As I sat going over the list of new books for the library that the Principle had asked my opinion on, a soft persistent urging teased at my brain. Slowly my head rose and my eyes darted over the twenty some students before fastening on one sitting directly in front and below me. A soft ohhh spilled from my lips as our eyes met, and despite my willing it not to happen a tingling as if from a mild electrical charge shot through my nipples and a dampness manifested itself between my legs.

What was it about this arrogant black youth seven years my junior that could arouse such feelings in me I wondered? We weren’t lovers, in fact far from it. I was a happily, albeit newly married and licensed twenty three year old professional, and he was my tormentor. An arrogant sixteen year old hooligan going no where. If he didn’t die in some drug deal gone bad he would in all probability spend years if not his whole life in prison.

For a moment my mind wondered back to when I’d first really taken notice of him. Recollection of my catching him in a janitorial closet with a pretty little blond freshman 5 weeks ago surfaced. The girls blouse had been ripped open, and the boy, after having pushed her bra above her breast, had been biting her nipples. But even more devastating and traumatic for her was that his other hand was beneath her short skirt rubbing between the juncture of her legs,

The poor girl had been hysterical, and when I’d pulled him off of her he’d shifted his attack to me with hardly a seconds hesitation. I had honestly thought he was going to do the same thing to me that he had done to the young girl as his hand closed about my breast. But instead of ripping my blouse open or bunching my long skirt about my waist he simply satisfied himself with fondling me through the thin material.

Neither of us noticed that even as he brazenly fondled my breast that the hysterical young girl had gathered her blouse about her and fled from the closet. Despite my fright and the lasciviousness of what was happening I did nothing to stop him. Perhaps it was because, and to my befuddlement, his authoritative touch sent tingling electrical like charges racing up my spine. But what was even worse was that without conscious command from my brain I pushed my chest to him as if I were some teenage strumpet. Never before had any man been so self assured, so domineering, in his behavior toward me, and my reaction to such authority both confused and excited me.

In that moment as pleasurable moans issued from my throat like that from a feline at the soothing touch of its owner, all thought of my position as a teacher vanished. Though my mind was rapidly emptying of rational thought a glaring certainty flashed from it that if he were to press his thick smiling lips to mine nothing he might want or ask of me would be denied him. But suddenly and to my surprise, and I’ll have to admit my relief, with a last hurtful yet pleasurable pinch of my nipples along with a mirth filled contemptuous snicker he turned from me and without a backward glance walked from the closet.

Later when I reported the incident to the Principle the man just smiled knowingly at me. His tone as well as his attitude was such as to lead me to believe that such perverted happenings were not only common place but expected. So it came as no surprise when the asshole refused to press rape charges. After all there had been no penetration. For another, even if I had not of stopped the boy in all likelihood nothing would have happened. It was simply youthful exuberance on the boys part with no real harm intended. Definition, no penetration but encouragement on the girls part, therefore even if something had of happened it wouldn’t have been rape.

The young gang banger had been let off with not even a slap on the wrist. An innocent girls reputation suffers while the trouble maker and cause of it is deemed to be the offended party. Life sucks. Maybe if I had of told of his fondling of me things might have been different, but I hadn’t. I would like to think that the reason I hadn’t was because I was convinced the boys accosting of the girl was enough to get him put away, or if not that at least expelled. For another I was brought up to believe that right would prevail, that even though the Principle and the young boy were of the same ethnicity the man would do the right and honorable thing.

Silence is a two edged sword. Because I hadn’t told the Principle of the young negro’s fondling of me the youth became emboldened. His first move was absenting himself from his other classes and occupying a seat in mine. Not just any seat, but a seat directly in front of my desk. A position from which together with hefting his genitalia whenever I would glance at him he simply stared smilingly at me for two sometimes three consecutive periods. Each time my eyes would momentarily meet his I was sure that he was reliving our time together in the janitorial closet. But I could never meet his stare long enough to be certain, for his smiling self assured condescendence unnerved me. So much so that despite my willing it otherwise I relieved those few shame filled moments.

To my shame and confusion when such thoughts wove through my mind not only did my breast tingle as if from his touch but a warmth and terrible itch would erupt between my legs. In the days that followed his humiliating of me was like a game to him. Why I simply endured it instead of reporting him to the authorities I’m not sure. It most certainly wasn’t because of the dampness between my legs and the mind tingling sensations that raced through me whenever I saw him. Times such as when he would boldly saunter up to me then together with putting his arm about my thin waist snicker hows my favorite teacher today. Then with his thigh rubbing against mine and with his hand dropping to my buttocks he’d walk me to class.

As he’d walk beside me, one hand squeezing my buttocks and the other cupping his genitalia he’d wonder in a voice loud enough for those closest to hear if I had thought the janitors closet had been private enough. If not, then maybe the next time we got together I could rent a motel room. That way instead of just a quickie like before we could spend the whole night, or better yet a weekend together. That in and of itself was bad enough, but he carried my discomfort and humiliation a step further. Once we got to the library, and with his arm still about me, we would stand just inside the door and he would greet each student as they arrived.

The day came though when even that didn’t satisfy him. For reasons I still can’t understand instead of fighting, or at least screaming when he’d pulled me into that small alcove the first time I simply acquiesced. Well that isn’t exactly true because my fear had been like a living breathing entity. Though I had opened my mouth to scream all that had escaped my throat were nonsensical gurgles which, as he’d grabbed my buttocks and pulled me against his youthful body, changed to whimpering moans. Though my soft whimpering moans were occasionally punctuated by intermittent faint no’s I offered not the slightest resistance to his administrations.

