Dylan Gets Luckier

"Dylan," I broke in gently, as he was struggling through his problem, "why don't you use the cosine?" He looked back at me mournfully, totally overwhelmed by the math, and I slid from my desk to move over toward him. We're a strict no-touching school, but I don't know a teacher with a 100% hands-off policy. I'd certainly never believed in it; kids needed some warmth sometimes. I sidled up next to him, my face barely rising to his armpit, and put my tiny hand on the small of his back. "Oh, honey, here's where you went wrong..." I said, taking the marker from his other hand and talking him through the issue.

"You know," I said quietly, as I was getting ready to move on to talk to Ellie, "if you're not busy after school, I can clear this up for you in a couple of minutes. Or you can come tomorrow morning?" My thumb was stroking his spine through the loose fabric of his tanktop.

"Thanks, Mrs Torrey," he smiled. "I can stay." I grinned warmly at him, clamping my legs shut as I headed to Ellie's board, her empty head unable to wrap itself around her problem either.

Eventually the class was over; everyone clustered by the door to go home, but Dylan stayed lounged at his desk. I was not at all one of those teachers who stood at the door like a cork in a bottle while the kids mingled there at the end of class; no, I just leaned calmly against the wall behind my desk, studying my target. Dylan was in his normal uniform of a loose tanktop, soiled shorts, and flip-flops. I knew, from Shannon's stories, that he would be in boxer briefs down below. I preferred my men to wear boxers, for ventilation. He'd be moist and stinky underneath, that was certain; it had been a hot day.

No problem. I could handle a sweaty dick. Wouldn't be the first time.

Now the room was empty, the two of us alone. I just kept looking down at him, my expression thoughtfully neutral, waiting. Kids were still passing in the hall; not until they petered out did I smile at him. "Well, Dylan," I said brightly, "shall we get started?" I walked confidently to the door and shut it, making sure it was locked. I'd never gotten laid in my own classroom before, and the excitement was starting to build.

He watched me as I strode toward him. I tried without success to read the expression in his brown eyes, but I reasoned he had to be wondering what was up. No doubt he'd be looking at me differently now than he had even a month ago, before Shannon had screwed him. Now he lived in a world where he'd managed to unload his dick inside one of his teachers; it would change how he looked at me.

I came up behind his chair and rested a hand on his shoulder as I leaned close to him; I wanted him to feel my hair as it draped the side of my face, brushing against his as I moved. "Now then. Let's see what part of this problem set is giving you trouble..."

I'd been right, of course. Two minutes and it was done, Dylan pretending he understood the material. I stayed close to him the whole time, my hand warm on his bare shoulder, my thumb stroking his skin absently. He'd be smelling me: the coffee on my breath, the shampoo in my hair, the soap on my body, the deodorant under my arms, hopefully even the dank, wet-animal smell of my cunt. His dick would already be hardening.

"See?" I gushed, patting the shoulder. "Piece of cake. We'll make a mathematician of you yet!" I trailed my fingers across his back as I rose, staying close to him; my legs were short enough that, standing, his eyes as he slouched in the chair were at the level of my belly button. "So, how's everything been with you, Dylan?" I asked casually as he began to pack his book. "Did you ever get that tattoo you told me you wanted? The one with your father's initials?" His dad had died of a drug overdose shortly after divorcing his mom.

"Uh, yeah!" He looked up at me, interested now. He zipped his backpack hastily. "Can I show it to you?"

"Please do! You'd be returning the favor," I said slyly, reminding him of the time I'd pulled my skirt up to show off my tribal. He'd be thinking about my ass now. Good.

In fairness, it was a few letters on his shoulder blade; in his tanktop, I could have easily seen the thing just by moving the shoulder strap out of the way. But I knew from Shannon's story that that wasn't Dylan's style; he liked to show off. He pulled his tanktop off with no embarrassment, then crossed his arms on the desk to lean forward. "Read it and weep, Mrs Torrey," he said with his lopsided smile; God, the kid had swag! I remembered the time we'd danced, when he'd so calmly adjusted his dick and come right back in to dance with me, boner and all.

"Looks nice," I murmured, bending down to look more closely; he'd be feeling my warm breath against his skin. This was going well, and in my mind I started to finalize my plan. The logistics would be difficult here, given our vast height difference. However I took him, it would need to be on the floor unless I wanted him to bone me standing, with me on the desk facing either direction. On the floor, there were more options to spread out.

