Teachers Cheat Too

"Thanks to you, I can hardly walk," Raul, the sexy Spanish teacher, said, holding a textbook awkwardly in front of him.

We'd been exchanging flirtatious glances and littering our emails with racy double entendres for a while now, but none of it amounted to any real misbehavior. Yet here he was, in person, in my classroom after hours, sporting an impressive tent in his pants.

"Hardly?" I smiled. "Was that intended to be a pun?"

"Exactly," he replied, his Castilian accent beautifully decorating the word. His glance flickered toward his lap and he grinned sheepishly.

Widening my eyes and lowering my voice I said, "Can I see?" I meant it playfully, but I was more than half serious. My heart thudded loudly at my daring, and I could feel my pulse even in my fingertips. The room felt unusually warm.

A smile played across his lips and he rose from where he was leaning on a desk and shifted his balance indecisively. He shook his head slowly as he said, "This is a very bad idea," but his steps carried him toward me nonetheless.

His confidence seemed build as he approached my desk, and he stood behind my chair. I was paralyzed with indecision. He shifted his weight and said, "I can't get any closer," unequivocally giving me permission, more than daring me, essentially commanding me, telling me to act on his proximity.

I could smell the leather of his coat, the faint scent of coffee, and something else. He smelled masculine.

Licking my lips and not breaking eye contact, I reached for his thigh, and slid my hand up his leg and under the hem of his coat to the crease of his groin, my thumb making contact with something very warm through his tailored dress pants. A slight nod of his head, a lift of his chin, another look that said, "I dare you," encouraged me to continue, and my fingers followed his warmth to its source, and I finally rested my hand on the mound of his rigidly erect penis. He blinked and his expression changed slightly, became more intense, as my breath escaped me and my posture shifted, arching my back and instinctively assuming a more vulnerable position, exposing my neck submissively as my hand began to massage his erection, my fingertips memorizing its contours and sensing the pulse of his blood and the heat of his virility. I was instantly captivated by what my hand had found, and I felt as though I were a woman starved who had finally found a delicious source of sustenance. I wanted it. With every fiber of my being I craved it, and my mouth salivated in response.

A muscle in his cheek twitched as my index finger traced the crown of his penis through his pants, and he took a sharp breath. He was very, very hard.

His right hand found my breast and he lifted it in his hand. My skin screamed for more of his touch as my already hard nipples stretched toward his caress, and I silently cursed my sweater for deadening the sensation of his touch. As if hearing the thoughts my brain was screaming, he ran his fingers up to my neckline and plunged his hand inside my shirt, finding my breast again and rubbing my erect nipple with his thumb, then teasing it with his fingertips before massaging the whole breast again.

If I were a cat, I would have purred. The hairs on my neck stood up as chills raced up and down my spine, but I continued rubbing and squeezing the hard shaft in his pants. The thin jacquard fabric of his slacks impeded my access to him, and I found his zipper with my thumb, but greed or fear bid me to leave it in place for a moment longer. My instincts begged me to ease my hand into his pants to touch that delicious flesh, but I postponed that pleasure for another minute, not wanting to lose this delicious place where we were, but there was also the risk of being caught in a compromising position.

That risk I ignored.

I lifted the hem of his coat to reveal the bulge my right hand was so busily caressing, feeling the ridge along the underside, and I leaned forward, resting my mouth softly on that spot and exhaled slowly, breathing my heat onto his raging member.

A gasp -- a groan -- it was some primal sound of desire that escaped his mouth, and he closed his eyes and squeezed my breast in response. Dimly aware that we could be interrupted at any time, I pulled back and my thumb found his zipper again. I stood and whispered in his ear, "Come with me."

I gave his dick one more gentle squeeze as I brushed past him, but after a few steps, not sensing his movement, I turned to see a strange, stricken expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I saw Frank," he whispered.

"What?" I asked, confused. "The principal? Where?"

"Through the window," he murmured, now striding across the room to peer through the tiny window to the hallway. "He was right there, at the window."

"He was looking through the window?" I deadpanned, disbelieving. The principal had probably only been in my hallway twice that year, so it was extremely unlikely that he'd be wandering around after hours looking in windows, but if he had... Let's just say that the ultra-conservative, morally perfect administrator wouldn't just let it go if he caught two married people fooling around on his watch.