Rational thought left me when he, like an obscene puppet, began grinding his pelvis against me and whispering sick perverted things into my ear. At such times not only did I grind my loins to his but those intermittent faint no’s became less and less frequent. Trapped as I was in the small alcove beneath the stairs I was virtually invisible to passing students and he took advantage of the fact. In every instance of entrapment his hot breath against my ear as he’d whispered he wanted to fuck me, that he wanted to pleasure me as no white man had ever done, sent my heart to thumping crazily despite my best efforts to be offended.

Shamefully, not only that first time, but every time after that his bold words, his self assured actions, caused an electric like tingling in my nipples and a terrible itching dampness between my legs. For reasons I couldn’t begin to understand I felt like I was putty to be shaped and molded in whatever form he desired whenever he touched me. Whenever his teeth intermittently nipped my throat and his exploratory hands glided over me I was like a giddy teenager reveling in the attention of one more knowledgeable and worldly then myself. Those feelings though were but secondary when his lips finally touched mine.

Though I had honestly expected that sooner or later he would try to kiss me I was totally unprepared for its actually happening. The first time his thick African lips touched mine I was so taken aback that for long immeasurable moments I could only look in wide eyed shock into his homely dark face that was but centimeters from mine. Hesitantly, yet with a desperate need to do so I tried to push him away, but my hands refused to do other then simply touch his chest. As if I were a mannequin my hands simply froze with fingers widely splayed on his pictorials and didn’t push at all.

There was no pretension of love or the slightest hint of tenderness in his kiss that first time. There was only demand and hunger. My mind struggled to think of what to do but try as it might nothing came as the testosterone charged teenagers lips and tongue continued their relentless assault. Against my will my mouth was ever so slowly being worked open by the arrogant, domineering, black youths oral ministrations, and I was unable to stop it.

In hindsight I’ll admit that my lips, so little at first that I hardly noticed, began to work back. My mind felt like it was going blank, surrendering as I was, before finally, unashamedly, I began kissing him back hungrily. Like some teenage floozy I offered my tongue to him fully and with complete abandonment. Though I didn’t hear his knowing chuckle my lips felt it as his tongue wormed into my mouth then like a snake writhed and coiled around mine.

Covering my hand with his he lifted it from where it rested on his chest and without pausing from his commanding frenching put it around his thick dark neck. I needed no more encouragement. Lightly then ever harder I began stroking his neck, the back of his dreadlock covered head with a passion I had never before known while making out with any man…. including my husband. Such had been our first kiss. After that though whenever he pulled me into that alcove I willingly even eagerly presented my lips to him. Without hesitation I would wrap my arms about him and hungrily, passionately kiss him as if he were the last male on earth. While he for his part and as arrogant as ever fondled my buttocks together with torturing my breast and nipples.

Against all common sense his words, his behavior, my shameless response to them, sent shivers of desire through me. The proof of which occurred nightly when Richard and I retired. I became as if one possessed, and though Richard didn’t understand my sudden near insatiable desire for sex he was never the less elated in the change. Later as we lay in each others arms he would tell me how pleased he was that I had finally loosened up. But then in almost the same breath, without knowing how close he was to the truth he would joke that my being around teenage boys all day must really get my libido working. Not that he was complaining mind you, in fact far from it.

What Richard didn’t know, and what I most certainly would never think of telling him, was that every time we made love I imagined that it was not him but the arrogant black youth Lionel that was atop me. That it was not his but Lionel’s cock that was thrusting into me, and more then once I had to bite my lip to keep from calling out the young negro’s name. It was also during our times together in bed that Richard would wistfully say if I could but loose my other arcane inhibitions our marriage would be ideal.

Though I honestly tried to do as he wished as concerned our time in bed together I found the acts he wished me to perform disgusting for the most part. I will have to admit that I did derive some small pleasure from him pushing his head between my legs. But just the thought of taking him into my mouth, especially after we had made love disgusted me completely. No matter how many times he whined or pleaded I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, and it mattered not that if while attempting the sordid act I imagined that it was Lionel who was begging me. That it was Lionel and not my husband that was pleading with me to perform such an unnatural act.

Another thing happened about then that now that I think back on it was all to coincidental. It started one night as Richard while flipping through the channels for something interesting to watch came upon the Frederick’s of Hollywood lingerie preview. He was like an excited child and before the two hour program was over despite my protest that I could never wear such provocative and revealing things he ordered several items. Almost on the heels of that revealing incident he began sending me URL’s from various websites.

Over the next couple of weeks he sent me URL for various web sites. Nothing you could really classify as pornographic but quite a few of the pictures were very revealing to say the least. So while I should have been concentrating on my students I was instead looking at such sites as Yandy. Cameo, Flirty, 3 Wishes and even one appropriately named Trashy. During that period after Richard had made love to me he would ask if I had seen anything I liked that day. Not only because I was beginning to understand this new perversion of his, but because as I viewed the sites flashes of me wearing a particular outfit my answer was always the same. “Every thing honey, I liked everything. But I can’t wear such revealing clothes to work. The other teachers would think I was trying to attract the attention and affections of underage boys.”

