objections. He deepened the kiss and groaned into her mouth, but he was gentle enough to allow her to retract her lips and whisper, “Don’t say a word.”
She pointed to the mouthpeice of the cell phone and winked.
The burst of pleasure hit him before he realized she had started to ride him faster and faster, her hips grinding against his in a circular motion; she pressed the microphone against his chest, right up against his wildly thundering heart. She smashed her breasts against him and he grabbed at her anywhere he could, loving the raking feeling of her erect nipples against his bare chest. She panted at his ear as he thrust harder and harder for their cameenax….
“saleem? Are you there?” He heard aisha say his name again, followed by a query directed at herself but voiced aloud: “What’s that weird thumping sound? saleem? Hello?”
Kavita pressed the red button and hung up. She bit his ear and he shuddered; his erection strained inside of her. He never wanted it to stop.
She smashed her hands against his nipples and then moved them to his back, pleading in his ear: "pump harder." He could feel the indentations of her nails into his skin.
“Say my name,” he told her.
Smiling at his lips, she whispered his name a way that made him shudder and come inside of her. “Hey there, saleem.”
--- THE ENGLISH TEACHER 3 ---
Kavita kapoor stepped out of the girl’s restroom, tugging on the black dress that was a little too short to be within her high school’s dress code. Receiving after-school detention seemed to be her forte as much as avoiding it was, but this time there was no escape. No way was she going to attempt to flirt with Principal Dover and his white hair and wrinkly skin. But at least Liam was going to be there. In trouble for kissing! What had this world come to? Well, according to the principal who caught them, “too much skin on skin” was what it had come to.
She headed down the hall, measuring her fingertips against the length of her dress with a critical eye. In the restroom she had considered rolling down the neckline of her dress and tucking it beneath her lace bra to lengthen the hemline, but gave up on that idea because it probably would show “too much cleavage”, which was undoubtedly as school rule too.
As she walked she could hear the familiar cough of a certain English teacher, and she diverted her route so that she might bump into him. She was able to find him quickly enough; he was leaning against the school’s brick mural, eyes fiercely focused as he stared at a single piece of paper.
The hall was empty, so with a small smile to herself, she slipped alongside him, ducked into the space between the paper and his chest, and kissed him on the mouth. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and flinched as she ran her hands along his chest. She was about to say her usual, “Hey Mr. khan,” but he only deepened her initial kiss, and drew her forward when she tried to pull away.
She could feel the intensity of his dark blue eyes on her, and suddenly she knew that she had been wrong to bother him. His fingers clutched the fabric of her dress around her waistline and she couldn’t break free. Lips already feeling bruised, she closed her eyes and kissed him back, reaching her fingers into his hair as she forced their stances around 180 degrees so that her back was against the wall instead. He pressed up against her, one palm against the wall and the other cupping her face. She could feel a familiar bulge against the vee of her legs, straining.
Since she had known him, she knew that would never make the first move, so she unbuckled his belt and proceeded to unzip his pants as his kisses became more violent. His cock was hot and alert, but Mr. khan did nothing to appease it. So with pursed lips, she curled her right leg onto his hip and lifted herself onto him with the help of the wall. He groaned into her ear, but suddenly became very aware of what was happening and tried to draw back.
“No,” she said quietly, and pulled his face back to hers. “It’s okay. Just breathe, Mr. khan. Just breathe.” She sealed his lips against hers, silencing him as she gripped him internally and moaned.
For a few seconds his actions seemed rough and desperate, and she took it with curious calm, even though her dress and skin sc****d roughly against the brick wall. Threads came loose from the fabric weave, but she held him, eyes closed, breath coming in short and tight bursts. He was no longer kissing her, but his head was tucked in the crook of her neck, air moving hot and heavy despite the coming chill of a late afternoon. She cupped the back of his head and gripped the arm of his shirt, her moans quiet and controlled. The paper he had been holding was left on the ground, abandoned but probably not forgotten. She glimpses several words, and then looked away.
