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Message-ID: <38021asstr$1030443005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "she-cries" <she_cries@hotmail.com>
Reply-To: "she-cries" <she_cries@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Breaking in Teacher II (2/?) by she_cries (mF, nc, reluc, humil)
Date: Tue, 27 Aug 2002 06:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d



Breaking in the Teacher II part 1
(apologies for the '?' I will repost in entirety when I am done)
by she-cries

(feedback is welcome and encouraged at she_cries@hotmail.com)





THE INEVITABLE



It was a long minute or two while the two of us held that position, me
breathing through my nose, trying not to snort too much of his semen, John,
eyes closed as the last wave of orgasm left him, pouring into my mouth.  I
simply held on with my mouth, and realized that I had clutched his backside
in the furious moments of the orgasm and had two, firm, muscular butt cheeks
in my hands.  I was actually pulling him towards me.  I had been grappling
him, making him fuck my mouth which yawned wide open submissively.

To my surprise, the last thing I wanted was for him to pull out, though my
jaw ached and I was having trouble breathing.  My face was covered with
semen, and I felt sluttier than I had even the day before, stripping before
the John's.  But with that feeling was a sense of numbness.  A vague
reprieve from the humiliation and shame of once again having found myself
this boy's sex-slave.  All I knew was that there had been a giant cock in
front of me, and I had leaned forward, taken it in my mouth, and sucked it
till it exploded in my face.  That was all that mattered.  Even the escape I
'd found under Mr. Gold's weight, or the gasping orgasms I'd had with the
old fat clerk in the convenience store had left me craving something more,
as if the simple pleasures I'd gotten from being fucked were rooting me to
the her and now.

Taking it in the face, however, as brief as it had been, had been an
entirely different experience, and having it there, still, long after
John-two had finished, kept me there, in a state that was entirely void of
thought, self, even time.  Even as the feeling began to fade, and I knew
what I was doing I found myself shaking my head as John-two tried to pull
out.  His penis was shrinking, and I was able to gulp more of its length,
and feel the reward of another drop oozing onto my tongue as I milked him
with one hand, clutching his buttocks and pulling him closer with the other.
He indulged me as I tried to maintain the experience.

But inevitably, after I spent not a little time trying to support the
flagging length with my hands it slipped out, and John-two was a little too
sensitive to let me take it back in, hastily pulling up his sweatpants and
tying off.  It wasn't long after that that I suddenly wanted. no needed to
be anywhere but there, on my knees before him in this way, covered with his
jizz.

John-two seemed to feel otherwise, "Oh, Mrs. Caulder, that was amazing!" he
plopped down in a desk, which was something of a relief, since I could
almost look him eye to eye, "man, you're covered in it."

I could only nod, my shame binding my tongue.

"I never," he went on, "I mean, no girl has ever done that for me.  I mean,
that was better than sex."

I tried pushing the semen away from dripping into my eyes, and found myself
also licking my lips and around them, lapping up John's sperm.  I wanted to
get up and get something to clean up with; my hands were covered with it,
but I just knelt there, watching him, letting his "praise me."

"I mean you were a great fuck, you know.  I loved fucking you.  But that, I
mean, all I had to do was stand there.  You did all the work."

His dim face seemed to realize something,

            "But I suppose that wasn't too cool, I mean, I shoulda done
something for you."

            "It was fine, John." I was actually pushing up the sperm
dribbling off my chin, and licking it off my fingers.  I don't know why,
except that something kept me from standing up and I needed to do something.

"You mean it?  I mean, you're cool with it?" he asked, shocked.

I nodded, "But you weren't supposed to come." I said, even as I lapped up
his expenditure before his gaze, eyes wide with wonder as I slurped his
semen off my palm.

He sort of shrugged that off, "Aww, I couldn't really help myself.  I mean,
I didn't expect it to feel just like sex.  But what's up, I thought girls
hated the taste of that stuff?"

This time I was the one who shrugged, abandoning any pretense at what I was
doing and visibly gulping the sperm in my mouth, which I was having trouble
swallowing.

"I mean, Tony says his girl won't even let it touch her, and Mary, one of
the mascots, I heard her saying the stuff is gross."

