Speaker 1: The final bell of the night school semester had barely
finished its electronic bleat when I leaned against my desk,
crossing my arms under my breasts. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead,
casting a sterile glow over the emptying rows. Mark David James,
Robert ben Leo A moment, please. My voice, usually so instructive,
dropped into a lower register, confident commanding. The six men,
all decades older than my twenty years, paused in their packing.
A collective tension, thick and sweet, snapped into the air.
We'd been dancing around this for weeks, lingering glances after class,
my fingers brushing a shoulder as I leaned over to
correct a paper, their eyes tracing the curve of my
ass In this very skirt the classroom, our arena of authority,
was about to become something else Entirely. The door clicked
shut behind the last departing student. The silence was profound,
charged Lucky for these guys. I like to suck older men.
I think some of you need extra credit, I said,
my lips, curling into a smile that didn't reach my
text books. I let my gaze travel over each of them.
The salt and pepper hair, the slight paunches, under dress shirts,
the wedding bands some still wore. God, I love older men,
so eager, so grateful. I walked to the front of
the class, my heels clicking on the linoleum, sit first row.
They moved, a shuffling, breathless herd of suits and antisy, patient,
settling into the hard plastic chairs. I stood before them,
my back to the whiteboard. I slowly unbuttoned my tailored blazer,
letting it slide off my shoulders and pool on the floor.
Their eyes were locked on me, pupils wide. I've watched
you all term. I purred my fingers, going to the
top button of my blouse. I didn't open it, not
yet watched you stare watched you want well. Class is dismissed.
Teacher's in charge. Now I sauntered to mark the closest,
a banker in his fifties. I didn't kneel. I simply
crooked a finger. He understood, fumbling with his belt his zipper,
a loud rasp in the quiet when he freed himself,
already hard and flushed. I finally sank down, my knees,
hitting the cool floor. Watch I ordered the other five,
my eyes locking with theirs as I took Mark in
my hand, learn I'm going to suck you old fuckers,
one by one, six in a row. Whoever goes last, well,
they're in for a special treat who like special treats.
They all nodded. Good, I purred. Then I took Mark
into my mouth, all the way. My lips stretched, the
musky taste of his old dick flooding my senses. I
moaned around his girth, the vibration making his hips jerk.
I coughed, and a glob of spit covered his cock
like a web. I was good at this. I loved
the power of it, the absolute control I had while
seeming to serve. I worked him with my tongue, tracing
the thick veins underneath his prick, sucking hard on the tip.
My head bobbed a steady, wet rhythm. His hands gripped
the chair, edges, knuckles, White fuck, professor, He gasped. I
increased my pace, hollowing my cheeks, letting saliva drip down
his shaft and onto my hand. It was messy, purposeful.
I could feel the tension coiling in his belly when
his breathing. I felt the hot pulse, the desperate twitch
that signaled his end. I pulled back until just the
swollen tip was between my lips. I watched his face
contort in pure agonized release. Then I sucked him down
hard one last time. His hips bucked. A choked cry
ripped from his throat, and the first hot, salty flood
hit the back of my tongue. It tatched, thick and ropey.
I swallowed greedily, my throat working, but I let some
pool in my mouth. When I finally pulled off, I
kept my lips sealed. I rose, turned to the five
other men watching with rapt, hungry eyes, and slowly opened
my mouth. I stuck my tongue out a wet, pink platform.
Then I let marks come, thick and white, dribble slowly
from my lips onto it, showing them my splattered tongue
a glistening, obscene prize. I held it there, letting them
see every pearly drop. Look at that, I said my voice, husky,
that's what you've been thinking about all term, covering your
professor in coume. That's your extra credit. A collective shudder
went through them. Ben the youngest of them, at maybe forty,
actually whimpered. I wiped my chin with a finger, smearing
a streak of spunk over it, then pointed to David.
You next. It became a rhythm, a filthy, wet ceremony.
David was quicker, shaking as I took him. His release
was It was a sudden geyser that I caught with
a gulp and a sloppy, open mouthed groan. He sprayed
his thick, wet cumcumb all in my mouth and I
let it roll out down my tits for him. I
made him watch as I let the rest of his
load mix with marks on my tongue before I swallowed.
James was thicker, slower. I worked him with deep, throaty
strokes until he was groaning his hands, finally daring to
touch my hair. I didn't stop him when he came.
