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Subject: {GordieD} Mrs. Engstrom  (mfF cons, nc bond)
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Do not read if under eighteen
Contains sexually explicit material

E-mail comments welcome
Archiving OK

--------------//-------------------------

Mrs. Engstrom

   by Gordie D    (GordonD103@aol.com)


Eyelids drooping, eyes unfocused, my thoughts drifted to happier times, when I
wasn't confined in this small room. My head tilted to the side, drool puddling
in the corner of my mouth, my mind slowly became fuzzier and duller till I was
little more than a zombie, an unfortunate wretch that had given up all hope.
Prison? An opium den? An Eastern Bloc gulag?

Nope. Mrs. Engstrom's third period trigonometry class. There are some people
who don't get trig, don't want to get it, are unable to work up any enthusiasm
for it whatsoever. For people like them, like me, math class can be a rather
mind numbing experience, making it feel like all the life was being vacuumed
out of you. I guess in my case the only saving grace was Mrs. Engstrom herself.
Tall, long limbed, I would admire the curve of her butt and hips when she was
writing on the chalkboard, her full breasts jutting out from underneath her
blouse when she was speaking to the class. Her snug fitting skirts were an inch
or two higher than you would expect for a schoolteacher, her blouse not
buttoned up as far as you would expect. The black pumps she wore had definite
spike heels to them, and the color of her lipstick could only be described as
'Please Fuck Me Red."

If her appearance seemed to invite the attention of the opposite sex, her
manner definitely did not. She always seemed pretty grim and serious, not
looking at you so much as glaring, smacking her ruler on her table to interrupt
troublemakers and delighting in humiliating students in front of the rest of
the class. Yes, she was a bitch, but it takes a lot more than that to stop a
teenage boy from fantasizing.

My lack of interest in all things mathematical drew the attention of Mrs.
Engstrom on a few occasions. "Look, it really makes no difference to me, Tim,"
She would say wearily to me after class, "But do you even want to do well in
this class?"

"Um . . . I guess so," Was my answer, in my typically erudite teenage fashion.
She arranged for me to meet with a tutor once a week, in the school library.
The tutor who was assigned to me was a senior like myself, named Mary. I never
had any classes with her, or saw her around anywhere, I figured because she was
in all the advanced classes, unlike myself. She wasn't knock-out beautiful or
anything, but cute, with long, fine blond hair and round wire rimmed glasses,
and she had a very friendly manner, always smiling and getting up close to you
when she spoke to you. By our second session I had a feeling there might be a
mutual attraction- We would always be trying to stifle grins, glancing at each
other. No matter what kind of dumb joke I would tell, she would always laugh
like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard, and she would always blush
and fidget around when I would tell her how nice she looked. At the end of our
third session I asked Mary if she'd, y'know, like to go out this weekend, and
she said um, sure, why not.

We had lunch at a Mexican place, and spent the afternoon wandering around town,
looking in record stores and bookstores, our conversation mostly centering
around school. When our conversation drifted to Mrs. Engstrom, Mary's attitude
changed. "God, how I hate her," She seethed. "I have to tutor to get my
scholarship, otherwise . . . She makes me do stuff that has nothing to do with
tutoring correcting papers for her, getting her lunch. If I complain to her,
she just lets me know she can get me kicked off the tutoring program any time.
She knows my scholarship depends on it. Once I even had to go out to her house
to pick up some papers that had to be delivered to the administrative building-
Can you believe it? The bitch never even says thanks, just puts me down for
being too slow, or acting too grumpy." Mary let out a low growl. I quickly
changed the subject.