It was gross, semen is gross.  Semen is like warm, runny eggs, and it tastes
a lot like bleach smells, though it can be salty, and even meaty, like
John-two's was.  I simply didn't have an explanation, "I'm just."

But John was way ahead of me, "You know.  Coach tells us that when a woman
eats a man's sperm, you know, it means something."

I froze, knowing exactly what he was talking about.  To a man it means that
he's had a woman totally submit to him, though it's not exactly that with a
girl.  Some girls don't care, and like to flatter the egos of the guys who
believe that bullshit.  In my case, though technically right, that wasn't
why I was doing it.

"John, you shot so much of it in my mouth, it doesn't make a difference,
okay?"

"Yeah, but wouldn't a lot of girls spit it out?  I mean, you're licking your
fingers."

I let my hands drop, curling them lest they stain my skirt.  As annoying as
John-two was getting I had to admit that the slurping at his cum had served
as a mild extension of the blow job itself.  I was doing it because it gave
me a sort of presence, something that I wasn't ready to let go of though I
had regained my sense of self, and even quite a bit of my composure.  One
thing was for sure, rather than teacher student, I knew now that the two
people in this room were definitely not equals, but master and servant, and
one of them had come in the other's mouth.

I felt myself tilting my head, acting like a teenager, and with as much
bitchy attitude as I could muster I said "Look, I like it, okay?"

John backed off, "Oh, hey, I'm sorry.  I'm just trying to say. Aww, shit.  I
'm just trying to say that it, you know.  I mean, I know what it means and.
like thanks, you know?"

I outwardly balked at his attempts at sensitivity, though I was,
surprisingly touched by them.  He could have been cocky, like a lot of guys,
taking it for granted that it was all about him, but he was genuinely
appreciative that I was willing to submit to this degradation, every man's
fantasy.

"So what's next, John-two?" I said, standing up and crossing the room to my
Kleenex box, deliberately crushing the instinct to be moved by the boy's
sincerity, "I didn't see anything on your dick.  Is there a lump on your ass
you'd like me to probe with my tongue."

John-two may have been dim, but he seemed to recognize sarcasm, and acted
sheepishly ashamed of himself.  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Caulder-"

"John, I just gave you a blow job, let's skip the Miss, Mrs. Shit, since you
can't seem to remember that I'm a miss."

He gave a bashful grin, "Sure, Wendy.  But then he crossed the room to sit
at a desk in front of mine, "But you know I didn't mean it."

"It's just awkward, you know?" I said, wheeling on him as I wiped the sperm
from my fingertips, "Teachers aren't supposed to fuck their students.  They
aren't supposed to blow their students.  They aren't even supposed to check
them for strange marks, John, but every time you come in here I walk out
covered with your cum."

John didn't seem to find anything wrong with that, and gave a sort of "that'
s life" shrug.

"You know, if I was a man and you were a girl, I'd be put in jail for this."

"But you're not."

I sighed, "I know, but technically it's illegal, and it's damn improper.
How am I supposed to teach you anything when things turn out like this?"

John just stared back at me.  Clearly this line of thinking was beyond his
level of comprehension.  He said, "Well, you're still gonna give John and me
special lessons, right?"

I looked back at him, "No John, the school won't pay me for private
tutoring."

"Oh." He said, clearly trying to remember something, perhaps what we had
discussed the day before, "But I can stop in and see you, like when I need
help?"

I shook my head, but I was smiling, for some reason, at the persistence of
the big, dumb brute, "Yeah, I mean, all my students can."

John stood up, and took a few tentative steps in my direction, "But like you
said, I mean, I'm like, more than a student."

I crossed behind my desk, not so much out of fear, but to avoid having to
look up at him over his massive pectorals, "John."

"I mean, not like we're, umm."

"An item?"  I offered.

"Yeah!  I mean, no.  I mean I understand what you mean."  He scratched the
back of his head, clearly trying to articulate a way of saying what was on
his mind that would keep his options open.  He wasn't exactly as quick as
Eliot and James were, "Just like you said, I mean, we've been." he seemed to
stretch for this next part, "making love."  He looked at me for some kind of
confirmation, as if there was some doubt on the matter.