"He..." Raul stopped, "He was looking up. Maybe he was looking at something above the door."

"Shit," I said, slumping back into my chair. "Do you think he saw us?"

"I hope not," he said. Then his countenance changed, "I don't think he could have. From that angle he would have only seen my back; he wouldn't have seen anything. Besides, if he had, he would have interrupted, wouldn't he?"

"I think so," I whispered.

I was still undeterred. It should have been a mood killer for me, nearly getting caught, but it wasn't. It wasn't that Raul brought out the exhibitionist in me, it was more that he brought out the careless. I wanted him and didn't care who saw. I still would have taken him by the hand and pulled him to the storeroom to finish what we had started if I weren't certain that the mood HAD been killed for him.

Resigned and disappointed, I shut down my computer and shoved the stack of grading into my bag. "Let's go then," I sighed, glancing his way. He had already moved to the door and was as far from me as the walls of the room would allow, and I assumed he was afraid of what Frank might think if he saw us looking too friendly, but he was acting like he was afraid of me.

The halls were empty as we exited, and Raul walked a safely platonic distance from me all the way out of the building. He held the door for me, but then peeled off in a separate direction as soon as we hit the sunlight.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, looking me in the eye as he backed away. "I'll talk to you later," and he was gone.

Dumbfounded, I shook my head and turned toward my car, hoping the hurt wasn't written too plainly on my face.

---

I drove around for a while, too frustrated to go home, and found my way to a winding mountain road just west of town and accelerated into the curves while I tried to get my head on straight. Cresting a bluff, I took a pullout that overlooked the valley I'd just escaped and cut the engine, leaning forward to rest my chin on the steering wheel. I was immediately surprised by the chirping of my phone: Caller Unknown.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hola," came the reply. "Where did you go? I've been trying to reach you," came that delicious Spanish accent across the line. "I wanted to tell you I'm really sorry about what happened."

My heart sank again. Sorry. I wasn't sorry, except sorry that we were interrupted. "I was out of cell range," I explained.

"I want to apologize," he said again. "I freaked out back there, and I bolted. I didn't know what to do."

Oh, I thought. He's sorry because he bolted. That's different, then. "Don't worry about it," I said.

The line was awkwardly silent for a moment before I heard his voice again, lower this time. "I can't stop thinking about it - about you," he purred. "I keep thinking about how good it felt to have you touch me, and I want to see that look on your face again." He paused, "I want you."

I shifted in my seat, struck silent as my heart pounded. This was an appetizing turn of events.

"What was the look on my face?" I asked.

"Desire," he said. Then, "Lust." Another breath, "Joy."

I exhaled slowly.

"Where are you?" he asked.

I cleared my throat. "In my car. I'm west of town, overlooking the city," I paused. "Where are you?"

"I just got home," he said. "I have, at most, an hour before my wife gets home."

I cringed a little at that. I was married too, so I had absolutely no case for jealousy, but I didn't like thinking about the woman who took for granted the man I desired, but then, that gave me pause to wonder if perhaps some woman felt that way about my husband and me, and noted that I probably didn't care - at least at that moment I didn't.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said honestly. "Just sitting here, chin on the steering wheel, looking at the world. What about you?"

"I'm sitting on my bed. I just took off my pants. You left me with quite a problem."

"Oh, did I?" I breathed, leaning back and visualizing him there, in his gigantic suburban home on his gigantic suburban bed with a gigantically raging hardon while he fantasized about a woman who was decidedly not suburban. "Wish I could help you out with that."

"I wish you would help me out with it."

My panties were already wet from our earlier adventures, but as my hand grazed the fabric between my legs I found that my juices had soaked through my jeans.

"Are you touching it?" I asked.

"I still have my boxers on," he said, "but, yeah, I'm squeezing it."

"Is it leaking?"

"Yes," he said. "There was a lot of pre-leak earlier, but thinking about it has me ready."

"I wish I could taste it," I breathed.

