The Senior: Taking Her At School

Story Codes: mF, Size, High School, Teacher/Student, Oral, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism

The bathroom on the far side of the gym was dark. Little-used. Pipes drooled on cracked tile and the irregular porcelain mouth of an ancient sink boiled with brown water. I looked at my reflection in a jagged splinter of mirror: rain-flattened red hair and big green eyes.

I made a face at myself. Pulled a brush out of my purse.

“Get on your knees.”

I stopped. Turned. I was usually alone in the back of the school, especially during homeroom. It wasn’t unusual for teachers to drift here in search of a cigarette and a moment alone, but I normally had the beginning of the day to myself.

None of the other teachers could get away in the morning.

I loved teaching art.

“Give me your hand.”

I was barely old enough to drink, but the voice just sounded… young. An edge of boyish hormones that drained away after graduation.

I slipped the brush back in my purse.

“You’re shaking,” the voice said. Then: “Good.”

So. Kind of a freak, then.

I walked along the bank of red metal stalls and searched for feet under the doors.

At the end of the row I saw two huge sneakers flat on the ground, black and skater-styled, with a couple of small purple Nikes between them. The Nike girl was obviously on her knees, the tread of her shoes pointed out of the stall.

Matching purple socks hugged her tanned little ankles.

“You feel that?” he asked.

The Nikes shuffled. The little bump of a perfect calf hooked the door, toe pointed like a ballerina.

I pushed the door open, making my best Angry Teacher Face, even though I kind of just wanted to laugh. It takes a special kind of boy to talk a girl into a blow job at school, but to get someone before first period?

This guy wasn’t just a freak, he was a freak of nature.

The door swung on broken hinges and caught. The girl looked up at me with huge blue eyes and screamed. Hid her face.

She was pretty. Blonde. Tanned to the gold color of dirty sand.

She had her hands on a cock you could play baseball with, throbbing under the face of an equally pretty male senior.

He smirked. Looked me up and down. He made no attempt to cover his enormous penis.

In fact, he kind of leaned back to make it stick up even more.


I swallowed and looked away from him.

“Hey,” I said. I pushed the door with a palm. It jumped and swung dangerously through my personal space. I sighed. “In defiance of all reasonable evidence, this is a toilet. I’m given to understand that penises are often involved in what goes on here, but if you’re enjoying it, you’re probably doing something wrong.”

The senior gave me a broad smile. His cock ticked slowly. Beating with the slow pulse of his athletic heart. It was mechanical, like the movement of a toy. He poked the inside of his mouth with his tongue and scratched a cheek on the shoulder of his letterman’s jacket.

The pretty blonde covered her face with her hands—thin, white nails—and whispered to herself that it was okay.

I grabbed her.

“It is also,” I said, pulling the girl up by a thin, trembling arm, “not a group activity.”

I slid the girl out of the stall, and pushed her toward the door. “Go to class and use your mouth powers for good. You’ll have like four years of college to spend on your knees.”

Then, I considered her. “Well. Two years at least,” I amended.

The senior laughed behind me as the pretty girl ran for the door. She kicked it open and swung out into the hallway.

“You’re kind of a jerk,” he said. “I like that.” He put a lazy hand on his big dick and it bobbed forward. It looked as hard as a rebar pipe.

I forced my eyes to look above his head.

“And you’re kind of naked,” I sighed. “As for what I like-” I began, but my eyes drifted down and snapped sharply away when he pulled his shirt up over abs you could grate cheese with. I took a deep breath. “Well. I don’t have any feelings not mandated by the state of California or the Sonoma County Public School District,” I added, pointedly failing to look at his huge member.

The senior shrugged. He had spikey teenager hair and a sharp, comic book jaw. I did not feel myself melt.

“I’m completely dressed,” he laughed. “In fact,” he said, pointing at my skirt, which stopped precisely two inches above my soft, bare kneecaps, “I’m a lot more dressed than you are.”

I groaned.

“Oh and he’s witty,” I said, turning to an imaginary audience. “No wonder all the pretty Juniors get on their knees.”

“PSEO advisor,” he corrected.

I stared. “Really?” She’d looked like a freshman.

He nodded.

I shook my head. Focus.

“Well, listen.” I turned and leaned against a concrete pillar. “This, as I pointed out, is a bathroom. So I’m not going to tell you to put… that… away.” I gestured vaguely over my shoulder at the third arm growing from his crotch. “However, I am going to tell you to use it or get lost.”

He chuckled. The dented surface of a tissue dispenser cast the speckled shadow of his incredible erection onto the wall in front of me as he stood. His cock was a huge, pulsing bar pointed straight at the ceiling. I remembered eighth grade health and learning about penises filling with displaced blood. I wondered if it made him dizzy.

It certainly had that effect on me.

“‘Use it,’ huh?” he asked. He closed a huge, frypan fist over the shaft and pumped like someone churning butter.

I closed my eyes, feeling the red flame of embarrassment lick my face.

“Get on your knees,” he said. Completely serious. When I looked at his face, it was the deadly anger of barely contained male arousal. He scooped at the V between my breasts with laser-like focus, tracing them under my blouse as I breathed just a little too hard.

I wanted to say something. To be a jerk to him.

It had been so long since I’d rejected a high school boy.

But all I felt was a rush of impulse so idiotic I walked away.

My heels clacked with each step.

I pulled my tan coat off a hook by the sinks and ran all way to my empty classroom, folded it over my face, and cried for like ten minutes.

Hey, I’d been a student at that school less than three years ago. And now I was… what? The hot art teacher? That no one touched?

It’s not like you magically lose your attraction to powerful, big-dicked High Schoolers the day you turn eighteen, but you’re definitely expected to stop fucking them. Especially if you become a teacher.

I’d spent three years in art school, surrounded  by soft and sensitive men. Feminine hands. Soft, pleading voices. And it filled me with a deep and vibrating need for something hard and forceful.

For selfish, clumsy strength.

I punched my coat and promised myself I would strangle my vibrator to death the second I got home. I imagined cracking it like a walnut between my legs.

I’d bring home a yearbook, and crack the spine at the athletic photos.

Fantasies are okay, right?

I sighed. Hung my coat over the back of my chair. Took a deep breath with my hands over my face.

The period bell rang.

I retouched my makeup using my phone’s selfie view and tried to remember how teaching worked. By the time my class got there, I had just enough of my shit together to show them a movie.

“CGI is totally an art form,” I said. “Practiced by artists. Who do art.”

My class looked at me. I was usually more eloquent.

I shrugged. “What do you people want, the time hasn’t even reached double-digits.”

There was a smattering of chuckles and a few nods. A girl in a brown silk turtleneck offered me her coffee. I grabbed it out of her hands and took a drink.

It was like the liquid version of a diabetic coma.

Christ, I love High School.