She could feel his stomach muscles slamming against hers, and her chest burdened with the weight of his body smashing unguarded against hers. Usually he would prop his weight up and away for her, but this time was different, and each trade for his pleasure came with a strange mix of bodily pain.
Finally he stopped, just completely froze inside of her, and then pulled out. Looking at her disheveled figure, he reached forward to pull her dress down. He rearranged her bra so that it covered her painfully aware pink nipples, and then smoothed down her hair. He shook his head, eyes still as intense as ever, as she pulled him back down for one final kiss. She didn’t smile.
“A divorce?” she asked, and didn’t wait for confirmation. “It’s okay, Mr. khan. Breathe. Just breathe.”
It was three thirty in the afternoon as Kavita kapoor crossed the courtyard and walked through the Math building towards her English class. Her senior advanced prep English teacher Mr. khan wasn’t expecting her this time, but she ventured that he would appreciate her handing in her research paper early. Especially if it had been on Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
Still late winter, the frosty blue sky churned wisps of white clouds as she eyed her outfit with an inward smile; she wore dark blue ruffled blouse and black pencil skirt with gold laced up gladiator sandals. She adjusted her solid black satin bra so her cleavage peeked out from the opening at her neckline and applied more of her trademark nude lip gloss as she headed up the stairs.
ameen, quarterback of the high school football team, was coming down the steps as she made her way up; he wolf-whistled as she passed him. “Hey Kavita,” he said suggestively, and when she stopped dead in her tracks, he smiled the crooked smile that made all the girls at Lincoln High swoon.
But Kavita had never swooned at the sight of him, though she did identify that ameen, with his dark gray eyes, muscular physique, and dark blond messy hair, was quite the catch.
She ran a tongue over her perfect teeth and smiled back. Placing her hand on the stair rail, she turned to ameen and stepped up one more step so that her shaped thighs were in full view. His eyes went straight to where she wanted them to. Dropping her purse on the ground, she sauntered up to him and moved close enough so that her lips were just level to his. “ameen,” she said as he breathed in sharply, “my bra strap is digging into my shoulder. Could you—” She started to undo the next three buttons on her blouse so that she could press her naked bra against his chest; she breathed deep to that her breasts pressed tight against the cups.
“Course,” he told her, trying to remain equally calm as she moved her hands down his waist and behind. His hand ran up her back, reaching into the collar of her blouse to adjust her strap. “Looser?”
She laughed and slid her hands past his beltless jeans and into his boxers. Pulling him in so that his erect penis smashed against the vee of her legs, she said, “Yes, please. I don’t know why I pulled it so tight—”
He bit her ear and whispered, “Baby, your tits are huge.” Then he let go of her bra strap and moved his hands in the direction of her breast. Immediately she retracted her hands and pushed him away roughly so that he fell backward onto the step.
“Not in public.” Then she smiled and crossed one leg over his head so that she could cameenb the stairs. He looked up at her black lace panties and moaned. Looking down her nose, she replied, “That’s all you get, baby.” And then she buttoned her blouse just up over her bra and picked up her bag, making her way up the stairs in a way that made her hips sway sexily.
“That girl….” She heard ameen swear under his breath, “Damn—”
--- --- ---
Mr. khan’s room door was wide open. Kavita could see him sitting with his head in his hands at the oak desk where they had sex twice one week ago. She walked up to the door and knocked, the hollow sound reverberating through the open air. Lincoln High, the only open-air school in the district, was empty—students usually headed straight home or out to the Java Hut to hang out when the last bell rang.
He looked up, his blue eyes piercingly dark. Mr. khan, graduated from Stanford with a degree in law, was the highlight of every advanced prep senior girl’s day. The “hottest” teacher on campus, Mr. khan’s front row desks were always filled with girls in the shortest of skirts and the lowest cut camisole. Boys would sit up front too, but for a different reason: to get next to the girls.
“Kavita?” Mr. khan sounded wary as he eyed her. She wasn’t in an ass baring miniskirt like last week, but she rocked her outfit anyway, her tight black pencil skirt hugging to the right curves and flaunting her long legs.