His come back to my concerns was always the same. “To hell with those old biddy’s and to hell with what they might think. Your to young, to beautiful to hide that fantastic body of yours beneath clothes an old spinster would think twice about wearing. Besides it would excite me tremendously knowing that men, and yes even boys were not only looking at you but fantasizing about crawling between your legs.”

His vehement statement both surprised and shocked me and yet at the same time aroused me. Would he truly be aroused? it was one thing to say he would be but once other men actually began looking at me lustfully would he continue to be so? I was seriously beginning to think so, but still I was not prepared to take the chance. Perhaps my hesitation to change my wardrobe, albeit a little less drastically then what Richard was asking, was because I instinctively knew that if I did it would be like a green light to Lionel. Never the less and in spite of my protest every few days a package would be waiting for me when I arrived home.

To placate my husbands ever increasing perversion to see me scantily clad I would parade around the house in the skimpy little skirts and revealing tops nearly from the time he got home until we crawled into bed. Yet no matter how much he insisted, no matter how often or how hard he begged I absolutely refused to wear them outside the privacy of our home. I made it perfectly clear that under no circumstances would I be seen dead wearing such skimpy attire out in public. The risk was just to great that a member of the school board, or heaven forbid a student might see and recognize me. In a weak moment, perhaps as a way of making amends for disappointing him, I allowed him to photograph me.

It was while he photographed me that I discovered something about myself that I hadn’t been conscious of. To my surprise I found that being photographed in scanty attire aroused me. By the third session the posses I struck were nowhere as conservative as those of the models on the various web sites. In fact the less inhibited and indeed raunchier I was the more pleased and hornier Richard was. So horny in fact that on several occasions he would step from behind the camera and fall atop me. It made little difference to him if we were in our bedroom or as was the case on several occasions on our patio. What I wasn’t aware of and didn’t learn until much later was that quite a few times instead of shutting off the camera he’d set it on auto. Thus allowing him against my knowledge to capture at least part of our love making sessions.

Whether I was naive or living in a dream world of my own making I’m not sure, but I honestly believed I had the best of all possible worlds. On the one hand I had a young authoritative student who not only madly desired me but took every opportunity to stress the fact. On the other I had a loving husband in which to go home to, and upon which to his ever lasting enjoyment I relieved my sexual tensions of that day. Still though I should have worried more about Lionel’s brazen familiarity, but for reason only God knows I wasn’t. In ever instance like some teenage bimbo my reaction to his brazen fondling and kissing of me was acquiesce instead of protest.

But then suddenly, and against all reason his attitude toward me changed. He avoided me as if I were a plague victim. Not only did his unscheduled attendance to my class cease, so too did his regularly scheduled sessions. To add even more confusion and frustration to my befuddled mind whenever he saw me in the hallway he would turn and walk back the way he had just come. After nearly two weeks of this new and strange behavior on Lionel’s part I was a wreck. It was inevitable therefore that Richard became the recipient of some intense passion. He was not only the benefactor of sex just as before, but also the recipient of prolonged and intense foreplay that had until then been Lionel’s.

It was as if I were a whole different person. All that I could think about as I looked out at the different teenage boys which attended my class was sex and everything that led up to it. Upon leaving school and arriving home I was tearing off my ultra conservative clothes even before the door had closed behind me. Only after I had changed into one or another of my by that time vast collection of revealing attire did I return to the living room and retrieve the clothes I had careless shed while hurrying to the bedroom.

When my husband would finally arrive home hours later I would literally throw myself at him the minute he opened the door. Little caring that in the process of doing so that any one or all of our nosy neighbors might see my shameful behavior. Maybe subconsciously it was an audience that I craved. An audience such as all the students who had not only witnessed Lionel’s brazen familiarity with me but my acquiesce to his administrations. Whatever the reason for my sudden exhibitionism concerning my husband, whenever I greeted his arrival I stretched out the time I spent in his arms before the wide open door as long as possible. It mattered not that if while doing so I was wearing the skimpiest and most revealing of lingerie or “club wear” he had purchased for me.

Yet in spite of this sudden change on my part, which was most appreciated by him to say the least, even he began to notice that something was not kosher. Once again without knowing how correct he was, he jokingly attributed my mood swings to my teenage boyfriend shunning me. This time though he carried it a step further, this time he laughingly quipped that if I wanted my young stud back I better start wearing my “school girl” micro minis or other such shit he bought me. Or if not those at least skirts a hell of a lot shorter and sexier then my ankle length granny dresses.

In half pretended anger I flailed at him as he, with wheezing breath from laughing at his declaration, and while trying to grab my flailing arms, snickered that if I wanted my boyfriend back I had no choice. Boy’s, just like men he quipped, liked their women to dress sexy. But just as I had so often in the past I again vehemently refused to wear such revealing clothes to work. Nothing more was said but two days later on Saturday morning after saying he wasn’t taking no for an answer anymore he almost dragged me from the house. Twenty minutes later we were at the grand opening of the Victories Secret at the Tower mall.

Several hours later and after visiting the other two women’s specialty shops as well, my husband’s arms were full of packages and we were heading toward our car. Once back at the house I had to again model everything he had bought. Like a child at a candy store he sat on the couch as I paraded before him in the six mid thigh skirts and various blouses and sweaters. But his real joy came when one after the other I showed off the zip-front sweaterdress, the silk wrap dress and lastly his favorite, the short snap-front polo t shirt dress.