I drank the rest and hopped with sudden uncontrollable energy.

Okay, I thought, I got this.

I pushed the DVD of a Hollywood blockbuster I hoped had decent CGI into the side of my laptop and handed back the borrowed coffee. It was empty. I shrugged at the girl and wrote her name down in my notebook.

I’d give her an A or something.

I hit the lights, dimming the huge art room to a cluttered blackness illuminated only by the Paramount  logo. I stretched out the scratched yellow screen. Stood behind the class in darkness. Sighed in relief.

And a huge hand closed over my mouth.

My shocked scream didn’t get past my teeth. The muffled noise of it vanished under the upbeat brass of loud movie music.

“I’m kind of a jerk too,” a voice said into my ear.

I twisted under his hand, and saw the hard grin of the bathroom senior staring down into my startled face. He waved and smiled.

I reached up and pulled his big hand off my face.

“You don’t belong in this class,” I said, whisper-shouting over the sound of space things blowing up in the movie.

A boy with a tight blonde bowl-cut and glasses twisted and shushed me.

“You’re not very good at teaching,” he said, chuckling.

I grunted. “I’m very popular,” I said. It was true. My class had a waiting list.

“So am I,” he laughed, “but it doesn’t make me a good art teacher.”

He stepped behind me and put his other hand on my stomach. He poked his thumb through the buttons of my blouse and brushed at my ribs.

It tickled, and I laughed until he covered my face again.

“I’m also eighteen,” he whispered into my ear. “In case that matters to you.”

It did. I stared.

He nodded. “As of this morning. That’s what the blow job you ruined was all about.”

“Sorry,” I said, feeling desperately sheepish. His body had this smell like a clean locker room shower. It made me want to collapse against his chest and breathe him in while he held me.

“Do you have a name?” I asked.

“Yep,” he said, nodding.

I rolled my eyes.

“Good to know,” I said.

There was a scream from the movie up front.  He tore my shirt open, ripping down the middle with one hand.


I gasped. Buttons pinged off desks and the back of the Bowl Haired Boy’s head. He shushed me again without turning around. A slack expression and pupils like black quarters drank in the kaleidoscope of fire and metal on the screen. I relaxed, thanking God for expensive movie spectacles and cheap ADHD meds.

He pulled one of my arms away from my body as though pealing a large fruit, casually stopping me from covering my pale torso and holding me arms wide. When I took a step back, he lifted me casually, and I swung back into the space between him and the door.

“Keep those lights off and stay quiet,” he said, “unless you want your students doing a nude study of you.”

“Clever,” I said.

“I’m witty,” he shrugged, stepping up to me and snaking a couple big fingers under the frilly edges of my bra. I felt a huge fingertip against my nipple. “It’s why all the pretty teachers get on their knees for me.”

I felt a rush of attraction, impossibly strong, sink through me and settle between my legs. My thighs tensed.

“You are not going to fuck me in front of my class,” I said. More to myself than to him.

He shook his head. Grinned at me. The movie light gave him a smile like a jack-o-lantern.

“I’m going to go put on my coat, and we’re going to get you back to wherever you belong,” I said.

He shook his head again. Lost his smile. His hand came up and stroked my neck.

“Your skin is all red,” he whispered.

“I don’t even know your name,” I whined.

He stepped so close to me that I felt the air get warmer. He laced the fingers of his left hand into my hair, and reached past my breasts with his other hand, unhooking the back of my bra with a gentle movement.

“Would it matter?” he asked.

I curled my hand into a fist and tapped it against his chest, the way you would knock at a big door. The body under his blue sweater was so hard I was surprised it didn’t make a noise.

“What if your name was really stupid?” I asked.

“It isn’t,” he said.

“Or really hot?” I asked.

He laughed silently. It shook his whole body. He reached down and pulled his shirt up, setting my hand on the hard lumps of his perfect muscles.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said. He snapped my head back by my hair and kissed me, cupping my face in a palm of his hand.

His lips were smooth and Chapsticked, soft against my mouth. He kissed me off center, twisting to touch me at an angle, and slid his cheek over mine as he spoke into my ear.

“Touch me,” he said.

I could feel the sharp little spines of an uneven shave cut into my face. I moaned, then bit my lip to stay quiet. He kissed the bite open, slitting my mouth with a thin blade of tongue.

I slid my hand down his stomach, tracing the huge swollen hills of his body until I felt the thudding cables of veins pour over the V of his waist into something hard and thick between his legs.

“I can’t do this,” I said, unhooking the button of his jeans. “Everything about this is wrong.”

“Is it?” He asked. “Is this wrong?” He closed his teeth on my neck and sucked just hard enough to leave a mark.

I let out an explosive moan that he cut off with a hand, shoving me against the door with his body as he flattened me.

“Try to stay quiet, Ma’am,” he told me, and kneeled so my breasts were at either side of his head. He pulled my bra loose with his teeth, sliding the straps around my shoulders. They caught on my arms. He left me that way, half disassembled. Bra hung under my nipples, useless.

Naked with my fucking clothes on.

The Ma’am made me shudder with excitement. I fumbled with the big zipper, feeling something under my fingertips that was as thick as a bottle.

And I’m not a Ma’am. I’m barely even a Ms.

He tickled the sprinkling of freckles on my breasts and grinned up at me from his knees. It was a little kid grin. A smile of pure joy.

It broke the spell.

Looking down at this, I remembered that he was a student, and that if I got caught with him, it would more than end my career.

It would ruin my life.

I shoved him, pushing off with a palm.

He grabbed me under my breasts and put a palm over my stomach. He lifted me off my feet and I closed my mouth on a scream. My class stared at the screen without noticing.

“No,” I whispered, “no, no, no, we can’t do this. I’ll see you later, I promise, but we-”

His hand tugged at my skirt. I squeaked.

“Please,” the Bowl Haired Boy barked over a shoulder. “I’m learning.”

The Senior put his mouth up to my ear from behind my head. He kept me from turning. On the screen, a robot the size of a skyscraper punched the moon out of the sky.

“You want to see me later?” he asked. “Then you’ll need to do this now.”

“Fine,” I said, pulling at his arms, helplessly, trying to quietly remove him and slip away, “then we’ll just stop.”

He slid his hand down into my skirt. I felt fingers slide into the rounded triangle of my panties and touch the sides of my clit. The soft red threads of my neatly trimmed hair spread apart as he touched my most sensitive parts.

His other hand closed over my mouth and held the groan in my throat.

“Shhh,” he said. “Bite my hand if you have to.”

His perfectly defined torso felt like a waffle iron on my back, the flawless swelling of athletic definition burning a shadow of itself into my skin. Underneath, I felt the hard line of his erection down my back and around the horizon of my ass.

I rolled my eyes back into my head and bit his hand as hard as I could. My knees dropped away, and I slid down his body in pleasure.