Around five I asked Mary what she'd like to do now. She mentioned her parents
would be out late this evening, and maybe we could go over to her place and
microwave some pizza. After eating, we lounged on the couch, drinking Pepsi and
watching a 90210 rerun. After a while, I looked over at Mary. She looked over
at me, with a little grin. We simultaneously moved our faces toward each other,
touched our lips together, impatiently working up the intensity, sucking on
each other, our tongues wrestling. My hand went right for her tit, grabbing,
squeezing. She took my hand, but not to stop me, just to get me to be a little
more gentle. I could feel her nipple stiffen through her bra and blouse, and
after a minute Mary let her hand wander downward, stroking the outline of my
throbbing dick through the outline of my jeans. I slid my hand under her shirt,
feeling her tits over her bra, then reached around in back and popped open her
bra.

Mary pulled away. "Let me see you jerk off," She said with a grin. I didn't
hesitate to free my painfully confined erection. "Oooh," She sighed, admiring
the length of it.

"You do it," I said, taking my hands away from it.

She shook her head. "You." I was too desperate to come to argue. Sliding my
hand underneath her bra, feeling the unbelievable softness of her tits, I began
jacking off with my other hand. She looked from my dick to my face and back,
grinning wickedly at the sight of me beating myself off. In probably less than
a minute I felt my orgasm coming. Squeezing and jerking, I groaned as a long,
powerful jet of cum spurted out of my dick, traveling practically a foot in the
air, then splattering back down on my hand. I pumped out a half dozen more
spurts, grunting with each one. Giggling, Mary touched her hand to a glob of
semen that was on my hand and rubbed it between her fingertips. Mary had seemed
pretty straightlaced when I had first met her, but she definitely had a wicked
side to her.

We got closer over the next few weeks, spending weekends with each other, and
evenings on the phone together. I finally got her to jack me off- You can't
believe how good her soft little hand felt. While she did it, the look on her
face, eyes narrowed, biting her lip, breathing heavily, was just pure horny
lust. As I came she would cup her hand and point my dick toward it, filling the
palm of her hand with my slippery semen. She would then rub her hands together,
grinning, delighting in the slimy feeling. In return, I would slip my hand
underneath her panties and massage her little pussy. She would beg me to
whisper in her ear and tell her what a fucking slut she was, how she was just a
horny little bitch. On the phone, we would come up with fantasies, which got
better all the time.

One fantasy Mary came up with, was one where she was living on an isolated
ranch, and I was a cowboy who was after a map to a gold mine she had. I
threatened to whip her, rape her, shoot her- nothing worked. Finally, I
stripped her and tied her up, then began very lightly tickling her pussy with a
feather. She held out at first, but after a while gave in, groaning, begging me
to rub harder, saying she would do anything if I would fuck her . . . Anything.
I came up with one where we were both living on an island in the south Pacific
where, once a year, a virgin is sacrificed to the gods. Mary was next in line.
In order to save her, I would have to pop her cherry. Late one night I snuck
into the hut where she was being held, overpowered the guards and took her off
into the jungle. However, one of the guards followed us, and before I knocked
him unconscious, he hit me a pretty good blow to the head. I lay there dazed.
With the sounds of the guards searching through the jungle for us, Mary,
desperate to save herself, jerked and sucked on my dick, trying to get it hard.
In a minute I came to my senses, quickly got it up, and popped her right before
the guards found us, saving her. My hero, she sighed. 

After sharing all this with her, it was really funny seeing her around  school,
in her sweater and wire-rimmed glasses, looking very studious. A side result of
my relationship with her, unintentional on my part, was actually getting good
grades in trig. This drew the attention of Mrs. Engstrom who, one day, called
me to her desk after class. While going over some papers, she said to me,
without looking up, "Your grades are actually improving, Tim. The tutoring must
be doing some good."

"Uh  . . . Yeah," Was my incisive reply. She stayed silent a moment, and I was
just about to turn and leave when she stopped me.

"You . . . you wouldn't be interested in earning a little money doing
gardening, would you?" I get enough allowance and usually don't do stuff like
that, but, I don't know. We looked at each other for a second, and the way she
looked at me- her eyes, lids slightly lowered, meeting mine- For some reason I
agreed to do it. 