Everything we had bought was with an eye toward my wearing them to work. A fact that he kept stressing while buying them, while I for my part kept telling him I would have to work up the courage to do such. More then once I told him that it might by weeks before I wore skirts four or in the case of the last three dresses six inches above my knees. Still though it was a start because at four to six inches above my knees they were considerably shorter then what I normally wore. Of course looking at it from a different perspective they were maybe two, three inches longer then those which Richard had first bought.

Four days later on a Thursday afternoon as suddenly and as inexplicably as he had began avoiding me Lionel along with four of his cohorts strolled into the library during seventh period. For several minutes they stood before my desk jostling and laughing before taking a seat at the very table which Lionel usually occupied. With casual indifference Lionel tossed what appeared to be a dozen or so photographs on the table. For several minutes as Lionel after saying that he liked this one or that one he passed the photos around. I couldn’t see what they were looking at but from the occasional smiling stares I was receiving I was beginning to get a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Raising partially from my chair I leaned forward over my desk trying to get a better look at what the boys were starring at but I couldn’t see anymore then I had before. Hardly had I regained my seat then Lionel, after picking up one of the pictures and while waving it before him snickered in a voice loud enough for the students furthest away to hear. “Does Teach want to see what we looking at? Does she want to see what it is that’s getting my bros. all excited and rowdy? Well does she?”

For several minutes all I could do was sit and look into his smiling eyes as my mind raced with possibilities. There was no way he could have, and be showing, pictures of me that I had allowed my husband to take. The memory chips, except for the one that was in the camera, were hidden beneath my lingerie in the top drawer of our dresser. Weren’t they?

With my mind racing, and dreading what I somehow knew would be that which I feared, I slowly rose and moved toward Lionel and his four cohorts. As I moved around my desk he snickered he was just showing his bros. a few of the many pictures he had of a very foxy school tease. My earlier confusion at his sudden appearance and the crazy pounding of my heart became a thousand times worse as I stepped beside him and looked down at the photographs scattered over the table. “Ahhhh Teach, your not going to take them from me are you? I’ve hardly gotten a chance to look at them myself, let alone show them around. I’ll bet there’s a lot of students that would give just about anything to see them. Hey, thats it, I’ll sell copies to the other students.”

I was panic stricken at the thought of copies of the two dozen or so photographs scattered over the table in the hands of students, in the hands of the fat old Principle, and eventually the school board. A single no burst from my lips as I reached down and tried to scoop up the photos. So intent was I in recovering the photographs of me that I didn’t think to question how he had gotten them. But my efforts were thwarted as together with Lionel knocking aside my reaching hands his cohorts hands reached out for me.

Like a matador dodging a bull I tried to evade their hands while continuing to grab at the pictures. But my attempts to do either were not totally successful. I was so busy sidestepping their groping hands while at the same time trying to recover the pictures that I didn’t notice the other students leaving. Nor did I notice that Lionel had circled around behind me until his arms wrapped about me and his hot breath scorched the back of my neck. Helpless like I was I could do nothing but stand there as he slowly, exaggeratedly ground into me.

Repeated sobbing no’s issued from my dry lips as together with him grinding into me from behind his tongue trailed over my neck then up and into my ear. Gibbering nearly hysterical wails of don’t let him know he’s arousing you shot from my brain, but my body paid little heed to the command. As if controlled by someone other then myself my hips slowly, ever so slowly, began to swivel and push back against him. I felt his arms loosen, yet instead of trying to pull away I continued to lean heavily against him. My lungs refused to take in air as together with his tongue continuing to swab my ear hissed words of perversion wormed through the wet channel and into my brain.

Through eyes clouded with arousal I looked out into a room that should have had at least twenty students but was now empty. I felt a button, then two, and then two more loosen. A shiver together with goose pimples prickled my flesh as my blouse was pulled open then tugged from my shoulders and midway down my loosely hanging arms trapping them at my sides. I was as helpless to fight off the boys attention as if I had been handcuffed, and may God forgive me but the perversity of it aroused and excited me beyond belief.

I felt fingers fumbling with the fastener of my bra then a heartbeat later the straps slide from my shoulder. The sound of in drawn breaths, of nervous yet excited mutterings touched my ears as my bra slipped midway down my torso exposing me to my tormentors cohorts. My mind screamed hysterically for me to struggle against what was happening. To fight against their disrobing and toying of me in my own classroom in the middle of a school day, but as before my body refused to respond other then which it already was.

Like fog dissipated by the morning sun my fear that a fellow teacher, or worse yet a student, might suddenly walk in vanished as if it had never been. Gasping pleasurable moans pulsated in my throat as the young gang bangers arms once more encircled me and his dark hands closed over my firm breast.

Soft rumbling purrs of pleasure issued from my trembling lips as he began pinching and pulling my nipples. Through eyes clouded by arousal I saw the others rise from their chairs then like misty apparitions float around the table and toward me. Without willing it my buttocks ground ever harder against the boy behind me as together with his fingers continuing to torture my nipples other hands slide over my waist and stomach then upwards to just below my heaving breast. The tongue probing my ear relented and a micro second later my nemeses voice hissed sharply didn’t I tell you mother fuckers teach was hot as shit.

Releasing my nipples he tugged my blouse and a second later my bra from me. Then with a malicious chuckle he said “go ahead bros. grab a feel, teach doesn’t mind. In fact she rather likes her firm little titties played with.” No sooner had the words left his mouth then other fingers began rolling and squeezing my breast. My body was shivering so badly that I feared I would collapse. Yet instead of trying to knock their hands away I leaned forward and grabbed the edge of the table in order to remain upright.