I laid my hand on his back again, quite unnecessarily, along his ribcage. "Dylan," I asked slowly, "can I ask you a personal question? A very, very personal question?"

He turned his head to look at me, wary. "I guess..."

"Dylan, you remember last year, when we danced?" He had to; he'd firmed up as soon as I'd touched him. "You, um, well..." I laughed disarmingly, my fingers stroking his skin gently. "You were a little excited, I think."

He blushed and hesitated, speaking slowly. "Yeah. Sorry about that; I think that, uh, you're damned if you do, damned if you don't."

"How so?" I kept stroking.

"Well," he said, recovering, "like, it's a double-edged sword when a guy dances with a girl. Excuse me; a woman." He was scanning my body now. "If he gets... you know, excited, then she might be offended that he wants to... well, that he wants to be with her. But if he doesn't get excited, well, she might think he thinks she's ugly."

"Hmm." It was a pretty astute insight. "You don't think I'm ugly, obviously," I giggled. "If I'm being honest, I took it as a compliment."

"Thanks, Mrs Torrey. I meant it that way."

"Cool." My hand drifted lower, around his flank; by this time, even a pothead like him would know what I was up to. "And did your date take care of you? Aimee? Did she fix your problem?" I was grinning now, wickedly, leaning down conspiratorially. He smiled back, proud now.

"Yeah. She... well, I shouldn't kiss and tell, Mrs Torrey."

"Yeah right," I snorted. "I'm sure you two did more than kiss."

"We might have." He was definitely grinning now. I wondered at what point he would let himself touch me; most of the guys I'd been with would have been up my skirt by now. I had to remind myself how inexperienced he was.

"I got a new tattoo, Dylan. Would you like to see it?" Here it was, the payoff. He'd say yes, and the serious stuff could begin.

"Hell yeah!" I smiled, my eyes warm and bright, and I nudged his crossed arms so that he'd sit up. The desk was one of those fixed units, where the writing surface is attached to the seat. I went around to the front of it and hiked my left leg all the way up onto the desk surface in front of him, my right leg trailing off the front of the desk.

"Now Dylan," I whispered, "just like last time, we should probably keep this secret, hmm?" He nodded, and my smile widened as I pulled the hem of my dress up to my waist. He stared at the leg, the top of my stocking, the side of my underwear, the white skin of my side, devoid of body fat. He'd be seeing the exact shape of my butt, sideways, encased in pale green satin. He'd be adjusting himself any time now...

There. He looked up my leg, met my eyes, and dug calmly at himself to make his penile adjustment. I let my mouth drop open a tad, just to let him know I'd understood what he was up to, and he smirked right back. "It's under my panties, Dylan," I said, my voice throaty. "I'll hold my dress up out of the way; why don't you pull my panties down, just a little? It's right on the side of my hip."

"Sure thing, Mrs Torrey." He'd definitely know, now, that he was about to nail me like he'd nailed Shannon, only I'd make it a lot dirtier. Shannon told me she'd been pretty gentle with the boy, but then she'd been so damn horny all that week that all she'd been interested in was getting herself off against his pole. I'd be different.

He moved his hands to my body, hooked the top of my panties, and pulled them down to reveal the tat. "Shit. Cool." I was not surprised when he kept pulling far below where he needed to; he'd be able to tell from the side that I shaved now, but I doubted he'd be able to see my slit yet. I, of course, was doing nothing at all to stop him. "Is that from a song?"

"It's a singer named Bob Dylan, spelled just like your name." I was purring now. "You know, Dylan," I said, pitching my voice nice and low, "I'm glad Aimee was able to fix your problem at the dance, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I felt kind of bad about it."

"Why's that?" He still had my panties partway down; he was now letting his fingertips touch my skin. The tattoo still ached, but who cared about that?

"Well, it just seems wrong to let Aimee Lafleur take out my trash, if you know what I mean. A real woman fixes her own problems. Do you understand what I'm saying?" I used one of my fingers to tip his chin up; his wide eyes were staring excitedly. Oh yes. This would be a piece of cake. The lust would be thick in his mind right about now. "You weren't eighteen last year, but you're eighteen now. So why don't you stand up and let me do what I should have done at the dance?"