"Yeah, John.  But I think it would be more accurate to say we've been having
sex."

"Yeah, but I love fucking you!" and he grinned broadly at his little joke,
even letting out a single syllable laugh.  He quickly stifled it at the
expression on my face.  I simply couldn't understand why I could have such
power over him, considering the positions I'd been in for him.  In the past
24 hours I'd become the receptacle for John-two's sperm, but I could still
silence him with a glare.  He looked at the floor, shuffling his feet, "I
mean, you said you like it."

I had said that, but not in the way John-two thought.  I hadn't even been
talking about sex, but trying to get him to stop talking about the cum all
over my face, "John, I wasn't talking about sex when I said that."

"Oh yeah, you said you liked the taste."

I just shook my head, but John was still looking at the ground.

He looked up, "Hey, you know, we can do it again, I mean." he seemed to lose
courage, but I was starting to find him more amusing than annoying, and
though he mistook my smile for gaining ground with me, he stopped talking so
I could respond to that.

"John.  Eating a guy's cum is, like you said, something special." Oh god,
why had I said it like that?  But I went on, "I mean, it's.  Blow jobs are
really a big deal for guys and girls because of the. control factor.  You
know, she's down on her knees in front of you, you're filling her up."  what
the fuck was I talking about.  I had gotten so muddled in trying to cover my
comment that I had lost all track of what I was saying.  Still, I plodded
on, "It's like, when you take a man in your mouth you've submitted yourself
to him."  Shut up.  I told myself, but I just tried to cover it even
further,

"Look, John, when I did what I did, it wasn't supposed to be sexual.  I was
just trying to help."  I could feel my knees shaking, and leaned forward to
sit on the desk.  I could feel my arms wrapping around myself, but in a
distant way.  I couldn't look at the boy, and I spilled my guts, "I just
wanted to see your problem and get it over with, but once you were in my
mouth."

"You were really sucking me off, Mrs. Caulder." I glared at him, ".Wendy, I
mean."

I shook my head, "That's what I mean, it became sexual.  You can't just
connect in that way and have it be clinical."  I looked straight at the boy,
"it's not what I intended, but you were so needy, so driven, and
surrendering myself to that.  completely, was sort of a way for me to deal
with the fact that I really shouldn't have been down there in the first
place."

He was actually nodding, but I saw that he was looking at my leg.  I looked
where he did and realized that I hadn't zipped up the skirt seam and was
showing my leg from the hipbone all the way down, fishnet all the way.  I
suppressed a response, figuring it didn't hurt anything, even though he wasn
't supposed to see that.  I figured since I had already done much worse
there wasn't anything to lose.  He was sitting across from me on the desk,
his back twisted so he could look at me, and I put a hand on his massive
deltoid,

"John, eating your semen was more about that, that I should never have
caused you to spend it, much less in my mouth, than about enjoying it.  It
just means that I liked doing it better than just letting you do me while I
knelt there, passively."

He was nodding.  I had to give him credit, he was trying hard to follow what
I was saying, which was, admittedly, a bunch of neurotic female
psychobabble.

"So, that's why you fucked me so hard yesterday?"

He actually did get it.  "Yeah," I nodded, but then, seeing the crestfallen
look on his face I added, "Not completely, I mean, that was really
different." He looked up, not understanding any more.  "I mean, the
difference is, that I was trying to force it yesterday."

He just shook his head, "You weren't. forcing it today?"

I shook my head back, "No, I was sort of on autopilot.  Like it was
completely natural." I knew that was the wrong thing to say before it had
finished coming out of my mouth.

John perked up dramatically, "Well, that means something. Wendy.  I mean, I'
m cool, if you just want to blow me.  I mean, I can understand not wanting
to fuck, with pregnancy, and disease."

But I interrupted him, "No, John, I like to fuck as much as any girl." I let
out an exasperated sigh, "what I'm trying to tell you is that we can't have
a sexual relationship.  I'm just trying to. figure out with you, why we had
one in the first place."

"Aw shit, Wendy," John was frustrated too, "I don't know about any of that,
I mean, I don't understand these games that girls play and stuff."

