Diary of a Horny Student Ch. 12

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12

At school that week I had a lot on my mind. Not anything scholarly, mind you, as graduation was at the end of the week, so the amount of care and attention spent on classes was minimal at best. No, my mind was occupied with thoughts of Steph. Specifically thoughts of her tits, her mouth, the single finger she used to make me cum…her semen-streaked face as she showed me her mouthful right before swallowing. We had come a long way from even a few weeks ago when she was just my step sister’s hot best friend who would tease me from time to time.

And that’s not even to mention Christine. Up until yesterday she was just my friend from church–the pastor’s daughter who would commiserate with me over her love life, over her struggle between her desire to stay godly and pure…and her desire to give in to the pleasures of the flesh. That is, up until yesterday, when she humped herself to orgasm against my leg before sucking my soul out through my cock. I wasn’t sure where she and I stood, but I think she wanted it to happen again.

And then there was Tara. I had no clue what was going on there. We had had a tense conversation where we each admitted everything that happened on prom night, yet there was still so much left unsaid; It was that chasm of things unsaid that kept us apart. She had lost her virginity to Bud Pepper, I had had my world royally rocked by Steph’s mouth, and we were both jealous and stubborn for reasons we were too afraid to admit. She was my best friend and I hurt her. I missed her desperately.

But my mind kept coming back to Steph. Specifically the story she told me last night as she cranked my dick toward an epic orgasm. She had told me the story of how she lost her virginity to the gym teacher, Mr. Ridley, while at a volleyball tournament, and it was epically hot, and dirty, and taboo, and…possibly a lie? It had been a tale straight out of Penthouse Forum, and while I didn’t doubt that a girl as hot and lusty as Steph could have had such an experience, there was a certain tenor to the way she told it. A certain sadness.

I had become intimately familiar with Steph, with her orgasm, with her arousal, and despite the fact that I had tasted her pussy, and cum in her mouth, there was still a distance between us. She was aloof. Protective. Possibly afraid to admit she liked what we were doing. Possibly afraid to admit she liked…me.

She had been the one in control–my cock belonged to her, after all–but I wondered if that wasn’t all just a defense mechanism. Which is why her story, at least the way she told it, had a certain falseness to it. A certain sense of fantasy. Maybe the only way she could tell me what she really wanted, what really turned her on, was to do it while she was still being dominant.

Like I said, a lot on my mind.

A slight distraction came in the form of being a “volunteer” to help set up for graduation on the field behind the school. I say volunteer that way because it wasn’t so much a request as much as a command. It was fine, though, one of the other volunteer’s was Sarah, the girl who lived next door. The girl I had a crush on for as long as I could remember. The girl I saw get properly fucked through her bedroom window. It was a testament to everything that had been going on with my life lately that even after all those things, Sarah was actually toward the bottom of my list of girls I was thinking about.

Even so, she was great to hang out with, and after leaving my stuff in Ms. Dorman’s room, Sarah and I paired off quickly and went to work on our tasks.

It was also beneficial because Sarah had a certain intimate connection to Steph, and might be able to help me make sense of what was going on with her.

After finishing our allotment of chairs, she and I took a break on the bleachers. We chatted about nothing, really. I wasn’t sure how to steer things in the direction I wanted, but luckily I didn’t have to.

“So, how are things with Steph?” she asked, knocking back a bottle of water. I admired her pale thighs extending out from the seat of pink short shorts, as well as the swell of her large breasts that pushed up as she arched into the last drops in the bottle.

“I have no idea,” I said, snapping out of my gawk. It was the truth. “She keeps me at arm’s length constantly, and she’s clearly terrified of my step sister finding out anything happened between us…it’s just really confusing.”

“So,” she began as a slight smile crept over Sarah’s face. I think she thought my love troubles were kind of cute. “Have you…I’m assuming you guys have hooked up?” Her voice had an upward lilt that told me she was sorry for prying.

“Yeah,” I offered back, not sure of how much information she really wanted. If it were Tara, she’d want every detail down to the last drop of semen…but this was not Tara. “We haven’t slept together, but…yeah.” I qualified.

“More than once?” She offered back again, fairly quickly. I nodded in the affirmative. “Well all I can tell you is, Steph generally Ankara Escort isn’t a repeat offender, so if she’s coming back for more…well then I think maybe she likes you, Tim.”

