It breaks my heart when another group of students slips through my fingers to start out on their lives proper. Watching their fresh faced innocence turn their back on school, and going off to jobs or university, always feels me with regret for the lessons unlearnt. There is so much they don't know - and they don't know it. Not that I'm sentimental about it. The other half of me is glad to see the back of them.
Teenage girls in particular can be really unpleasant when they get all juiced up. Individually they're lovely. But when they're together, they're either fighting or bitching about each other or being off hand with me. And I'm one of their favourite teachers. Trying to actually teach them anything towards the end of their final school year just makes it worse. The rising heat of early summer makes them either sullen or sassy with me. Shedding the layers of winter clothes pumps the boys to high levels of distraction. And the looming circus of revision cramming for exams just brings the whole post-puberty hormone soup to the boil.
The sexually active ones are the worst. Just because they've had a few fucks since they were fourteen-fifteen-sixteen, whenever they got round to losing their virginity. The way they strut their beautiful young bodies, you'd have thought they'd personally invented sex. They say the more you know, the more you realise you don't know. Well my girls didn't know jack, but thought they knew everything.
If only I could teach them something of the true adult world; it's complexity and richness. Which is why I took the risk of asking you to speak them on the last Friday afternoon of the last class we had together. I wanted to rock them out of their complacency. I wanted them to understand that there was a whole world beyond the prissy suburban one we has prepared them for. And you were just the man to do it. You understand discipline, real Discipline, with a capital D. You could drill into their scatty smug minds that there were choices. You could unleash the darker forces.
At the very least, attendance was full for the last class. "Expressing Yourself Sexually and the Limits of Personal Freedom" was a lecture title that had all eight girls and both boys beaming up at me from their desks, a snigger away from outright laughter.
Leslie, with Jenny and Heather, the nice girl gang, were by the window, with geeky Phil behind, trying as usual to be their (uninvited) friend. Lucy, with Angela and Ingrid, the bad girl gang, affected a "seen it - done it" air at the back. In the front, slightly aloof, were Fran and Helen, the lesbian couple . And by the door, Simon, posing as Mr Cool.
The way you loomed into the room was just excellent, bringing a cloud of menace that quickly dampened any bright chatter. Even Lucy and her hard-nut friends fell into the silence that grew in the room.
You began in a slow measured voice, "Ms Kenny knows more about sex then the rest of you put together". I don't think it was quite the opening line the class expected. They didn't know where to look, at you, or me. Knowing the line you were going to take, I was very pleased I didn't blush, but just stood tall (well, stood 5' 7") and looked at them each in turn.
"I know this because for the last two years Ms Kenny has been my sex slave in a sadomasochistic relationship."
The faces on my class where just so beautiful. In their conceit, I don't think any of them had thought of any of their teachers as having a sex life - mid-thirties is so old when you're seventeen. (Well, perhaps Phil had wanked a few fantasies over me, but he isn't totally normal.) And as for sadomasochism, if they thought about it at all (geeky Phil again comes to mind on the submissive side) they certainly wouldn't have imagined they actually knew someone who did "that".
"This means" you continued, too fast really for them to make the adjustment from suburban classroom to the out boundaries of fetishistic sexual experience. "This means that Ms Kenny obeys my command, submitting her will to mine, in trust that the games I play with her mind and body will transport her to sexual ecstasy. A state where mind and body are one, freed of all decision, all anxiety. A state of being in which the boundaries of pleasure and pain blur to create a single erotic continuum of feeling. She doesn't "have" sex, she submits herself and "becomes" sex. A state of freedom, ironically, where the slave is freed from the burden of thought and responsibility" (I thought to myself, not a bad stab at a definition, but from the blank faces - how often had I seen that expression - I think you'd gone a little over their heads).
"It is perhaps easier to demonstrate than to discuss" (you'd noticed too) "I should explain, as my slave, Ms Kenny submits both her body and mind, and as such assumes a different identity. As my salve she is known as Spark."
Turning to me, "Spark, please stand on this desk." As gracefully as I could manage I climbed on to Helen's desk at the front of the class. I really fought to control my blushes. I'm wasn't totally sure what you're going to do with me, but I knew it's was all down hill from here.
"Spark, raise your skirt and show your pupils that I am your Master."
So this was it. Crunch time. Like most masters, one of the simplest commandants is to always be prepared to instantly satisfy your needs - which meant not wearing knickers (except during periods). We both knew that to raise my short fly blue denim skirt was to expose my pussy to nearly-innocent teenagers.
