Copyright © 1998, Shakespeare_I._Aint.
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**WARNING** This story contains sexual material
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Teacher Passes the Test, Part 5 of 10, Kind of Slutty for a
Cheerleader
It was four days later, on a Tuesday, when my pent-up
sexual energy spilled over. I was
sitting in my last class of the day, Calculus, when I knew I had to have my
Teacher again. It's hard to do calculus
with a raging hard-on.
When the bell finally rang, I dumped my books into my
locker and sought out my teacher, Cynthia Van Horn in her Humanities
class.
Cynthia had changed since I had done her last. She looked older now, more mature. More like a twenty-nine year old
schoolteacher and less like the spoiled cunt I had rained semen onto in the
backseat of her Ford Expedition. She was
more deferent to me; my opinions mattered; my essay questions perfect. Amazing what a bit of the old ultra-violent
can do.
I caught my teacher alone in her class. She froze when she saw me, like a deer in the
headlights.
"Mrs. Van Horn?"
"yes, Damien?", she
whispered in fear.
"I was wondering if I could get some special
tutoring this afternoon. Say, in about
twenty minutes in the upstairs Janitor's closet?"
"no..."
"yes," I whispered
back.
"Damien, I've got cheerleading practice today. I don't have...I can't...not here..."
"Practice starts in half an hour. I'll only need you for about five minutes, if
you're good. Anyway, now that you
mention it, wear a cheerleader's outfit.
That might speed things up for me, if you know what I mean."
"Damien.
Please. I'm begging you."
"Twenty minutes.
Clock's running."
I left.
Twenty minutes later, I went upstairs to the second floor
of the mostly empty high school. When
the coast was clear, I slipped into the Janitor's closet. And found my pretty little schoolteacher
already there. Already changed into an
old cheerleader's outfit; her own clothes neatly folded, for once, on a
shelf. Crying softly to herself. The
Janitor's closet was a weakly-lit, narrow, rectangular room with shelves of
strong-smelling cleaning agents and the equipment needed to keep the school
looking presentable.
Mops,
and a low white mop sink at the rear.
A folding chair for the Janitor to sit in when he was hiding here
from the administration.
And my silky, blonde, short-haired teacher.
Almost cringing away as I approached.
"Still spooked from last Friday?"
She nodded immediately.
"Don't worry about that. I was just punishing you for a
transgression. It's water under the
bridge, okay?"
She nodded disbelievingly at me. Always best to go along with the
insane.
"Anyway, that was punishment. This is instruction. We've got about ten minutes, give or take,
before the Janitor comes in here.
Understand?"
Cynthia Van Horn's eyes widened in
shock.
She looked almost eager to
get on with this. So she could
escape. I walked over to my backpack and
removed a nice flesh-colored buttplug. Not too big.
Not too small. I walked to my
Cindy, who stood as far away from me as she could get.
"Sit down."
Cindy sat woodenly in the folding chair. She wore the ridiculous purple and white
heavy cloth cheerleading ensemble of the Clinton High School Harts. A hart was or is apparently a large deer in
"In your mouth, then up your butt.
It stays there through cheerleading
practice."
Cindy immediately took the plug and plunged it into her
mouth, coating it liberally with her saliva.
In a big hurry to get me off before we were discovered. She pulled the plug out of her mouth and
spread her legs as she sat on that folding chair. No panties.
Shaved beaver.
Dark pink vagina and rosebud asshole.
She wasted no time pushing the intruder into
her rectum, not even bothering to signal her discomfort with a moan. Her eyes did close with the effort though. When it was firmly seated, she sat gingerly
forward and waited.
Time
for some shock therapy.
I stood
in front of her and stripped naked, my cock jutting obscenely towards her
face. She almost leaned forward to
engulf it, in such a hurry to leave was she.
Terrified of being
discovered with a student.
Even if she didn't have a choice.
"I don't want a blowjob, Mrs. Van Horn," I said
quietly. "I want a handjob."
"Just a handjob?"
"Well...
No. Actually there is more. But I'll get to that. Hold out your hand."
My pretty little schoolteacher held out her small hand,
and I squirted a generous dollop of lubricant into her palm. Then with a smile and a flourish, I made a
nice pirouette, my ass in her face. I
bent over and grabbed my cheeks, spreading them, offering myself for her
inspection.
"Toss my salad, Cindy."
"what?" she whispered,
unbelievingly.
"Toss my salad.
You know. Lick my asshole."
"oh no...
i
can't... oh no..."
"We've got about eight minutes left. Would you like to talk for awhile?"
"oh please... anything....
i'll blow you..."