"John, I'm not playing games with you."

"Well then let's fuck, I mean, I don't want a relationship either."  He
stood up, towering over me again, "I mean, I like you, but you're a teacher.
I can't take you to prom, but we've been fucking, and you said the blow job
was cool, and you just said you like to fuck, so why don't we just agree to
be normal like with everyone else, but you know, I wanna fuck, that's all."

"John."

"You just gave me head.  I mean, you swallowed my whole load.  You licked it
off your fingers, Mrs. Caulder.  What's the point of saying no to a little
more?"

I just stared at him.

"I mean, blow job or sex, you make the call.  I wanna fuck, but I'm cool if
you want to give me another blow job."

I stammered, "We don't have time." Abandoning any attempt to explain myself
to him, which was clearly going in one ear and out the other I started
making stupid excuses.

John shrugged, "We got twenty-five minutes, then a ten minute break between
classes.  But you gotta get your clothes off."

"I thought you just wanted a blow job." I had no idea what else to say.

"Well, maybe tomorrow, but, like, I really want to get laid again."

"John, you practically raped me yesterday."

"I said I was sorry, and you were cool with it today, I mean, you even ate
my wad.  You said surrendering made it, like, forgetting you're a teacher,
so what about it?"

"No."

He was frustrated and exasperated, and I was getting nervous.

"Well, will you at least try?"

"Try to fuck you?"

"Yeah.  At least take your clothes off, you might feel like yesterday."

"I tried to stop you, John."

"I mean today, natural, like you said."  He didn't wait for a reply this
time, instead reaching out and grappling with the top button on my skirt.
Undoing it instantly, I knew he'd been thinking about that since he'd seen
me button it when he walked in.  As the skirt fell he pulled up the
sweatshirt, and suddenly I was uncovered before him in my slut costume,
barely concealed boobs jiggling under fishnet, and the barest swatch of
black satin hiding my sex.

John was momentarily struck with awe, "Aww, Mrs. Caulder, you been holding
out on me."

I simply stood in front of him, shaking.

"You look hot.  Man, do I want to fuck you again."  He reached out, fondling
my boob with one hand, and squeezing a butt cheek with the other, "You know,
a lot of guys don't appreciate you.  I mean, they say you're kinda chubby,
and sort of old, but you know, you're practically made for fuckin."  He
groped me harder, I mean, those chubby thighs and tits. Well, come on, we
don't have a lot of time." And he took a step away from me.

Confused I took a step towards him,

"No, I mean, I can't fuck you in that get up, strip down, I want to fuck you
naked."

"But John."

He didn't listen, "No, I like it when you're naked and I'm not, you know, it
's like you said about the blow job, sort of control, and all."

I was lost. The last vestiges of resistance had been stripped off of me and
I was forced to defend my honor with cum residue on my face and a skimpy
whore's costume stretched over my body.

Submissively I nodded, following his orders numbly, trying to bury the
crushing sense of defeat, the overwhelming sense of shame and impending fear
of having his member pushing at my sex again. Pulling off the corset as he
watched I quickly stripped the bodysuit off my skin, aware that I was
standing right in front of the door window, but too numb to object.
Something in me asked why I was doing this, and the only answer that came
back was that John-two was right.  It was easier than pretending things were
normal.  To give in to him, after all that had happened yesterday was simply
the path of least resistance, like agreeing to 'examine' him.  I hated
myself for the weakness, and bit my lip against the humiliation: a drug I
was hooked on.

Suddenly I was naked, and without John-two prodding me I lay back on my
desk, cooperatively, pushing anything in my way to the floor.  With one hand
I made a preemptory feel of my sex, trying to figure out how I was going to
accommodate him, but discovered that I was still very wet.  It couldn't have
been the fingering I'd given myself before John-two walked in, it was too
long ago.  I must have gotten wet from John-two, though there was nothing
remotely exciting or sexually arousing going on.  It was even more
startling, the electric tingling my hand gave me, and by the time John had
unstrapped himself and tried to bear down upon me I had enough selfish
self-interest to hold him back.