He groaned. "If we hadn't been interrupted, I'd have taken you to the storeroom to let you have more than a taste. I'd have to be careful though," he said. "You get me so excited - I wouldn't want to come before I had a chance to enjoy you."

"If you came," I whispered, listening to his breath, "I'd lick you clean, getting every last drop off of you," I paused to hear his breath change as I spun my fantasy, "and then I'd suck and rub your dick until you were hard again, and desperate for release. Then you could enjoy me all you want."

"Are you touching yourself?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

I looked around before I started narrating for him. "I'm in my car and I haven't seen another car in over ten minutes. My seat is leaned back and one hand is feeling my stomach and massaging my breasts," I breathed. "And my right hand," I paused, "my right hand is in my pants," I said honestly. "I'm rubbing my clit with the slippery cream dripping from my pussy. There's so much of it," I said. "You got me so excited."

I heard his breath catch. He was definitely jacking off now; his breath had a rhythm that betrayed his movements, even though it sounded like he was moving slowly.

The thought of his hand rubbing his deliciously stiff, oozing member was enough to get me off. I closed my eyes and pictured him, lying back on his bed and naked from the waist down, his eyes closed, his hand slowly working his meat and occasionally reaching down to cup his balls, a bottle of lube carelessly open beside him on the covers. I pinched my nipples and shivered.

"What would you have done if we hadn't been interrupted?" I asked him.

His breath had a ragged edge to it. "I would have taken you to the storeroom and closed the door," he said, "and I would have pushed you against the counter and pressed my dick against you so you'd know the effect you have on me."

I leaned my seat farther back and my fingers honed in on my clit as he spoke.

"I would have kissed your lips, and then I would kiss your ear, your neck, your collarbone. I would have rubbed and teased your nipples until they ached at attention, while I breathed the scent of your hair." He paused for a moment. "Then I would have pushed you down to your knees, and you would exhale your hot breath on my dick again, like you did earlier. And you would unzip my pants and pull out my penis. You would suck it into your mouth and I'd have to fight not to just come all over your face." His breath was even more pronounced, and I realized we were breathing at the same pace as I rocked my hips and rubbed my clit in the bucket seat of my car.

"What are you doing right now?" he asked softly.

I resumed the earlier narration. "I just slipped my fingers inside my pussy and it's soaked," I said. "It's hot and tight and wet, and I can't help but wonder what it would feel like if it were your dick instead, pushing inside me, stretching me open around the head of your cock."

I stopped and listened to his breath.

"Is your hand on your dick?" I asked knowing it was, but wanting to hear him say it again.

"Yes," he replied.

"Squeeze it for me," I said. "Run your fingers from base to tip and give the head a squeeze."

He was silent, so I could only guess he obliged.

"I wish my mouth were where your hand is," I said. My fingers moved quickly across my clit and I knew I could come if I kept it up. Picturing him was enough. "Now as you work your hand up and down I want you to imagine that it's my mouth, and I'm on my knees at your feet, licking your dick and sucking on you while you pull my hair and rock your hips in ecstasy."

I paused again to listen to him. I could just discern the rhythmic sound of his movement, but it was his breath, his breathing was shallower and decidedly influenced by his building need, and it was making me crazy. I pinched my nipples and felt a shudder race up my spine. I was so close.

"If I were there," I asked, "where would you come? Would you pull out of my mouth to shoot your cream on my breasts, or would you pulse hot in my mouth, with me licking the last drops from your spent member?" The images flashed in my mind as if they were reality. "Or maybe you'd pull out and cram your pulsing cock in my pussy at the last second so you can fill me with your seed?"

I was there.

My body shuddered, and I gasped, "I want to feel you come, Raul. I want to make you come."

Wave after wave of pleasure rocked my body, in spite of my limited space behind the steering wheel. I squirmed in pleasure and satisfaction, but my lust did not subside

The line was silent for a moment except for his breathing, and it sounded like he was very close. "Voy a correrme," he groaned, his voice trembling and barely above a whisper. "I'm going to come."

That did it for me. I came again. "Oh, god, you're coming," I breathed, picturing his head thrown back in ecstasy as his hand pumped his cock, his seed landing on his chest and stomach, and I thrust my fingers deeper into my quivering pussy, humping into my palm with my clit as I pressed back into the drivers' seat. I shook as the next orgasm wracked my body.

