AFTER-SCHOOL DELIGHTS

copyright: Lesley Tara, 2012

Our eyes cross occasionally, so fleetingly that no one else in the classroom would notice it. But Miss Harper will have seen the flash of desire in mine, she will have experienced that delightful electric tingle down between her legs from the knowledge of our secret shared – and from the anticipation of what will happen after school today!

No one else in the class would see anything of significance, nothing at all, for Miss Harper’s attitude towards me in public is just the same as to all of the other boys and girls: helpful and encouraging, but in a neutrally professional way. Only I know of the passions that burn beneath her cool composed exterior, and the fires that I have learned to stoke to intensity.

Outwardly, my face shows only the vaguely attentive look that is shared by the other sixteen year-olds sitting in the rows of desks around me, but inside I am so excited, so turned on by my incredible secret – that my teacher and I fuck each other in unbridled hot lesbian lust! I glance around the classroom, and think – if they had any idea, if they knew what we get up to after school, tumbling naked together in a thrashing tangle of limbs in her bedroom, wet cunts smacking down on eager mouths, tongues squirming into slippery slits, puffy labia grinding hard against each other, and long ramming grunting thrusts with that huge strap-on dildo, until there are gasping drenching shudders and wild screams of explosive orgasms – my God, how amazed and shocked they would be!

Behind her neat brown-rimmed glasses, Miss Harper’s clear grey eyes flick my way again. She knows very well what I am thinking about – and it is certainly not the algebra that she is teaching! I know her well enough by now to spot the faint flush in her cheeks and the hint around her lips of the pensive smile that turns me on so much. I know for sure that the pulse is beating a little faster in her throat, and that her nipples are rock hard inside the smooth lining of the full-cup bra that she is wearing – without which, her tits would be jutting out at me like two homing missiles in their silos, primed and waiting for the command to launch.

Oh, yes, Miss Harper knows very well what will happen next, after school ends today, and we are both watching the clock and counting down the minutes. This is one of my favourite times, when my class has our last lesson of the day with Miss Harper (this happens on Mondays and Thursdays), and I can enjoy the proximity of her presence, savouring the special secret that we share and looking forward to our after-school delights.

Without letting it be apparent in any way, I study Miss Harper from the corner of my eye. At thirty-three years old, she is a little more than twice my age – a difference that I find very thrilling and arousing. My teacher has that so-sexy confident maturity that only an experienced adult woman can possess; it is partly her assured poise and partly a matter of her looks and physique, with that slight leanness to her face, the hint of a line at her eyes and cheeks, that slight thickening at the waist – although her figure is very well-kept, and she doesn’t carry an ounce of flab on her body. Just then she stands at the blackboard and turns her profile towards me (is that just by chance, prompted by her unconscious thoughts – or is it deliberate, intended to turn me on even more? Fuck, there’s no need, my pussy is sopping wet already!).

Miss Harper’s blonde hair falls straight from a side parting to just below her shoulders, with a fringe that hangs across her forehead, slightly covering her right eye whenever she takes off her glasses. Her straw-coloured hair makes such an effective contrast with the dark tones of her clothes, and I think she looks so attractive in her neat suit of a black jacket and skirt. The latter is not so short as to seem unprofessional, but it rides nicely a few inches above her knees and she has the lean and shapely legs to carry it off. Beneath the jacket there is a plain blue cardigan top, which on this warm spring day has one more at least of its buttons undone than usual, exhibiting the rising swell of her generous 32E breasts and just a hint of the lace-trimmed edges of her bra cups. I wonder whether – consciously or unconsciously – she loosened the cardigan buttons to give me a nice ‘warm-up’ show before our after-school assignation (is that deliberate again? oh, you sapphic temptress!).