He grunted and chuckled. “Yeah,” he said. “Like that. Nice and hard.” This thumb stroked my chin as I bit him.

So he was a freak.

Fingers dug into my pussy, thickness teasing apart the lips of my swollen labia with astonishing expertise. He tapped at the hole with soft fingertips, temping the moisture of my excitement onto his hand without forcing himself into my body. He carefully circled my clit with wet fingers slick with my own juice.

The moan that built inside me would never have gone unnoticed, so I swallowed it and bit him so hard my jaw hurt. He growled in pleasure.

“I’m going to make you come,” he whispered, “in front of your entire class.”

“It’s hard to make me come,” I said, honestly. It took forever, and sometimes it just wouldn’t happen.

“So you’ll teach me,” he said. He sucked the bite marks on his hand and grinned at me, shaking his head.

He moved us over to a table, and knelt. He cocked his head, smirked at me, and bit my thigh so hard I yelped. His hand flicked on the lights.

“So teach,” he said, whispering. He bit another yelp out of me.

Heads turned. Dozens of curious eyes locked on my face.


I crossed my arms over the flaps of my blouse, cinching them together desperately, leaving a little triangle of pale stomach visible above my skirt, but pretty sure this still looked okay.

Sometimes being the hot untouchable teacher works for you.

“So,” I said, over the sprinkling of gunfire and the sound of metal screaming. “Someone want to get that?”

A damp finger slipped up into my pussy and I gasped. The class looked startled, trying to understand.

“You shoulda seen that,” I said, nodding at the screen. The all turned for a moment. I grabbed my coat off the hook and wrapped it around myself. Everyone turned back. The girl whose coffee I’d stolen reached around my laptop and paused it.

I made a mental note to buy her coffee every day for a week.

“So,” I said. “Who wants to go on a field trip?”

The Senior’s big, powerful teeth clamped higher on my leg, and I jumped, but he held me in place with absurd strength.

I got the message.

“…of the mind,” I finished. “Close your eyes and we’ll all enter the world of the movie.”

Half the students closed their eyes. The other half looked at me like I’d suggested they all turn into puppies.

Work with me, people,” I said. “I gave you a movie today.”

There were begrudging nods. More eyes closed. A head pushed up between my thighs, making a visible bump in my skirt. I pushed on the top of his head with my hands.

“I want you to, uh, imagine the robots you just saw,” I said. Then, suddenly uncertain, I whispered: “this is the one with the robots, right?” A few eyes opened.


I scrambled to recover.

“Which we know, because the movie tells us. With the color palette.”

Eyes closed. Possibly in boredom.

I explained that most movies with a lot of technology used blue and gray filters to give everything a slightly metallic look. Under my desperate hand, lips closed on the thin cotton protecting my pussy, and a tongue slid over the fabric. I exhaled with a long, low sound.

A few faces screwed up in confusion, but the eyes didn’t open.

“It feels sooo good,” I said, spreading my fingers over the back of his head. “To… experience a world that’s consistent. It doesn’t have to be real. It just has to match.”

The tip of his tongue flicked my clit. “That,” I said, “is satisfying.”

The thick wet tongue slid up into my vagina. I forced myself not to groan. “I need this,” I whispered. Then, realizing what I’d said, I said it louder: “and you need this. We all need consistency…”

His mouth moved gently, and he pulled one of my pussy lips into his mouth, nibbling it. I grunted. Curious eyes opened and cocked at the sight of me pushing frantically downward on a lump the size of a head between my legs.

Underneath me, huge hands cupped my ass and lifted me an inch off my feet. I pedaled uselessly in the air, then struggled to give the impression that it was some kind of stool, waving all the open eyes closed again.

“Miss,” a young woman asked. She had strawberry blonde hair and lips that were reflective with gloss.

“Yes, Celia?” I asked. I struggled to focus. My body wanted to wrap itself around the pleasure between my legs, and it took real effort not to curl over his head, to clutch him with my thighs and moan with my eyes closed.

I tried not to stare, but I knew my eyes bulged as I held myself still. I stared right into her face and focused. She faltered.

“Is this, uh.” She blinked. I didn’t. She started again. “Is this like how color complements are the same for everyone, no matter what colors you prefer?”

I guess. Sort of.

The tongue between my legs slid up to my clitoris, and shivered over it so quickly that my hands shook. My eyes rolled back and I stood taller, pushing on his head.

I stuttered out a groan, pretending to consider. I looked back at her so hard she flinched.

“Yes!” I cried, finally. Bursts of sensation crackled inside me. “God yes,” I said, nodding involuntarily, staring fixedly at my student so I wouldn’t just close my eyes and moan.

She was clearly shocked by my intense expression, but pleased with my enthusiasm for her answer. She nodded with me and smiled.

I struggled to think, rolling my back and shoulders in tiny little circles as bolts of pleasure shocked through my body in long, wet waves.

Suction formed around my clit, and lips created friction. The tongue swam from nerve to nerve, touching off a kind of fire that burned up from between my legs and settled in my chest, where it exploded.

I came.

Forcing myself not to scream, forcing my eyes all the way open, wide and staring, I poured all my attention onto Celia, slowly delivering a bullshit answer.

“The… color wheel… is how we… as artists… come… to understand… perception,” I said, slowly, closing my eyes between each burst of carelessly assembled words.

A finger hooked up into my sex and tickled the rough interior ridges over what was apparently my g-spot. My voice caught in my throat as a bubble of noise rose out of me.

“Are you coming?” I asked. “Are you coming to understand perception?” I said, desperate for anything to say, unable to stop falling over the edge.

Celia nodded, grinning. “Yes! That’s why you showed us the movie, right?” She pulled at a finger with her other hand, clearly anxious about being the center of attention. She tugged at the embroidered shape of a pony on her sweater and smiled a row of braces at me.

My head swam, and my arms hooked around my ankles to keep my legs from kicking up in the air.

“I’m coming,” I nodded, staring at the metallic smile of my student. “I’m coming… I’m CUMMING,” I screamed, punching the back of his head, pushing it down between my legs. I spread my fingers over it involuntarily, trying to grab a fistful of hair but sliding over my coat instead.

…TO UNDERSTAND PERCEPTION!” I screamed, forcing a lame pump of my arms into the air.

“Say it with me!” I shouted, gesturing like someone trying to lift something repeatedly.

“I’m coming,” the class repeated in a disinterested monotone.

“I’m CUMMING,” I agreed, essentially screaming, unable to tear my eyes away from Celia’s frozen, uncomfortable grin. “I’M… GOING TO COME AGAIN…”

“I’m coming,” the class repeated. “I’m going to come again.”

“We’re all going to come!” Celia said, nodding. But then she wondered at the new statement. “Where are we coming now?” She looked confused. Her iPad had a little rainbow of pony stickers all across the back.

