A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 02

He started talking again, something about the vacation schedule. I undid the top buttons of my blouse; he fingered my other boob. His cock grew larger and harder; I whipped my tongue up and down the shaft. He took his finger off the microphone's send button and a groaned erupted from his lips. I chomped on his dick; saliva ran from the corners of my mouth. He was on another topic, mid-term examinations; his finger left the send button.

"My balls, play with my balls."

I ran my fingers over them.

"Good, but harder! Don't be afraid to hurt me."

I dug my nails into his scrotum and moved his cock-head into my cheek; it popped from my mouth with a sharp smack. I licked the shaft, took it back in my mouth, bobbed my head up and down. His hand went to my shoulder, urging me to suck harder. I shoved my head down; he reached the entrance of my throat. I raced my lips up and down his dick.

His legs began shaking as he wobbled through his final announcement. I felt a frisson of excitement; my mouth had reduced this articulate man to a stumbling school boy.

"The girl's basketball team..., playing for championship..., conference championship..."

I sucked like a mad woman, slurping loudly. Could anyone hear the unusual background noise?

"In our gym..., winner state tournament..., Friday night.., want everyone attend. Good day."

He dropped the microphone - it bounced on his desk - and wrapped his hands around my head. Without concern for my comfort, he plunged his dick in and out of my face. His ball sac slapped against my chin; his balls withdrew into his body; the head of his cock banged against the opening of my throat. Then he bellowed, "Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," let go of my head, and dumped his cum in my mouth.

Jism gushed down my throat. I loved the taste and feel of it, loved reducing this proud man to babbling incoherence. After he blasted his last drop of jizz into my mouth he sagged in his chair. I bathed his softening prick with my tongue, swallowed his final wad of spunk. His cock slid from my mouth. I licked my lips, pressed my tits to his knees, gazed up at him. My glasses were askew, the lenses dotted with his spunk. He gestured to his private bathroom.

Inside I straightened out my clothes, cleaned my glasses, brushed my hair. My pussy was on fire. I wanted to masturbate, but there was no time. I re-entered his office. Principal Johnson struggled to his feet. Under his grateful stare I re-applied my red lip stick.

"If you'd like a regular gig..."

I considered confessing. I could tell him a student had disinterred a long buried secret, that I was at his mercy, that I was here today at his instruction. Maybe Mr. Johnson would help me; maybe he'd help for regular blow jobs. But no, once he'd learned what had happened he'd have to tell the school board. Andy might get in trouble, but my career, my relationship with Bruce, would be over.

I thought about Principal Johnson's question. Whether I'd be back on my knees sucking his cock? That was up to Andy, not me.

"We'll see."

Employing his office's private entrance I merged into the crowded hallway, arriving at class a couple of minutes late.

* * * *

During classes the last two days I'd been intensely aroused, letting the students teach themselves while I struggled to deal with my raging libido. Today, the taste of the principal's cum an omnipresent reminder of my debauchery, my cunt was once again aflame. However, I found that, despite burning with concupiscent need - my newly-shaven pussy pulsated, my breasts throbbed - I found I could focus and teach. It was as if I had become acclimated to a heightened state of arousal.

When the third class drew to a close I looked to Andrew. I needed him to guard the classroom while I masturbated. He approached.

"You're doing much better today."

While he was correct, I responded petulantly, annoyed by his presumption that he knew me so well. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ms. Kaminska, who are you kidding, you're on fire, exuding sexual energy. You'll be the feature in plenty a schoolboy fantasy tonight."

I didn't want to argue; I looked to my office, signaling what I did want.

"I'm sorry, but before you masturbate I've got a quick assignment. Coach Greiner is running the girls though drills. Go to the gym, tell her you're thinking about going to the game Friday night. She'll be gratified, ask you to sit behind the bench, give you a tee-shirt to wear."

"I can't go to the game. Bruce hates sports."

"Ms. Kaminska, that's not gonna be an issue. Earlier this semester, when you were lecturing about changing norms for care of the elderly, you said that Bruce visits his mother every couple of weeks. I saw the two of you in town last weekend. How long has it been since he saw her?"

"Three weeks."

He went on; I felt like a child listening to a parent's explanation. "Perfect. After you tell him about the Mayor's invitation for Saturday, that he'd need to buy a $5,000.00 ticket to attend, and that the principal leaned on the faculty to go to the game Friday, he'll decide it's the perfect weekend to visit Mom. If there is any hesitation, encourage him."

I wanted to say something to put him in his place, but Andrew had Bruce pegged.

* * * *

While walking across the courtyard to the gym, cool air swept across the wet lips of my pussy. It felt delicious. Was Andy right, was I giving off a sexual energy? Were there more young men's eyes on me than usual? I thought about my students, in bed, jerking off while images of me played in their heads.

Inside the gym Coach Greiner was tossing basketballs onto the floor. Although barely five feet tall, word was that she'd been the best high school point guard in the state, compensating for her stature through quickness, smarts, and ruthless aggression. Now in her late-40's, her short hair displaying a smattering of gray, she remained in top condition, her build stocky and muscular.

Coach made no secret of her sexuality. Over the last couple of years, at school functions, I'd met a few of her lovers. None lasted long and there were rumors of a carnivorous sexual appetite, of a bottle of wine and numerous women, some prominent in the community, some on the faculty, who'd visited her bed.

The team, led by its two stars - six foot five Imogene Holden and six foot one Trecia Smith - came jogging out of the locker room. Imogene our center, Trecia our point guard, one white, one black, both headed for Baylor, and unabashedly in love. They gathered around coach; Imogene's hand rested on Trecia's back.

The girls started running drills. Coach wandered over.

"Hey Helga, I didn't know you were a basketball fan."

"Can't say I know much about the game, but I thought, after listening to the announcements this morning, that I might come Friday, show some school spirit."

An eyebrow went up. "Bringing Bruce?"

"No, I expect he'll be visiting his Mom."

Coach pondered this statement, then said, "I reserve a few seats behind the bench, you can sit there. I had tee shirts made up to show support for the team. I'll have one of my girls drop one off."

I thanked her and hurried back to my classroom. Andrew stood guard as I, for the third time that week, brought myself off in my office.

Later in the day Britney Jones, our shooting guard, brought me a shirt. She gave me an openly sexual stare. I kinda liked it.