If I compiled, it would be an act of gross indecency - instantly sackable (assuming we hadn't gone way too far already). I'd be disgraced. And probably pillared, perhaps it would even make it to the national newspapers. And that was the nub: could I trust them to keep quiet. Well of course not. No. Never. A teacher flashing her class. It was top quality gossip that would travel from nought-to-sixty in the space of one telling. It would be the end for me. Which was a pity. I'd never disobeyed my Master before. I'd never denied my true self before. Even though this was the last class this group would ever have together. Even though they'd be plunged into final revision and exams. They could never be trusted to keep such a monster secret, unless ….
Unless they became complicit in the act, if they became as guilty as I, if they would share the shame of discovery, if they had (nearly) as much to lose.
I turned to you, "If we start we cannot stop, Master." You nodded ascent.
As blank young faces bug-eyed up at me. You explained that what was going to happen had to be kept secret, and that they all had to agree to this, or the lesson ended now. You produced the consent form and showed them the camera. I felt giddy standing up there, exposed, as you asked if anyone wished to leave. Young eyes darted around the classroom, but no one broke rank. I was impressed as each in turn were called to the front of the class to have their picture taken signing the form. I thought Fran looked the most edgy - but as an open lesbian she probably knew more about the dark choices that sexuality has to offer. In contrast, Helen, her lover, smiled sweetly up at me as I stood on her desk. I wondered how far she could see up my skirt.
"Now we are one" you intoned, taking back command of the class, "it is time we begin the lesson properly. Spark, raise your skirt."
I felt sweat form on my forehead. I stood before the children I known for six years, growing up through puberty to become young men and women. I knew them all, and they knew me. And now I was going to degrade myself in front of them. Now I was going to reveal an intimate secret: that I gave my sexual will to another. Now there were no excuses, the pact was signed.
I couldn't look at any of them. My hands trembled as they slid down the denim of my short skirt. I felt giddy again as my finger tips touched the hem of my skirt. I griped it, tight.
My heart banged in my chest. I steeled myself, braced myself, told myself I could do it. Staring at nothings, in one swift panicked artless move, my white knuckled hands lifted the front of my skirt to my tummy.
The classroom exploded into gasps. Every mouth dropped, several to be involuntarily covered by hands, as ten young pairs of eyes feasted on my womanhood. The whoosh of lifting my skirt caused a slight cool draft across my pussy. The blonde triangle of my bush was plain for all to see.
Your words were the first to break the silence of surprise. "Beautiful, isn't she."
"Oh you are beautiful, Emily!", The surprising wonderful words came from below my legs. I looked down at Helen's beaming face looking up directly between my legs. Her eyes gleamed bright. I smiled back - exhilarated, embarrassed and not embarrassed at the same time; finally true to a part of me so few imagine, and even fewer ever see.
You moved to stand beside, a hand slipping up the back of my skirt to give a naked buttock a soft public squeeze of ownership. "The slave Spark is my property. She wears no panties to be always ready for me." and then, in a quiet aside to Helen, "She is lovely isn't she". Helen went scarlet as she felt the rest of the class look at her as she looked up at her teacher's pussy a few feet above her.
"This means I can do with her as I wish." You moved your hand forward between my buttocks, so the class could see it appear between my legs, lightly stroking my pussy lips. You motioned to Simon to come up. He looked round reluctantly - uncertain how a cool guy behaves in such an unexpected situation.
"Come on lad" you chided. He was a good pick to make the first move, as Simon would never want to be seen as chicken in front of the class. His confidence returning, he stood and walked over to me. Standing by Helen's desk, his face drew level to my waist. He looked up at me, and winked. I nearly laughed. God he is cocky. I wondered how much cock was behind it.
"So Simon, lets image you are Spark's Master, how would you treat her?" Of course, Simon didn't have the faintest idea, so you gave him a multiple choice. "Would you punish her for being so slow to obey, perhaps with a firm few smacks to her backside to gee her along. Would you run your hand along her womanhood, as I am doing, taking pleasure to feel your property? Would you tell her to remove her skirt, lift her down, tell her to spread her legs, and fuck her? Or would you demand that she demonstrate her humility and obeisance further, making her remove all her clothes, and commanding her to take your cock out and give you a blowjob?"