Normally this kind of revelation would be liberating, but honestly it wasn’t that much of a relief. It made the whole thing that much more fragile.

“From what I understand she got hurt pretty bad once, so she has a tendency to pull away sometimes,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“I didn’t realize you guys were so close,” I said. Sarah didn’t know it, but I knew full well how close she and Steph had been. Very close. Mouth-to-genitals close.

“Girls tell each other things, what can I say,” she nervously chuckled.

“Did she ever tell you…” I began, pausing to debate finishing my question, “…how she lost her virginity?”

Sarah’s eyebrows shot up. “Well now, aren’t we nosey?” she teased, but then evened out when she saw that I was serious. “Yeah, she told me…a couple times.”

“A couple times?”

“Yeah…the story is different every time she tells it. It’s kinda fun, actually. I have no idea what the true version is. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” I lied, badly. My mind started to wander at this revelation. Sarah picked up on it and managed to snap me right back to attention.

“I actually lost mine right over there!” She said, pointing to a section under the bleachers that was obscured by a big banner.

“Oh yeah?” I said, my ears, and cock, perking up.

“Yeah, with Andy Fiorentino after a football game.” My mind immediately conjured up an image of Sarah, bracing against the legs of the bleachers, getting fucked from behind. I would never have guessed that this girl–top ten in the class with honors, AP classes–got down as lustily as she did. I wasn’t jealous like I had been with Tara…with Sarah I was just impressed. “It was awful.”

The image evaporated. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Andy lives right across the street over there. Turns out I wasn’t the first girl he brought over to the bleachers late at night.” She curled her lip into a disgusted sneer. “No big loss though, I just feel bad for all the other girls he’s disappointed down there.”

We laughed together. I loved that Sarah was as confident in her sex life as she was in her studies. She knew what she wanted, knew what she liked. I found it very sexy.

Unfortunately break time was over, and we had to wrap up our duties before heading home for the evening. Sarah and I said our goodbyes, and right as I was about to leave, I forgot I left my stuff in Ms. Dorman’s room. Sarah offered to wait, but I decided I wanted to walk anyway, and she sped off.

I needed the time to try and process some stuff.

Ms. Dorman had a room nestled in the farthest corner of the school, one that took a while to get to no matter where you started from. The walk through the halls gave me some time to think.

Everything Sarah said made perfect sense. Steph and I were in a real strange position: She was my step sister’s best friend, a girl I knew practically all my life, and on top of that she was leaving for college in the fall. Not exactly fertile ground for a healthy relationship.

Yet still she kept coming back. Maybe that’s why she was acting so extreme with me, never wanting to give up any power–maybe she truly did like me, but also knew that we could never be anything more than we were. My mind whirled as I closed in on the door to Ms. Dorman’s room.

Suddenly the sound of a loud grunt snapped me out of my daydream–I stopped right where I was. My ears strained in the silence of the empty school.

Another grunt, followed quickly by another. Female grunts. Grunts of passion.

Tiptoeing to the door, looking around frantically to see if there was anyone else nearby, I pressed my ear to the door, being careful not to be seen through the door’s thin window.

Two sets of grunts now–male and female–accenting ragged, sparring breaths.

It couldn’t be…Ms. Dorman, could it? She was so cute and unassuming; the way she had to push up her thick-rimmed glasses after she giggled always made me smile. She had looked especially cute today, with a floor length dress underneath a navy blue button down with the sleeves rolled up. It hugged her curves just enough to remind us all she was a woman, but not so much as to be scandalous. She had nice, wide hips that flared off a modest waist, but her breasts were a bit of a mystery. My horny, teenage brain assumed they were fantastic, but her attire always made it hard to tell.

But it had to be someone else in there, right? Ms. Dorman would never be so bold as to do something like that on school property. She WAS recently engaged, but she was such a stickler for the rules that there’s no way she’d do something like fuck her fiance on school grounds.

I had to know.

As carefully as possible, I inched my way toward the thin window in the classroom door. I first saw the Balgat Escort chalkboard–nothing suspicious going on there–but as I continued to bring the room into view I began to see signs of activity. Faint shadows dancing rhythmically against the wall; stray papers careening to the ground. More grunting. More breathing.

