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   Teacher Passes the Test, Part 5 of 10, Kind of Slutty for a Cheerleader

   Shakespeare_I._Aint

   It was four days later, on a Tuesday, when my pent-up sexual energy
spilled over.  I was sitting in my last class of the day, Calculus, when I
knew I had to have my Teacher again.  It's hard to do calculus with a
raging hard-on.

   When the bell finally rang, I dumped my books into my locker and sought
out my teacher, Cynthia Van Horn in her Humanities class.

   Cynthia had changed since I had done her last.  She looked older now,
more mature.  More like a twenty-nine year old schoolteacher and less like
the spoiled cunt I had rained semen onto in the backseat of her Ford
Expedition.  She was more deferent to me; my opinions mattered; my essay
questions perfect.  Amazing what a bit of the old ultra-violent can do.

   I caught my teacher alone in her class.  She froze when she saw me, like
a deer in the headlights.

   "Mrs.  Van Horn?"

   "yes, Damien?", she whispered in fear.

   "I was wondering if I could get some special tutoring this afternoon. 
Say, in about twenty minutes in the upstairs Janitor's closet?"

   "no..."

   "yes," I whispered back.

   "Damien, I've got cheerleading practice today.  I don't have...I
can't...not here..."

   "Practice starts in half an hour.  I'll only need you for about five
minutes, if you're good.  Anyway, now that you mention it, wear a
cheerleader's outfit.  That might speed things up for me, if you know what
I mean."

   "Damien.  Please.  I'm begging you."

   "Twenty minutes.  Clock's running."

   I left.

   Twenty minutes later, I went upstairs to the second floor of the mostly
empty high school.  When the coast was clear, I slipped into the Janitor's
closet.  And found my pretty little schoolteacher already there.  Already
changed into an old cheerleader's outfit; her own clothes neatly folded,
for once, on a shelf.  Crying softly to herself.  The Janitor's closet was
a weakly-lit, narrow, rectangular room with shelves of strong-smelling
cleaning agents and the equipment needed to keep the school looking
presentable.  Mops, and a low white mop sink at the rear.  A folding chair
for the Janitor to sit in when he was hiding here from the administration.
And my silky, blonde, short-haired teacher.  Almost cringing away as I
approached.

   "Still spooked from last Friday?"

   She nodded immediately.

   "Don't worry about that.  I was just punishing you for a transgression.
It's water under the bridge, okay?"

   She nodded disbelievingly at me.  Always best to go along with the
insane.

   "Anyway, that was punishment.  This is instruction.  We've got about ten
minutes, give or take, before the Janitor comes in here.  Understand?"

   Cynthia Van Horn's eyes widened in shock.  She looked almost eager to
get on with this.  So she could escape.  I walked over to my backpack and
removed a nice flesh-colored buttplug.  Not too big.  Not too small.  I
walked to my Cindy, who stood as far away from me as she could get.

   "Sit down."

   Cindy sat woodenly in the folding chair.  She wore the ridiculous purple
and white heavy cloth cheerleading ensemble of the Clinton High School
Harts.  A hart was or is apparently a large deer in England.  Or was when
Robin Hood was around.  Don't ask.  My teacher's small body and large tits
were accentuated and hidden at the same time by that old uniform.  Strange
thing, cheerleader uniforms.  They're intentionally short, but at the same
time, thick enough in fabric that if you cut one into strips you could
easily hang a large English deer with one.  Oddly revealing and yet bulky
at the same time.  And my teacher filled it out perfectly; her large
nippled breasts pushing at the thick fabric.  Mixed messages aside, my cock
was throbbing in excitement.  I handed her the buttplug.

   "In your mouth, then up your butt.  It stays there through cheerleading
practice."

   Cindy immediately took the plug and plunged it into her mouth, coating
it liberally with her saliva.  In a big hurry to get me off before we were
discovered.  She pulled the plug out of her mouth and spread her legs as
she sat on that folding chair.  No panties.  Shaved beaver.  Dark pink
vagina and rosebud asshole.  She wasted no time pushing the intruder into
her rectum, not even bothering to signal her discomfort with a moan.  Her
eyes did close with the effort though.  When it was firmly seated, she sat
gingerly forward and waited.  Time for some shock therapy.  I stood in
front of her and stripped naked, my cock jutting obscenely towards her
face. She almost leaned forward to engulf it, in such a hurry to leave was
she.  Terrified of being discovered with a student.  Even if she didn't
have a choice.