A stuttering gasp burst from me as together with fingers tightening on my right nipple and stretching it as if trying to rip it from my breast a wet mouth closed over my other nipple. Simpering choked moans of oh God spilled repeatedly from my trembling lips as fingers and teeth pinched, pulled and bit my nipples while behind me, with his hands upon my hips and moving them in time to his own exaggerated movements, Lionel bumped and ground against me like a dog humping a mans leg.

From my position over the table and facing out over the room I saw a large indistinct blob hovering against the far wall. But that wasn’t possible I reasoned. It’s only my imagination, an imagination brought on and heightened by what the five young negro’s were doing to me. But even as I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t seeing what I somehow knew to be other students I heard several sharp exclamations of holy shit. Behind me what sounded more like a menacing savage growl then speech burst against my ears then suddenly and even as my eyes began to focus the hazy blob broke apart. Like some keystone comedy the ever more distinct figures bumped and pushed against each other and several even fell before as suddenly as they had materialized they vanished.

Even as my lust addled brain tried to come to grips with what had just happened a voice tinged with awe softly mumbled damn Lionel you wasn’t shitting when you said Mrs. Lincoln was something else. I mean who would a thought such a fantastic body was beneath those granny clothes of hers, and hot, oh Lordy is she hot. If she gets this worked up over her titties being felt of what the fuck she going to be like when we does her snatch. Hardly had the words filtered into my brain then together with hands grabbing me, jerking me, other discordant eager voices filled my ears. Though my brain tried to make sense of what was said as well as why I was being pulled forward further over the table it was beyond its capability to do so and with a mental shrug it ceased trying.

To the accompaniment of nervous yet excited giggles I felt my skirt being raised. Hardly had it been bunched about my waist then fingers began tugging at my lace bikini panties. Yet instead of struggling, and even as my lust crazed brain screamed that he and after him the others were going to fuck me one after the other my legs rose to facilitate the removal of my panties. What felt like a dozen hands glided over my exposed and jiggling posterior. Whether my choked plea for them to fuck me was only in my mind or I had voiced it I’m not sure. Never the less as my hips rolled in an effort to maintain contact with the pinching, squeezing fingers something hard and persistent prodded against my hot moist vagina. Thoughts of my status as a shaper of young peoples minds vanished as with my body twanging like a plucked guitar string I humped with ever more vigor back against Lionel.

From my open gasping mouth oh’s, aha’s and oomph’s spilled incessantly as I pushed back, though with a measure of disappointment, to met Lionel’s driving cock. From the bulge in his pants I had thought him bigger, thicker, not as I was finding out an almost exact duplicate of my husband. Still though the thought of him, and after him the others, driving their hard dark cock’s into me aroused me more then I had thought possible. A stuttering groan of rapture filled the room as together with suns exploding in my skull my legs gave way. As I slid downward to the floor I thought the teeth gripping my nipples would never let go, that they would rip my nipples from my breast. But finally, and just before I was certain that they would they released me.

Instead of the boys picking me up and draping me over the table and then one after the other shove their dick’s into my petite but womanly body they simply stood there looking down at me. Through the ringing in my ears and as if from a great distance I heard them jovially and profusely thank Lionel. For what though my lust addled brain couldn’t fathom as other then Lionel none of them had done other then feel of me or mouth my nipples. Even as confusion flitted across my flushed face his four cohorts along with derisive snickers and without a backward glance sauntered from my class leaving me alone with Lionel.

Without a word, yet grinning like the proverbial cat that had swallowed the canary he entwined his dark fingers into my long red hair. Together with turning me about then pushing me to my knees he forced my head back so that I was looking up into his smirking face then he pushed his forefinger beneath my nose. Only then, as my nostrils picked up the strong smell of sex from the wet digit, did I realize that he had not fucked me. That instead, and unlike any of my past boyfriends or even my husband had been able to do, he had fingered me to orgasm.

For a life time we looked into each others eyes then with a contemptuous chuckle he unzipped his baggy jeans. “I ought to fuck your skanky white ass right now Mrs. Lincoln but I ain’t gots the time, I gots to be some place in a half hour. Don’t you fret none though slut cause soon enough I’s going to shove my black baby maker into your white whore body and breed you proper. Don’t you be making the mistake that just cause I ain’t going to pleasure your white ass now that you ain’t my bitch, cause you is, and don’t you be forgetting it. Soon enough, maybe not today but soon enough, I’s going to pleasure your tight honky body like it ain’t never been pleasured before. When I does you going to be liking black dick so much you’ll be forgetting all about your wimpy ass husband.” Then releasing his hold on my hair and with a contemptuous push he turned his back to me and swaggered from my class.

How long I sat there naked from the waist up gasping like a marathon runner who had just run a 10K race I’m not sure. Twice I saw heads poke in the door only to quickly withdraw, but at that moment I didn’t care if they had come all the way into the classroom. Neither did I care that in all likelihood by tomorrow if not sooner every student would be privy to what had transpired in my classroom. All that I could think about was that if Lionel, with the simple use of his finger could bring me to such heights, to what pinnacle would I soar when he finally did fuck me. If his arrogant and self appreciating remarks, which were even then resonating in my ears, were any indication, it was sure to be mind altering.