As the teacher’s desk came into view, I found what I was looking for: her hands gripping the sides of her desk tightly with zero concern for where her papers ended up, Ms. Dorman was bent over the short end of her desk. Her long skirt was bunched up high and tight to her waist, exposing lovely legs spread wide, and she grunted deeply between breaths as the man standing behind her, gripping her round ass, fucked her hard and deep.

A man who was very much NOT her fiance, and very much WAS Mr. Ridley.

That son of a bitch.

Ms. Dorman had a look I had never seen on her face before as Ridley pounded her hot and fast from behind. She was usually all smiles, big and bright, and had the kind of cheeks that would flush red at even the slightest sense of embarrassment, but right now that cute face was scrunched up into a focused grimace of sexual pleasure.

This was not love making, this was FUCKING. Ridley pumped away with reckless, a-rhythmic abandon, each erratic thrust shaking the desk and knocking strand after strand of Ms. Dorman’s dark hair from the messy bun she had it stored in.

Maybe it was my own jealousy talking, but this gasping ghoul fucking Ms. Dorman didn’t seem anything like the erotic lothario described by Steph. Still, this vision of my favorite teacher, one I’d call my friend, in the throes of carnal congress was an erotic sight nonetheless. My cock was rigid.

She hung her head over her desk in a sort of trance of pleasure, and I thought about the time she accidentally said “Magna Cum Loudly” during her lecture. How she grew red like a tomato with a mortified smile as the class laughed, and hung her head over her desk, laughing at herself. Back then she tipped her head up to the sky in embarrassment, but now she tossed her head back and groaned a strained chorus of “yes, yes,” as the gym teacher penetrated her from behind.

Ridley’s breath suddenly started to get faster and more ragged, his thrusts harder, more erratic. He let out a long, high pitched groan, and grasped tightly to the shoulder of Ms. Dorman’s shirt as he started to cum. He pulled his hand back, but grasped only shirt, and popped open the top handful of snaps, revealing to me a smooth, jiggling breast encased in a black bra. It was bigger than I thought it’d be.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her as Ridley shuddered and shook, emptying his balls into her. She gasped and breathed heavily along with him, but she didn’t exactly seem satisfied. Didn’t exactly seem happy.

As Ridley peeled himself off of her, something else stood out to me as well: his cock. Wrapped in the spent condom was not the huge, straight-as-an-arrow cock that Steph described, but one with a distinct curve to it that actually seemed to be smaller than my own. Steph’s picture of Mr. Ridley the lover once again seemed to be inaccurate. I now had no idea what was true about her story of lost virginity, but I knew that some parts of it had clearly been fabricated. I smiled a bit as I considered the possibility that maybe she hadn’t slept with Ridley at all.

Steph might not have fucked Ridley, but Ms. Dorman definitely had, and he gave her ass a playful swat as he began to clean up. She didn’t smile. As they put themselves back together, Ridley had a very self satisfied look to him, while Ms. Dorman…she seemed to be more ambivalent. Leaning in as she finished shimmying her long skirt down her legs, Ridley gave her a kiss on the forehead (the forehead!). She smiled at him, but it wasn’t that bright beacon of a smile I knew, it was a much more forced smile, and then Ridley reached down for his bag and headed toward the door.

I scrambled away, hiding out of sight and watched Ridley head off down the hall with a whistle.

Edging my way back toward the doorway to Ms. Dorman’s classroom, I paused, not knowing what to do next. Did I wait till she left? Did I just come back to get my stuff tomorrow and sneak out quietly?

It turned out I wouldn’t have to make that decision.

“Just come in, Tim,” I heard Ms. Dorman say. Busted.

I timidly moved through the doorway, stopping just inside. Ms. Dorman was sitting on the edge of her desk, the desk she had just been fucked on, arms crossed, but not in an angry way. It was casual, but she definitely had a look of disappointment on her face. I wasn’t sure who it was meant for, though.

“I forgot my bag…” I offered limply. She sighed, and gently rubbed her temple with her fingers.

“How much did you see?”

I didn’t want to lie to her, but I didn’t want to embarrass her, so all I could muster up was a short “Enough.” She sighed again, and hung her head. Çankaya Escort She wasn’t embarrassed, she was…sad. There was clearly something wrong here. I moved in closer, joining her on the edge of the desk.

“Is everything ok?” I offered. Even though she was a teacher ten years my senior, she was still my friend, and she was clearly in pain.