Simon stammered, "Well ... they all seem fine ideas"
"Of course they are, but you must choose, you must act, you are the Master! ... Class. What should Simon do: hands up to punish her?" Angela and Ingrid at the back shot their hands up, giggling. Oh yes, they'd love to see me beaten.
"Fondle her?" Helen gingerly raised her hand below me (bless her).
"Fuck her?" Leslie, Jenny and Heather all raised their hands - smirking madly.
"And finally, give Simon some head?" Lucy's hand joined the two boys.
"A tie. They can't decide Spark, what would you like"
"To be punished Master" I replied, the flatness of my response stifling any juvenile titters.
You commanded Angela and Ingrid to come forward as you helped my down. "Strip her" you commanded. I raised my arms so that Ingrid, the taller, could pull my top over my head. Angela unfastened my skirt, which fell to the floor, and then, fumbling with excitement, undid my bra. I could feel the weight of many faces trying to peer past the girls to stare at my nakedness. Simon, behind me, gawked. And Helen, still sat at her desk next to me, just smiled in wonder.
I turned and laid myself across Helen's desk. My small breasts pancaking themselves on to her books. "Excuse me" I offered in inappropriate prim politeness that made Helen laugh. I reached back with my hands and pulled my buttocks apart to offer my cunt and arsehole for punishment. Simon nearly fainted, and Ingrid and Angela went silent at my act of submission.
From your bag of goodies you pulled out the cat-o-nine tails. Standing behind my up turned arse, you slowly ran the cat slowly through your fingers, combing out the tails. I felt very calm. Helen looked appalled. She looked at me, and then at you, and then back at me, the word "But ..." struggling to find a matching sentence.
You snapped back the cat to make it crack in the air, making everyone jump, but then just let it flop forwards, so that its tails lightly stroked my back. Gently, you pulled the cat down my prone body, the thongs at the end of each tail failing to snag across my smooth tight pale skin. "Sometimes" you remarked to no one and everyone, "anticipation is just as good as the real thing, but then ..." a flash of pain whipped across my bum. My fingers, pulling my buttocks open, stung with the hit. You had struck across my backside, rather than down the open crack of my arse. I didn't hear myself "Ouch!!!" but you pulled out the tape from you bag, saying, "we'd better not have any more noise".
I tried to smile at Helen sat before me through my taped mouth, to reassure her that this was fine, that this was what I wanted. That this was the final lesson I wanted to teach them about love, sex and life.
You'd given Ingrid the cat while you taped my mouth. I never liked her. A tall plain girl, with neither the figure, face, nor intelligence to stand out. If anything, her mean spirit made her look uglier - she could never quite manage to smile properly. I knew she'd enjoy this.
She slapped the cat down the valley of my bottom with all her force. I jumped in pain, but was merciful she did get the whip action quite right. Angela told her off and took the cat from her, "like this" she was explaining as she lashed my exposed cunt. The shock of pain made me let go my buttocks, my fingers stinging. You move before you know you've moved, you can't help it. Then you feel the bruising impact, the force that will bring your less padded parts up blue. Finally the heat of the sting fires along red raw lines snaking across your body.
I always thought Angela was basically a nice girl who'd fallen in with a bad lot. But her whoop of pleasure at hurting me rather changed that. I realised that the whole class had formed a lose ring round my bent over body. Angela raised her arm to strike me again, but you stopped it in mid flight, and snatched the cat from her hand.
"The aim" you explain with deliberate emphasis intimidatingly close to Angela's round face, "is to use pain to heighten pleasure. Any ham-fisted oaf can harm. Only a master can lift the experience to a higher level."
"You!" you snapped at Helen, making her start. "Come round here. Use your mouth to calm these wounds. Your spit will cool the burn and your tongue will give a soft healing massage. And you!" snapping at Phil, "come here".
Helen bent over my behind, making sure her long blonde hair didn't fall on to my scared raw button. As you teased the tape off my mouth, Helen dribbled a little spit on to my backside, and started to softly lick. It was such a relief to feel the sting taken out. I didn't notice you talk to Phil till I saw him unzip his flies, carefully extract his erect cock, and point it at my face. I was a little surprised, I never thought of him having a handy 8" hard-on (though his personal hygiene, while not gagging, could have been bitter [that's a tip boys]). To an audible fluster from the girls I took Phil's cock into my mouth, firmly running my lips across the head of his cock, to half way down his shaft. Phil sighed with pleasure. I was pleased for him. A shy boy, he deserved a break. Perhaps watching his big cock being sucked off by his teacher would encourage one of the nicer girls to notice him.