However, gorgeous as her tits are, to my way of thinking her best feature is her ass: it is so trim and neat, with buttocks that are smooth and firm, giving such a subtle sexy sway to her skirt whenever she takes a step. I love to walk behind her, watching every movement, whenever I can do so without it being noticeable, down a corridor to a classroom or across the schoolyard outside. It was no surprise when she told me that she had been a cheerleader at school and university, and she still works out or runs every day of the week What excites me most of all is the surprisingly wide arch between her legs, where they join at the base of her pussy – I just love it when she wears smart slacks (the tight charcoal-grey pair in soft felt are the very best for this) because they highlight that gap between her legs, accentuating it with every stalking step that she takes. She has a fondness for three-inch heels on her school-teacher’s ‘sensible’ style black shoes, perhaps to make up for the fact that in bare feet she stands only five feet three inches tall – which is four inches less than me, although I am much younger and still growing (in every sense – my figure, as well as my height).

Miss Harper has given the class a short exercise to do, and as we silently concentrate upon it she moves slowly round the room, pausing by each boy or girl to see how they are managing and if they need any further instruction. She has started with the row of desks nearest to the door and corridor, and it will take her a while to get to my place – I am almost on the opposite side of the classroom, one row in from the desks that are adjacent to the big windows. I never sit near the front in Miss Harper’s class, as I don’t want to give any hint of having an interest in or connection with her, so there is only one person behind me whilst there are three are in front – with my best friend, Katie, seated immediately ahead of me.

Now Miss Harper is coming towards me, as she moves slowly down the aisle next to my desk, looking at the work of the students who are sitting in the row on my left. Of course, she could have done this from their other side, but I know she has chosen this route so that I can enjoy a close-up view of her front, and then of her back. And what a lovely front it is, especially as she has unobtrusively undone yet another cardigan button – if she went any further, her tits would almost be falling out of her bra!

My sexy teacher pauses just before the desk of the girl who is sitting parallel to Katie – another friend of ours, Melanie. This isn’t her strongest subject, and it’s not surprising that she is struggling to do the exercise. Still, I know it is no coincidence that when Miss Harper bends over Melanie’s desk to point out where she has left out something important, she stoops at exactly the right angle to give me (and only me, for no one else is placed to see this) a view straight down her cleavage. My tongue instinctively flicks across my lips as I relish the sight of her large firm globular breasts and the stylish black bra that supports them, and I feel another warm spurt of arousal in my pussy.

Miss Harper straightens up, her breasts enticingly swaying as she does so, and though it is so fast and seemingly casual that no one else could possibly notice it, I am intensely aware of the split second in which she glances my way in her peripheral vision, as she makes sure that I have not missed the titty-view that she had offered. With the faintest hint of a smile about her lips, she moves down the rest of Melanie’s row and then turns to inspect the work of Paul, the boy who is sitting behind me.

My heart beats a little faster, as she will be beside me in another second. I have already finished the exercise – it gave me no trouble, for I did read the textbook and do the preparation exercise that was set for homework by Miss Harper at our previous class, and I have been listening to her, even whilst my eyes have been enjoying looking at her body. I know that I have got it right, but still there is an extra pleasure in having that confirmed, as Miss Harper arrives next to my desk and glances quickly at my work – although I know that she is looking just as much at the roundness that my breasts make in my quite tight and fairly thin cotton school shirt!

‘Yes, Christine, that’s very good – you’ve got it’, says my teacher, and as she does so her hand rests lightly on top of mine for a second, in such a casual and natural way that I am sure no one would register anything unusual even if they were staring right at me – which, of course, no one is. After the faintest of squeezes of my hand, which she deliberately times to coincide with the phrase ‘you’ve got it’, Miss Harper moves ahead to look at Katie’s work, and in so doing presents me with a close-up view of her taut ass in its tight black skirt. I give a little moan – barely audible, even to myself – as my teacher rounds off this little parade by seeming accidentally to drop her pencil, and she bends from the waist to pick it up, almost thrusting her butt at me as she does so. Her skirt rides up a few inches and – yes! – there is a brief glimpse of a stocking top and the clip and strap that is holding it up. Just as I had thought, and hoped, she is wearing a pair of traditional stockings, and my mind wanders for a moment as I consider which of her suspender belts she has chosen today, for my hot teacher has quite a lingerie collection, with many skimpy, flimsy, gauzy and sexy items. I feel hot desire and seeping wetness flush into my pussy, and I press my thighs firmly together – which has the paradoxical effects of both containing the sensation, and magnifying it.