"Time's a-wasting.
And I've got something else for you when this is done. So I wouldn't waste a whole lot of time on
this one act if I were you."
I waited expectantly, my ass hanging in mid-air in front
of my horrified schoolteacher's gaze. I
waited. And then I felt the warm satin
wetness of her tongue washing my anus. I
leaned back slightly and her tongue entered me.
Heaven.
I luxuriated in the feel of her tongue up my ass. Then it withdrew. I heard my little schoolteacher gagging and
sobbing quietly as she worked.
"Wash me."
Her unwilling tongue bathed my sensitive anus. I spread my legs for more balance.
"Now put your hand through my legs and stroke my
cock, Mrs. Van Horn. Hurry, you've only
got about six minutes."
Her hand reached through my legs. And she milked me as she laved my
butthole. And it was good. All too soon, I felt my semen well up and erupt
onto her hand and down to the floor. I gasped
with the pure relief of four days of pent-up seed.
My asshole spasmed on her tongue.
I stood frozen in place as my cock
shrank. Cindy's tongue left my backside
and her hand dropped off my cock. I
wheeled around on her.
"That was great.
I can't tell you how much I loved that.
Anyway, one little thing and then we're done."
I grabbed the underside of her chair and leaned her back
against the low-slung mop sink. The back
of Cindy's neck rested on the front rim.
Her eyes stared at me in fear. I
straddled her body, my cock dangling in front of her face. I waited.
"I'd say we have about four minutes left,
Cindy. Last Friday, I gave you a
beautiful facial. Today, I'll work on
your hair. I think you need an
astringent to balance the P.H. level in your hair. You'll have a few minutes left, hopefully, to
towel or blow dry your hair. But don't
wash your hair until you get home, understand?"
I arranged my pretty little teacher's short blonde
tresses over the sink and did some multiplication tables in my head. Within a minute, the first drops of my urine
made a landing on her scalp. Having
secured the beach head, the rest of my medium yellow piss followed, showering
her head and falling down toward the drain.
I jetted my liquid love onto my teacher's hair. She lay there and took it; her eyes tightly
closed as I bathed her in my affection.
Her mouth pursed closed tightly, breathing gagging, rasping, sobs through
her nose. I wetted her head
thoroughly. She looked so
beautiful. I held my final squirts.
The ones that clear the
plumbing.
"Open."
Cindy obediently opened her mouth. I dropped my penis into her mouth and
squeezed my muscles, sending the clearing jets of urine into her mouth. Cindy's response was immediate. She whirled from a sitting position under me,
damn near throwing me off her. The chair
went skittering crazily off. My little
schoolteacher knelt in front of the mops sink and ejected my offering. She spit my piss into the sink. Oh well.
Can't say as I blamed her.
I backed off and dressed hurriedly. Cynthia Van Horn lay kneeling before the mop
sink crying and gagging softly.
"Two minutes."
She stood up shakily and dropped the cheerleader skirt to
the floor. Pulling the heavy top off,
she quickly dressed in her school marm clothes. I tossed a comb to her. She caught it and ran it through her hair,
careful to run the comb back through her hair to keep my fluids as far from her
face as she could.
"I want to thank you for a lovely time, Cindy. Remember, you keep the piss hair and the buttplug until you get home. God, I love you."
She nodded tiredly, brushing past me, blotting her hair
with the cheerleader outfit. She
left. I followed at my leisure, knowing
the Janitor wouldn't be coming to this second floor closet. After all, I knew that he would stay hidden
in the first floor closet until everyone had left the school. He couldn't stand to do his job with his
betters watching him. And he had that
first floor closet set up like a small apartment. Probably why that one was always locked and
this one wasn't...
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The End of Teacher Passes the Test, Part 5 of 10, Kind of
Slutty for a Cheerleader, by Shakespeare_I._Aint
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In part six of Teacher Passes the Test, Spare the Rod and
Spoil the Teacher, our anti-hero puts his pretty little schoolteacher on the
cross he made her husband build.
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Teacher Passes the Test Parts 1-10 by Shakespeare_I._Aint
Part One: It Was
Worth Breaking In
Part Two: Mr.
Teacher's Wild Ride
Part Three: Who
Sleeps On The Wet Spot?
Part Four: Nothing
Like a Facial to Tighten up those Pores
Part Five: Kind Of
Slutty For a Cheerleader...
Part Six: Spare The Rod And Spoil the Teacher
Part Seven: What Have You Been Eating?
Part Eight: Now That's Entertainment!
Part Nine: Walk This Way
Part Ten: All Good Things Have To Come Up Your End