That Sunday she showed me what needed to be done. Most of the backyard was
taken up by a swimming pool, but there were some hedges covering the back fence
that needed trimming and a flower bed that could use some weeding. While
showing me around she mentioned offhand that she had recently been divorced.
"It's good having a strong young man around," She said, eyeing me, her stern
voice lowered a bit. If my suspicions were raised a little when she first asked
me, they were now raised even further . . . About to the level of my crotch. I
started in on the hedges and Mrs. Engstrom disappeared into the house.

She reappeared five minutes or so later, wearing a terrycloth robe over a black
one piece swimsuit, a magazine in one hand, a tall drink with lots of ice in
the other. Seemingly ignoring me, she set the drink down on the arm of a deck
chair and took off her robe, laying it on the cushion of the chair, then sat
down. Before laying back, she pulled the straps of her swimsuit off her
shoulders, tucking them under her arms, then carefully tugged the top part of
her suit down an inch or two. As I clipped the hedges, I watched her out of the
corner of my eye. Unlike the girls in high school, Mrs. Engstrom had a real
woman's body- Long arms and legs, curving hips and nicely rounded butt, big,
full breasts under the tight spandex of her swimsuit. 

I bet going to bed with a woman like that would be great. If they wanted to
fuck you, they would fuck you, without a lot of BS. The girls I went out with
would encourage you, then pull back, giggle, then get pissed off at you and not
tell you why. They didn't know what the hell they wanted. With a grown woman .
. . "You want to go to bed with me? Sure! That'd be great!" Then, in bed, "Rub
my pussy for a minute, till I'm ready, then we can fuck, OK? . . . A little
lower, more slowly . . . Oh, that's it baby . . . Just a minute more . . . I'll
give you the fuck of your life . . ." Groaning, eyes closed, she would gasp,
"Now! Now! Put it in me now!"  I would quickly jump on top of her, pushing my
throbbing dick into her slick, snug vagina, pumping eagerly. She would buck her
hips upward to meet my downward thrusts, both of us groaning together, our
sweaty bodies sliding against one another, pumping each other more and more
quickly. When I would come it would be an explosion, flooding her with cum,
grunting loudly with each spurt, her grunting along with me, then gasping
breathlessly in my ear, "You're the best baby. You're the best."

My daydreaming had give me quite a boner, but I was wearing a pair of loose
shorts, and I don't think it showed. Working on the hedges near where she was
sitting, Mrs. Engstrom held out her glass to me. "Care for a sip?" I said
thanks, taking the glass, groaning to myself at the tenuous grip the top of her
swimsuit had on her tits. "Tim, do you like me?" She asked.

"I think you're beautiful," I blurted out, then wondered if that's what she
meant. 

"Well, thank you," She said, a pleased look coming across her usually stern
face. "You're a handsome young man yourself. Listen, could you . . . Could you
help me with something inside the house? I'd like to move a table, but it's
just too heavy for me." I said sure, no problem, following her into the house,
watching the slight jiggle of her round butt cheeks. My chest tightened up and
my breathing got heavy. I was 99% sure something was going to happen. 

"My goodness, you were working hard, weren't you." Walking through the cool,
dark living room she slipped her hand under my tee shirt, feeling the sweat on
my back, running her hand up and down. That was the remaining 1% as far as I
was concerned. I reached over and skimmed my hand over the soft skin of her
butt that was exposed by her swimsuit. "Oh, Tim," She said, not sounding too
surprised. We stood there stroking each other for a minute, then she whispered,
"Take my top down." I took the top part of her suit in my hands and pulled
downward, slowly revealing her tits. I'll never forget the way her tan line ran
right across the outer edge of her large, soft pink areola. Breathing through
my mouth, I took the two squishy globes in my hands, squeezing and massaging
the way I knew Mary liked. I felt Mrs. Engstom take a sharp breath. She then
whispered, "Take your clothes off, Tim." It took me about three seconds to pull
off my shirt, shorts and shoes. "You are ready to go, aren't you," She said,
admiring my rock hard dick. "Why don't you take my swimsuit the rest of the way
off, Tim." Wide eyed, I pulled it down to her waist, then, kneeling, slid it
over the beautiful curve of her hips, coming face to face with her neatly
trimmed patch of pubic hair, then lowered it slowly along her long, tan legs.
She daintily stepped out of it when I got it to the ground.

Putting her hand on my back, she guided me to the couch. I sat down, lay back,
and Mrs. Engstrom sat beside me, wrapping her long slender fingers around my
dick, stroking lightly, licking her lips, a look of lust in her eyes. She
climbed on top of me and straddled me, then lowered herself carefully as she
aimed my pounding erection. Placing the head of it against the opening to her
pussy, she slowly lowered herself, both of us groaning together. But instead of
pumping herself up and down, she just slowly rocked back and forth. She was
enjoying it, sighing each time she exhaled, but she wasn't moving around enough
for me to get off much, and I definitely wouldn't be able to come like this.
Mrs. Engstom was leaning forward, resting her hands on my chest, her eyes
closed, slowly rocking. Her breathing increased and her face flushed, her upper
lip shiny with sweat, and in a minute she took a deep breath then let out a
long hoarse groan. I felt a flood of moisture surround my dick.

She climbed off my still throbbing erection and sat down beside me, panting,
tilting her head back and holding the back of her hand over her eyes. "God, did
I need that," She gasped. I sat there like a dumbass, my dick stiff and
pounding, wanting some relief but too intimidated to ask my trigonometry
teacher to give it to me. After a minute she came out of it, and, noticing my
erection, gave me as much of a smile as she could manage and wrapped her hand
around it, then began firmly and impatiently jerking it. With her other hand
she yanked a couple kleenex out of a box on the end table and held them over my
dick. "Wouldn't want to make a mess, would we?" Feeling her soft, strong hand
stroking me, over the coating of her slippery cum, it took about thirty seconds
for me to come. With her tits jiggling as she quickly jerked me off, I let out
a grunt, firing half a dozen jets of cum into the kleenex. 

The next few weeks fell into a predictable pattern, spending weeknights on the
phone with Mary, and getting together with her on Saturdays. On Sunday
afternoons, on her open invitation, I would drop by Mrs. Engstrom's. Mary and I
had expanded our horizons a bit- she was a little squeamish about giving me a
blowjob at first, but after the first one she really got into it. I loved it
when she moaned loudly when she sucked it, and commented on how my dick got
bigger and bigger as she sucked it. She warned me, though . . . I'm serious! .
. . to let her know when I was going to 
come. She wasn't crazy about the idea of a mouthful of my slimy goo, and loved
to see the cum spurting out of my dick, anyway, laughing and grinning at the
sight of it. In return I would lick her little pussy, tickling her little clit,
encouraging her to tell me how she liked it. Taking her clit between my lips
and sucking gently really got a shriek of pleasure out of her. But,
unfortunately, she was adamant about not wanting to go all the way. Which is
where Mrs. E came in. She let me fuck her, but always in the same very, very
slow way where she would come, but she would never let me come in her, just
jerk me off after she was finished. The thought of climbing on top of her,
shoving my dick in and out of her as fast as I could, then pumping her full of
cum consumed all my thoughts. But, I guess you can understand, she was a pretty
commanding woman, used to being in charge, and I just meekly went along with
whatever she wanted. Every time I went I told myself, OK, this time I'll ask
her- No, I'll tell her . . . But I never worked up the nerve.

Obviously, I didn't tell Mary about my time with her hated math teacher. Mary
and I were getting closer and closer but I figured, well, what she didn't know
wouldn't hurt her, and I figured it wouldn't hurt our relationship any. As for
Mrs. Engstrom, I didn't mention my relationship with Mary to her, guessing all
she wanted was the occasional quickie with me, and wouldn't really care one way
or another. As for me, it was happy camping all the way around, and I really
had no complaints.

One Friday morning, just as I was about to step into trig class, I ran into
Mary in the hallway. We gave each other a hug and a peck on the lips, and
talked for a moment about what we would be doing that weekend. She said she had
to be going, and as I turned to go into the classroom I was met by the icy
stare of Mrs. Engstrom, sitting behind her desk. She had evidently been
watching me and Mary in the hallway. She never had a terribly friendly
expression, but she seemed to have an especially cold look on her face, before
turning her attention back to some papers on her desk. Could she possibly be
angry about me and Mary? After considering it for a second, I shook my head and
laughed to myself. She couldn't really care. It must be my imagination. 

At least that's what I thought. I usually called Mary around nine-thirty or ten
in the evening, but I got a call from her at seven on Monday evening. She was
sobbing, in tears. "That bitch finally did it- What's she got against me
anyway? I'll never get my scholarship now!" More sobbing. I told her to take a
deep breath and tell me what happened. She took a second to collect herself,
then said, "She . . . Mrs. Engstrom, got me kicked out of the tutoring program
. . . For 'improper conduct', whatever the fuck that means. I'm totally screwed
now!" She groaned. It hit me like a ton of bricks. For some warped reason, Mrs.
Engstrom didn't like seeing us together, and was taking it out on Mary. Before
I could think, I spilled everything to her, how Mrs. Engstrom and I had ben
getting together, and probably why she did what she did. 

"How could you?" She howled. "With that old bitch? I thought you liked me- you
know how she treated me." I sputtered out excuses, I did like her, but guys
will do it with anyone, no matter how much of a bitch they are. I told her how
stupid I felt, how it would never happen again, but I don't think it had much
of an effect. When I got off the phone with her I felt like an absolute piece
of crap, sure that it was over between us.

I moped through the rest of the week. I didn't bother phoning Mary, figuring
there was no point, and didn't bother showing up for our tutoring sessions. I'm
the type that gets completely bummed out after a breakup, losing interest in
everything, spending my free time watching TV in the dark. Shuffling out of
math class on Friday, Mrs. Engstrom asked to see me as I passed by her desk.
When the classroom had cleared, she looked up from the papers she had been
straightening. 

"Tim, could you possibly come by my place this afternoon? I have some . . .
heavy work that needs to be done. Do you suppose you could make it?" I shrugged
and said OK, not really caring one way or another. With a pleased look coming
across her face, she told me to wait at her car in the parking lot after
school.

Laying nude on her bed, and with Mrs. Engstrom sitting on the edge next to me,
it took me a minute to get it up. "You must have something on your mind," She
said, stroking my dick. "There we go," She whispered, as it gradually got hard
in her hand. She knelt over me, one hand resting on my chest, the other guiding
my erection into her. Rocking, sighing, moaning, she massaged her clit as I
felt the gradual buildup of moisture inside her. After a few minutes, gasping
through her mouth, Mrs. Engstrom let out a low groan, coating my dick with her
slippery cum. With a satisfied sigh, she climbed off of me.

She lay beside me, breathing heavily, then rolled over on her stomach and
closed her eyes. "Oh, I'm so tired," She said with a yawn. "I hardly got any
sleep last night. Do you suppose you could, you know, finish yourself? I just
can't keep awake." She yawned again, turned her head away from me and settled
into the pillow. I lay there, looking at my erect dick, glistening with her
cum. I didn't touch it, and it gradually softened. I got up from the bed and
pulled on my pants, then walked into the living room, sitting on the couch. I
reached for the phone and without consciously thinking, punched in Mary's
number.

"Tim, I'm glad you called. I was just about to call you. Listen, I'm sorry
about the way I acted."

"No, it was all my fault, Mary."

"No it wasn't. Some woman throws herself at you- what are you going to do. It's
not like we're married or anything."

"What about your scholarship?"

"Oh, there's a bunch of things I can do for it besides tutoring. Don't worry
about it . . . Mrs. Engstrom really let you fuck her? How was it?" She asked
with a little giggle.

"It was okay, I guess. It'd be better with someone you like, though . . .
Someone like you."

"Yeah, you wish, lover boy."

"You're really not mad?"

"Well, I guess I could forgive you. I wouldn't mind giving that old bitch a
kick in the ass, though."

I looked over to the door to Mrs. Engstrom's bedroom and thought a moment.
"Listen, Mary, are you free right now  . . . ?"

Mrs.Engstrom was still lying on her stomach, nude, sleeping soundly. Picking my
T-shirt up off the floor, I walked over to her. Leaning over the bed, I gently
took one of her arms and moved it behind her back, tying one end of the T-shirt
around her wrist. Then I carefully secured her other arm behind her back,
without waking her. I took the belt out of her bathrobe, which was over the
back of a chair. I rolled her over and quickly tied the belt to her ankle, then
to one of the legs of the bed. 

"What . . . Tim . . . What are you . . . " She said groggily, twisting around,
realizing her wrists were bound. I quickly grabbed the bathrobe and tied one
arm of it around her free ankle, the other arm around the other leg of the bed
so she was totally helpless, legs wide apart, hand tied behind her back. When
she had woken up completely and realized the situation she was in, she tried to
intimidate me. "For God's sake Tim, stop this nonsense right now. Untie me,"
She commanded. I said nothing, just surveyed my work for a minute. I then left
the bedroom, got a soda from the fridge and sat down on the sofa. Kicking my
feet up on the coffee table, I clicked on the TV and waited for Mary to arrive.
Every so often Mrs. Engstrom would call out, with a touch of pleading in her
voice, "If you would just tell me what you want . . . Tim? . . . Tim!" I turned
up the volume on the TV to drown her out.

I led Mary, her eyes wide in anticipation, to the bedroom. Peeking in, her
mouth dropped open, then a grin came across her face. "I don't believe it," She
gasped.

"Oh, Christ," Hissed Mrs. Engstrom, seeing both of us.

"Hi, Mrs. Engstrom, how have you been? Evidently you kind of like Tim too. He
is pretty cute, I can't blame you," She said casually, sarcastically, walking
slowly over to the bed. Mrs. Engstrom opened her mouth but couldn't get any
words out. As Mary sat on the edge of the bed I pulled my pants off and stroked
my growing dick. Seeing me, Mary turned back to Mrs. Engstrom. "You like Tim
screwing you? I won't go that far with him, but I guess some people are just
fucking sluts." She licked her pinkie and very lightly ran it in circles around
Mrs. Engstrom's nipple. "Like that?"

"For Christ's sake," Groaned Mrs. Engstrom helplessly. I sat on the other side
of her, stroking my now full on erection. As Mary circled her finger around,
the older woman's nipples grew, her areola swelling slightly.

"You do like this, don't you? Tim- Fuck her. I mean really fuck her hard, so it
hurts. Fuck her brains out," She grinned. "I'll get her ready." Mary let her
fingers trace downward, slowly down her stomach, through her pubic hair,
licking her pinkie again and circling it around her math teacher's clit. Mrs.
Engstrom summoned up all the authority she could, considering she was bound,
nude, spread eagled in front of two of her students, and said, in a low voice,
"Look, if you stop this now, I won't tell anyone. Stop this now, understand?" 