I noticed how clever you were to get the two weakest people in the class to start being sexual. It meant that if any of the other fancied themselves as more socially sophisticated than Phil and Helen (and they all did). Then they could hardly chicken out. Besides, a certain sexual electricity was growing in the air. I don't think any of them had seen any thing as kinky as a woman having her bottom licked by another girl, while she give a boy a blowjob. I noticed, out the corner of my eye, that you'd slipped your arm round Leslie's slender waist, to claim ownership of the prettiest girl in the class. And I thought I saw Lucy giving Simon the eye. Silly Jenny was very excited by the whole thing. Ingrid and Angela were discussing who whipped me better, still excited from having been allowed to hurt me. Only Fran and Heather seemed put out. Fran because her little flower was enthusiastically licking my backside - and edging closer to my honeypot with each tantalising lick. And Heather because she's an uptight bih who doesn't know how to let go and enjoy herself.
Sensing the mood, you lifted Helen up and led her to Fran. "This is your property I believe, please enjoy her". Fran beamed at the public acknowledgement of her mastery. She undid her big belt, unzipped her baggy army trousers, letting them fall down, scoped down her grey athletic panties. Sat on a wooden chair, back against the wall, and rested her raised legs on two desks. Helen didn't need telling. She knelt between her lover's legs, and lowered her mouth on to Fran's small pussy. I watched Ingrid and Angela both stare at the back of Helen's head bobbing up down in Fran's groin.
I felt my own groin hum with tickled pleasure as a tongue drew long slow strokes from my vagina to my clitoris. Taking Phil's cock out of my mouth for a moment, I looked behind me to see you sort out Jenny with instructions. She smiled her silly smile at me, licked her finger, and pushed it up into my cunt. I slumped back on the desk in pleasure as her tongue returned to melt my pussy.
Still match making, you lead Phil over to Heather, his cock bouncing as he walked. Heather looked horrid. You called over Ingrid and Angela and together you stripped him, and forced him down on to a hard wooden chair. The three of you taped his arms behind the chair, and then raised his legs on to chair arms, taping them too. Finally, Ingrid taped his mouth. Handing Heather the cat you said, "use this imaginatively to help bring him off", and then, quietly, "he's a big boy, assert yourself, have fun, enjoy your power."
Heather played her fingers through her long brown hair, looking at the cat in her hand, looking down at Phil, gagged and trussed, with his legs open, bum and genitals exposed. His still plump cock rested against his tummy. Her eyes narrowed and she smiled an evil smile, which her innocent face and bright yellow summer frock could disguise.
"You are a horrible little worm, aren't you" she hissed, raising her arm and sharply flicking the cat forward so that it snatched at Phil's groin. Unhappy that her dress was restricting her athletic moments, she unzipped herself, and let her frock fall to the floor. In matching black bra and panties, she looked much more the part. She flicked the cat against Phil's groin a second time. Phil bucked against the pain as far as his bindings would allow. Heather's tits wobbled sweetly in their C cups as she began to find her whipping rhythm. She was clearly getting off on it, strutting around, trying out different angles. Phil's thighs and buttocks glowed with red strips. After a few minutes, his eyes began to fill with tears from the pain.
"God you're a little wimp" Heather spat, "I suppose you want this", she said, kneeling between his raised legs, and taking his cock in her hand with some distaste. Slowly she began to rub his cock up to an erection. "I bet you'd like me to put it in my mouth like Ms Kenny .. no fucking chance" she tormented, "I'd puke over a little shit like you. And don't think I'm doing this for you ... I not going to let you cum ... I'm just getting it ready so I can have a ride". For a God-fearing girl, she could sneer rather well - obviously being holier than thou and being a bitch are related.
When she'd got him stiff enough, she stood, turned around, pulled down her panties, and reversed herself on to him. She took all eight inches of him in one slow graceful slid down his stiff pole. Well there went on pet theory - Phil might have been a virgin till that moment, but Heather certainly wasn't. With her back to him, Heather began to fuck herself up and down his tall rod, toying with her own clitoris, arousing herself quickly.