Finally I recovered enough to make myself presentable. The effort though was wasted, because in the forty minutes or so that remained of the school day not a single student walked into the library. Relieved of responsibility of students I spent the time wondering how best to approach my husband about what had happened that day. How best to tell him that I had been sexually assaulted without revealing my shameless response. Yet at home that evening instead of pouring my heart out to my husband I said nothing. Indeed when asked how my day had gone I acted as if it had been no different then any of the others since I had started teaching.

Only when we were in bed, and after Richard had climbed atop me, was there any indication of how what had happened effected me. Normally when we make love it’s in the missionary position with Richard looking as if he were doing pushups. But that night as he wiggled between my legs and readied himself to enter me I grabbed his forearms and brought his hands to my breast almost screaming at him to maul them. For a second he pulled back and a quizzical look crossed his face and then grinning broadly he complied. With his hands thus occupied it was up to me to guide him. As I reached down between us and grabbed him he again jerked upright then chuckling oh so you want it rough do you he lowered his head to my taunt electrically charged breast.

Together with him pushing into me he bit down on my left nipple. A scream tore from my throat and my body arched from the bed leaving but my shoulders and the soles of my feet making contact. I couldn’t pump up to meet him but it was unnecessary to do so as every centimeter of his nearly five inch cock had slipped into me. As I slowly sank back onto the bed I heard him lightly chuckle just before his teeth again bit down on my nipple. As his teeth closed on my nipple he shook his head like a dog playing with a toy. Again a gurgling scream burst from my throat and though the pain, the pleasure, was exquisite only my hips moved, but they did so with vigor. With an undulating thrashing upward lunge my loins ground against his in a dance of primordial lust that continued until Richard, gasping for breath and sputtering uncle rolled from atop me.

The next day I spent a good deal of it in the teachers lounge trying to hide. Not just from the arrogant young negro Lionel and his cohorts, but from the other students who I was sure were at that very minute talking about my shameful sluty behavior. When I finally did go to my classroom instead of the pointing fingers and the mirth filled chuckles that I had expected it was as if the day before had never happened. That is until just before the final bell when Lionel sauntered in and strode up to my desk. Almost as one the other students rose and trooped from the room before the bell rang.

Unlike the day before he made no move to disrobe me or to even touch me. Instead he simply leaned over my desk and looked long and hard into my eyes, and though I wanted to turn away I couldn’t. As if from a great distance the scraping of chairs, the murmuring of voices needled into my consciousness. The thought that like yesterday the students had returned. That this time instead of lining up along the far wall they were moving closer; that they were positioning themselves to better see my humiliation filled my brain to overflowing. And God help me I shivered with the thought of them witnessing it. But the arrogant gang banger made no overt move toward me. Long minutes later he pushed himself upright and when he did my eyes shot out over the library.

As I had suspected there before me at the two nearest tables sat a dozen or so broadly grinning wannabe hoodlums. As I stared at the students one of them rose and with a smile rivaling that of the Cheshire cat from Alice and Wonderland he joined Lionel. Here it comes I thought. It will start with just Lionel and a single other boy, but then soon another, and then another will step forward until all of them were about me. Like last time will they be happy with simply running their youthful dark hands over my naked flesh after Lionel has disrobed me, or will this time be different. Will first Lionel and then this boy and then all the others climb between my legs and shove their youthful exuberant cock’s into me. As the thought of them placing me over my desk and then one after another of them using me to satisfy their lust my slight frame shivered with the perversity of it.

But such was not to be as out of the corner of my eye I saw the boy hand something to Lionel then turn and walk back to the others. As one they rose and moments later I was alone with Lionel. As I stared a bit confused and not a little relieved at their backs I sensed more then saw the package that Lionel had been given being placed before me. Automatically I turned my gaze from the departing students and looked down to see two eight by ten framed photographs of me. In one I was wearing a pleated hip hugger micro mini with matching short sleeve top that was held together with a buckle. In the other I was wearing an ultra sheer Spanish Lace tie front gown that under normal circumstances left little to the imagination. But in this instance nothing, absolutely nothing was left to the imagination, because at Richard’s urging I had not worn the G-string which had been included with the gown.

As I stared fixedly at the framed pictures trying to figure out how Lionel had gotten these as well as the earlier photographs I felt his hand softly squeeze my left breast and his hot breath caress the back of my neck. I could feel my resistance fading, and though my mouth was opening and closing no sound other then a couple of squeaks filtered past my lips. As if Lionel were conscious of my thoughts as his lips left my neck and brushed my ear he whispered. “Your stupid ass husband shouldn’t of left the memory stick in the camera Mrs. Lincoln. It was a simple matter to have a CD run off and then prints made. I gotta tell you cunt of all the pictures of you these two are my favorites. But then I guess you already figured that out didn’t you. Both of em are hot, but that sheer frilly lace thing whoa, now that one your going to have to wear when I drop by your house.”

My mind was rapidly emptying of all thought as together with his fingers tweaking my nipples his voice droned on. His vivid descriptives of me wearing the pleated hip hugger micro mini when we went out in public; of him unbuckling my top, of his hands, his teeth, teasing, torturing, my nipples sent shivers through me. But they were as nothing compared to what surged through me as he told how after slipping his hand beneath my short skirt his fingers would pleasure me as they had before. How he would do all those things to me in public so others could see that I was his bitch, his nigga loving black cock hungry slut.