With a short glance to her usual seat against the far wall—it was the farthest seat from Mr. khan in the classroom—Kavita reached into her bag and pulled out her f******n page long paper on Hamlet and handed it over.“For the final, Mr. khan. Surprise, surprise: I did it on Hamlet.”
He took it with disbelief. “It’s a little bit early, Kavita. It’s not due for another week.” He skimmed the first line and set it down on his desk.
“I know. But hey, I thought I might as well get it done early.” She shrugged and sat down, this time around, behind one of the desks. Mr. khan shot her another confused look, which she waved away with another careless shrug. “You look tired, Mr. khan. Anything wrong?”
He snorted, but she could sense a hint of bitterness in his expression. “Go home, Kavita. I’m married.”
Kavita stood up, leaving her purse on the table. “Wow, right to the point. You weren’t feeling so guilty the second time, Mr. khan. I didn’t even have to seduce you on Friday.”
“I—”
She frowned and cut in. “Then why’d you give in to me? First time around, fine—my fault. But what about Friday?”
It was tense silence that followed her question. A hot flush of color flamed his cheeks as Mr. khan scowled and looked away. “I think my wife’s cheating on me.” Standing before him, green eyes curious, she asked him how he knew. “I found a condom, Kavita, in the bathroom. It didn’t belong to me, and it was used.”
“How long?”
“Two months ago.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “My neighbor? Her co-worker?”
“Both.” When Mr. khan’s eyes threw daggers, Kavita laughed. “I’m only k**ding, Mr. khan.”
Her teacher ran a hand through his hair. “Look Kavita, you’re my student. I can’t have sex with you. Especially unprotected sex. It’s not right.”
Rolling her eyes, she leaned against the table. “Do you have k**s?”
“No.”
“Do you love her?”
For a moment, Mr. khan was stunned by the question. It took him a moment to ponder, but then, very carefully, he answered, “No, not anymore. I haven’t for a while.”
She took a pencil from his pen cup and pinned up her curled blond locks with it. “Then I don’t care.” She came around to his right and leaned over onto the desk, messing up his stacks of papers that needed to be graded. Her breasts were in apparent view to the teacher and her ass in apparent view to anyone who passed by the door.
Mr. khan’s eyes flickered from her breasts, to her legs, and then to the open door. “Kavita—”
“You can kick me out, Mr. khan,” she said, her soft mouth relaxing. “Or you can go close and lock that door.”
He stared at her in another moment of disbelief. What was it about Kavita that was so intoxicating? Was it her perfect breasts, her tight ass? He had wondered why in his class she always sat at the back of the room; but she participated in class—in fact, she was one of the most brilliant students he had ever met. But there were moments when she would be studying Shakespeare with her head against the wall, book raised up to eye level, and a pencil in between her candy coated lips and he would become hard for her. Sometimes she wouldn’t even listen to lecture, but would thumb wrestle with James Hart, the track team captain. She would stifle a laugh and he would lose his place in lecture, the jealousy against a hormonal high school boy running tight through his veins.
And then she would show up in his classroom with a paper one week early and seduce him while he protested that the act was against his better judgment….
Suddenly the wind blowing through the door was too cold. While his student’s green eyes watched him, he got up from his hard wooden seat and went to close the door. The heavy yellow door clicked shut.
“Sit down,” she said, standing as she pointed a nude colored nail at his chair. “I’m going to fuck you, Mr. khan.” She started to unbutton her blouse, revealing breasts that were nearly popping out of their black satin restraints.
“Again?” He allowed himself to join in her tease. The sight of her breasts made his mouth water, but she wasn’t done undressing. She maintained a distance from him, removing laces of her gladiator sandals slowly as to emphasize and boast her perfect body. Then, without removing her skirt, she pulled off her panties.
She smirked at his question and picked up her essay. “I’m going to fuck you, Mr. khan. You’re going to read the thesis in my paper.”
He became hard at the thought. As she handed him a red pen, she made him sit still as she stripped him of his clothes. Off came his tie, ironed blue shirt, and dark wash jeans.
“You’re taking the boxers off yourself,” she told him. His erect penis was an obvious sign that he wanted her, but the speed that his boxers were removed by the owner was an even bigger sign. “Go on, Mr. khan. Read.”