"Are you enjoying this?" she asked with a toss of her head, her long brown hair swishing across her beautiful slender back. "We can soon put a stop to that". Still riding his cock, she took the cat, crouched down, and reached underneath herself, to push the handle of the cat against Phil's exposed arsehole. With some effort, a Phil's obvious discomfort, she pushed the knobbled black leather handle of the whip up his arse. Once inside him, Heather began to fuck both of them to the same stroke, using her weight on the down stroke to arsefuck Phil. She saw me watching her, and gave me a big grin, as if to say, "thank you Miss, I think I get the point of your lesson". Her long face was flushed pink as she began to climax. "Ohhh shit Christ!!!" she exclaimed as she ground her cunt into Phil's cock, shaking her body in little convulsions, till she flopped her head down, panting, her long hair hiding her face.
Heather stood up, leaving Phil's cock standing, gleaming in her pussy juice. She pulled up her black lacy knickers. Turned, and knelt in front of Phil again. With one hand she took hold of handle of the cat still stuck up Phil's backside, with the other, she slowly stroked his tall cock. The poor boy was in an agony of ecstasy. His unlubricated arse hummed with pain as Heather roughly pushed the leather whip handle in and out of his arsehole. His cock was begging for a firmer grip, a quicker, harder pull. But Heather enjoyed torturing him slowly. At one point she bent down over his cock, mouth open, only to sit back, giggling to herself. The closer Phil came to cuming, the slower Heather became. She'd obviously given a few hand jobs in her time. Without warning, Phil started ejaculating long creamy spurts of cum across the top of Heather's chest and neck. Her black bra, edged with frilly black lace, became stripped with white cum streaks. Best of all, the gold crucifix round her pretty neck was obscured by aarge dollop of cum. She ran a finger across her chest, smearing the cum. Then tenderly, she bent down and closed her mouth round Phil's spent cock, and slowly sucked the last of his juice.
I started to cum myself. While I'd been enjoying Heather's floor show, Jenny had been doing a fine job on my cunt - making up in enthusiasm what she lacked in finesse. You'd shown her how to use clothes pegs on the folds of my pussy lips, and she'd used half a dozen. The pinching pain was wincing, but with her tongue working over my clit, and the long nail of her finger digging at the entrance to my arse, I was driven higher and higher. Till, "oh fuck Jenny, yes, yes, yes, oh do it harder ... yeeeeees!".
I lay over Helen's desk, trying to catch myself - though Jenny was still working me over. By the wall I could tell from the pink blush in Fran's cheeks that Helen's cunt linking was working its magic there too. Behind me I could hear Simon making out with Lucy: I'd recognise that little slapping noise, thigh to arse, as a guy doggies a girl anywhere.
That just left you to enjoy the succulent fruits of Leslie. She'd already accepted a collar, and you'd removed her top, and put on nipple clamps joined with a chain. She'd removed her tiny panties, laid on her back on the teacher's table, and pulled her long legs back over to her ears. You slipped you long hard cock into the entrance of her cunt, and then teasingly, inched it, a stroke at time, slowly deeper and deeper into her pussy. When you'd inserted yourself up to the hilt, you began a long slow deliberate fuck, while tugging on her chain to tease her nipples. Behind me I could hear a louder slap and Lucy moaning and loudly begging for more. I turned to watch Simon spank Lucy's backside with a great big open hand slap.
I got up, turned around and sat on Helen's desk, my legs as far apart as possible, so that Jenny could return to her cunt licking duties. I must confess I'd always been contemptuous of Jenny and her silly giggly ways. But watching her bury her face up to her nose in my wet pussy - selflessly, with no request for her own pleasures, impressed me. As the pleasure she was giving me flowed back through my body, I fondly ran my fingers through her blonde hair.
I could now watch Simon's hard little buttocks pump into Lucy's plump behind, as with each fuck, he slapped her hard. Oh how I wanted to slap that little bitch up too. Just the thought of it pushed me back over the edge, and gripping the back of Jenny's head to push it harder into my cunt, a came again. Rubbing myself with my hips into the teenager's face, as Jenny struggle for air.
Leslie watched me cum, her eyes frozen on me, her mouth merely escaping an "er" with each fuck you pumped into her pussy. Only the rising pitch of her expression belying the orgasm building up, as she struggled with her composure.