Then with self righteous arrogance tinging his voice he snickered that after I was all worked up, and after I repeatedly begged him to fuck me he would pleasure me as no white man ever had. Then suddenly and inexplicably even as I continued to stare at the framed photos and even as his words kept running through my brain he was gone.

Even now four days after that incident as I sat looking at him I could feel the heat and the dampness between my legs spreading. What was it about him that caused such a reaction on my part. Yet all that I had felt, or heaven forbid might have done, should have ended a couple of days ago. For even as I had once again unresistingly let him pull me into the alcove Wednesday afternoon, and his hands and lips had begun to toy with me as they had so often in the past he had been suddenly, and to the accompaniment of a loud and angry voice, pulled from me.

What happened next was nothing but a blur to my passion clouded eyes and addled brain. Not until minutes after the shouting and angry curses had ended did reality begin to return, and then only after I had found myself kneeling beside the bloody and badly beaten gym teacher. Only dully as I cradled the bloody beaten face of my associate in my lap did I hear Lionel proclaim that I was his bitch, and that nobody, not some wimpy ass teacher and most certainly not my husband would keep him from bedding me whenever he had a mind to.

So it was no wonder that with the beating being reported, and with the police investigating the incident, that I was surprised to see Lionel. For a moment our eyes again locked as my brain screamed pull down your skirt and close your legs you dumb twit. Then as one his eyes as well as mine lowered. His to once again to try to see beneath my long skirt, while mine had dropped to the noticeable bulge barely constrained by his baggy jeans.

I was acutely aware that instead of my legs closing as my brain had commanded them to do they had done just the opposite. I was also acutely aware that my skirt, which had been almost at my knees was now above them. I would like to think that my lack of control was because my brain was occupied otherwise and not because his past declarations kept rolling through it. All I was consciously aware of thinking was that he had pictures of me. That he could have blackmailed me into having sex with him and yet he hadn’t. Was he so sure of himself that he didn’t need the pictures to get that which he wanted. Such thoughts though were fleeting and as nothing for my mind was filled with wonderment as to the length and rigidity of that which I could only see the outline of.

Indeed my mind, like some B grade movie projector, threw lurid pornographic images of the young negro’s cock on the inside walls of my skull. Though the exaggerated images proved to be wrong minutes later, at that moment what flickered on the walls of my skull was a midnight dark cock as thick as a coke can and nearly a foot long.

With a fluttering like that of a million butterflies in the pit of my stomach I sat unmoving as the young negro, after a glance at the big clock on the wall rose and walked slowly toward me. The smile curling up the corner of his lips and the merriment in his eyes barely registered as my eyes were focused not on his face, but on the bulge his hand hefted as he approached me. It was as if the bulge between his legs were a magnet for it drew and held my eyes as nothing ever had before.

Unconsciously I both pushed away from my desk and rotated my chair to face him as he stepped up beside me. An impenetrable mist seemed to surround me blotting out everything and everyone but the boy as my hand as if with a mind of its own reached out. A soft mirth filled chuckle touched my ears as my finger tips touched him and then he stepped even closer. Faint and as if from a great distance I heard the irritable ringing of a bell then the scuffling of chairs and excited chatter but their meaning didn’t register on my consciousness.

Faintly I heard his snickering mirth filled words, and though I tried to answer I couldn’t. “Does Mrs. Lincoln wants to see it? Does she wants to see da black snake that I promised was going to pleasure her like no white cock, not even her husband’s has? Does she wants to kiss it, to worship it. Well den if she be wanting dah black baby maker what’s going to make her forget all about her limp dick husband all she be having to do is unzip me and do what comes natural.”

Again I tried to voice denial, rejection, to that which he was not only declaring but proposing even as his mocking words echoed repeatedly through my brain. But even as my mouth opened and a stuttering whimper of no issued from my lips my fingers reached for then pulled down his zipper. Like a child opening a Christmas present my hand slipped into the opening of his baggy jeans. What seemed like a life time to me but in reality was only a heart beat later I was staring fixedly at that which not even in my wildest dreams I thought I would see.

For a moment he simply stood there as my fingers squeezed and stroked his hardness, then he leaned over me placing his dark hands on my legs just above my knees. A gasp tumbled from my lips as an electric like shock traveled up my legs and exploded in my crotch at his touch. But that feeling was as nothing compared to the one that shot through me as together with pushing my skirt up then spreading my legs his fingers glided feather like to within millimeters of my damp panties.

How long it was that his fingers lightly traveled up and down my thighs as I without conscious thought continued to stroke him I’m not certain. Faint suggestive taunts as well as my own whimpering denials touched my ears as my mind screamed close your legs Charlene. Close your legs and push the boy from you and then run to the Principles office and report him. But just as I yanked my hand from his hardness and began to rise in response to the gibbering of my brain his fingers touched then pressed into the sopping dampness between my legs.

At that instant any resolve that I might of had fled like medieval peasants before an invading army. A near wail, was it arousal or anguish, issued from my throat, and my petite frame shook as if from a fever. Obediently, without forethought or the slightest of hesitation and as instructed by the mocking teenager I opened my legs even wider. At the same time and without commanding them to do so my fingers again gripped his tumultuous hardness while he for his part slide a finger beneath the leg band of my panties.