The next moment would tell me many things about Dylan: his experience, for one thing. Shannon had told me he seemed a little tentative with her when things finally came down to naked skin on naked skin, but then a lot of that had probably been intimidation. Shannon had been his first grown woman, and she'd foolishly insisted on licking his asshole first. Of course the poor kid had been nervous. I knew he'd fucked Aimee and, most likely, other girls. So he should know a lot of the basics. I was in uncharted territory here; I'd never fucked anyone younger than 21.

He didn't disappoint. He got to his feet and started to undo his belt at once. I grinned sexily. I intended to suck his cock sitting down: those damned logistics again. If I knelt, I'd be too short, and I didn't want him to have to crouch down. So I walked leisurely toward one of the desks in the front row, figuring I'd sit side-saddle. On the way, I undid the tie on my wrap dress. "I think I'll get just a little bit naked, Dylan," I threw over my shoulder; I loved being nude, and he'd certainly get me that way soon, but I knew I looked dead sexy in matching underwear. Might as well give him the visual.

By the time I got to the desk, my dress was crumpled on the floor behind me. I stood there in my sensible, green satin underwear, striking a pose. He'd probably have his clothes off by now, especially if he was as confident as I thought he'd become. He'd be looking at my ass now. "You ready?" I called out behind me, still not looking.

"Fuck yeah." I heard the pat of his bare feet on the linoleum now, and I pushed my ass further out than I needed to as I sat down. Then slowly, languidly, I turned my head to look at my new man as he came to me.

He was cute, but hardly hot; I was juiced up more because of the situation than because of my partner. But he did have a nice enough dick, a teenage pillar of trembling, juicy flesh that reached out to me hairlessly, smooth and surprisingly dark. The head was big, but the rest of it looked manageable enough even for my little twat, though he was a bit long. I looked at it indulgently. "I like your cock, Dylan," I announced loudly; most guys liked being praised. "It's going to split my little body open, though. Now then," I added, leaning forward to look up at him, "I've got a very important question for you, Dylan. Are you listening?"

"Yes, Mrs Torrey," he gulped. True to form, he was getting nervous as contact approached. Shannon had said she'd needed to take charge a tad, and she'd also said he was quick at recovery; she said he'd taken her twice in about fifteen minutes, but I needed to be sure before I swallowed his cum.

"Honey, did you jack off last night?" He was close enough now for me to reach out and touch that nice, solid cock. So, of course, I did. He was hot and very, very firm. I demonstrated, rubbing softly. "You know, did you cum?" His streamlined balls jiggled beside my fingers. He caught his breath.

"No, Mrs Torrey. Not last night. I mean," he said, blushing, "I may have cum a couple nights ago, with... with a girl. But not last night."

"Excellent." I didn't care what he'd done with other whores, so long as he was clean; I just wanted to make sure the guy had a full tank today. "Come stand in front of me. I want to suck your dick, Dylan. How about that?"

"Cool." Of course it was. I wasn't going to be able to take him all the way down, but no biggie. There were other ways to make men cum. He was a stinky one, that was for sure; he had that acrid tang of ball-sweat, but it overlaid a rich, powerful muskiness, a very manly smell that went straight to my cunt. I shivered.

"Stand closer, sweetie; don't be shy." His legs spread to straddle my narrow thighs, and I reached a lazy hand around to his beefy ass. Goddamn! That thing was explosive. I was tugging more firmly at that dick now, watching as the wide head began to glisten. I leaned in and gave his pubic hair a series of wet, licky kisses. He groaned. "Such a nice cock," I muttered, my hand measuring it. Probably close to seven inches.

I did not particularly enjoy giving head, but like any properly-raised American woman I knew how to do it, and do it well. I went tongue-first, expecting a nasty flavor and mitigating it by making sure I had a nice, thick puddle of saliva on my tongue. The penis before me was heavy and ready, its owner standing over me with his hands on his hips, looking down at his teacher with a cocky smirk. I started way, way underneath, closing my eyes and bathing his two firm young balls, then lifting his shaft out of the way so that I could glide up the bottom, tracing the prominent tendon underneath. I finished at the rough, broad head, cuing myself with the taste of his precum: at the first hint of salt, I opened wide and inhaled that sweaty cock like I was a pornstar.

My eyes opened, rose, and met his; we glared hotly at each other, my nose and mouth full of the taste and smell of his naked skin. I held him loosely in my mouth, generating more saliva, my fingers tickling his spit-slicked scrotum; my other hand gripped hard at his asscheek. Already, I knew this was passion he'd been unlikely to have felt from Shannon.