On the other side of me Heather was showing Ingrid and Angela how to arsefuck Phil, as the three of them took turns to push the whip handle up his bottom. Ingrid and Angela, not the brightest sparks, hadn't been able to work out what to do with the dong you'd obviously given them (girls, how hard can it be - you sit on the floor opposite each other, legs over each other, stick an end of the dong in each pussy, and push backwards and forwards to mutually fuck each other). Anyhow, the girls put the dong to good use, alternating it with the whip up Phil's poor sore arse. Angela, in an act of small kindness, had sucked his cock back up to an erection, and was now beating it fast with her hand. Bound and gagged he had no option but to submit to anything the three girls wanted to do. Heather wasn't watching when the first squirts of his cum caught her in the face - lining her nose and forehead before squirting cum over her lips. Angela pushed her face forward to take the remaining seaman, sucking on Phil's throbbi cock as he pumped his juice into her mouth. Ingrid had to be content with licking the cum off Heather's face, much to Heather's protests.
Angela, in a touching gesture, came over the me, and knelt down to cradle my head in her arms, and then softly kiss me, allowing the cum and spit to dibble into my mouth. She knew I was loosing it again, as Jenny worked so hard to work over my pussy. Angela reached down to fondle my breasts as her cum-tasting tongue firmly explored the inside of my mouth. As I climaxed, grunting noisily, the two strong young women continued to lick me out a both ends. I had no chance to recover before I found my pussy twitching to another orgasm. My body shuck, as my clit burned with unrelenting pleasure. I almost had to fight them off as I panted, "no more ... no more ... please, enough".
I sat on Helen's desk, panting, weak, aware of the spit and cum dripping down the insides of my thighs. Jenny appeared by my face, beaming. Her face gleaming with my cum. "My tongue's numb" she said in a silly voice, laughing to herself. Angela lent forward to lick my cunt juice off Jenny face, as I stood stiffly.
My eye was caught by your buttocks jack-hammering their way into Leslie's pussy. Leslie was beside herself, thrashing her head from side to side, red-faced, bubbling to herself as orgasm after orgasm wrecked through her young body. You noticed me, and nodded me over. I knelt beside you, as you whipped your hot cock from Leslie's creamy pussy and started to spurt cum across my face. With my eyes screwed tight shut, and mouth wide open, I felt the hot liquid splash across my cheeks, and lips. I nearly gagged on a direct hit on the back of my throat. Followed by your hot cock sliding into my mouth. I used my fingers to gently pull back the foreskin, so my tongue could lick you dry. I felt the cum on my face, that goes so cold so quickly, dribble from my chin, down my throat, and across the tops of my little titties.
I rose to feel your arm round my shoulder, and together we surveyed the sexually devastated class. Leslie still lay panting on my desk, her skirt round her waist, her pussy gleaming with leaking juices. Fran and Helen sat cuddling in a corner - more "out" than they'd ever been before. Phil was the cat who got the cream - or rather had the cream sucked out of him. He sat, still bound but his gag removed, chatting to Ingrid who was clearly flirting with him (a first). Heather looked a bit dazed as she tried to find her clothes. Angela and Jenny were on the floor by Helen's desk, talking intimately. And Simon sat with a topless Lucy on his lap. He saw me, and winked.
I smiled back broadly at the cheeky chap, unembarrassed by my own nakedness. I did wonder if we shouldn't have introduced a little light buggery. Perhaps shown how to use the odd toy properly. But there is only so much you can fit into one lesson.
"This is totally cool!" shouted Simon across the class.
"This is just the beginning" you replied, "just level one, watch this sample of more advanced lessons". You signalled me back down to my knees. Oh God! I thought, you're surely don't doing to do that. You're not going to piss on me in front of my class. You told Leslie to take hold of your penis, and lightly pull back the foreskin. She didn't know what you were going to do. My mind raced, should I cry Red! Red! Red! and call my Master to halt. I can hear now the shriek from Leslie, as the penis gently held between her forefinger and thumb started to urinate over her naked kneeling teacher's face. She snatched her hand away, laughing and crying-out at the same time. I took the you cock and held it steady as I slowly rotated my head from side to side in the stream of your hot piss. My neck and breasts warmed as rivers of pee flowed down my body, across my tummy and down my thighs. Above the din, I remember Heather's voice call slowly, "Oh my God" as I opened my mouth and started to drink your piss. As your sho pee session died to a few piss squirts, I popped you cock in my mouth, to drain it.
The class quietened. You handed me a towel to clear my eyes, and I rose, the whole front of my body gleaming in your piss. You put your arm round my waist and said to the dazed students. "Just because you've finished school, doesn't mean that you haven't got a lot to learn." Too bloody right mate.
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