She gave me a hesitant, childlike smile.

My thighs clamped uncontrollably and his tongue blurred. The finger pushed into me so hard that I was afraid it would rip right through me. The endless explosion peaked, and tears formed in my eyes.

“I’m coming, Celia,” I told her, honestly, staring her in the face with the insane intensity of my orgasm, mouthing curse words in the pauses. I punched between my legs again.

Celia hung on every word.

“I’m coming… to a new understanding…” I said, “of perception.”

She nodded with her understanding. Around her, bored students rolled their eyes. Half of them were staring at their phones, texting. I’d never made an issue out of attention.

This was a very good decision.

“And one day,” I added, as the waves crashed in on themselves, “you will come too.”

It all drained out of me and he settled me back on my feet. His efforts to hold me upright were the only reason I didn’t fall over. I leaned back unnaturally, every muscle in my body loose and relaxed. His tongue continued to make soft little circles on my thigh, not teasing or torturing me, but allowing the pleasure of the orgasm to change into something smoother and longer-lasting.

I kind of wished I smoked.

“But not today,” I said. “Not like this.”

Celia shrugged. “One day,” she said.

I smiled at her. I still do that, sometimes, when I see her face.

It always reminds me of the “understanding” that we’d come to.

I luxuriated on his face, not even caring what it looked like. My hands gripped my coat and I just hung there.

“Everyone should feel like this,” I cooed to myself.

The bell rang. I closed my eyes. Eventually, I felt myself slowly come to rest on the corner of an actual stool.

There was a slippery sound of plastic on tile, and a rhythmic shuffling of feet. Students gradually spilled into the hallway.

One of them was my Senior, hungrily wiping his glistening mouth and grinning at me.

“Wait!” I said. A few of my more diligent students turned around, expecting homework.

He shrugged. “I got gym,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

And, sucking on his fingers one at a time, he made his way into the hall and disappeared into a flow of hurrying high school students.

My next class appeared one by one, and I forced myself not to weep in frustration.


I sat at my desk and stared at rows of bright, staring eyes. In a hundred pupils, robots exploded into improbable clouds of light. The sound of gunfire ricocheted off every reflective surface and poured into ear after ear. The need to keep my classes in the same place necessitated showing the movie to everyone.

I sat and stared, forcing myself not to masturbate under my desk.

The experience of having my pussy eaten at all was amazing, but being forced to contain and hide it pressurized the experience, like someone holding their finger over the tip of a hose. I could bring myself to the edge of another orgasm just by thinking about it.

I shuddered and smiled, my finger tracing a little oval on my thigh under the desk.

Class after class experienced the same passive thrill, staring up at the screen over my shoulder. The robots always punched, and the robots always exploded. As the day progressed, the ovals got closer and closer to my pussy. During my last class, I realized my panties were missing.

Eh, I thought. Whatever.

I reached between my legs during a climactic scene and gave myself a tiny orgasm, screaming along with the metal of dying machines.

When the class ended, I followed them into the halls. He wasn’t there.

I sighed and headed for the teacher’s parking lot in the back. My heels clicked like the ticking of a clock.

I was going to murder my hand in the car.

“Great class,” said a young man in a big sleeveless shirt. I’d stared at his tense arm muscles as I’d had my last little orgasm. He had a sarcastic smirk on his face.

I shrugged at him. We’d been side by side most of the way through the hall.

“What,” I said. “You don’t like robots?”

He rolled his eyes and laughed, turning away and slipping into the gym. I ducked past him into the bathroom, as I always did on my way out.

I had to push the door with all my weight to get it open. Acrid steam belched from the sink.

I found an uncracked section of mirror and frowned at my messy hair.

“Hey,” he said.

I turned and saw him, sitting on the broken toilet as though it were a throne. My panties were curled around his right fist, and he smiled.

“Come here,” he said.

I leaned against the edge of the sink and crossed my legs.

“You’re a fucker,” I said.

He smiled. His eyes had a sleepy look.

“Come,” he said. “Here.”

I swung off the sink and took a few steps toward him. It was the same stall from this morning.

“I should report your behavior,” I said.

“You’re not gunna,” he answered. He kicked the stall door the rest of the way open with one huge foot. It swung and caught, creaking dangerously.

It was just stupid how good he looked, the sloppy billow of a huge school t-shirt stuck to his body, shaped around hard sections of muscle. Torpedo leg shapes, dense with unbalanced strength, connected the wide pipe of his basketball shorts to the high tops of his two massive shoes.

The smile gradually slid up into something between arousal and a sneer.

I came to him, obedient and wanting.

I stood just inside the stall, and his big foot came around me and pulled the door closed with a snap. The whole thing lurched, and my heart rate doubled.

I heard the far off sound of the door.

“Get on your knees,” he said. The sneer lost its humor. He was aroused and mean. Ready to be worshiped.

I knew what would happen, and so did he. I didn’t argue.

Slowly, I sank to my knees.

He sat back. His huge body rested against the empty porcelain tank of the toilet. His shoulders made round fist shapes by the mouth of his shirt.

He stared right into me. “You miss this,” he said.

“What makes you think I’ve ever done anything like this?” I asked.

He snorted.

He pulled his shirt up over the hard little lumps of stomach, showing me a solid plate of chest the polished color of a white peach. Unlike the little girl from this morning, he clearly didn’t tan in a salon.

“Give me your hand.”

I showed him a palm. He touched it to his stomach, and traced in between his own big muscles with my fingertips. The tiny red points of my nails slipped in between each bump and I watched him shiver as I touched the little nerves.

It really does feel like meat, the dense knots of a man under his skin, huge and piled up, soft and with the texture of tightening flesh. My hand moved on its own, and he nodded.

He felt good. Not just “hot,” but like a machine with all its parts carefully oiled. It was the good feeling of knowing that you were touching something perfect, something flawlessly designed at the peak of its condition.

He stretched as I touched him, and I watched the cords of his neck twist like the parts of a big machine. His two huge feet tapped my legs, boxing me in.

I felt the edge of the door catch behind my calf. I imagined my heels pointing out of the stall.

I shivered in sudden excitement.

“You’re shaking,” he said. The sneer deepened. “Good.”

He pushed my hand down to his shorts. There was a huge lump along one leg as big and as hard as a bottle of beer.

“You feel that?” he asked.

I nodded. My fingers felt along the huge tube of it, feeling it thump against his leg like a second heart.

I felt my mouth water and I groaned.

There was the sound from beyond the stall door. Then a shushing.

I turned my head, pulling my hand off his stomach as though it burned.

We were being watched.

His fingers took either side of my chin and pulled my eyes back to him.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Your pretty little heels are in between my big powerful feet and everyone knows why. I asked a few special someones to come see.”

He gave me a little victorious smirk.