"Let me do it."  I ordered, knowing were he to plunge in wildly like
yesterday he could tear me apart.  Just the thought of willingly taking this
gigantic monster inside my tiny, pouting sex made me cringe, but the first
contact as I rubbed his head against myself, guiding it into my hole sent
reassuring twinges through my body of heat, tingling with hidden arousal now
tapped.  In spite of the pain I knew would follow I knew my body would find
it's own sadistic pleasure, but it still made me want to weep that after all
my resolve, I was complicitly spreading my legs for this beast of a man;
even guiding his monster inside me.  Something told me that John-two's
persistence had as much to do with the evident pleasure I took in his
ministrations.  He couldn't be expected to understand that my reactions were
the same as a child being molested, and he certainly couldn't be held
responsible for that.

Just the analogy made me feel truly pathetic, moreso for the fact that
refusing to find the neurotic pleasure that made such humiliations bearable
would undoubtedly help my situation and discourage John-two.  But I knew I
was too weak for that, and thusly condemned myself to the very act that was
about to see me spread willingly for this ogre who wanted nothing but to
have a vessel to dump his seed in.

John was obviously eager to begin, but having cut through my BS and gotten
me where he wanted he was a little more patient, knowing he was about to get
what he wanted.

"Now John, slowly."

And as he pushed himself past my opening I let out a piercing wail, and
spread my legs wide, arching my back as pleasure mixed with lacerating pain
and I impaled myself on John-two's manhood for the second time.

John was following instructions, taking his time on the entry.  No doubt,
less eager because of the blow job I had given him, and he could feel the
great amounts of resistance my sex was offering.  I reached down, rubbing
his sides, encouraging him to take it easy as I panted with each miniscule
thrust,

"That's it baby, nice and slow." I murmured laying back, the cold Formica of
the desktop sticking to my skin as I surrendered myself utterly to the
teenage monster who threatened to split me in two if he wasn't tender
enough.

"Mrs. Caulder," John-two said, leering down on top of me, not nearly so lost
in his pleasures as he had been the day before, "You are one hot, fucking
teacher."

"Just fuck me, John." I mumbled, not wanting to talk, obsessing on the
sensation between my thighs that was so overwhelming, though little of it
could be called pleasure.

"I mean, are a lot of teachers slutty like you?"

The na�ve question was ricocheting around in my head, fighting the numbness
and incredible hot, flashing pleasure that rode over me in waves.

"Come on, John" I cried out with another thrust, then, softly I pleaded,
"Don't talk John, just fuckin' do it."

But John-two was grinning proudly, obviously nowhere near as lost and
involved in the coupling as I was trying to get, "I am fuckin' you, baby."
And he started to pump, jamming his great member inside me as I struggled to
accommodate it, stretching myself to the very limits of my body to get him
in deeper where the pain was worse, but the electric fire flashed that much
brighter.

"Hey, Mrs. Caulder.  Wendy.  Hey, look."

He was pointing at his penis, and I, in a half-daze though I was, couldn't
make the escape complete for John-two's repeated interruptions.  Somehow, I
clumsily raised myself to my elbows and peered where John was pointing.

"I'm almost up to the hilt, man."

And he was.  He had completely stuffed me.  I had never imagined being able
to accommodate such a monster before yesterday, and here I was completely
speared on it, my labia straining, stretched out painfully about his girth,
glistening with the copious juices I was flowing.

"You like it, don't you?"

"Oh John, don't be tacky."

"I'm just askin'"

"Just fuck me." I lay back, panting from the effort of bending myself with
his huge sword inside my belly, trying not to think about the massive
stuffing I was enduring, "Just give it to me John.  You're so big, it
just...  You're so goddamn big, John." I moaned as I lay back, panting with
the effort not to start crying from the pain.

"You kind of sound like a hooker when you say shit like that."

I suppressed the urge to scream in frustration.  A smaller guy I might have
been able to ride in the position I was in, but John-two being so massive,
with him standing while I lay back, I was completely subordinate to his
whims.  I swallowed, a little too late, as I realized that I was drooling
over the edge of my mouth.  I could still taste his sperm in my mouth, "What
do you want me to say, John?"

"Why'd you eat my cum?"