“I…” she started before pausing. Debating whether to open this door. “…Richie and I haven’t had sex in almost a year,” she finally continued. Richie was her fiance, a guy I had met once at a school event; he seemed nice enough at the time. “We’re both so tied up with our jobs–he’s hardly ever home, and I’m always knee deep in papers and grades…and when we ARE home, we’re more like roommates. We don’t talk much, don’t spend much time together.”

The realities of adult relationships were becoming clear to me, now. Settling down seemed to be a lot more literal than I had imagined, something that my hormone-addled brain could hardly comprehend given the sensory overload I had been experiencing lately.

“And Dennis…Mr. Ridley…he just wouldn’t leave me alone,” she continued, “and I guess I just liked the attention.”

“How long’s it been going on?” I inquired.

“A couple months…once every couple weeks,” she admitted sheepishly, “I’m not even sure why, to tell you the truth–the sex isn’t very good.” We both nervously chuckled.

I pictured her again, bent over the desk, getting fucked from behind, and I felt bad. All this sweet woman wanted was someone to love her, to touch her, and here she was settling for a small taste of intimacy while Ridley dumped his nuts inside her. I bet he never even made her cum.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” she sighed, “you’re a student…it’s very inappropriate.” While she wasn’t wrong, all I could do was chuckle given the circumstances.

“I think we’re well past inappropriate here, Ms. Dorman,” I jabbed, and we both laughed. That bright-yet-embarrassed smile of hers returned.

“Yeah…” she said in a drawn out expression of embarrassed agreement. “You probably think I’m awful, don’t you?” She began biting her thumbnail anxiously.

“No, not at all!” I quickly responded. It was true–as much as I thought Ridley was a gross hound-dog, I didn’t blame Ms. Dorman for feeling alone. “Everybody wants to be wanted…everybody deserves to be wanted.” We paused for a moment in silence before I continued. “I think you might be avoiding some tough decisions,” I said, playing armchair therapist, “and lashing out…cheating on Richie…might be the only way you’re willing to process them right now.”

“Yeah…” she let out quietly, her thoughts drifting away. “I think Richie and I are not putting our relationship first, and we’ve just grown apart.” She could sugar coat it all she wanted, but I knew exactly what she really meant: Ms. Dorman, the conservative, mousey school teacher, liked to fuck. She liked to fuck, and she wasn’t getting fucked at home, so she started looking elsewhere. It made perfect sense to me. She wanted to fuck. She wanted to cum.

“Thanks, Tim,” she said with a smile, putting her hand on mine, “you’re wise beyond your years.”

“Any time, Ms. Dorman,” I said, greeting her smile with one of my own.

“Please, your time is up at this place – from now on, call me Julia.”

I thought a lot about those final words as I walked home. “From now on,” she said. Classes were over, I was going to graduate. Was she leaving the door open for us to see each other again outside of school?

The thought definitely crossed my mind later that night as I stroked my hard cock in bed. I replayed those images of Ms. Dorman–of Julia–lolling her head back and forth, grunting and rippling as she got pounded from behind. But this time it was me sliding my cock into her wet pussy. It was me, not Ridley, and I was doing it right. Her sizable tits jiggling and shaking with each thrust, she’d shudder, shake, and cry out as she began to spasm in orgasm around my cock. That gorgeous, euphoric smile of hers would be beaming, and she’d cry out “YES” as I gave her exactly what she wanted. And with a final thrust and groan I’d give her my load; hot, thick, and deep.

But at that moment, I didn’t cum. I worked my cock to its full hardness, but as I played this fantasy across my mind I suddenly stopped. I reached for my phone.

I pulled up Steph’s number, and I stared at the empty text message box. I thought about what Steph had said, about how maybe Steph liked me. I thought about her story, her fantasy, about how maybe she was trying to tell me something. Mostly I thought about her mouth and her tongue, the jiggle of her perfect breasts, her silky, wet, pussy. My brain was flooded with hormones as my cock stood like a proud beacon, and I decided to press my luck.

“You up?” I finally texted to her. After a short, agonizing wait, I saw those three bubbles pop up.

“Maybe…” she responded, followed shortly by “why?”

“I want to see you” I texted back, letting my desire get the better of me. I followed up with “I want to talk.”

There was a pause. I waited.

Finally, the bubbles.

“Sure,” she responded. I was about to suggest we meet out on the back porch again, when she followed up with a response I was not ready for: “come on up. My parents aren’t home.”

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