“You’re one hell of a fucking score,” he said. “But you owe me.”

I kicked to my feet and kissed him, unable to stop myself. The clumsy dominance of it was overwhelming.

He made sure my heels stayed right where they could be seen, though, the matte chocolate spikes of them biting into the grout and giving me something to tense against.

“You’re kind of a slut,” he said. He licked his lips unconsciously.

I followed his tongue with my eyes, then gave up and looked down at his shorts.

“You’re kind of overdressed,” I said.

He laughed, nodding. Put his hands down at his sides. Looked at his bulge.

“Fix that,” he said.

I sank my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and pulled them away from his body. Wet heat radiated from inside them. I pealed them back, exposing the immense base of his cock, curling with the blue lines of feeder veins snaking down from his waist.

The heavy bulb of it rose and tapped against my fingers as I slid the shorts down. The tip drooled and made a dark spot on the fabric.

I made a low little sound in my throat. My lips pulled back in a kind of animal lust.

He snarled impatiently and flicked the band past the plum-sized head of his huge penis. It smacked up and flopped out of the shorts, making a wet slapping sound as it collided with the cobblestone of his hard abdominal muscles.

Strings of precum webbed the fingers of my hands. It looked like a weapon. I swallowed nervously.

“I still can’t believe how fucking big you are,” I said.

He chuckled, looking beyond me at the door. There were little snickers of appreciation from somewhere I couldn’t see.

“Thanks,” he said.

I shrugged.

His thumb slid down my cheek as he held my head. He looked down into my eyes, face serious.

“Give me your hand.”

He slipped my fingers over the thick tube of his cock and helped me pump him, carefully. The slow throb of his heart tapped at me, and my fingertips clutched between veins.

He growled low in his chest, a soft fatherly expression on his face as he watched me fumble around his beautiful body.

A rush, equal parts embarrassment and thrill, thundered in my head as I touched him. He was so big that it shocked me. And he was so much harder than I expected. It took real strength to move his cock toward me even an inch. I pulled, leaning on it, and the clear flow of his thick precum tumbled out of his cock.

He grit his teeth against the pleasure of it, and bent forward just enough to aim himself at my mouth.

“Suck me,” he said, voice heavy and low. The rumble from his throat vibrated his whole body.

“My mouth is too small,” I said, truthfully, imagining that huge stick entering any part of me with something like terror.

Suck,” he repeated. But he drew the word out so it hissed like a snake. Strong fingers pulled me toward him, dragging me over the tile.

I knew he could force his cock into my mouth if he wanted to. It would probably break my jaw, but he could.

I would have to try.

I held the bulk of his giant cock with both hands. It was as thick as a rolling pin.

I pushed forward and kissed the tip with my lips.


Massive feet moved within the two big shoes. My own heels pushed and slid against the floor as I moved, slipping over the slick tile and catching it on the corners. It must have looked like I was trying to climb into him.

Hands, wide and powerful, slid down the back of my head and tugged at my coat and shirt. I shrugged them off and let them slide down my legs as I moved up his body. He stepped out of his shorts and tossed them to the side.

His body was like hard marble, with the obvious cut of solid definition dark along every corner of him, gouged out of every limb. He was a living sculpture, essentially a self-portrait carved into his own body. It was beautiful, and I wanted him in my mouth.

I wanted him inside me.

I kissed his cock, both hands holding onto it, planting my heels between the tiles to push myself up.

The soft little mouth at the tip had lips my tongue could explore, but the rough texture of his spear-like cockhead stabbed into my mouth before I could stop him. My cheeks bulged like a squirrel’s. I struggled to take him into my little smile.

He gripped my head and drilled. The vicious impatience of boyhood made him cruel. I felt warm droplets of excitement form inside me. Defensively.

I moaned, but the huge cockhead in my mouth cut it off.

He sneered and pushed, and I felt myself begin to gag and swallow.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes widening in lust as he forced his way into me. “Swallow hard, little girl.”

The name made my eyes roll back into my head. A desperate sense of loss hit me as I realized how utterly disconnected I now was from being anyone’s “little girl” at their feet. He’d discarded the Ma’am so easily. Clearly understanding what I wanted.

I need this, I thought. I steadied myself against the floor. He stood partially to continue pressing down into my mouth. I felt lines of pain move up from my jaw into my temples.

He growled, and I squirmed. My tongue thrashed as he worked his way in.

“My little teacher girl,” he said, the voice little more than a moan, “gagging on my big fuckin’ dick.”

The inside of my body heaved as I fought with myself. I could feel the grip of my throat making waves along his shaft, and realized what he was doing. The more I struggled, the better it felt.

I let go of my control and allowed myself to panic. I fought him like someone caught in an undertow, begging his cock not to drown me.

Yessss” he said, and a full inch sank into my throat. The warm wet feeling of his precum trickled into my stomach, which churned as he cored me like a fucking apple.

“The hottest cunt in in the whole fucking school,” he said, kind of to himself, quietly, “is choking herself out on my big fat cock, and everyone knows it. Everyone can hear it. Everyone can see her pretty little legs, can see her clothes.” He was on the edge of a masculine hysteria, hands shaking with excitement.

“God yessss, you fucking bitch,” he said, staring down at me, lips curled away from his teeth in a snarl of enormous lust.

One huge shoe came up beside my head and kicked the door so hard that the sudden explosion of sound actually hurt. The door slammed open and the whole stall shifted angles. The door swung back, but neatly slid off its hinges.

It toppled backwards and landed on the bathroom floor with a dull, deafening crash.

I felt eyes on my naked back, and my face burned red. The lack of air made me weak, though, and all I could do was hang off his cock as though I were nailed there, unable to even pull away from the huge throbbing plug in my throat.

He pushed at my forehead, staring down into my eyes, as the edges of the world started to darken, and I felt my gaze lose focus. Conscious thought flickered. He grinned an evil, eager grin.

He stood a little more. Balls like sacked tangerines tapped my chin, and I felt my eyes roll back into my head. The world slid down and away as though it were on greased rails.

Immediately, he pushed back on my head, firm and heavy, sliding me off his cock. It took ten or fifteen seconds of slow and steady pressure to slide out of me. I was almost unconscious. I felt him coming up my throat and wondered if my neck had doubled in size. I could imagine the skin tightening around the knob of his cockhead as it slipped up and out of my throat, pulling from me with a slow sucking sound.

I felt the world fade into white just as a huge lungful of freezing air slammed into my lungs. I gasped at it, desperately, the icy fingers of sudden breath tearing at my chest like claws of pain. My pussy watered uncontrollably, and I struggled to lift my arms from my side. My whole body tingled like a foot that’s gone to sleep.

He wasn’t looking at me, but over my head. Smirking. Proud. This was a conquest. Not of me, but of the school.

