Sex Ed

Every boy in grade 12 French class was fantasizing about Mrs. Lindquist, and for good reason: those tits! For obvious reasons, the brunette normally wore loose-fitting blouses that were buttoned up to her neck; lately, though, she'd begun wearing tight dress shirts.

During these recent weeks, which got all the boys gossiping, she was also going about with a deathly frown; and Ed Schneider, no less turned on than his 18-year-old classmates, had noted this sadness in her. He remembered a time when she'd comforted him (in a perfectly innocent way, of course), several years back, when she'd taught him grade nine French; he, crying, had entered her classroom when she was there alone, after he'd been verbally abused by his mother at home during lunch.

Seeing her in what seemed a similar kind of pain, he wanted to return the favour of giving comfort...though in a more physical way, of course.

One day, as she was teaching Ed's class, a few of his classmates were finding excuses to taunt her.

She'd been reviewing animal vocabulary, and a boy raised his hand. She turned to face him, her tits shaking.

"Mme. Lindquist, how do you say 'seal' in French?" He and his friends knew the answer from having checked Google Translate on their phones, so they were all...tittering.

She glared at him, her eyes looking over her glasses, which sat on the tip of her nose. "You have your phones there to tell you the answer," she said. "You don't need me, Phil."

"Oh, yes I DO," Phil almost moaned. "Please pronounce it for me."

"Google Translate has a thing you can click to get the sound."

"I don't trust the thing to get it right."

"So, your thing isn't good enough?" she asked with a sly smirk.

Now, everybody was laughing at Phil, who shut up and frowned.

Later, Ed went up to her desk to ask her a question. She looked up at the cute brunet, her frown almost gone.

"I forget how to say 'Happy birthday' in French," he said. "I wanted to ask you privately, so as not to remind you of Phil's rudeness."

"That's sweet of you," she said with a smile. "It's 'Bonne anniversaire.' Why not just use your phone, as Phil did?" She undid the top button on her blouse.

"My mom won't let me have my own phone," he said.

I'll have to buy him one, she thought, then asked, "Your mom's still controlling you? I remember you having a problem like this years back. How old are you?"

"I turned eighteen a month ago," Ed said.

"I see." She undid another button. Phil and the other guys were watching. She smirked when she saw Ed looking down her shirt. He was wondering what kind of package her flowery lace bra was holding. "Do you have any other questions?"

"No," he said. "OK, I'll stop bothering you."

"You're not bothering me, sweetie." She grinned at him.

Phil and the guys were still watching.

"She always unbuttons her shirt when Ed talks to her at her desk," Phil said. "She likes him."

"But he's such a dork," one of Phil's friends said. "Such a mama's boy. He wouldn't know what to do with her if she ever made a move on him."

"You got that right, Brian," Phil said. "And she doubts what a man I am in bed. Maybe I'll show her one day."

"Maybe all of us will show her what men we all are," Brian said.

*************

The next day, Mrs. Lindquist was talking about modern French art, including Dada and surrealism. Phil put up his hand.

"Mrs. L?" he asked while looking at a picture on his phone of the Mona Lisa, but with a moustache and beard added to it in pencil. The teacher, in tight black pants, had just walked by his desk, and he was admiring her from behind. She looked back at him.

"What is it, Phil?" she asked, dreading his next words.

"Marcel Duchamp took a postcard reproduction of the Mona Lisa and drew a moustache and beard on her, then wrote "L.H.O.O.Q." under the picture. What do the letters mean?"

"Judging by the lewd smirk on you and your friends' faces, I'd say you already know the answer to that," Lindquist said.

"But why have a picture of the Mona Lisa with facial hair? Surely Duchamp should have used a picture of you. If only he'd lived a hundred years later."

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" She was sneering.

"Of course," Phil said, ogling her tits and behind.

"And if only Dali were alive today, he'd have painted your body, instead of melting watches."

Again, Phil's classmates laughed at him. He frowned, but refused to be discouraged.

Ten minutes later, Ed went up to her desk to ask her another question or two...and she undid a button or two.

Phil was scowling as he watched them. "What's that little geek got that I don't have?" he asked his friends.

"Maybe she likes the sweet, sensitive type," a friend said.

"Whatever the reason, if he ends up fucking her, I'm gonna grill him for information," Phil grunted. "First question: are those tits real?" He saw her writing something on a small piece of paper. "I wonder what that is...an invitation into her bed?"