It was a slow, heavy ooze that coated my tongue
like cream filled my throat by Robert my fourth. The
classroom air was thick with sweat, musk and the raw
scent of sex. My blouse was damp with spilled saliva
and cock juice. My lips felt swollen and used I
was getting messier, hungrier. I didn't just suck him. I
slobbered over his entire length, letting spit and pre comb
slick my chin and my neck. When he erupted, I
didn't even try to swallow. I just let it fill
my mouth until it overflowed, dripping in thick strands from
my lips onto the floor between my knees. See how
filthy I am, I laughed, The sound choked with cum.
I'm your little professor, and I'm a fucking cum dumpster,
a fucking cheap whore. Ben was almost coming when I
got to him. He was the shy one, always averting
his eyes. Now they were locked on mine, wide with
awe and terror. I took him with a brutal, no
nonsense efficiency, my head bobbing fast and hard. He came
with a shout, his body jerking so violently his chair
scraped the floor. His load was surprisingly I savored it
on my tongue for a long moment before showing it
to him, a glistening, shameful proof of his desire. You
dirty fucker, I moaned Leo. The last one was the oldest,
a distinguished, silver haired man who'd always been so polite.
Now his fly was open, his cock standing thick and urgent.
But I didn't go to him immediately. Instead, I stood up.
My knees were sore, my mouth a soaked tender wreck.
I looked at the five drained men, their faces slack
with spent lust. Then I slowly deliberately unbuttoned my blouse
one button, two, three. I let it fall open, then
shrugged it off my shoulders. My braw was simple, black,
already damp with sweat. I unhooked it in front of them,
letting my breasts full, pale, tipped with hard pinkness, nipples
spring free into the cool fluorescent light. I walked to Leo,
my tits bouncing slightly. I cuped one, smearing a streak
of leftover saliva and cume from my chin across it.
You get the full view, I whispered, kneeling before him again.
His cock was perfect, veined, majestic. I didn't just use
my mouth. I pressed my breasts together around his shaft,
sliding him between them, coating my skin with his pre
comb and my own spit. I licked and sucked the
head while I fucked his length with my tits. The
sloppy wet sounds echoing in the silent room. Do it,
I growled, looking up at him. Cover me, make me
your mess. He did. His orgasm wasn't a burst, It
was a torrent. He groaned long and low, and hot
ropes of cumb shot across my face, my breasts, my neck.
It hit my eyelids, my lips, my chin. It painted
my tits white, dripping in thick rivulets down my sternum.
I opened my mouth and caught the last few spurts
directly on my tongue, then let it all hang there,
a dripping open display of ruin. Come hear you, old fucker,
kissing him deeply with my dick sodden mouth. He was
so eager. Then I pushed him down and made him
lick the cum off my tits, waggling my tongue like
a whore at the other men as he licked and
sucked me clean. I stayed there for a moment, panting.
My makeup smeared, my body glistening with six different men's releases.
I was a canvas of their lust. Then I stood.
I didn't wipe anything off. I walked with cumslathered breasts
and erect mouth, to the corner of the room, by
the supply cabinet. I turned my back to them, my
skirt still on, my heels still on, I hiked up
the skirt. I didn't wear panties tonight. I'd planned this
time for your next job, boys, I said. Then I
spread my legs, slightly, bent my knees, and let go.
A hot, steady stream of my piss hissed onto the
old classroom carpet, pooling in a dark, spreading puddle. The
sound was shockingly loud, intimate, vulgar. I sighed with relief,
my body emptying itself as theirs had emptied into me.
When the stream tapered off, I turned the puddle steamed faintly.
I walked to the front of it, then sank down
onto the damp carpet, spreading my legs wide. My cunt,
slick with my own arousal, and now touched by the
humid warmth of my urine, was exposed fully to them.
My breasts coated in so flabber and cum, heaved with
my breath clean me, I commanded, my voice, flat and absolute.
Use your mouths, every drop start here. I pointed to
my soaked, waiting sex whole. They moved, not as hesitant
students now, but as desperate, obedient animals. Mark was first,
scrambling from his chair onto the floor, his face bearing
between my thighs. Without hesitation. His tongue, rough and eager,
lapped at my folds, tasting the complex cocktail of my
juices and my piss. Another joined him at my breast,
licking a stripe of cum from my nipple. Hands gripped
my hips, my thighs. Tongues cleaned my stomach, my neck,
my face. I was being devoured, serviced, worshiped in my
absolute filth. I laughed, a sharp, triumphant sound that cut
through their wet, greedy noises. When you're a teacher, I moaned,
arching my back as a tongue found my clit. You
get to call all the shots with dirty, old bastardss.
I hoped you enjoyed today's sexy story. If you love
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