He pushed me again, shoving hard, and I tumbled back onto the flattened stall door. As I looked out, legs folded under me, I saw rows of eyes watching us.

Then he jerked me back up, and shucked my skirt with violent, childlike enthusiasm. I heard it tear apart in his grip. There were impressed noises and a grunt of female jealousy.

I tried to twist, to see who had their eyes on my naked body, but he kept my head pointed at his face with sharp, evil twists.

“Everyone,” he hissed at me. “Every fucking eye in the school is gunna see this, pretty teacher girl. Everyone is going to know. So enjoy it.”

Then he threw me back in the stall, forcing my hands down on either side of the old fashioned tank, and curled his hands around mine, making me grip.

The iron hammer of his cock pushed against my tailbone, and I hooked his ass with a heel.

“Watch,” he said. Not to me. “Get your fucking phones out and tape it. Watch me take her.”

And he proceeded to fuck the shit out of me.


I’d avoided being the slut in high school. The fear of embarrassment kept me away from the most exciting offers from the hotter guys, but it felt like the right thing to do. There would always be more time. There would always be more boys.

But everything changes out of school. Not even college was the same. Certainly not an art school, where the men cried more than the women, and half the girls put their hands up your skirt when they had you alone.

I missed the quick, violent sex of high school moments, thrown up against the backseat of a parent’s car and fucked so quickly that neither of us could breathe for twenty minutes. Frantic jackrabbit desperation held in the air by my ass, watching the hallway for the shadow of someone walking in. Coming with my lips pressed closed in a closet at someone’s illegal drinking party, or swallowing a cock in the back row between boring lines of lecture.

Maybe I hadn’t been a good girl, but I turned down most of the offers, thinking I had time to play. Thinking it would matter to me what people thought.

But it all fell away, the unreality of school totally displaced with the bleeding necessity of adult lives, of jobs and loan status, where everything suddenly mattered and no one had time to fail.

I spent hours in college just crying. Missing the life I thought I had.

So when he tossed me against the porcelain, crushing my head down against the back wall as he pushed off me, and slapped my ass with the huge fist of his penis, I felt a nostalgic rush and the relief of suddenly feeling like I could breathe again.

Which, thanks to him, was a sensation I knew pretty well.

Years holding my breath, and I almost came when the rough fingertips gripped my thighs and spread them, holding me open as the dripping sword of his cock sliced into my pussy.

The sharp narrow head made sliding into me painfully quick. He twisted just enough to get the head into position between the soft lips of my pussy, then pressed into me, nuzzling through folds and wet sodden creases, touching every nerve in my pussy and lighting it up like a ring of fire.

Crinkles of pleasure spread up my stomach like cracking glass as he pushed in. Rough and careless, his huge cock more than making up for the finesse of a grown man’s sexuality. He shoved it into me, slamming me carelessly the way he’d kicked the stall.

Happy to break me and leave me discarded. I curled around the attraction and guttered out a moan of total submission.

My feet struggled at either side of the door, trying to find purchase on the inside as he forced his way into my body. He held me by my waist, and the pain of his entry kept a silent cry lodged in my throat, unable to drown out the excited audience sounds from behind us.

He grunted irritably as he pushed, annoyed at how long it took to work his way inside. Years of unwilling college celibacy had all but restored my virginity.

“You really have been a good girl, haven’t you?” he said, growling, “But I’m still going to ruin this tiny fucking pussy, you sweet little bitch.”

He slapped my ass the way an actor would, experimenting with poses he’d clearly seen on the internet. I wrapped my legs backwards around him, and felt the huge heavy lumps of his balls tap against me.

His thumbs pressed into the small of my back as he held me, ramming his cock into me with all of his strength. I made a face like a silent scream while he sneered and breathed little explosions of fire onto my sensitive back.

He pushed my womb up into my stomach, and eventually I felt something almost click inside me as my cervix shifted up over his cock and he pressed into something… softer.

The scream became audible, because I came. His huge balls slid into the gap between my legs and I felt them hard on my thighs like billiard balls made of lead. They hung much lower than I’d expected, and swung with his movements.

“God, oh God, oh G-fuck” I said, the orgasm flipping my stomach harder than the purest love. I scrabbled to hold onto something, and I felt his arms grip and smack my legs as I kicked. Female sounds of shock and envy echoed through the silences as I took deep breaths to refresh my cries.

I writhed like a dying animal, feeling like a child falling through space, helpless but cared for. I came shaking so hard I nearly chipped a tooth when I bit down on the smooth metal pipe next to my head.

“Finally,” he grunted to himself. “It was like forcing a log into a fucking keyhole.”

I dropped out of the orgasm and my legs, tensed, slowly lowered, the flats of my heels scraping the paint off the stall as I pushed up against them. The stem of my right heel had cracked, and hung from the shoe like a loose tooth.

“Fuck me,” I said, breathless and starving. “Just fuck me,” I whispered. I needed to feel him tearing me up. I wanted the clumsy struggle of his thrusts. I knew how rough he would be.

He gripped me by my hair and snapped my head back. “Say it louder, bitch,” he said.

Fuck me-”


“God, FUCK ME,” I screamed. “Just goddamn fuck me you fucking high school jock boy. Show them how fucking good you are!”

He let go of my hair and my head fell forward and smacked against the wall. He twisted an arm behind my back and used it to steady me as he slid out and back in.

“For fuck’s sake,” he said. “It takes forever.”

I was so tight that my body forced him to go slow. My pussy let out desperate pulses of warm juice, but I just wasn’t loose enough to take him that easily.

I made up for it by bouncing. Throwing my ass in tight little circles so the gripping insides of my pussy twisted and squeezed at his cock.

“Christ,” he moaned, “it’s like fucking a cheerleader but with like ten times the experience.”

I gripped him as hard as I could, sucking his big cock back into me with sheer will, feeling myself pucker around his enormous size.

He spanked my back, keeping sharp stabs of sensation rattling through my skull as he switched directions, fucking in and out at random, too frantic to stroke all the way in either direction.

There was something insanely arousing about his total lack of control, and he took his pleasure from my body without even thinking of me, slamming into my pussy as quickly as he could.

It was kind of surprising, after his display of skill with his tongue. But I realized that he’d probably had a lot more chance to eat the skittish pussies of the “Good Little Girls” in high school, and not much opportunity to fuck much at all.

I remember that I’d interrupted a birthday blow job that morning, not sex. Not really.

I wondered if he’d even been inside a woman before.

Something about the furious pace and the way he whined back in his throat the whole time, a little sound that peaked with each huge breath but never broke or went away, made me think I was taking his virginity.

Which made me come around him again, and I felt myself loosen as it happened, the muscles of my sex stretching around his hammering thrusts. Opening me up. Finally.

“Shit yes,” he said, smacking my ass again.