"Your questions are a little too hard for me to answer here right now," she told Ed while writing the address of a hotel on the piece of paper. She gave it to him. "Tell nobody about this, OK? I'll answer all your questions there, tonight at 9:00. Will you be free then?"

"Yeah," Ed said, noticing a nervous frown on her face. "Are you OK?"

She looked up at him, still frowning. "As I said, I'll answer all your questions there, including the ones you're too shy to ask."

"OK," Ed said, shaking but also excited. "You've been sad for quite a while, I've noticed."

"Tonight, sweetie, not now. And...shave, and dress nicely for me."

"Gladly," he said, then walked back to his desk, hoping his hard-on wasn't poking too obvious a bump in his pants.

Phil and his friends watched Ed sit at his desk on the other side of the classroom. "Let's keep our eyes on him," Phil said. "Follow him in his car tonight."

*************

Ed found her in the hotel lounge, sitting on a sofa. He was in a suit and tie, shaved and with his brown hair neatly combed. She was in a black dress that showed off her curves well, as well as in high heels and bright makeup.

"Wow!" he said when he looked at her. "You look so...I mean, sorry, I mean, good evening, Mrs. Lindquist."

"Call me Anna," she said, getting up. "You look really handsome yourself. I'm going up to Room 506. Wait here for ten minutes, then go up there and knock on the door." She walked by him.

"506," he said, trembling, his boner poking forward uncomfortably in his pants.

"Shh! Yes," she whispered. "In ten minutes." She walked over to a nearby elevator and got in.

**************

Ten minutes later, he was standing at the door of Room 506, still trembling and embarrassed at his obvious erection.

I'm gonna lose my virginity! he thought. I don't believe it! Still, I'm scared. What if I'm misreading her signals? What if I'm no good in bed because of my lack of experience? What if I make a move, and she slaps me? What if people find out, like her husband?

She opened the door. "Don't you know how to knock?"

"Huh?"

"Get in here." She grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the room. She looked down at his hard-on and smirked. "Well, you're pleased to see me."

He blushed.

****************

Phil and his friends were in the hotel parking lot, walking among the cars and looking for Mrs. Lindquist's white Honda. Brian ran back from the hotel lobby to them.

"Well?" Phil asked as Brian was catching his breath. "Did you see Ed in there with her?"

"Him, yes. Her, no," Brian panted. "He was...alone...in the lobby. In a suit. He looked...nervous. He got in...an elevator."

"Did you see what floor he went up to?" Phil asked. "You didn't get so close that he saw you there, did you?"

"No, of course not," Brian said. "And no, I don't know what floor he went up to. A group of people got on with him."

"We know all we need to know, anyway," Phil said. "She slipped him a secret note. She smiles at him all the time, and unbuttons her shirt only for him. He drove alone to this swank hotel in a suit. He went up to a room, all nervous. And look over here..." Phil pointed to the teacher's car, noting the licence plate they'd all memorized. "She's here, too...the same night he's here."

"I don't think she came here with her husband," Brian said.

"Nope," Brian said. "I guess the romance between those two died out years ago. She and Ed are fucking."

***************

"C'mere, honey," she purred, lifting up Ed's chin with her finger so his eyes would meet hers. "Don't be afraid of me."

He giggled out his nervousness.

"Do you like them?" she asked. "I may be thirty-nine, but my equipment is still holding together well. Wanna see?"

"Yeah," he chuckled with a grin and a beet-red face.

She unzipped her dress, pulled the shoulder straps off, and let the dress fall to her ankles, revealing a black lace bra and thong. She turned around for him with a proud grin.

"Holy shit!" he gasped at the sight of her smooth, round buttocks. "Oh, uh, sorry for swearing, Mrs. Lindquist."

"Ed, do you think I care about the morality of your mouth? I'm far more interested in the immorality of your lips and tongue." She licked her lips and brought her boobs to his face. "Wanna unhook me?"

"Uh, y-yeah." His shaking hands reached for her bra.

"Don't be nervous, sweetie. Just relax."

"I'm trying to." He unhooked her bra. Please don't sag, he thought; please don't sag.

"This is your first time, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He looked away from her eyes and pouted his shame.

"I haven't deflowered a guy in...twenty years?" She opened her bra just up to where her areolae started, then closed it, as if to do it up again; then she opened it again, just before the areolae, then closed it, opened it, closed it, and continued teasing him thus three more times until finally whipping the bra off with a proud grin and a titty shake.