"Fuck you," Mary spat back. "When a teacher sleeps with a student, it's the
teacher who's in trouble, not the student. We don't have anything to worry
about." Mary rubbed more firmly, circling her entire hand around, eventually
slipping two of her slender fingers inside. She slid them in and out for a
minute, then pulled them out. Her fingers were wet and glistening. Mary then
quickly pushed the two fingers inside Mrs. Engstrom's mouth. She thrashed her
head around, trying to keep the fingers out, but Mary succeeded in making her
suck her own juices. After that show, my dick was pounding. I climbed on top of
Mrs. Engstrom and Mary grabbed my eager hard-on and guided it toward the pussy
she had just warmed up for me. I groaned as I pushed it in, pumping slowly,
planning to gradually work up the intensity so I would last a while. Mary
tweaked at her nipples.

"C'mon, really fuck her," She laughed. I picked up the pace a little, thrusting
my hips into her, jolting her with each pump. Now this was fucking- My dick,
pumped up to its absolute maximum size, being shoved in and out, quicker and
quicker, squeezed by the vaginal muscles of my trigonometry teacher, coated
with her own involuntary lubrication. 

"Please . . . " Mrs. Engstrom finally gasped. She took a deep breath and said,
as calmly as possible, "Tim, please be very, very careful . . . If . . . if you
get me pregnant we'll both be in a great deal of trouble. When you feel your
orgasm coming, please pull yourself out. All right?" Seemingly ignoring her, I
pumped faster and faster, jolting her as she pleaded with me, her tits jumping
with each thrust.

"Screw you," Sneered Mary. "You'll be the one in trouble. Do it, Tim. Shove
your dick in as far as you can when you come. Pump her full of it." Mrs.
Engstrom closed her eyes and let her head drop back, groaning, surrendering. I
felt my orgasm building and began pumping as fast as possible, breathing
quickly and deeply. Sensing it was coming, Mary's eyes were wide in
anticipation, Mrs. Engstrom's squeezed tightly shut, her body tensed up. I let
out a loud groan and at the last possible second, pulled my dick out and shot a
huge, long streak of cum down the middle of her body, stretching from the top
of her pubic hair to her chin. Squeezing my spurting dick, I moved it over a
little and left another streak alongside the first, then moved it over again
and shot another streak along side that one. When I had pumped it all out, Mrs.
Engstrom was left with six long lines of my semen across her stomach, each
perfectly parallel and spaced about an inch apart. She let out a sigh of
relief, feeling it on her, and not in her.

Mary laughed at the sight of it, but sounded a little disappointed. "You should
have fucking knocked her up." I flopped on my back, recovering, Mary sitting on
the edge of the bed. Mary reached out and scooped the cum off Mrs. Engstrom's
stomach with the edge of her hand and wiped the thick slimy fluid on Mrs.
Engstrom's lips. Our math teacher, exhausted, all her dignity and authority
gone, hardly even tried to fight this final assault. I looked over at her.  Her
eyes closed, lips tightly shut against the big blob of semen on them, she
turned her head from side to side a few times, and, realizing there was no way
to wipe it off, and unable to tolerate the uncomfortable feeling of leaving it
there, gave up her last shred of dignity, slowly licking her lips and forcing
herself to swallow.

I pushed Mrs. Engstrom on her side and untied my T-shirt from her wrists. As I
got dressed she remained on the bed, eyes closed, hands still behind her back,
breathing through her mouth. I put my hand on Mary's back and led her out of
the house. 

Walking home, Mary asked, "Why didn't you come inside her?" I just shrugged.
"You're just too nice a guy," She said, with a shake of her head.

"No, actually I was saving that for you."

"You'd have to marry me, then."

"In that case I guess not. Who'd want to marry a little witch like you?"

Mary smacked my arm. "Stupid," She grumbled, with a grin. I put my arm around
her and pulled her against me.

"It did look pretty good, though," I said, looking over at Mary, "What I was
doing to Mrs. Engstrom?"

She shrugged, bit her lip, looked at the ground. Looking over at me, she said,
"You wouldn't even have to tie me up . . . Unless you wanted to . . ."


                              The End








 



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