I was gasping for breath as he pushed just once, just a tease, slamming
against my cervix.  I fought for the air to reply, gasping and moaning,
"You. I told you."

"Why don't you call me baby again?"

I tried wrapping my legs around him and pulling him closer but he was
already completely buried, and I couldn't make him fuck me, "Do you want me
to." I could hardly make a sentence, gasping with the intensity in my cunt.

"Girls should have names like that for their guys." And he abruptly pulled
back and slammed into me.  I cried out, my whole body flying up into him
arms, grinding my sex against him in rapture, half desperate for him not to
stop, half terrified of another such assault.  John-two was laughing,
enjoying his power, while I cringed, humiliated, wishing he'd just get on
with it.

Running my hands over his back I started kissing his chest.  I could feel
hot tears burning in my screwed-shut eyes and I fought not to start crying,
"I want you, baby." I sobbed, "I want you so much."

I looked up at him, his low-browed face, ugly, square jaw, thick eyebrows,
and mat of tousled dirty-blonde hair.  He was looking back, his eyes seemed
like solid brown, so beady and squinty they were.  He seemed to have no
expression but curiosity.

"You my girl, Miss Caulder?"

I didn't even think.  I just nodded, still looking in his eyes, "Yeah,
 baby."

Through my blurring, tear stained eyes I think I saw his eyes widen.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah." I said, unable to look at him any more, tightening my legs around
him and trying to ride him, much easier done sitting up, while I grappled
his broad, steel muscled sides, kissing him profusely wherever I could
reach, losing myself in the thought of such utter surrender for the same
reason Eliot and James had taken me away, for being a play-thing for two
such young boys.  His persistent conversation, however, was making me wish
for another such young boy, someone who I could just be humiliated and
debased for, without the pain of a gargantuan dick and without stupid
questions.

With one hand John-two took my head and turned it up to face him again, but
I wouldn't stop riding his cock, what little I could of it, it was more than
I'd ever had before, and I was desperate for the pleasure it gave that made
the intrusive, flooding pain and stretching fade away.  He smiled and said,
"So you'll like, fuck me whenever I want?"

I tried not to answer him, trying to lose myself around his violently
piercing member, but he pinned me against him, not letting me look away,
"Well?" he asked.

As desperately as I wanted to agree, hoping he'd shut up and fuck me, I just
couldn't do it.  There was too much at risk, "I want to." I sobbed, the
tears running freely that John-two didn't seem to notice.

He let me go and I nearly fell back onto the desk, catching myself by
grabbing his shoulders just in time.  He seemed like nothing more than an
angry student, almost ignorant of the fact that he had me spread open before
him with his dick buried to the hilt inside me, while I gushed with
accommodating lubrication and begged him to fuck me.

"I don't want to play any games, Mrs. Caulder." His almost took a step back,
but seemed to remember as he was halfway pulled out that he was fucking me,
and that he liked it, "I mean."  he paused, growing tender again, a single
hand reaching out to grope my breast in what might have been a sign of
tenderness, "I mean, I will if I have to.  I ain't never had a chick like
you who just wants to fuck."  He was looking me over, adoration in his eyes,
"I mean, you are seriously hot.  I mean, there's hotter chicks, but they're
like, bony and shit.  And you suck dick.  I mean, I asked and you just did
it.  No bullshit.  I mean, I know that wasn't supposed to be a blowjob, but
like, you were cool with the idea.  You even ate it"

I leaned back, letting his squeeze my tits, my sex aching with relief at the
lightened load of turgid manhood splitting me open, agape at his monologue.
Inside me was a void aching to be fulfilled, one full of pain and terror,
and numbness that made Wendy Caulder go away, and left simply a slut who
would lay back for anyone, but I simply couldn't go there for John-two's
diatribe about me, the chick who sucks dick.

I swallowed, willing my eyes to stop tearing as I caught my breath, "John,
do I put out for you?"

"I liked it when you called me baby."

"Baby," I said, putting a hand up to his chin but not quite able to reach, I
settled it on a pec bigger than a dinner plate, "Baby, who just sucked your
dick?"