His boner was in pain as it tried to punch a hole in his pants. He looked up in her eyes. "S-sorry for looking."

"Sorry?" she said with a sneer. "You're such a geek." She giggled and pinched his cheeks. "But you're such a cutie, too."

He blushed again.

"Wanna see what I have hiding down here?" she asked, pointing down to her thong.

"OK," he chuckled, fidgeting as he looked down.

"Wanna pull 'em down, or shall I?"

"M-may I?"

"You're such a good boy," she said, caressing his cheeks. "Always asking permission."

Having not heard an answer, he remained frozen in a pause.

She sighed. "Yes, you may pull them down."

Those shaky hands picked the thong's sides and pulled them down to reveal...a full Brazilian wax.

She's as hairless as a porn star, he thought, his eyes bugging as far out of his head as his dick was trying to, out of his pants.

She let the thong fall to her ankles, then kicked it off and slipped her feet out of her heels. She now stood completely naked before him...except for her glasses. She turned around for him again.

"Your body...is perfect," he gasped with agape eyes.

"Thank you," she said. "Now, it's your turn." She reached for his zipper, but he stepped back, protecting himself. "Hey, that's no fair. You get to see me, but I don't get to see you?"

"That's different. You're beautiful. I look stupid nude."

"I don't believe that. I'll bet you have a cute body."

"No,...I'm scrawny and pale."

"Honey, at the very least, HE has to come out so he can go IN. Judging by the bulge in your pants, I'd say you don't have to worry about his size disappointing me." She reached for him again and unzipped him.

He sighed in relief from there being no more strain on his hard-on, which was poking his blue underwear out through the open fly. She flipped the underwear out of the way so his cock would point out with a boing, six-to-seven inches perpendicular to his standing, shaking body.

"Wow," she said. "What were you worried about?"

He blushed.

"Since you're so shy about your body, I guess we can just do it like this." He moved his dick between her legs, being all eager to lose his virginity. "Honey, not yet. I need some foreplay first. Kiss me all over. That gets me hot."

"OK," he said, then started with a peck on her lips. He put his shaky hands on her hips, as a test to see if he had her permission. She kissed him back hard, sticking her tongue in his mouth and running her fingers through his hair. After snaking her tongue over and under his, she took hers out, and with her teeth and lips gently gripping his lower lip, she pulled it for a few seconds before letting it go.

"Go down," she sighed. He kissed his way down her neck and worked his way over to her right breast. She raised a hand to take off her glasses. "Guess I'll take these off." He looked up when she removed them and shuddered at what reminded him of another woman's face.

"Oh, please," he said between kisses on her breast. "Keep them on, OK?" He squeezed his lips around the nipple.

"OK...oh," she sighed, then put the glasses back on. "Do my glasses...make me...look sexier? Ooh..."

He let go of her nipple, said, "Yeah," then resumed sucking.

"They make me...look smarter?" she moaned, then pinched and played with his ears. "Smart is...sexy...to you? Ah!"

"Yeah," he panted, then between kisses over to her other breast, said, "Also, without...your glasses, you look...too much...like my mom." His lips hugged her left nipple.

"Oh," she sighed. Too Oedipal for comfort, apparently, she thought; besides, you don't like your mom too much. I wouldn't want bad memories of her getting you...down.

He built up the courage to put his hands on her ass. He gave her cheeks gentle squeezes. He opened them and slowly worked his fingers into her crack, closer and closer to her anus.

"Ooh!" she squealed in surprise when she felt a finger stroking her anus-wrinkles. She'd cleaned herself thoroughly back there, but she preferred to have his fingers touch another hole, so she took one of his hands and put it in front, between her legs. The other hand's fingers continued stroking her asshole, coaxing it open.

She felt fingers playing with her labia, and she took a finger and used it to find her clitoris. Now he was stroking her there, and he felt it grow hard. Another finger slid inside her wet vagina. She took the finger and guided it to find her G-spot.

Her sighs and moans were getting louder and louder. His lips let go of her nipple and kissed their way down to her navel, then to her hairless crotch. She lay on her back on the bed and spread her legs.

He put his face between her legs and put his lips around her clitoris. She was fresh and clean down there, a smell and taste that encouraged further exploring with his tongue. He slid his finger back in her vagina, remembering where she'd guided it to find her G-spot. He tickled, rubbed, and massaged her there, getting squeals and fidgeting from her.