He used me like a toy, playing my body up against his, arching me up against the beautiful boyhood body and throwing me against the wall as he fucked me, crushing me against metal and stone, with his body hard up against me, thundering into me like a storm.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rhythmic motion of arms stroking cocks. And the twinkle of lenses recording my submission.

I closed my eyes and felt the flame of embarrassment turn my face as red as my hair.

The burning sensation connected to the electric arc between my legs and I built toward another orgasm.

“You’ve… never done this… before… have you?” I asked.

He snorted, laughing.

“Oh no, little teacher girl, I’ve fucked plenty of women.  I’ve plucked a dozen cherries right here in this room,” he said, smacking me again. “But it’s never been this good,” he said. “I can’t keep my shit together.”

He sped up, something I wouldn’t have believed possible. It knocked the breath out of me.

“Your pussy is so fucking tight, so much warmer and wet that it’s better than my first fucking time,” he whispered, laughing with something like glee as I clamped my pussy down on him.

“You wouldn’t believe how fucking boring it is to tear up the average high school bitch,” he said.

The snowflake inside me melted at being considered so special, and the orgasm it triggered rocketed through me as he gripped my hair and held me arched, fingers hooked in my mouth, forcing me to scream at the top of my lungs.

He let me go all at once when it was over, and I flopped down like a fish. I hung off his wedge of a cock as it slid out over the course of twenty seconds. My body hung onto it like a wolf’s knot.

Turn” he hissed, urgently, sounding like his teeth were clamped shut around his need.

I turned and the cock in my face opened its little mouth and shot. I saw the two orbs of his huge balls bounce up as they drew into him for each powerful explosion.

He let one hit my lips, where it burned, white and vaguely sweet under the masculine salt taste, but then he shoved the tip back into my mouth and pumped into me as though her were filling something, the huge sacks of his balls tugging up into him over and over, the surface of them rippling and gurgling, as he held my head between two massive palms and sprayed my stomach with cum.

He growled so loudly that it was almost a kind of scream, happening so deep in his chest that I could feel the vibration of it in my mouth as I gripped the huge end of his dick.

He came without softening, and I swallowed mouthfuls until it stopped.

Around his huge legs, I thought I could see the frozen posture of someone cumming as they watched.

“Get up,” he hissed when it was over, his thick pipe of a cock still hard in the air between us.

When I stood, he kissed me.

“Now it’s your turn,” he whispered.

“Clear the fuck out!” he called over his shoulder.

When he set me against the metal door, lying me there on the ground, the room was empty.


He stood over me, sharply white but swollen with teenage strength. He tapped his erection with a finger, pulling it an inch or so away from his tight stomach. It was as rigid as ever, and slapped back up against his stomach with a smack when he let go.

He grinned at me.

Yeah, I was impressed. He never seemed to get soft.

He dropped to his knees and bent over me. I felt the heat from his body, and the burning line of his cock over my skin.

He put his hand behind my head, wrist cradling my neck, and came in for a kiss.

I made a grateful noise, but he pulled away from my mouth at the last second, smiling as I bent up to catch… nothing.

Teasing me.

And fucking good at it.

I whimpered back in my throat and he sank down, letting our mouths join. His tongue didn’t stab into me as it had before, it quested. Suction and gentle tickles encouraged my tongue into his mouth where he trapped it and nibbled just hard enough to remind me how rough he wasn’t.

He pulled away and I felt my tongue slide out of his mouth with the gentle pop of releasing pressure.

He looked into my eyes. The chocolate pools staring through me soaked into my mind, almost hypnotizing me.

“Touch my neck,” he said. “Put your other hand around my back,” he said.

He coordinated me like someone directing a ballet.

The heavy lines of his neck blushed as I touched them, invisibly fuzzy like immature fruit, sun-bleached but untanned hairs soft on his whole body. There wasn’t an inch of him that lacked a dusting of fine white fur. When he was older, the powerful hormones from those two big balls would cover him with hair.

But up over my body as I touched him, he was perfect. Peaked.


He kissed my shoulder like someone taking a bite out of apple, and my nipples hardened as he finally touched them.

“So big,” he laughed to himself, rolling my nipples between his fingers. “I have such a thing for these.”

He sighed. “High school can be so cruel, girls spreading their legs but not grown enough in the right places.”

He licked one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking on the pale teardrop flesh of my breast.

I combed into his hair with one hand, and scraped up his back with the other. Teeth circled the nipple and tugged.

I arched my back off  the ground and a moan boiled out of me.

He was better than a grown man, because he was stronger. And totally fearless.

His bragging had to be true.

I was his greatest conquest.

An eager laugh snapped off as soon as it began, and his tongue slipped down between my breasts and over my stomach, finding the well of my navel, where he scooped the ball of my belly piercing in between his lips and sucked on it.

He sucked on the piercing. I couldn’t even feel it, but it just looked so fucking sexy. I groaned and punched the floor next to me.

The tongue slid over my thighs, touching me everywhere but between my legs, and he moved to the middle.

I was afraid he was going to eat my pussy again, which I wasn’t sure I could take, but his tongue slid down below my pussy and tickled my asshole, rolling around the rim in a short, warm swirl.

“Hey!” I shouted, and he chuckled, twisting my legs apart and walking up between them on his knees.

The big penis, thudding in front of his abs, came down with his hand to rest on my stomach.

“Look down,” he said.

I looked at myself.

“I want you to see how far into you I go,” he said, softly.

The head of his cock reached almost up to my ribs. No wonder it took so long to penetrate me. Even if I weren’t so much smaller than him, it would take time just to slide the whole way.

“Keep watching,” he said.

I wonder if it hurt him to push his cock down so roughly. I thought of him walking around with his hard cock fed into a pant leg.

I suddenly felt a slow rush of affectionate pity for the lives of horny teenage boys.

“See that?” He said, the spearhead tip making circles around my pussy, opening me again.

“Now,” he said, sliding deep inside me, flowing in with his whole weight behind his cock.

It was much easier this time. He really was breaking me open, like tearing the seal off a bottle. It had never happened with a man before, and I knew it couldn’t happen twice.

The male obsession with virginity suddenly made a lot more sense.

“Don’t look away,” he said, and I looked back down. There was something like the length of a ruler to go, as impossible as that seemed, and he was already inside me. It slid into me further and further.

Some men are just big. Most are average, or small. But you see that one freak in a video or imagine him in some fantasy and you know that cock has been inside a woman. That someone out there is being fucked by a freak of nature.

And I was finally that someone. I saw the shadow of movement inside my own belly as he pushed more and more.

It isn’t like my insides were just some bag he was filling. I was full from the first moment, but somehow he made me more full with every inch he slid up inside me. Moving things out of the way. Angling perfectly to drill through me.

Unlike before, he did so gently. Rolling his hips. Letting the wetness of my pussy guide him. The recent orgasm had clearly restored the control he’d shown as he ate me.