And then I started sucking. I allowed myself to be awfully loud, slurping with abandon, my cheeks hollowing as my lips pursed around him. From where I started, I had his peehole lodged up at the back of my mouth, next to my tonsils; I didn't like this kid enough to gag on him, but I did admire his restraint as he kept his hands off me. From time to time I'd release him, slide back and forth a few times, and then go back to sucking; he was moaning and gasping appreciatively at all the right moments.

I imagined his little Aimee, frenzied as she held her mouth wide and bobbed quickly, over and over; I was not that sort of female. I had restraint, control, patience, and he was already learning from me. On my fourth trip up and down his shaft, he finally put his strong, large hand on the back of my head; my ponytail was still in place, and he held it easily, confidently. He was becoming a man, right there in front of me, and I was proud of him. I backed off him for a moment, still playing with those beautiful balls.

"Well?" I said, looking up, my back arched in the school desk. "Am I a good cocksucker?" I didn't hear his answer as I took him again, slightly deeper, but then I already knew what he'd say.

He shouldn't last long, and that worked fine with my agenda: armed with Shannon's intelligence, I'd decided to let him blow his first load pretty quickly so that he could last longer on the second. I kneaded his ass with both hands now as, my head cocked well to the side, I dived underneath to suck on his ballsack. My teeth came into play now, his groans inhuman. One more good set of sucks, I figured, should do it.

So I went back up top and redoubled my efforts, pulsing my cheeks and tongue around him, applying pressure with my lips. "Urghh," he muttered, his butt flexing under my hands; I felt his grip on my hair tighten. "Mrs Torrey... I'm cumming..."

"Mmm," I hummed in delight, sucking once, then twice more, before my lips felt the quick swelling of his shaft, his cockhead twitching against the roof of my mouth just a split second before he unloaded. I took the first two blasts right down my throat, swallowing comfortably; #3 I held in my mouth, then I spat him out and pointed him down at my breasts for #4 and 5. The hot, splattery shock of his semen in my cleavage made me gasp a bit. I would never have cum from giving head, but anytime I make a guy shoot it's pretty exciting.

His cum was ordinary, of average taste and thickness. I felt it sliding down my throat, then tipped my head back to look up at my gasping new man. I opened my mouth and extended my tongue lewdly, letting him see his sperm swimming around in there. I was chuckling huskily behind his fluids, gargling a bit before I swallowed that load too, smacking my lips theatrically. I kept my hold on his ass, looser now, my hands running up and down. "You're a tasty little morsel," I winked, making a kissy face. I could feel droplets of his cum running under my bra. "Call me Gina."

Poor Dylan was overwhelmed, his legs nearly buckling as he looked at me in amazement. "Uhh... Gina," he said in awe, trying it out. "Um, thanks."

"No," I cooed, "thank you!" I gave his softening cock a smacking kiss; the mission now was to get this kid erect again as rapidly as I could. My pussy needed attention, and I didn't figure it would be useful to let him go down on me. Though he certainly would have. "Why don't you take a seat and relax, friend? We're not done yet, in case you're wondering." I winked broadly, then swept some of his semen off my chest with my fingers and sucked playfully. He groaned, then his nude ass found a desktop behind him and he sat.

For my part, I leaned back in the hideously uncomfortable school desk and considered. The stripping would come next, and if that didn't get him hard, well, I had other ways. Sex would definitely take place on the floor. I'd try to get him to do me doggy, my favorite position when fucking guys other than Mike, although the length of his dick might not allow that. Plan B would be prone. Either way, I wanted him to see my squirming pale body as he took it. "Take your time, Dylan. The custodians don't come in until 5:30 or so."

"Oh." He was oddly sheepish, no doubt overwhelmed by his luck here. He would obviously have no idea why I was so hot to screw him, and I couldn't very well tell him it was because my disordered brain couldn't stand Shannon Boyle's pussy wrapped around him if mine couldn't be, too. I made something up.

Standing, I smiled flirtatiously and crossed to where he was sitting, his dark cock all sticky with my spit. I reached down and cupped it. "Dylan," I said quietly, "do you have any idea how hot you are?"

His eyes widened. He clearly knew he had a great ass and some nice, hard legs, but I doubted he was so delusional as to believe I thought he was "hot." But, with me fondling his dick while wearing matching underwear, and with his cum still drying on my skin, I figured he wouldn't think about it too much.