As the pleasure subsided I realized that I could no longer hear his breath.

"Are you there?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied quietly, "I'm still here."

After a pause he said, "Next time you come, I want it to be because I'm inside of you."

My heart soared at the thought.

"Do you think that's likely?" I asked. "You've given me enough fodder today for me to have 'personal time' several times this evening and then again and again over then next few days and unless we're rearranging our schedules, I don't think you'll be there."

"You know what I mean though," he persisted. "We have to find a way. I want to feel you."

"Okay," I said. "Find a way."

"I have to go soon," he said. "My wife could be home any minute."

"Yeah, I do too," I replied, zipping my jeans and putting my seat back up. I had steamed my windows all by myself and it was still afternoon. "See you tomorrow?"

"Hasta mañana," he whispered as we ended the call.

---

The weekend seemed so long, and, thanks to Raul, I was unnaturally happy to return to work on Monday. What a switch from my usual disdain for the workweek.

Raul was keeping a low profile after the incident with Frank, but the principal wasn't acting strangely so we felt like we were safe. We ran into each other in the usual places - the mail room, the copy room, the cafeteria, but people were always around, so we could manage no more than a casual, "How's it going?" He had a crazy affect on me though, and more than once, after a chaste and public exchange, I had to go to the ladies' room to, uh, dry off.

I realized I was having a similar affect on him when he walked through the staff lounge where I was eating with my friends. I happened to be consuming a banana at the time, and I saw his eyes widen as we locked gazes and I brought the long slender fruit to my opened mouth. He shifted his folder to block view of his crotch and ducked into the men's room. My friends didn't notice, but I smirked happily to myself at the thought of his dick twitching.

Using work email or even the network to communicate wouldn't have been wise since it was monitored, but occasionally my cell would vibrate during class with a new text message: "I want you now," "You look so sexy today," and "I wish you would touch me again like you did the other day." I was finding it difficult to keep my composure in class when I wanted to spring out of my skin every time I thought about him.

On Wednesday morning he slipped into my classroom as I was organizing my lessons for the day. He stood a casual distance away, but spoke in a quiet, conspiratorial tone. "What are you doing after school today?" he asked.

I smiled. "I was supposed to have a PBS meeting," I answered, "but it was cancelled because Mandy's daughter is sick, so I guess I'm not terribly busy." I turned and leaned against the same counter he was leaning on. "Why do you ask?" I flashed him a quick, naughty smile.

"Did you say you have a credit card that your husband doesn't have access to?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. We had talked about it before when my husband and I were having marital issues and I set up an additional independent bank account to start squirreling away funds.

"I have cash," he said, "so you don't have to pay for anything, but would you mind using your card to guarantee the room? There's a motel just about a mile from here and I thought maybe..." his voice trailed uncertainly.

"Won't your wife notice if you don't come home at the usual time?" I asked.

"I'm supposed to play tennis tonight until about nine, and she doesn't know that my partner cancelled," he said. "Is there something you can tell your husband?"

I thought for a moment. "I can tell him I'm having coffee with Heather," I said. "We meet up regularly and usually stay out until about that time."

He turned his body to face me and I automatically mirrored him. We were still about three feet apart, but it felt magnetic. "When will you be finished here?" he asked.

I grinned, "I can get a sub now, if you want."

He smiled and reached across to touch my fingers on the counter. "That's how I feel too," he said, "but we can't check in until three."

That was ten minutes after the final bell. I could be ready by then, I thought, and told him so.

Before he left he moved close and gave me a quick hug, but whispered in my ear, "I can't wait to taste you."

My knees nearly failed me.

---

Five minutes before the bell my phone vibrated its announcement of incoming message. "Meet me in the Safeway lot at Broadway and Plant Street. I'll drive from there."

My heart raced.

When the bell rang, I left right behind the students and fought through the row of impatient parents picking up their kids in the circle drive. I arrived at Safeway at 2:54 and saw Raul's car already there. I parked inconspicuously amongst the other cars and wandered over to his and hopped in, pulling off his magnetic sticker on my way.