As his finger pushed into me my buttocks jerked from my chair and rolled. Not only in response to his wiggling driving finger but his descriptive words of how wet I was, of how much he was going to enjoy fucking me. Like an avalanche pushing all before it his filthy shameful words of pleasuring me daily, of making me his black cock loving cum slut pushed rational thought from my brain. Intermittent and conflicting choked gasp of no, oh pleaseeee noooo inter-spaced with yes oh sweet mother of God yessssss caught in my throat as first one and then a second of his fingers pushed ever faster and deeper into me.

Any control that I might of had over the situation vanished and when his next mocking command came without the slightest of hesitation I obeyed. Without conscious thought of what I was doing and as if in a daze my unoccupied fingers fumbled with the buttons of my blouse until all but the one beneath the waistband of my skirt parted. A shiver as if from a chill racked my slight frame as his left hand rose and parted my blouse. As the young negro’s fingers closed about my right breast a soft trembling moan of pleasure escaped my lips. But even as I pushed my chest forward to take advantage of the thumb repeatedly rolling over my bra covered nipple he pulled his hand away. A fleeting moment later his hand again brushed against my breast but this time it held a knife.

Even as my eyes got as large as saucers and my mind screamed that he was going to kill me the cold metal blade slipped between the juncture of my breast and beneath my bra. Less then a breath later and with the sound like that of a rubberband snapping my lace bra parted and fell to either side of my heaving pert breast. For a nano second panic washed over me as my addled brain screamed that he was undressing me before God and the students. As if reading my mind he grasped the arms of my chair and before I could react he twirled me about.

Even as my hands belatedly sought to pull my blouse closed the fact that I was looking out over a room absent of all but myself and the young black hooligan registered. Only my gasping breath broke the silence as I looked out at the empty cavernous room and then his lips pressed against my ear. Obedient to his words that unless I wanted the old nigga janitor to join him in breeding me I best get my ass up and lock the door I slowly rose. On trembling legs that threatened to give out on me at any moment I walked to and then locked the door to the classroom.

As I turned to walk back to my desk and him, his next command stopped me before I had taken five steps. Unable to do other then obey that soft yet authoritative voice resonating through my brain I pulled my blouse from my skirt. With a slight shrug of my shoulder after loosening the last button I let it as well as my ruined useless bra drop to the floor at my feet. His smile along with the crooking of his finger moved me forward, but before I had taken no more then seven steps he held up his hand motioning me to stop.

For a second I stood there confused and uncertain as to what he wanted or expected of me. Then as if I were a cartoon character and a light bulb had illuminated over my head I knew what he wished of me. With trembling fingers I reached behind me and fumbled with the snap and zipper of my skirt. For maybe two heart beats I stood there unmoving, afraid yet eager to see his reaction as my skirt slid down my legs and pooled about my ankles. He neither spoke or gestured but a voice inside my head as clear and distinct as if spoken by him commanded me.

Stepping from my skirt I slowly walked the last few feet to him. As I did so my eyes never left his smiling face. Did he approve? Did my pert firm breast, the litheness of my petite body meet his expectations? Or did he find me to gangly and not worthy of his attention? But even as those thoughts entered my mind I was standing before him and his hands had reached out to my breast.

Soft pleasurable moans escaped from my lips as his fingers tweaked and pinched my nipples making them harden and stand out even more. “Nice Mrs. Lincoln! Yes sir real nice. You know I always liked playing with your firm little titties, but from now on what I’s really going to enjoy is playing with your tight honky ass body whenever I takes a mind to.

“Do you like that Mrs. Lincoln? Do you like your little titties squeezed, your nipples pinched?” I knew there was no reason to answer him as he already knew the answer but still I tried. My efforts though were for naught as he lightly placed a finger to my lips silencing me. “No, no, thats alright slut. You don’t have to answer cause I as well as my bros. already know the answer. In fact they can hardly wait to play with them again. Would you like that? Would you like them playing with your little titties? Would you like them pinching and biting on them like they did before? Well don’t you worry that pretty little head none cause soon enough they will be. Right now though I want you concentrating on pleasuring my black ass, their turn with you will come soon enough.”

Though his words were disquieting, the ramifications appalling, I couldn’t stop my already madly beating heart from racing even more. Words of spreading my legs for him, for his gang, for countless other black teenagers resonated in my ears as he continued to pinch and pull my nipples. My mind was in a whirl but instead of angrily protesting that which he promised my only response was soft purring moans of pleasure wrought from his magic fingers. A smile touched the corner of his lips as his eyes moved downward from mine and unhesitatingly I obeyed his unspoken wish.

Hooking my fingers into the waistband of my bi-color hip hugger lace boyshorts I slide them from my hips then down my legs. Straightening I looked into the boys smiling face. My heart, already beating so fast that I feared it would burst from my chest began thumping so erratically that I became certain of it as he huskily whispered nice, real nice. Body like that a nigga would have to be crazy not to want it pleasuring his ass regularly, and you know what slut it will be. My only reply was a nervous girlish giggle, which as his dark fingers touched my abdomen then glided downward between my slightly parted legs turned into a choked gasp.

Without being told I shifted my stance slightly thus allowing him easier access to that which until then only my husband and two other white boys had touched. As his finger again pushed into me my mind screamed nonsensically he approves Charlene. He finds your petite 34 X 21 X 33 figure to his liking, and oh God this time it won’t be just his finger that he shoves into you. This time he’s going to shove that big black dick of his into you that you’ve been dreaming about. Then just as he promised he’s going to fuck you as no white man ever could. He’s going to show you the joy, the pleasure of lying with blacks. