Temptations Of A Female Teacher free porn video

Finally turning in my direction, Joe just gave me a confused look.

“Ummmm, 7?”

The girls he had just been talking to burst out laughing. Joe turned back to talk to them, and I tried to hold back my anger. In as calm a voice as I could manage, I announced, “Office.”

Joe turned and looked back at me, confused again. Regaining at least a semblance of my composure, I stated, “Go to the office now.”

Joe still looked confused. Then smiling he hooked his thumb over his shoulder pointing behind him and announced, “But the principal is right here, why don’t I just–”

I saw the principal’s mouth begin to open, but ignored it. Getting angrier and interrupting Joe, I loudly stated, “To the office. NOW!”

Finally, Joe shrugged his shoulders, got up, and calmly walked out of the room. The girls he was talking to laughed as he walked out. I could kind of understand the girls’ interest in him. He was an attractive boy – tall, nice features, and a nice body from having played football and basketball for years – but I was amazed any of them would deal with the rest of him. He was egotistical, obnoxious, and dumb as a doorknob. He wasn’t playing any sports now as he had failed all of his classes last year, making him ineligible for school sports. This, combined with failing fourth grade earlier in life, made him about two years older than everyone else in the class. He was a couple months short of eighteen while the rest of the class was full of fifteen and sixteen year olds. He was your stereotypical example of a failure at life. Yet he still walked around like he owned the place and the girls all flocked to him. I just couldn’t understand it.

When the door finally shut behind him, I turned back to the class and asked, “Does anyone know the answer?”

I stared into the sea of confused and ignorant faces in front of me. Just about everyone in the class either wasn’t paying attention or had no idea what was going on. I saw a hand go up toward the side of the classroom and latched onto it, despite knowing it was the cheap way out.

“Yes, John?”

“Negative three x squared plus five,” was the nervously quiet, yet confident response from the boy.

I smiled, responding, “That is correct,” adding to myself, ‘and a much more reasonable answer than seven.’ I then asked aloud, “And how did you get that?”

In the same meek voice that was clearly scared of speaking aloud, despite knowing he was right, John responded, “I switched the sign of the variable as the parabola is opening up downward and added five to move it along the x-axis.”

“Good,” I replied. Then again, I knew John knew what he was doing and was almost always right, hence it being the cheap way out to call on him. I finally moved on to another example, trying to continue the class while distracted by my thoughts.

I had been going over coordinate geometry for over a week now in my tenth grade algebra classes. Today’s focus was on reflecting, rotating, and translating parabolas. I knew it wasn’t the most exciting material, especially given that most students hate math to start with, but all my other classes did well with it. It was just this nightmarish ninth period class that was giving me hell.

I should explain.

My name is Jeannine Warner, or Ms. Warner as the students know me. This is my third year teaching in a rather large, semi-urban high school. I teach six sections of tenth grade algebra. My first two years went great. I enjoyed my job, the students seemed to like me, and they got great scores on their end of year exams, showing they obviously learned something. This year has been slightly different. Or rather, one section is different. While the other five sections are going great like they had the past two years, I have my first real problem class. And of course it has to be my last period of the day, so that every day I go home angry. Most the kids in the class are either really low academically, really obnoxious, or really don’t give a damn about learning anything, not caring if they fail. And then some were all three, like Joe. Out of the twenty-three students in the class, I’d say that only five were really trying or understood the material. One of those was John. He seemed like your stereotypical nerd. Quiet, did his work, nice to the teacher, the whole ordeal. I feel kind of bad for the kid really. I tried earlier in the year to get his class switched so he wouldn’t have to deal with that class and so that he could learn more, but I guess with the other classes he was taking, that was the only period he could fit into for math. Shit luck for him. But he had made it through most the year now without complaining.

Which brings us back to where we are now.

It’s the middle of the second week of the fourth quarter. This being my third year, I am eligible for tenure at the end of the year. As such, I’ve had several observations from the principal and assistant principal throughout the year. Usually, I got to pick the day and period for them to come and observe me, but for this last observation, I got to pick neither. The principal just told me that this was the only time he could fit me in – during my horrible last period class that was so far behind I literally could not give up a day to do an interesting lesson (what I usually do for observations) and have to cover something boring – like coordinate geometry. I had thought that the reflections, rotations, and translations of parabolas would be the least painful thing to go over while being observed. Who knows? Maybe I was right, but I can tell you it was still plenty painful, least painful or not. I had tried to be fancy at the beginning of the lesson, using mirrors to demonstrate the reflections over different lines, but I gave that up quickly as I lost practically the entire class for whatever reason. Apparently mirrors were too complex for them. I went to straight notes and examples. And while this ran slightly smoother, it obviously still wasn’t going well.

After sending Joe out of the room, I went over examples until there were only five minutes left in the class. I probably had to call on John for about a third of the examples as most the others were either not paying attention or didn’t get it. Upon finishing the last example, I gave the students their homework and told them they had five minutes to work on it in class. While they got to work (or just sat in their seats and chatted as the case was for most of them) I tried to make myself look busy at my desk, occasionally looking up and telling certain students to get to work. Every time I’d look up, I’d catch the principal writing notes in the desk he was sitting at in the back of the classroom. Each time I saw that, I immediately looked down and tried to look busy at my desk again, though really I was wondering whether or not I had just blown my opportunity to get tenured with the horrible class I’d just run.

A couple minutes before the final bell rings, the principal got up and walked over to my desk.

“That was,” he began, followed by a long pause before continuing, “interesting.” I said nothing, just looking at him wondering what he was going to say next. “I have a meeting I have to get ready for after school, so I’ll have to leave a bit early. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

And with that he walked out of the room.

I didn’t know what to make of it. The principal had been smiling the entire time, but I couldn’t tell if it was a fake smile or not. I always found it hard to read the guy. Of course, my mind was leaning towards believing he thought it was horrible and that this would be my last year teaching in this school and the dreaded search for a new job would soon be on. So for the last two minutes of the day, I just sat and stared off into nothingness.

I somehow totally missed the end-of-day announcements in my daze and was jolted out of it by the final bell ringing. Out of habit, I got out of my seat, went to the door, and propped it open with the door stop. I usually stand by the door as the students leave, but I soon realized I wasn’t in the mood to wait around for them, so I just headed back to my desk to try and clear my head. It also didn’t help that this class, unlike my last period classes from the prior two years, seemed to take forever to get out of my room. It’s like they had nothing better to do than hang out in a high school classroom. It wasn’t unusual for the halls to be empty save for a handful of students by the time the last student left my classroom.

I was hoping to luck out with the students leaving quickly today. Usually Joe was one of the last to leave, talking to his girls. I thought that without him there, everyone might leave quicker. I wasn’t so lucky. Unfortunately, a couple minutes after the bell rang, as those girls were walking out, Joe actually walked into my classroom. They stood around talking in my room, halfway to the door. I decided against arguing with them today and just went about my end-of-day routine, organizing my desk and packing what I would need to bring home. All the other students slowly poured out around them, but Joe and his girls just didn’t seem to be moving.

Finally, after another three minutes or so, they headed out of my room. Joe of course had to kick the doorstop out and into my room in a demonstration of his vast maturity. I watched the door close slowly on its hinges, thankful for once that there was no window in it. I had initially found the fact that no doors in the school had windows weird and slightly uncomfortable when I first started working here, especially as they required doors to be shut while classes were going on. But I slowly got used to it, and every now and then, at moments like this, I was absolutely grateful for it so no one walking by could see my anguish over my observation. I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, letting my head fall backwards and let out an exasperated sigh. I was so nervous from the observation and about possibly losing tenure that I could feel tears building up behind my eyes, though not quite there yet.

“Ms. Warner….”

The soft voice jolted me out of the brief illusion I had held myself in. I jerked forward in my seat, having thought everyone left. I opened my eyes to see John standing in front of my desk, holding his books against his side in his right hand. I could feel my eyes widen in surprise.

Trying to cover my surprise, as well as my anguish, I began, “John, what are you still doing here?”

“I just wanted to apologize,” he began, then paused.

I was too confused by this statement to let him continue after his short pause, wondering what one of the few good students in the class could possibly have on his mind. “What do you have to apologize for?”

“Well,” he began, looking away, not even making eye contact with me, “I know they won’t so I wanted to apologize for the way the rest of the class acts.”

I couldn’t help but release a quick chuckle, even in the mood I was in.

I should take a moment to describe John. I mentioned before he was your stereotypical nerd. That’s pretty close to true. He turned 15 at the beginning of the school year, so he was just about the youngest kid in his grade, and you could see it in the way he acted. He was very shy and reserved. Always did his work, always knew the answers. He had a small group of friends, and from what I saw, most of them were in ninth grade, with only a few in tenth grade, certainly none in my math class. The way he talked and acted made it obvious he was insecure about himself, but when he did talk, he was always a pleasant conversation. And he could be funny too; he wasn’t one of those kids that was awkward to talk to. I thought a girl would be lucky to have the boy, but of course being the typical nerd-type, the girls seemed to avoid him for such wonderful male specimens as Joe. It’s not like John was an ugly kid, just tall and skinny, and the way he dressed definitely enhanced the nerd image. He was tall, I’d guess about six foot, and very skinny. In fact, I’d guess he weighed less than my 135 pounds (and I’m 5’7”). His face wasn’t ugly, it wasn’t covered in acne or anything. It was just plain. No movie star here. His hair was this wavy blonde disheveled wad on his head. I actually didn’t think it looked bad, he pulled off that hair pretty well all things considered. He always dressed in khaki pants and some button down shirt and semi-dress shoes. In his defense, he wears the shirt untucked and doesn’t wear a tie with it, but when everyone else in the school pretty much just wears jeans and a T-shirt, well, then what he was wearing becomes pretty nerdy looking.

John also made it apparent early on that he liked me as a teacher, and maybe more. I actually ran into him at the mall once. Well, before I get into that though, I should probably describe myself.

I’m 31 years old, have long brown, slightly wavy hair that I like to wear down, dark green eyes, and long lashes. I have slightly puffy cheeks, possibly due to being a little heavier than average, but I think it looks better than the concave cheeks of skinny girls. As I said before, I’m 5’7” and 135 pounds. Again, I have a little extra weight, but I think I can pull it off on my frame without being anything close to fat, and I think it gives me a nice ass. Also, if I didn’t have that weight, my body would look very disproportionate with my large chest. I wear a 38DD bra. While they definitely were fun when I was younger, they do nothing but get in the way now. Obviously, I don’t want to show them off in school, so I have to wear all kinds of baggy dresses and loose-fitting dress suits to hide them in. I also have to go to a chiropractor every couple of weeks because holding those things up does a hell of a number on my back. It’s actually so bad that I’ve decided to get breast reduction surgery, not this summer, but the summer after. I don’t think my back will make it if I keep those girls around. It’s not like I’m ashamed of them, outside of school I’ll wear tighter T-shirts or low cut tank tops. But between them destroying my back and limiting the clothes I can wear to work, I just don’t see them as something I need.

Back to John, I ran into him once at the mall. It was in November, but there was a warm streak of weather, so I went to the mall in jeans and a semi-tight T-shirt. Not more than ten steps into the mall, I saw John with his mother. He said hi, and I started talking to him and his mother. I must’ve been doing a good job hiding my boobs at school, because John was acting like he’d never seen them before. He tried to be polite, but I kept seeing his eyes quickly bounce down from my face to my chest, and I could see his face blush every time he thought I’d caught him. Trying to be nice, as I did like the kid and he was doing a better job of not staring at my chest than most guys, I acted like I never saw his travelling eyes. He still thought he got caught every now and then though, blushing more every time. After a couple minutes, the door behind us opened and a breeze blew in, blowing my hair in front of my face. I decided to have some fun with that, and pulled the old brush-the-hair-behind-your-ear-with-your-hand trick while slightly pushing my chest forward. There was no mistaking where John’s eyes went, nor how red he turned after he finally brought his eyes back to my face. I quickly said my goodbyes to him and his mom and moved on.

Even before this incident, John had always been nice to me, talking to me in the hallways briefly, joking around or asking about some math problem or whatnot. He still did this, but I noticed his eyes always had trouble staying on my face after I had seen him in the mall. Despite how hard he tried to always look at me, his eyes always took short, quick trips down to my chest, as if to find out if the boobs he saw that one day were still there, hidden beneath my loose clothing. As he was a nice kid, I did my best to ignore his eyes, blaming it on hormones. And it’s not like I hadn’t had other students ogle me far worse than him. It really was nothing to me.

Returning to the situation at hand, I had to chuckle when John apologized for his classmates. “John,” I told him, “you have no control over them, and their behavior is not your fault, so don’t apologize for them. You’re a good student and have nothing to be sorry for.” Suddenly I felt a tear roll down my cheek. The quick laughing I had done must’ve allowed the tears built up in the back of my eyes to roll around to the front. I quickly turned to the side and brushed it away, abruptly remembering the horrible class I had just had and the possibility of losing tenure, all of which I had briefly forgotten thanks to John. Hoping he hadn’t noticed my tear, I turned back towards him, trying to compose myself and hide all the negative feelings that just flowed back into me. I felt, though, like I wasn’t doing too good a job of hiding them. John started talking before I could.

“It’s just that some of us…” John paused. While his body was facing my desk, his head was still twisted to the side, looking away. Every now and then I could see his eyes turn towards me, then back towards the wall. It was clear he was not comfortable saying what he was trying to say. “Some of us,” he began again, “don’t think you should be treated the way you are in here, especially when you are being observed.”

I had to fight back those tears again. What he said wasn’t much, but between reminding me I had just been observed, which made me want to cry for obvious reasons, and the kindness of him forcing himself in this situation where he was clearly uncomfortable to say nice things to me, which made me want to cry for other reasons, I had a hard time holding back.

“Thank you,” I responded in a shaky voice. John even turned his head to look at me now. Then, knowing my voice wouldn’t last much longer and I didn’t want him to see me break down, I added, “You should probably go now, John.”

John looked at me for a few seconds, then nodded and turned to walk away. He got as far as the side of my desk before turning around and looking at me again. “Ms. Warner, I.…” He paused obviously having trouble again with whatever he was about to say.

“I think you’re….” Another pause.

“You’re a really good teacher, Ms. Warner.”

Then he turned around and began walking away.

It was weird. I’ve had students call me a great teacher before, so this was nothing new. I’m not even sure if that was what he meant to say, or if he wimped out of whatever was on his mind and just said that instead. But given the situation, having been through the hell of an observation period I had just been through, being uncertain of my tenure at the school, and feeling like an absolute pile of shit at the moment, it seemed like the perfect thing to hear. I could feel my spirits lift, and I felt incredibly better. There was a sudden sense of gratitude in me.

John had only made it a couple steps away from my desk. I got up and took a couple quick steps towards him and reached out for his empty hand. He stopped moving the second my hand touched his. I said, “Thank you,” thoroughly meaning it.

John slowly turned around towards me. But his eyes never met mine. He was staring at my hand that had just grabbed his and was in fact still holding his. This caused me to stare at our hands also.

It was then that it had hit me what I’d done. I’d grabbed a student’s hand. Touching a student at all is a big no-no, and holding their hand is probably the worst non-sexual touching that can happen, judging by the meaning affixed to it. Certainly it must’ve seemed bold to someone as innocent as John. Yet for some reason, I didn’t pull away. And neither did John. I just stared at our hands. John must’ve been in shock, judging from the look on his face when he’d turned around, his staring at our hands, and the fact that he hadn’t moved his hand. His hand was still wide open, my hand clasped around it. He didn’t close his hand around mine, nor did he pull it away.

I’m not sure why, but it was right after I thought to myself that he didn’t pull away, that I suddenly brought my other hand up to his face and tilted his head up to look at my face, rather than our hands.

And then I leaned in to kiss him.

I had never – and I do mean never – had any thoughts about hooking up with a student. But the overload of emotion I was feeling – anguish over my observation, fear over losing tenure, anger at the horrible kids in that class, thankful to the one student who showed kindness – it all rolled over me at that moment in time urging me to press my lips against his. I can’t explain it. I was probably just as shocked as he was.

And I can assure you he was shocked.

The books he was holding feel to the floor. I kissed his lips, brushing mine over his smooth, young lips and letting my tongue graze their surface momentarily. He did nothing however.

I pulled back and saw the shock in John’s face. He was staring at me when I pulled back, but it might be more accurate to say he was staring through me. His arms were held tight slightly away from his side like he didn’t know what to do.

I strangely felt no sense of wrongness. Suddenly there was nothing in my mind but this innocent boy in front of me, scared of doing anything. I found it strangely… well… cute. I wanted to guide this boy who was so nice to me. To give him anything he wants. And I was sure he wanted me!

“John,” I said. His head shook and his body loosened up a bit. His eyes appeared to come into focus on mine, but he still said nothing.

“It’s okay,” I offered in the same comforting voice. After saying that, I closed my eyes and leaned my head up towards him a bit, being sure not to go all the way, forcing him to come to me if he wanted to kiss me.

I was in that position, offering my lips to him, for what seemed like ages, but was probably only fifteen seconds or so. And then I felt his lips touch mine. I began to kiss him again, slowly opening my lips a bit and brushing them together along his. John did the same in response. I slowly increased the speed of my kissing, and John followed suit. I started opening my mouth a little wider, allowing my tongue to snake out, and John did also. He was perfectly mimicking my kissing style, and it was fantastic. If only more guys would do that instead of trying to forcefully lead the kiss!

After a couple minutes, I felt a light pressure brush against my sides, then pull back several times. I opened my eyes briefly, still kissing John, and saw his arms were around me, but not touching me. His eyes were closed and he was moving his arms towards me, then slightly away, as if he was unsure of whether he should hold my back or not.

Without pulling away from the kiss, I whispered into John’s lips, “It’s okay.”

Upon speaking those words, John’s eyes opened. He kept kissing me, and our eyes briefly met during our kiss. As a stronger sign of reassurance, I reached my hands to his skinny sides, holding him. I then closed my eyes again. It wasn’t long before I felt his hands lightly brushing my back.

In ways, it was an awkward kissing stance. Whenever I had kissed a guy in the past, our bodies had always been pressed up against each other. But John was clearly scared of pushing into me, and I didn’t want to make him too uncomfortable by pushing into him. So we stood with several inches between us, his head dipped down to mine, my hands holding his side, and his lightly rubbing my back as we kissed.

A couple more minutes passed like this, our positions unchanged and our kissing unceasing, before I started to notice John’s hands starting to rub lower. At first it was just my lower back. He’d slide his hands from my upper back to my lower back, and then back up again. Then the next round he’d get a little lower. And a little lower. Eventually, his hands were drifting until they met the curve of my ass, and then back up. I expected him to continue until he was holding my ass in his hands, especially as I was wearing a dress, meaning there was no pant-line to serve as a warning not to go any lower. However, after five or six more times, I realized that he must be scared to move farther down.

Not bothering to open my eyes this time, I again whispered into his lips, “It’s okay.”

Having said that, I reached one of my hands behind me, grabbed his hand, and pulled it onto my ass, then replacing my hand back onto his side, all the while continuing to kiss him.

John was momentarily frozen. The hand on my ass stayed there, the other remained in the middle of my back. I continued to kiss him, but his lips had stopped moving. Within seconds though, he started kissing me back again, and his other hand slid down to my ass also. He began rubbing my ass, dragging my dress lightly up and down with the movements of his hands.

I couldn’t help but smile while kissing him. It was like he was enthralled simply by touching my ass. I thought it was irresistibly cute, a guy feeling like touching my ass was a major accomplishment and who clearly enjoyed it so thoroughly. Guys my age seemed to expect the right to grab my ass, they didn’t treat it as a loving gesture. I hadn’t had a guy so excited about my ass since high school (which I guess made sense given the situation).

It wasn’t long before I started sliding my hands from John’s side to his nearly nonexistent ass. His skinny ass was so small that I could cover each cheek with one of my small hands. For some reason, this whole interaction did not seem sexual to me until I touched his ass. The kissing, and even his rubbing my back, and then my ass, seemed strangely normal. Well, maybe not normal! But it didn’t seem like it was leading anywhere. The second my hands grabbed his ass cheeks through his khakis though, I knew at that moment where this was all leading. And, because we still hadn’t pressed our bodies against each other, the space between our bodies felt suddenly awkward. Without thinking, I grabbed John’s ass and pulled his body into mine.

Immediately my mouth broke from the kiss, gasping in light pain, though mostly shock.

It felt like someone had just rammed a metal pipe into my lower abdomen. I didn’t even have time to think before John pulled away from me. All at once, he had turned around and bent over to grab his books off the floor, shyly shouting out behind him, “I’m sorry!”

John had his books back in his hand and was heading for the door before I had time to think. I nearly sprinted over to him, catching him when he was just out of reach of the door. Again I grabbed his empty hand and tried to pull him around to face me, but he wasn’t budging.

“It was my fault,” I began, “I shouldn’t have pulled you into me so quick.”

He didn’t respond. I tried to turn him towards me, but he wouldn’t budge.

“It’s okay,” I continued, “Turn around and come back.”

Still no response. But when I pulled his hand again, John started to turn towards me. He was about halfway towards me and then…

“Oh my!” I gasped out. It was the first thing I’d seen as he turned. I wasn’t looking at his face, I wanted to see what had poked me so hard. And boy did I see it!

There was a very sizable bulge pushing almost straight (actually up and to the left a tiny bit) out of the crotch of his pants. His dick must’ve been hanging down and gotten caught against his underwear or pants as he became erect. I had never seen such a straight bulge in a pair of pants before!

After what was probably several seconds of staring, but seemed like just a moment to me, I finally looked away from the bulge and up to John’s face. I could barely see it, as he had his head hung down and to the side a bit. But I could tell from what I saw that he was beet red, clearly embarrassed (though it appeared he didn’t have much to be embarrassed about, if you know what I mean!).

I brought a hand up and placed my palm flat against John’s chest. There was no immediate reaction. Deciding to be a bit bold, I brought my other hand up and started unbuttoning his shirt.

That brought about a reaction!

John’s head turned to stare at me. I looked up and met his eyes, seeing his still deep red face, and smiled at him, continuing to unbutton his shirt. There was a clear look of shock on his face, but I was pretty sure I saw the hint of a smile behind that shock.

When his shirt was fully unbuttoned, I took John’s empty hand and pulled him back towards the desk, and away from the door he had nearly gotten out from. I backed up to the chair at my desk and sat down. I took John’s books from him and put them on my desk. Then, I grabbed the now unbuttoned lining of the shirt, and pulled his shirt back over his shoulders, letting it hang from his arms, eventually falling to the floor.

Underneath, John had a tight white tank top undershirt. While he was incredibly skinny, I could see hints of shoulder muscle, and even slight hints of pecs through his undershirt. He was skinny enough though that I could also see hints of his rib cage beneath his pecs and his hip bones just above his pant line.

Again, I brought a hand up, placing my palm flat against his chest. I rubbed back and forth a bit, and could in fact feel the hints of pecs I was seeing through his undershirt. I could also feel, as well as see, his tiny hard nipples poking against the undershirt.

Mere seconds after I had started rubbing his chest, I started to slowly drag my hand lightly down the center of his body. I could indeed feel his rib cage, and his stomach, which was flat with his rib cage, if not a little behind it.

John had what I thought was a strange reaction to me touching his body. As my hand lowered, his hips slowly pulled back a bit, though his chest stayed in the same place. By the time my hand had gotten to his pant-line, his hips were pulled back noticeably behind the rest of his body. I ignored it though, and, even more slowly, started to trace my hand down his pants, down the slope of the khakis, and finally lightly touching the peak of the bulge.

As soon as my hand touched the end of his dick through his pants, John started moaning loudly, and his hips jerked. Without moving my hand, I looked up to see John’s head now tilted back towards the ceiling and could see that it was not just his hips, but his whole body was in a series of jerks.

Before I could put together what was happening, I started to feel a warm wetness on my hand through his pants.

For whatever reason, shock maybe, I didn’t pull my hand away. I brought my eyes back down to his crotch and watched as John’s hips continued to jerk lightly and the wet spot expanded beyond the cover of my hand. I could also feel his dick pulse with each spurt he unloaded into his pants. While there were only four or five spurts before dying off into light pulsing, those first few were long spurts, apparently shooting quite a bit of cum, judging by the wetness seeping through his pants.

When John stopped moving, I finally pulled my hand away. There was a dark ovular stain starting at where his dick was poking against his pants and down several inches and a couple inches to the sides. I could even see some of his cum actually pushing through his pants right where his dick was pressing against it. I was surprised to see that his bulge had not seemed to lessen at all, indicating he was not going limp.

Eventually, I stopped staring at John’s bulge and looked up towards his face. He was clearly embarrassed, as his face was nearly purple. He was looking straight down at the ground, and I could see his mouth moving as if he was trying to say something, but no words were coming out. Soon, however, I heard him start stuttering, “I… I… I….”

A mix of emotions ran through me. Obviously there was a whole level of surprise at what had just happened. There was a slight bit of disappointment at John having blown his load so soon. But there was also a dash of giddiness at having made a boy blow his load by barely touching him, something I’d never done before, not even in high school, and that I again found strangely cute. Then there was some pity for John who was so embarrassed over what had just happened.

I decided to try and convince him I was not offended.

“It’s okay,” I began, repeating the line for the fifth time in the past several minutes, continuing, “That just means you’ll last longer next time.”

His mouth stopped moving, but John didn’t move. His face remained borderline purple as he stood as if frozen in front of me.

I reached a hand out (the one that wasn’t wet), and grabbed his, trying to pull it towards me, but John was locked in place, his arm pressed into his side, not budging. I wiped my other hand off on one of his pant legs and held one of his hands with both of mine. Again, I tried to pull his hand lightly towards me, but he wouldn’t budge. I realized I had to do something to make the boy feel okay and to loosen him up.

I’m not sure where the idea for my solution came from.

I grabbed one of his hands in each of my hands, and in a demonstration of sheer force, I tugged his hands towards me. The force of the pull caused John to lean forward, which loosened up his muscles. I quickly pulled his hands to my chest, placing his palms over my dress-and-bra-covered nipples. The force of the whole action caused John to fall forwards towards me while his hands were on my breasts, causing me to recline in the chair I was in and him to lean slightly over me. When all the movement finally stopped, I was leaned back in my chair with John’s arms fully extended with his hands on my chest keeping his awkward balance as he leaned over me.

I stared at his face, his mouth hanging open and his eyes locked on his hands/my tits (not that there was much to see, as I was wearing a baggy red floral dress that buttoned up the whole front and nearly completely hid my large boobs – I know it wasn’t the most attractive outfit, but my selection of teaching attire was very limited by the need to hide my chest). I watched as his face dropped from near-purple to dark red to light red to pink and finally to white as all the blood drained from it. I couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, as well as at our position.

After relishing in the moment for nearly half a minute with neither of us moving, I finally spoke.

“Play with them.”

This pulled John out of whatever trance he was in. There was a quick shake of his head and he took a couple steps forward so he was standing on his own weight, rather than balancing on my chest, which allowed my chair to recline up a bit. Through all this his eyes never left my chest.

And then he squeezed.

And I yelped.

John loosened his grip immediately and mumbled out, “Sorry.” His hands never pulled back from my boobs though, and his eyes never moved up to my face.

“It’s okay,” I repeated. “Just be lighter.”

And lighter he was!

The instant I said that, his hands started moving again. He brushed them back and forth over my garment-covered bosom, letting his fingers trace their way around them. He gently cupped my boobs from beneath, almost as if he was weighing them in his hands, then slid them around to the outside of my boobs, pushing them together. If he could see through the dress he would’ve been afforded a great sight of my cleavage at that moment. He continued sliding his hands around, rubbing my breasts and pushing them around as if he’d never touched a boob before (which I was guessing he had not).

After letting him fondle me for a couple minutes, I needed more and made the obvious conclusion that he wasn’t going to do it on his own, I spoke again.

“You can unbutton my dress.”

John’s eyes immediately slid up to the top button on my dress, just at the base of my neck. I felt his hands pull off my boobs for the first time since they had touched them and I watched them make their way to the button he was looking at. When they finally got to it, his hands were shaking so much that he couldn’t undo it. I spoke up.

“It’s okay. Take a deep breath and do it slowly.”

John appeared to give me a nod in the affirmative, though his eyes didn’t look up at me. After the nod, he closed his eyes and took a long deep breath in. Then he slowly exhaled. When he opened his eyes, his hands had completely stopped shaking. He finally undid the first button.

Then he moved down to the second.

Ever so carefully, John undid the first four buttons, the fourth one being just above my belly button. After that fourth button, he started to move his hands back up. I immediately grabbed them.

For the first time since he had touched my boobs, John looked up at my face.

“Undo them all,” I whispered, smiling at him.

He made a face like he was in shock at first, his mouth hanging open. Then, for the first time since I kissed him, I saw John smile a bit. He then kneeled on the floor as he freed the remaining five buttons down to my calves that were holding my dress together.

When he finished the last one, he pulled back and moved up as if to return to my chest. I put my hand on his shoulder to stop him. He may have unbuttoned my dress, but he had not opened it even the slightest bit. With John on his knees in front of me, I stood up before him, letting the dress slide off my arms and onto the chair, leaving me in just my shoes and my plain beige bra and panties (if I had known I was going to be seen in my undergarments, I would’ve worn something sexier, but this wasn’t exactly in my plan at the beginning of the day), open to John’s viewing pleasure.

His eyes went wide.

After several seconds of staring, John stood up in front of me, his eyes traveling the length of my body. His hands started shaking in obvious nervousness as he slowly inched them towards my body. When they got to me, they first rested on my sides, just above my hips. I simply stood before John, allowing him to do as he pleased. His eyes were locked on the cleavage created by my bra, and slowly, he started working his hands up and towards the front of my body. He paused when his hands were just beneath my boobs, his thumbs and pointer fingers creating a U shape just beneath each of my boobs. And as soon as he finished letting his breath out, his hands slid up over the curves of my breasts.

I watched as John gasped and closed his eyes as his hands lay flat upon my bra-covered bosom. His obvious enjoyment of our actions increased my arousal. Seeing him savor every move or reveal I made just made me want to please him more, not to mention wanting to get pleased by someone who so loved it.

I couldn’t wait after his gasp, and before he opened his eyes, I whispered, “You can take it off.”

John’s eyes opened, but they continued staring at my chest, not my face. He didn’t move for a few moments. Then he shyly whispered back, “I don’t know how.”

I laughed lightheartedly. “That’s okay, just reach around back and pull the clips apart.”

That was all the encouraging he needed. John traced my bra from my breasts to my back. His hands stopped when he felt the clip. I could see John roll his eyes towards the ceiling as he was obviously concentrating very hard on removing my bra.

Unfortunately, he was not having much success.

I tried to stay still as John tried to unhook it, but I occasionally jerked a bit as he pulled a little too hard, causing the bra to dig into my side. John didn’t seem to notice though, he was too focused on trying to remove my bra. Heck, even I barely noticed, I was enjoying his efforts so much. I was having flashbacks to my high school days again, which was the last time I was with a guy who had trouble getting my bra off. Getting naked was so much more powerful back then, so much more appreciated. Both sides put more effort into it back then, like it was a major activity. With my most recent boyfriends, it was just expected; you get naked to get to the sex faster. No fun in it, no appreciation. Now, with John, I hadn’t even gotten naked yet, and the appreciation was more than that of most of my recent sex!

After nearly half a minute, I started to feel bad for John, and I reached behind my back. I grabbed his hands, placed them correctly around the hooks for the bra, and took off my bra using his hands, then putting my hands back at my sides. John was left holding my unhooked bra behind me. His gaze returned to my bra-covered chest, though the bra was starting to slip away. John seemed unsure how to proceed, so I spoke up again.

“Pull it forward.”

John immediately pulled his hands around my side. I felt the straps fall off my shoulders as he brought his hands to the side. Then, with no warning, he simply let go. My bra tumbled to the ground as my breasts broke free of their restraint.

There was barely a second from when my boobs were exposed until John’s fingers found my nipples. Having seen him move so slowly before, I wasn’t expecting him to get his hands back to my chest so quickly. It was my turn to close my eyes and gasp as I was completely surprised when his fingers began rubbing around my slightly-hardened nipples. I closed my eyes and felt my nipples getting harder as John began running a finger from above my extended nipple down onto it, bending it down towards the ground, and then below it, letting my nipple pop back up pointing straight away from me. My nipples were at their hardest after about ten to fifteen seconds of this, but John continued doing it for at least another minute, apparently enjoying watching my nipples’ movements. I was certainly enjoying his motions, as I could feel my face begin to flush and my breathing quicken.

Eventually, John stopped flicking my nipples, and began tracing the outline of my wide areolas, occasionally tracing spirals from the outside in, and then back out again. Thankfully, this motion was slightly less erotic, and I could finally open my eyes. My immediate thought was that John seemed rather overdressed, so I brought my hands to his belt. I quickly undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and pulled down his zipper while John continued to play with my boobs. It took little effort from there to get them to fall around his ankles, skinny as he was. I brought my hands up to his sides as John tried to kick his shoes and pants off his feet while still standing and fondling my chest.

As he did this, I looked down at his boxers. His dick was still poking out nearly straight at me through his boxers. It seemed even longer without his pants on for some reason. There was a large wet spot on his boxers where his dick was pointing out, much bigger and much wetter than the spot on his pants had been, though I guess that will happen. I was still shocked at the sheer amount of cum he had let out merely from my touching his dick through his pants. His dick pushed his boxers out enough so that the waist band was not actually pressing against his waist, it was pushed a little less than a centimeter out. Unfortunately, that was not enough for me to see anything other than some curly hairs. However, I noticed that standing as I was, if I tilted my head to the left just a tiny bit, I could get the smallest glimpse of the shaft of John’s dick through the opening in his boxers. His dick was pressing out so far that the opening had been completely pulled apart. If I had been on my knees in front of him, I would’ve had a great view inside, but I didn’t act on that.

After finally succeeding at kicking his shoes off to the sides and his pants on the floor behind him, John stood before me in just his tank top undershirt, plaid boxers, and socks. Maybe it was just my horniness getting to me, but John seemed strangely more attractive than I had guessed he would be. I guess, judging by how skinny and tall he was, that I had thought he would look more emaciated.

But he didn’t.

By no means was the boy fat or muscular, but his body was pretty well-defined with small, lean muscles. His legs weren’t just skin and bones, there was defined thin muscles stretching up them. The same with his arms. I had already noticed his chest slightly through his tank top, and became curious about what else he had under that. I brought my hands up and began pulling up his undershirt, revealing a very narrow body, but one with slightly defined abs. And sure enough, my eyes had not been deceiving me before, as I pulled the shirt up more to reveal small pectoral muscles hiding the upper portion of his rib cage.

At this point John lifted his arms up, making his pecs stretch and revealing his ribs through them. I pulled the shirt over his head and off, tossing it to the side. Immediately, John brought one foot, then the other, up behind him to peel off his socks. I took a small step forward and out of my shoes, pushing them to the side with my feet.

And we were left, about a foot apart, with John in just his boxers and me in just my panties. Me, 31 years old with a tiny bit of extra weight on me, my large breasts hanging in front of me. John, over a decade and a half younger, very thin but strangely well-defined, his hard dick pointing at me through his boxers.

I suddenly did not know what to do next, and John obviously didn’t either. We simply stood looking at each other for awhile. John left his arms at his sides, but his eyes were again locked on my tits. My eyes, for the most part, were locked on his large bulge. Every now and then, I’d glance up to his face. On one of these glances, I noticed John quickly lick his lips.

I then knew what to do next!

I reached up and grabbed John’s head and lightly pulled it down. There was no resistance. I moaned the second John’s tongue first touched my nipple. After the first touch, John maneuvered himself so that he was on his knees in front of me, his head at the exact level of my breasts, his mouth having never left my nipple as he moved. As he started sucking on my nipple, I moaned again, closing my eyes and turning my head toward the ceiling. John was a natural at tit-sucking! He held my breast in his hand, kind of lightly massaging it while offering the nipple to his mouth, which he was constantly lightly sucking on, occasionally brushing his tongue against it. I could feel goosebumps rise on the skin of my breast as he continued his actions. After spending some time on my right breast, he switched to the left.

This continued for several minutes, John suckling on my large breasts and switching back and forth between them while I held his head tight into my chest and moaned in pleasure. It had been many years since I had been as aroused by tit-play as much as I was right then. I could feel myself getting wet. And not just a little wet, but extremely wet! It felt like my pussy was just leaking fluid into my panties.