John-two smiled, "You did, Mrs. Caulder." and he made a peremptory stab,
causing me to shudder and gasp as he slowly pulled it back again, obviously
wanting to talk more than fuck, which shouldn't have been so surprising
since he'd come already only a few minutes before (though for a man his age
it represented the triumph of feminism, for sure).  But he obviously knew he
was teasing me (though torturing was a more appropriate term).  I was just
glad he didn't seem to realize how wrapped around his little finger I was
(which is to say nothing of his cock), because I would have just about
agreed to anything and dealt with it later.

"Uh, huh." I sighed, trying to regain my composure after sobbing on John's
chest, "And who's got her legs spread wide open for you?"

He grinned broader, running his hands over my legs as I held them up wider,
as if to emphasize the veracity of my statement, "You spread'em for me."

I nodded at him, "That's right, baby.  And who's big, fucking dick have I
got inside me, huh, baby?" I gasped and then almost cried out as he started
pumping me with enthusiasm.  I couldn't believe that I was wet enough for
him to pump so easily, but he slid in and out, and for the first time I
heard great slurping sounds from my sex.

But all too soon he stopped, "So you my chick, or what?" he asked, slowly
letting his shaft drive through me, almost absent-mindedly.

I bit my bottom lip at the frustration, though I was happy the pain had
seemed to recede, "I'm your chick, John." I looked him square in the eye, "I
'm your chick, girl, bitch, whore, slut, whatever you want." I was almost
shouting at him, my spittle flying out of my mouth as I panted with his
almost absent-minded thrusting, "I'll suck your dick and fuck you six ways
till Sunday if you'll just shut the fuck up and take me like the bitch in
heat that I am."

John-two was smiling ear to ear, "So you'll fuck me again?"

I nodded, but he didn't start fucking me again.

"I just want to know one thing."  He asked.  I waited for him to ask it.
"Why'd you eat my cum?"

I tried to form an answer, but one thing came to me, and nothing else made
sense.  I couldn't even invent a lie, so I just said it, "Because you own
me, John-two.  I'm your fucking woman, and a woman doesn't spit out her man'
s cum."

That seemed to satisfy John-two because he fucked the living shit out of me
until I had to bite my wrist to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs.
When he finally came he pulled out, his jizz flying all over me, and pulled
me around so I could drink his goo from the source.  Half-dead and blind
from crazed sexual frenzy I slurped at the baseball sized head and gulped it
down, licking my own juices off his member like it was the essence of life.
I'd have slurped my drippings off the floor if John-two had asked me too, so
numb was I from every angle, physically, emotionally, and spiritually I was
just plain dead.

He talked a bit, but I could barely understand, so I just mumbled
affirmatives while I knelt on my desk bowing before him, slurping at his
waning member, sweat, cum, and saliva seemed to cover me.  With great
regret, but unable to hold on, I felt my master slipping out of my grasp.

Through slowly focusing eyes I saw him using my skirt to wipe his dick dry
before pulling up his sweatpants and tying them off, his great member still
boldly outlined aside his massive, brick-hard thighs.  I wondered faintly
how I could not succumb to such a towering Adonis of a man.  Curling into a
ball I found myself eagerly anticipating the time he'd come for me again.  I
found myself licking my lips, savoring the acrid semen, wishing I had more,
that I would never have to drink anything but sperm from John-two's mammoth
funnel.

"Admit it," John-two was saying, picking up his bag, "You like eating it."

"Mm-hmmm." I affirmed, still rolling on my desk, and if only to prove my
point, but in reality to prolong the blessed numbness that kept me from
thinking about what I really was doing, I lifted a leg, rolled on my back,
scooped two fingers into my sore, strained and stretched labia, and pulled a
glistening glob of runny sperm and my own juices and stuck them in my mouth.

It hardly tasted like sperm as John-two had only shot his first drop inside
me, but the aftertaste was definitely there, and I sat up, scraping the
dribbles off my tummy and my tits.  When that was dry I reached into my sex
again.

John-two was at the door.  I think he said something about the bell, and
sixth period, but I was too invested in my own twisted craving, and I
proceeded to scoop and lap the combined passions of John-two and myself,
slurping and licking, scraping and scooping.

And then the school bell rang.  The assembly was over.



Continued in Part 3

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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