He skimmed the first line of her paper as she straddled him and removed her bra. Placing a cold hand on his cock, she started held it straight up, her breasts bobbing in front of his face. He wanted to relieve himself of the torture and grab her, but forced his eyes to read on. “Good intro,” he told her truthfully.
“Not too much?”
He shuddered when the tip of his cock started to penetrate. “I fail to see how you’re going your tie thesis together, though.” He fixed a grammar mistake on her paper with his pen.
“Oh.” And then she came down on him. It was an immediate feeling of arousal as she positioned herself; he couldn’t help himself—one of his hands went into the waistband of her skirt as she shuddered with pleasure.
“Right here—I don’t know what you mean by”—he let out intense groan of satisfaction as she rode him—“…this…” Once he had recovered, he turned her attention to a line in her third paragraph.
She shook her head, pressing a pert breast against him and driving his senses wild. “I expand on it later; just keep reading. You’ll understand it.”
He read on. “Right, I see now….” Failing to keep up with her request for him to stay out of her dominance, Mr. khan started to thrust upward, and Kavita had to grab his muscular shoulder to keep up.
“Mr. khan,” she said softly, and he looked at her. She lifted up the hem of her skirt and allowed him to watch while she ground against him. He let out a hot of breath air, kissed her mouth roughly, and turned back to the paper. She rocked harder.
“This paragraph is really good here—”
She tore the paper away from him and threw it on the ground, drawing his attention to her. He thought it was a funny move—it wasn’t as if his attention had ever left her. “Fuck the paper,” she said, frustrated, “—read it later. I want you to fuck me right now, Mr. khan. Fuck me hard and focus.”
“Are you sure?” he teased.
She rolled her eyes and smashed her mouth against his. That did it for him—drove him off the edge. His naked ass slapped against the hard wooded seat as he thrust deeper into her. She moved her leg so that he could penetrate better, and gasped when he took charge, grabbed her ass and forced her deeper. It was a gyration of two bodies moving in perfect rhythm; Mr. khan focused his attention on giving her pleasure and making her breasts bounce with each thrust. It was an exhilarating ride as her earth shattering orgasm shook him; she moaned so loud that the neighboring teachers, if they were working after hours, would have heard clearly.
She sealed her mouth over his and started to grind again. He was panting from the work, but he somehow could never get enough of her. Grabbing her left breast and squeezing it, he raised his right hand to her head and increased the pressure of their kiss. She was laughing, as she always seemed to be during sex, and responded by slipping a tongue inside his mouth.
“Are you angry with your wife?” she asked between his kisses.
He shrugged, and went down to wrap his mouth around her big breasts.
She watched him as she rocked again, saying only, “Revenge is sweet, Mr. khan.” And then, when he made no answer, she pulled away from him and reached into the pocket of his dropped jeans and retrieved his cell phone.
“Kavita—” She laughed as she thrust her hips against his. His thoughts were shaken as he groaned with pleasure, but there was still enough consciousness in him to ask, “What are you trying to do?”
“I’m going to let your wife hear your heart beat while you make love to me,” she told him, and before he could stop her, she pressed the “dial” button on his cell phone with one painted nail.
He heard the ring tone once, and then twice, and then three times. Kavita had started to pick up speed. A loud moan escaped from his lips just he heard his wife’s familiar voice.
“Hello? saleem?”
Kavita gently wrapped her lips around his, silencing his objections. He deepened the kiss and groaned into her mouth, but he was gentle enough to allow her to retract her lips and whisper, “Don’t say a word.”
She pointed to the mouthpeice of the cell phone and winked.
The burst of pleasure hit him before he realized she had started to ride him faster and faster, her hips grinding against his in a circular motion; she pressed the microphone against his chest, right up against his wildly thundering heart. She smashed her breasts against him and he grabbed at her anywhere he could, loving the raking feeling of her erect nipples against his bare chest. She panted at his ear as he thrust harder and harder for their cameenax….