Miss Harper completes her tour and returns to the front of the room, where she explains certain features of the exercise that she had set and the correct way to tackle it. I know this, and so my mind wanders into pleasant memories of my teacher in various sets of underwear – and in various degrees of nudity!

The hands of the clock on the classroom wall move round slowly, so slowly, but at last it is the end of the lesson, and the bell rings signalling that the school day is over. My classmates spill their books and pens into bags and backpacks, and scramble towards the door, chatting animatedly to each other, high-fiving and full of the teenage energy that has been suppressed by an afternoon of lessons. I deliberately take more time to gather up my things, and giving Katie a smile and a vague wave. I think that she is just beginning to have some suspicions about my sexual orientation (and this doesn’t seem to be putting her off, which is interesting … hmm, maybe, just maybe, I should carefully test the ground there after all), but she certainly knows nothing of my relationship with Miss Harper. She thinks that on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday I go straight home from school to get my homework done, so that I am free on Friday night and the weekend to spend time with her and our other friends – which is quite true, apart from my special sexual detour on the route home on those days!

Katie nods and waves back, and heads off to the school gym, where she has a practice session of the handball team. The classroom empties in a moment, leaving only Miss Harper still sitting at the teacher’s desk, also not hurrying to gather up her papers, and me now walking down the aisle between the rows of students’ desks towards her. She takes off her glasses, holding them in mid-air in her right hand, but otherwise remains motionless, as I drop my backpack on the floor at the side of her desk and then come round behind it to stand very close to her chair; we are both intensely aware of the other’s physical proximity, and our hearts beat a little faster.

I lean forwards, so that it would appear to anyone who might casually glance into the room that a conscientious student is asking her teacher for a last bit of guidance on tonight’s homework assignment. Instead, shielded from the door by my body, I quickly undo one more button of her blue cardigan and then slip my hand inside the black brassiere cup that encases her left breast, grasping the warm mound of woman-flesh and giving it a firm squeeze. In the process, as I suspected, I feel the hard nub of her engorged nipple, and I rub my thumb across it.

Miss Harper gives a little shudder and a soft moan, and her eyes dart apprehensively to the classroom entrance – but the door has a self-closing mechanism and is now shut, and the short section of corridor visible through its window is quiet and deserted.

‘Christine, no! Oh, Christ, Chrissie, not here … Chrissie, aaaahhh! Mmm, honey, wait …!’ she protests quietly, but with a dwindling degree of determination.

My answer is a response not to her words, but to our rising needs. I put my head lower, my teeth almost nibbling her right earlobe, and whisper into her ear:

‘Touch me! C’mon, Miss H., no one can see … you made me so wet, bending over like that … so, touch me, there! I want you to touch me there, c’mon, do it right now!’

She knows exactly what I mean. With half an eye still on the door, she places her glasses carefully on the desk in front of her, and then – almost casually – lets her right arm drop from the desk to dangle at her side, her fingertips brushing against my ankle. Then her hand traces upwards, slipping past my knee, rising under my pleated grey linen uniform skirt, sliding up my inner thigh, until at last she reaches my cunt. Her fingers tremble slightly as she strokes the crotch of my plain white cotton panties, caressing the shape of my pussy mound and feeling the dampness that is already there. Miss Harper’s grey eyes are now brightly shining, her cheeks flushed pink and her mouth half-open, her tongue-tip licking along her lower lip. She is so turned on, just the way that I want her to be, and the flicking of her fingertips making a cameltoe of my panties is the perfect hors d’oeuvre for me as well, whetting my appetite still more for the main course yet to come. As a reward, I give her nipple a firm tweak, evoking another gasp from my sexy mature teacher, and then – greatly daring – I kiss her neck, almost a love-bite, but being careful to make no lasting mark. Then I stand upright and take a step away from her, before turning and saying over my shoulder, quietly but full of meaning:

‘Thirty minutes …’

Miss Harper knows just what that means, and she gives a little shiver from head to toe. I pause in the doorway for a second before exiting from the classroom, and glance back to see that she has lifted the hand that was under my skirt up to her face, sniffing her fingers and savouring the aroma of my pussy from where she had rubbed along the groove in my panties. Her partly undone cardigan is hanging open and disregarded, and I have an extra jaunty lift in my step as I carry away with me the tantalising view of most of her ample shapely breasts encased in a sexy black full-cup bra.

I follow the pattern which has become my routine during these last four months, these amazing months of unfolding discoveries. I leave the school grounds on my own, and catch a bus which goes not to my own neighbourhood but to the one some distance to the west of it, where Miss Harper has her house. It is in a small terrace built in late Victorian days, and like many such there is an alley from the street which reaches the back of the houses, for the removal of dustbins and to give access to the small rear gardens. Just under half an hour after leaving school, I slip quietly along this alley, its high brick walls rendering me invisible to any of the houses, until I reach the back gate of Miss Harper’s house. As always, it is unlocked in anticipation of my visit, and I quietly close and latch it behind me. I take a few paces along the path of slabs that runs down the middle of her tiny garden to the kitchen door of the house, which is also unlocked. I pause on the doorstep for a few seconds whilst I reach under my uniform skirt and strip off my panties, which go into a pouch on the side of my backpack, and then with a twist of the doorknob I enter the kitchen – and the fun begins!

I drop my backpack on the floor to my left and stand beside it, my arms akimbo, surveying the scene. Miss Harper is sitting at the kitchen table, and – apart from having put her glasses away – she is dressed exactly as she was in the classroom, even to still having on her suit jacket and smart shoes. Good, that’s good, that’s just how it should be, and I acknowledge this with the briefest of nods, my face remaining quite expressionless. Slowly, looking her boldly in the eyes the whole time, I shrug out of my maroon-red school blazer, letting it fall carelessly on top of my bag. These motions – as I know very well – have eye-catching effects upon my bust, jiggling my tits up and down, and then pressing my breasts tightly against my white school shirt; when they do so, my aroused nipples are prominently visible through my plain white bra, twin peaks stretching the thin cotton fabric of my shirt.

Miss Harper’s eyes are slightly glazed as she watches this and drinks in my appearance – for, apart from my above-average bra size, I look like a sweet and innocent mid-teenager, and my slim youthful form is shown off to the most arousing advantage by the pretty naivety evoked by my classic school uniform.

My sexy mature teacher shakes her head slightly, almost as if to clear it of intoxicating fumes. She pushes back her chair, rises – slightly unsteadily – to her feet, and moves slowly towards me. I love this moment – the seconds just before the first touch, when everything is on the cusp, tantalisingly poised on the brink of the vortex of unslaked lust and wild physical passion, into which I know with absolute certainty that we will throw ourselves with unrestrained abandon.

I stand quite still and my face is impassive, regarding her with a detachment which I certainly do not feel, as my pulse races and my stomach churns with excitement. When Miss Harper is just a yard away, I make my move – suddenly reaching forwards, seizing her upper arms and shoving her roughly back against the adjacent kitchen wall. She gives a shocked gasp but has no time for any other reaction, for I pull her jacket open and my hands move like lightning to her prominent breasts, mauling them roughly through the two layers of fabric of her cardigan and the supporting bra underneath. Miss Harper’s eyes half-close, and she makes no move to prevent me as I push her jacket from her shoulders, letting it fall behind her. Immediately afterwards I tug the blue cardigan over her head, not bothering with the delay of unbuttoning it, and cast it aside. Then I hook my fingers into the wide lace-trimmed straps of her black bra and sharply jerk them from her shoulders and down her arms, so that her full breasts tumble out of their protective cups. At once I grasp them, digging my fingers almost like claws into the soft flesh, squeezing and kneading them. Miss Harper whimpers plaintively when I take each of her nipples between a thumb and forefinger, pulling them forwards and then squeezing them tightly, but I know very well that she is enjoying every second of this treatment.