He’d taken his pleasure from me, humiliating and displaying me for his friends like a game he’d beaten, but this really was, as he’d said, just for me.

It was my turn.

I moaned and closed my eyes, and he stopped, gently thumbing them open.

Look,” he repeated, firmly, pointing my head down as I watched the huge cock disappear.

The fullness became painful just before the end, and there was again the little sense of snapping, as he came to rest with a single inch or so outside me. His balls slipped under the curve of my ass and I felt their heat between my tightest hole and the cold metal door. He winced when they touched the freezing floor.

“This is how much I fucked you with before,” he said. “See?”

I nodded, the spreading warmth of tense pleasure making it impossible to really talk.

“Watch,” he said. And he held my jaw, making sure I looked down.

“You have to be bent forward to do this anyway.”

He flicked his hips, and a terrible sensation of freezing pain came and went from my battered cervix. Then he twisted up just a bit, his eyes closed like someone cracking a safe.

After a moment, he smiled and slid forward. I felt my stomach flip as though I were falling as he pushed above the soft spot from before, farther, and with no background pain. He shifted my ass under his hands, and suddenly the last inch bit into my body. I felt his soft brown hair come into contact with my own careful feminine curls.

His eyes were closed in complete rapture, and the smile on his face was the smile of a grateful little boy.

He bent to my ear and held my head in one hand.

“Well,” he said. “I guess you have taken my virginity after all. I’ve never been completely inside a woman before. Not even close.”

And of course I’d had men inside me, but never as far, and never as much.

And I’d never swallowed anyone.

We kissed and he moved inside me, the angle of his cock carefully striking every pleasure center I had, scooping and sliding in a slow, practiced, regular rhythm. His pelvic bone slid up and over my clit, and a hand rested under my back to form it into a half circle as he moved.

The hard bumps of his muscle came to rest on my skin, and they pushed me as he melted into my body, neither of us sweating but both of us wet, joined into one thing, a mass of sensation where I did not end and he did not begin, but we both were.

My fingers explored him, the hard and perfect rails of him, sharp and rounded and pounding, flexed and gentle. He tossed my hips up with little flicks of his waist, rolling me up into an orgasm that loomed over everything else like the monsters in the movie I’d shown to my classes.

Then he slid his mouth onto my neck and sucked, coming up to my ear to tell me, for no reason other than my terrible need to hear it, that he loved me.

The arms around me, the soft words, and the tense pressure in a place inside me I couldn’t completely understand pushed me into an orgasm that broke my other heel.

He had to use those two big feet of his to flatten my legs to the ground, so he could keep up his rolling rhythm.

“Ride,” he said, whispering into my ear. “Ride through it and there’s another on the other side.”

I rolled underneath him, feeling the sudden rush of warmth inside me as his precum pulsed out of his cock, my mouth open in a huge oval, frozen and shaking, my neck as hard as a stone as I came silently, my eyes open and staring. When I rode through, the look of agonized torture collapsed into a huge smile and something caught in my body again.

He was right. On the other side was another orgasm, even larger than the first.

My hands beat at his back. It was like I wanted to wrench it out of me with my bare hands, to pull something out of us both, as though the pleasure were an alien object squirming between us.

I struggled, fingernails tearing at him, ripping claw marks into bleeding tracks over his muscles, pulling half out of my heels and grinding up against his massive body, feeling him push against me, crushing me with all of his weight, the breath exploding out of my lungs over and over again, voiceless but deafening.

I could almost imagine him there, one of my legs gripping the swell of his ass, the other still stuck under a huge black and white shoe. His wide, clay-like back rippled and triangular over my curved body, both of us starkly white, me with my redhead’s skin, him with the indoor training of winter, the incredible scream of my pleasure echoing around the bathroom and out, I realized, into the halls by the gym.

There was no sound of feet rushing past. I tried to imagine how audible we had to be to stop everyone nearby, and realized this was just another kind of conquest.

The shame just brought me off even harder.

He came again, of course, but pulled out so it wouldn’t hurt, all the pressure suddenly on top of me as he crushed his thick penis into my stomach. He wet me with it, hosing my body down as he kissed me, but even that felt good to me.

We stayed like that, locked together at the mouth for nearly half an hour afterwards, during which time his cock slowly softened to something maybe as hard as a normal man’s erection.

“Fuck, you are good,” he breathed, as our mouths separated and he rolled up into a sitting position.

“Happy Birthday,” I said looking up at him from the floor.

He laughed, and kissed me again.


The next morning, I drove up to the school with a sense of excitement. There was only so much of him—“him,” I didn’t even know his fucking name—that I could expect to have and keep my job. It wasn’t illegal, but still.

It was wrong.

I clicked my way through the gym and smiled at the perky little girls bouncing their way through a cheer routine for what had to be the thousandth time. They were good.

But I knew now that I was better.

He’d told me he’d fucked every last one of them, spraying cum on everything from daddy’s braces to mommy’s lingerie. He laughed as he told me how much better my pussy was than each one of them.

He described each varsity conquest and how I was better. Tighter than her, moved better than her, tasted better than her.

I tried not to laugh at them, their arrogant bitchy looks just kind of funny as I imagined them on their knees and backs, begging him to please himself. Class would be very… interesting today.

It was sad, though. He’d graduate in less than a month, and I knew he’d move on to destroy the pussies at some huge college and I’d never get another taste of him.

It was like a bizarre dream. Like life. There and gone. Sudden and without warning.

So I wasn’t surprised when I found out he’d skipped school. He was important enough to the team that he never had to come back. Not if he didn’t want to. But since the prom queen hadn’t shown up either, I figured  he was gone for a better reason.

I sighed my pity at her boyfriend, the tall prom king with his class presidency and his gentle, sweet, kid looks.

I ducked into the bathroom and pulled my brush out, frowning at my hair in the chrome side of a cart by the door.

“Get on your knees,” I heard.

I turned.

I looked up. And up.

A very tall boy with huge monkey arms boiling with muscle stood behind me, humorless wolf grin tearing a smirk into his face, huge lump under his shorts that he pet like a cat.

“Well, now why would I do a thing like that?” I asked, looking innocent. My heart raced.

Maybe it wasn’t over.

Behind me, the huge steps of a second big student echoed through the bathroom. I felt the heat of a presence behind me, and eyes on my neck.

He grinned. “Because,” he said, pulling his ID out of his wallet and tossing it at me. “Today is my birthday.”

The plastic rectangle fluttered to the ground, and when I bent to pick it up, I felt a bare cock against my ass.

“Give me your hand,” a new voice said behind me.

Maybe it was only beginning.


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1 thought on “The Senior: Taking Her At School

  1. This was insanely hot. I can’t tell you how messy it made me!

    Liked by 1 person

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