“saleem? Are you there?” He heard aisha say his name again, followed by a query directed at herself but voiced aloud: “What’s that weird thumping sound? saleem? Hello?”
Kavita pressed the red button and hung up. She bit his ear and he shuddered; his erection strained inside of her. He never wanted it to stop.
She smashed her hands against his nipples and then moved them to his back, pleading in his ear: "pump harder." He could feel the indentations of her nails into his skin.
“Say my name,” he told her.
Smiling at his lips, she whispered his name a way that made him shudder and come inside of her. “Hey there, saleem.”
--- THE ENGLISH TEACHER 3 ---
Kavita kapoor stepped out of the girl’s restroom, tugging on the black dress that was a little too short to be within her high school’s dress code. Receiving after-school detention seemed to be her forte as much as avoiding it was, but this time there was no escape. No way was she going to attempt to flirt with Principal Dover and his white hair and wrinkly skin. But at least Liam was going to be there. In trouble for kissing! What had this world come to? Well, according to the principal who caught them, “too much skin on skin” was what it had come to.
She headed down the hall, measuring her fingertips against the length of her dress with a critical eye. In the restroom she had considered rolling down the neckline of her dress and tucking it beneath her lace bra to lengthen the hemline, but gave up on that idea because it probably would show “too much cleavage”, which was undoubtedly as school rule too.
As she walked she could hear the familiar cough of a certain English teacher, and she diverted her route so that she might bump into him. She was able to find him quickly enough; he was leaning against the school’s brick mural, eyes fiercely focused as he stared at a single piece of paper.
The hall was empty, so with a small smile to herself, she slipped alongside him, ducked into the space between the paper and his chest, and kissed him on the mouth. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and flinched as she ran her hands along his chest. She was about to say her usual, “Hey Mr. khan,” but he only deepened her initial kiss, and drew her forward when she tried to pull away.
She could feel the intensity of his dark blue eyes on her, and suddenly she knew that she had been wrong to bother him. His fingers clutched the fabric of her dress around her waistline and she couldn’t break free. Lips already feeling bruised, she closed her eyes and kissed him back, reaching her fingers into his hair as she forced their stances around 180 degrees so that her back was against the wall instead. He pressed up against her, one palm against the wall and the other cupping her face. She could feel a familiar bulge against the vee of her legs, straining.
Since she had known him, she knew that would never make the first move, so she unbuckled his belt and proceeded to unzip his pants as his kisses became more violent. His cock was hot and alert, but Mr. khan did nothing to appease it. So with pursed lips, she curled her right leg onto his hip and lifted herself onto him with the help of the wall. He groaned into her ear, but suddenly became very aware of what was happening and tried to draw back.
“No,” she said quietly, and pulled his face back to hers. “It’s okay. Just breathe, Mr. khan. Just breathe.” She sealed his lips against hers, silencing him as she gripped him internally and moaned.
For a few seconds his actions seemed rough and desperate, and she took it with curious calm, even though her dress and skin sc****d roughly against the brick wall. Threads came loose from the fabric weave, but she held him, eyes closed, breath coming in short and tight bursts. He was no longer kissing her, but his head was tucked in the crook of her neck, air moving hot and heavy despite the coming chill of a late afternoon. She cupped the back of his head and gripped the arm of his shirt, her moans quiet and controlled. The paper he had been holding was left on the ground, abandoned but probably not forgotten. She glimpses several words, and then looked away.
She could feel his stomach muscles slamming against hers, and her chest burdened with the weight of his body smashing unguarded against hers. Usually he would prop his weight up and away for her, but this time was different, and each trade for his pleasure came with a strange mix of bodily pain.
Finally he stopped, just completely froze inside of her, and then pulled out. Looking at her disheveled figure, he reached forward to pull her dress down. He rearranged her bra so that it covered her painfully aware pink nipples, and then smoothed down her hair. He shook his head, eyes still as intense as ever, as she pulled him back down for one final kiss. She didn’t smile.
“A divorce?” she asked, and didn’t wait for confirmation. “It’s okay, Mr. khan. Breathe. Just breathe.”
Jo
- 08.07.2020
- 20
- 0