Eventually, John flicked one nipple with his tongue hard enough, and my nipples had become sensitive enough, that I let out a louder moan and involuntarily thrust my hips forward slightly. I became immediately aware that if he didn’t stop right then, I was going to fuck that boy on the spot! However, I didn’t want to do that yet, I was enjoying this too much and wanted to drag it out longer. Thus, I pulled John’s head away from my chest, much to his dismay, and pulled him up so that he was standing before me.

John quickly licked his lips as he stood before me. His arms were down at his sides, and his eyes showed his confusion, obviously wondering why I had pulled him away.

I simply smiled seductively up at him and said, “It’s your turn now.”

Before John could respond, I was on my knees in front of him. I slid my hands up the outside of his thighs and onto his boxers. I wasted no time in revealing what I had been waiting to see since he first accidentally bumped it into my abdomen. I brought both hands to the front of his boxers and pulled them away from his body far enough that I could pull them below his dick, then did just that.

And then I froze.

Still holding his boxers out and away from his body, though now below the level of his dick, I just stared at John’s dick. I had never seen a dick like his. And I was instantaneously enamored with it. It was at least eight inches long, maybe even close to nine. But it wasn’t thick. In fact he had a very skinny dick, no more than an inch and a half in diameter. However, the whole shaft was covered in thick veins sticking out, and I could actually see each pulse of blood go through them. Finally, the cockhead was nearly two inches long and just as wide. It was a dark purple that extended nearly half an inch wider than his shaft all the way around, though the base of the head was covered by what appeared to be very tight foreskin, obviously being uncircumcised. And right at the end, his piss slit was open and oozing either pre-cum or the leftovers of his first cum. Basically, it looked like a ribbed pole with a knob at the end about to shoot cum.

For some time, I just stared. I held his boxers out just beneath his shaft, unable to even see his balls. I could feel my eyes widen and my mouth hang open. Yet I couldn’t do anything but stare at the beautiful specimen in front of me.

I was pulled out of my daze as the dick suddenly jerked up and then returned to its position pointing straight out, though now with an extra drop of pre-cum bulging out the end. When it pointed straight out and stopped bobbing, I finally moved. In one motion, I leaned forward and pulled down, catching John’s dick in my mouth as I yanked his boxers to the ground. John gasped, followed by a moan as I brought my hands to his ass and pulled myself down his dick. I couldn’t get the whole thing in my mouth. With his large cockhead hitting the back of my throat, there was still at least two inches of his shaft outside my mouth. I don’t think he minded though, and it worked great for me as it kept my nose just out of reach of his pubic hair. While I sat thee with his dick as deep in my mouth as I could take it, I let go of John’s ass and grabbed his hands that were hanging beside him. I placed both his hands on the back of my head, and for the first time in this whole make-out session, John caught on immediately.

I don’t know whether John suddenly felt okay doing something on his own or whether he was lost in the sensations he was experiencing, but John slid his hands lightly through my hair and very gently pulled my head back off his dick until just the cockhead was in, then lightly pushed me back down on it. John continued this motion while rubbing his fingers against my head, essentially giving me a scalp massage as he made my face fuck him. I found that sensation, along with the extreme heat his dick generated in my mouth, very erotic and once again felt my pussy getting wet.

Sadly, the sensation did no last for too long. John was rapidly increasing the pace he was pulling and pushing my head onto his dick (with my help of course!). In less than a minute, he was moving my head as fast as he could on his dick, culminating in pulling me down hard on his long member, accidentally gagging me slightly as he shot his second load of the afternoon straight down my throat. I was surprised by the force and amount of cum he shot into me. I’m not sure how much it was, as I was directly swallowing it all, but it seemed like more cum than I could ever remember swallowing before in my life. Despite the light gagging and the force of the cum, I couldn’t help but smile around his dick as I took it all while listening to the strange high pitched noises the boy made as he orgasmed. He seemed to be enjoying it more than anything I had ever done for any guy at any point in my life. His pleasure directly correlated to my enjoyment pleasing him!

John held me on his dick for nearly half a minute after he finished cumming, during which time I very carefully inhaled through my nose. While his cockhead became less swollen, which definitely made it easier to keep him in my mouth, the shaft of his dick again was not becoming less hard. This boy was incredible!

I finally had to pull back slightly against John’s hold on my head. As soon as I moved, John loosened his grip, allowing me to slide off his dick. I kept my lips closed around it while sliding my head off, so that it made a light popping noise when his cockhead finally came out of my mouth.

With my head off his dick, I got my first full view of John’s genitals, as I had only been able to see his shaft before I had taken him in my mouth since his boxers had been blocking everything below. I was surprised to see that his balls were very large, hung very low, and were mostly hairless, despite the thick bush around his shaft. I briefly brought my hand up and held them, surprised at their weight. They weren’t freakishly huge balls, but they were probably the biggest balls I had ever seen, just slightly edging out my previous adult male partners.

Seeing as how John’s dick wasn’t going down though, I didn’t want to play with his balls for long, so I let them go and stood up, carefully avoiding bumping into his still-erect dick.

When I was standing facing John again, I saw his chest lightly heaving with deep breaths, his mouth hung halfway open, and his eyes were locked on mine in what seemed to be shock. I couldn’t help but smile at him.

I couldn’t help but ask, “How’d that feel?”

“Ms. Warner, that was…,” John began, before switching to, “I never…,” cutting himself off again. Finally, he took a deep breath, and exhaled it just as deeply while lightly muttering, “Wow.”

I saw John’s eyes drift down from my face towards my body. I followed his eyes down my body to my panties, that now had a very big wet spot on them. John’s eyes were locked on the wet spot with a strange look in his eyes. I couldn’t quite read the look. I guessed (perhaps because I wanted it to be so) that John wanted to touch me there, but was back to his nervous state and unable to make the first move. I was more than willing to help that out! So I grabbed his hand and pressed his palm flat against my wet-panty-covered pussy, his fingers wrapping themselves down and between my thighs.

“Look how wet you’ve made me!”