I grasp the black pencil skirt which I had so much enjoyed watching her move about in during the school lesson, thinking then about how I would strip it from her later. It takes only a second for me to pull its hem up to the waistband above her wide jutting hips with one hand, and to plunge the other down inside her sexy black lace-trimmed panties, to cup her Venus mound in my palm and squeeze it hard, feeling her seeping juices. My teacher gives a broken-backed moan of surrender that is music to my ears, and inflames my lust still further.

‘You want it, don’t you? You fucking bitch, you want it so bad, don’t you?’ I hiss at her, and she gives a little whimper and the faintest nod of her head in shameful admission.

Shoving the panties a couple of inches further down her firm thighs, I twist my wrist, extend my index finger to a rigid point, and then impale her pussy with it. Miss Harper gives a wracking gasp at this forceful violation, but her physical response is to arch her hips apart and thrust her pelvis forwards at me, and she needs no words to communicate her aching desire for more rough treatment. I pump my finger in and out of her vagina half a dozen times, swift and hard, feeling her looseness and wetness, and she begins to shudder and quake.

‘You lezzie cunt!’ I snarl at her, knowing how much hearing the dirty words spill from my sweet lips turns her on; ‘You fucking lesbo cunt-bitch, you dirty dyke! You want it, don’t you, you slit-slut! You want me to do you – well, you shitty cunt, I’m sure gonna fucking do you, oh yeah, do you so hard, bitch, I’m gonna fuck you so hard!’

She gives an incoherent throaty cry, and I can hear the surge of arousal in her husky tone. However, I have no intention of letting the mature woman have an orgasm yet, and I withdraw my finger before she is even half-way there, ignoring her wail of frustration. Instead, my grip returns to her upper arms, and I roughly haul Miss Harper forwards until she is forced to collapse across her own kitchen table. She is wondrously sexy sight, sprawled defencelessly face downwards with her tits flopped out of their bra and squashed against the pine wooden table-top by the weight of her body, her ass sticking out over the table-edge and her feet at full stretch just touching the floor. With her black skirt still up around her waist and her panties now slid down to just above her knees, her wonderful shapely butt is exquisitely framed by the deep lace-trimmed black suspender belt around her midriff and the traditional-style black stockings that its straps are holding up. Between these, the meaty folds at the base of her naked cunt are fully exposed to view – and completely vulnerable.

I have no hesitation: I know just exactly what to give her. Using this better vantage point and angle, I spear two fingers into her pussy, causing her to give a long deep moan of mingled pain and pleasure.

‘You dirty lezzie slut, you fucking cunt-hole’, I shout at her, the abuse getting me further aroused as well; ‘you pussy-licking dyke, I’m gonna have you, you fucking bitch – yeah, I’m gonna take you down so hard, I’m gonna fuck you to pieces!’

As I say this, and without any pause in my relentless pistoning penetrations, I move up closer behind her prone form and use my free hand to flick open the two buttons at the waistband of my grey school skirt, wiggling my hips so that it falls past them to the floor. Now I am exposed from the bottom of my thin plain shirt to my white knee-high socks, and I grind my naked pussy against my teacher’s left buttock and hipbone, selfishly getting myself off whilst I mercilessly finger-fuck her vagina. Miss Harper squirms helplessly on the smooth table-top, her heavy breasts mashed against it, giving little mewling noises as she pushes her pelvis back against my hand, making my penetrations even deeper and more forceful.

I grin with fierce delight, loving every second of having my teacher at my utter sexual disposal, dominating her and using her however it pleases me.