   "I don't want a blowjob, Mrs.  Van Horn," I said quietly.  "I want a
handjob."

   "Just a handjob?"

   "Well...  No.  Actually there is more.  But I'll get to that.  Hold out
your hand."

   My pretty little schoolteacher held out her small hand, and I squirted a
generous dollop of lubricant into her palm.  Then with a smile and a
flourish, I made a nice pirouette, my ass in her face.  I bent over and
grabbed my cheeks, spreading them, offering myself for her inspection.

   "Toss my salad, Cindy."

   "what?" she whispered, unbelievingly.

   "Toss my salad.  You know.  Lick my asshole."

   "oh no...  i can't...  oh no..."

   "We've got about eight minutes left.  Would you like to talk for
awhile?"

   "oh please...  anything....  i'll blow you..."

   "Time's a-wasting.  And I've got something else for you when this is
done.  So I wouldn't waste a whole lot of time on this one act if I were
you."

   I waited expectantly, my ass hanging in mid-air in front of my horrified
schoolteacher's gaze.  I waited.  And then I felt the warm satin wetness of
her tongue washing my anus.  I leaned back slightly and her tongue entered
me.  Heaven.  I luxuriated in the feel of her tongue up my ass.  Then it
withdrew.  I heard my little schoolteacher gagging and sobbing quietly as
she worked.

   "Wash me."

   Her unwilling tongue bathed my sensitive anus.  I spread my legs for
more balance.

   "Now put your hand through my legs and stroke my cock, Mrs.  Van Horn.
Hurry, you've only got about six minutes."

   Her hand reached through my legs.  And she milked me as she laved my
butthole.  And it was good.  All too soon, I felt my semen well up and
erupt onto her hand and down to the floor.  I gasped with the pure relief
of four days of pent-up seed.  My asshole spasmed on her tongue.  I stood
frozen in place as my cock shrank.  Cindy's tongue left my backside and her
hand dropped off my cock.  I wheeled around on her.

   "That was great.  I can't tell you how much I loved that.  Anyway, one
little thing and then we're done."

   I grabbed the underside of her chair and leaned her back against the
low-slung mop sink.  The back of Cindy's neck rested on the front rim.  Her
eyes stared at me in fear.  I straddled her body, my cock dangling in front
of her face.  I waited.

   "I'd say we have about four minutes left, Cindy.  Last Friday, I gave
you a beautiful facial.  Today, I'll work on your hair.  I think you need
an astringent to balance the P.H.  level in your hair.  You'll have a few
minutes left, hopefully, to towel or blow dry your hair.  But don't wash
your hair until you get home, understand?"

   I arranged my pretty little teacher's short blonde tresses over the sink
and did some multiplication tables in my head.  Within a minute, the first
drops of my urine made a landing on her scalp.  Having secured the beach
head, the rest of my medium yellow piss followed, showering her head and
falling down toward the drain.  I jetted my liquid love onto my teacher's
hair.  She lay there and took it; her eyes tightly closed as I bathed her
in my affection.  Her mouth pursed closed tightly, breathing gagging,
rasping, sobs through her nose.  I wetted her head thoroughly.  She looked
so beautiful.  I held my final squirts.  The ones that clear the plumbing.

   "Open."

   Cindy obediently opened her mouth.  I dropped my penis into her mouth
and squeezed my muscles, sending the clearing jets of urine into her mouth.
Cindy's response was immediate.  She whirled from a sitting position under
me, damn near throwing me off her.  The chair went skittering crazily off.
My little schoolteacher knelt in front of the mops sink and ejected my
offering.  She spit my piss into the sink.  Oh well.  Can't say as I blamed
her.  I backed off and dressed hurriedly.  Cynthia Van Horn lay kneeling
before the mop sink crying and gagging softly.

   "Two minutes."
   She stood up shakily and d