John quickly jerked his head up to look at mine like he had done something wrong. It was then that I caught onto what the look had been before on John’s face when he was staring at my wet panties. It was confusion! It suddenly occurred to me that this boy could be so innocent and na? that he didn’t know girls got wet when they got turned on. He probably thought I’d peed myself! Thinking quickly, I knew I didn’t want to embarrass the poor boy by trying to explain to him how female sexuality worked, so I tried to put it in a blunt statement.

“Obviously, you’ve really turned me on!”

At first there was no reaction from John, but after a couple seconds a giant smile came across his face as he looked at me. Then his gaze dropped back down to my panties and he pressed his hand harder against my pussy. I gasped, and John’s gaze came back up to my face.

I brought my hands up to his shoulders and lightly pushed him towards the ground as I told him, “Why don’t you take them off?”

John immediately dropped to his knees, and wasting no time, grabbed the sides of my panties and pulled them down, finally leaving both of us completely naked.

John stared at my bush. I normally trim my pubic hair to keep it light, but I wasn’t in a relationship at the moment and hadn’t exactly been expecting to be having a sexual encounter with a student, so it was a little out of control down there. My slit was covered in curly brown hair matted in the pussy juice I had leaked out earlier. Not really being able to see anything other than hair, I didn’t think it was that exciting, but John was staring at my bush like it was the holy grail! While he may have been enjoying it, I was kind of embarrassed by all the hair, even if he was a 15 year old boy and didn’t know any better. So I decided to help him out.

“Let me give you a better view.”

As I said that, I spread my legs a little, bent my knees a bit, twisted my hips down and towards him, and finally reached into my bush and pulled apart my outer lips, exposing my pink to him.

Once I was in that position, John wasted no time announcing, “It’s beautiful!”

I could actually hear the excitement and awe in his voice. I felt myself blush. No one had ever called my pussy ‘beautiful’ before. It was strangely arousing! I felt a drip of pussy juice trace its way out of my vagina and down toward my asshole. Not knowing how else to respond, I simply replied, “Thank you!”

John didn’t respond. He just continued looking at my pussy. He moved his head around, looking at it from different angles, as if trying to see even more of it. After a few times of his dipping his head low and between my legs, as if trying to see more that was hidden there, I had an idea.

“Let me give you another view,” I announced.

I turned around and spread my legs more. I bent over forward, reached up to my pussy, and spread both my outer and inner lips this time. From this angle, John not only had a view of my pussy from behind, but also my asshole and my tits hanging down towards my head. And with my inner lips spread, he had a perfect view of my innermost folds. I could see John’s mouth hang open even more.

“How do you like that?” I asked.

John didn’t respond. He just stared. After several seconds, he brought up a hand with his pointer finger extended. As it got to within inches of my pussy, he stopped.

“Can I touch them, Ms. Warner?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. First, I had never heard a pussy referred to as a ‘them’ before. Second, it was strange having a sexual partner refer to me as ‘Ms. Warner.’ Third, here I was bent over giving the kid the show of his life, and he was asking if he could touch it – even after all we had just done. I couldn’t just let this one slide by.

“Of course you can! I’m not just spreading my legs for a show here!” I followed this with a laugh. John blushed a bit, but he also laughed. I took that as a good sign, a sign that he was loosening up.

John then brought his finger straight to my pussy and pressed it against my clit.

My whole body jerked forward and I let go of my pussy lips and clenched my pussy tight at the sudden sensation. I nearly fell over forwards. As turned on as I was, that unexpected touch nearly set off an orgasm. An orgasm that I didn’t want to hit quite yet!

As I regained control of my body, I let my body loosen up and return to the way it was before he had touched me, lips spread and all. “That was my clit,” I announced, continuing, “That’s the most sensitive part of my body. You may want to explore the rest of my pussy before rubbing that again!”

I could see John staring at me through my legs. I saw his eyes go wide when I said ‘pussy.’ I guess he didn’t expect me to say that word. But he nodded to acknowledge my advice.

He brought his hand up again, and this time touched the area between my pussy and asshole, just below my vagina. From there, he slowly traced his finger around the inside of my inner lips as I held them open. I closed my eyes and moaned at the sensual movement. He slowly worked circles around the hole, sometimes pushing in just a little bit. At one point, he found my pee hole which was dripping pussy juice. He rubbed his finger around it for awhile, then continued dragging his wet finger around the edge of my hole again.

Finally, I felt him push his finger inside of me. He slowly twisted it around, seemingly trying to touch every inch of my insides. It felt fantastic! It was turning me on, getting me very ready, but not approaching orgasm, thus creating a very slow, sensual build up. The last few guys who had fingered me just tried to jam their fingers in and out of me trying to get me off, which it obviously didn’t. This boy, simply in his curiosity, was doing more for me then any of them had!

Then John pulled his finger out. But before I had a second to think about it, he put it back in, this time with his middle finger also. He repeated the process of trying to touch every inch of my insides, occasionally brushing my G-spot and making my body shake. By this point, I was moaning regularly. My eyes were closed and my body was getting more and more turned on.

Suddenly, I felt a finger from Josh’s other hand at the top of my pussy, slowly tracing its way towards my clit. With the first light touch, I gasped. Then he started rubbing his finger back and forth on it. I felt my body beginning to tremble, and knew what I wanted.

“Suck on it!” I moaned between my legs, not even opening my eyes to say it.

John stopped all movement. I thought he might have stopped because he was moving his face in, but after some ten to fifteen seconds, he still hadn’t done anything. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, looking confused. Apparently I needed to clarify.

“Suck on my clit,” I stated, looking right at him, then smiled and added, “please!”

It was like a light bulb went on in his head. His expression went from confused to happy to focused. I watched as he slowly brought his head forward to my sopping pussy. He twisted diagonal a bit to avoid his hand which still had two fingers in my pussy, still moving slowly towards my exposed pussy. The slow wait was simultaneously frustrating and exciting. I wanted his lips on my clit so bad that I could feel myself getting wetter in anticipation. It was such a tease! It was also exciting knowing that the first pussy this boy was ever going to taste would be mine!

And then it happened.

Having come on so slowly, when his lips had finally reached my clit, it was almost unexpected. I gasped, and it felt so good that I pushed my hips back against his face. In the meantime, John managed to lock his lips around my clit and began sucking and tonguing it. It was some kind of acrobatic feat that