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From: "." <shakespeare_i._aint@excite.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Repost from 1998-Teacher Passes The Test, Part 5--Kind Of Slutty For A Cheerleader (mM/F/everything
Date: Thu, 13 Feb 2003 20:10:03 -0500
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Copyright (C) 1998,   Shakespeare_I._Aint.  ALL Rights Reserved

 
**WARNING**  This story contains sexual material and is intended for 
legal and mature adults in Countries where such material is permissible 
to view, download and/or possess.  If you are not a legal adult or the 
laws of your country prohibit these types of materials, do not proceed 
any farther!  Hit the "Back" button on your browser! 
*****************************************************
Comments/Critiques/Questions/Answers?
Email me at Shakespeare_I._Aint@excite.com

Other Storys and Parts available at: 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Shakespeare_I._Aint

It's All Free! 
***********************************************************

Teacher Passes the Test, Part 5 of 10, Kind of Slutty for a 
Cheerleader


Shakespeare_I._Aint


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 England.  Or was 
when Robin Hood was around.  Don't ask.  My teacher's small body and 
large tits were accentuated and hidden at the same time by that old 
uniform.  Strange thing, cheerleader uniforms.  They're intentionally 
short, but at the same time, thick enough in fabric that if you cut one 
into strips you could easily hang a large English deer with one.  Oddly 
revealing and yet bulky at the same time.  And my teacher filled it out 
perfectly; her large nippled breasts pushing at the thick fabric.  Mixed 
messages aside, my cock was throbbing in excitement.  I handed her the 
buttplug.  

"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...
***********************************************************************
The End of Teacher Passes the Test, Part 5 of 10, Kind of Slutty for a 
Cheerleader, by Shakespeare_I._Aint
********************************************************

Comments/Critiques/Questions/Answers?
Email me at Shakespeare_I._Aint@excite.com

Other Storys and Parts available at: 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Shakespeare_I._Aint

It's All Free! 
*********************************************************


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.
***************************************************************

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

  
 
























    

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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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