She was now a slippery and gooey wet: with his dork still sticking out of his pants and doing nothing, he figured she was ready to take it inside. He put his knees on the bed between her legs, and while kissing up from her crotch to her belly, then to her tits, and finally up to her neck and face, he aimed his cock for her vaginal opening.

When the tip of his cock touched her hole, she let out a high-pitched gasp. He pushed in a little further.

"Ah!" she screamed.

"Sorry," he panted, backing off a bit. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, I like it," she said urgently. "Quick! Back in! Oh!"

He pushed in halfway, grabbing her tits. She wrapped her legs around his waist, squealing louder as he pushed in another quarter of the way. He pecked her on the lips.

He shoved it in all the way, and she screamed so loud, it hurt his ears. He moved in and out of her, and not even four pokes had gone by, but she'd already orgasmed.

"Ah!" she screamed, piercing his eardrum and scratching her nails across his back. As he continued jamming in and out, he thought about how he couldn't believe he was actually fucking...and fucking his French teacher, of all women!

"Where...should I...come?" he panted as he kept going.

"On my...belly. Oh!" She came again.

He pulled out and sprayed all over her belly and mons veneris. A little pool of come filled up her navel.

He got off of her, put his dick in his pants, and zipped himself up. He lay beside her on his back.

"Could you pass me...the tissue box?" she asked.

"Sure." He gave it to her. After she took a few tissues out, he did too, and both of them wiped the come off of her. They put their arms around each other.

"Was that good for you too, sweetie?" she asked.

"Oh, Mrs. Lindquist," he sighed. "That was amazing. You were better than all my fantasies about you. Your body is more beautiful than I'd ever imagined. I think I'm in love with you, Mrs. Lindquist, as silly as..."

"Please call me Anna," she said almost angrily. "Don't say 'Mrs.' Excuse me, honey, I've gotta use the bathroom." She got up and went there without putting anything on.

He saw that look of pain on her face again, and after she closed the bathroom door, he went over to it and eavesdropped. He heard sobbing.

She's cheating on her husband, he thought, then went back to the bed and lay on it. He kicked off his shoes.

After a few more minutes in there, she came out, still frowning.

"Are you OK, M--A--Anna?" he asked.

"No," she said, then got on the bed beside him. They put their arms around each other. "My...husband...has been seeing a girl...one not much older than you are. I read their text messages to each other on his phone. I saw them together in a café two months ago. That's why we're here now." A tear ran down her cheek.

"Oh, M--Anna, I'm so sorry." He held her closer.

She pecked him on the cheek. "He was always so sure I'd cheat on him, always getting paranoid of me cheating, when I never had, and now I found him doing to me exactly what he thought I was doing. So I wanted to get back at him...yet I feel even worse. I feel guilty for seducing one of my students. I feel like such a pervert, a slut. A cougar. I wonder if he feels guilty for his own infidelity?"

"I say, if he can do it, you can, too."

"Thank you, sweetie." She kissed him again.

"I don't mind being your piece of action," he said.

"I'm sure you don't," she said, noting his hand on her tit.

"No, I mean more than that. If I can help you to feel better, I'll be glad to. I still remember how kind you were to me when I complained about my mom a few years ago. You kind of look like her, but you're prettier and nicer."

"Thank you," she said, then thought, So, it IS an Oedipal thing with you after all; well, I guess we're helping each other. "Just realize the risk if we continue this affair over a lengthy time."

"I don't think I can ever end it with you."

"My husband will want to if he finds out. He's rather high-strung, to put it mildly."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, and as I said, insanely jealous. He sure was when I was younger, back in my late twenties when he married me. He always assumed men were looking at me, and if ever I looked back...whoa, he'd go crazy. He always used to say, if ever he caught me cheating on him, he'd kill himself and my lover, then leave me alive to feel guilty for the rest of my life."

"Oh, shit. Well, I'm willing to take the risk, because I love you."

"Yeah, but I don't want anything to happen to you, because I care about you."

"We'll be careful, then."

"We'll have to be. He can be really crazy. His explosive temper is what's been making us drift apart over the past few years."

"He's jealous of you, but he's free to cheat if he wants to? Doesn't sound fair."

"Of course not. Then again, he was never rational."

"If he's so screwy in the head..."

"Oh, he sure is that--screwy."

"How can such a nut-case attract beautiful women, first you, then this new tart he's found?"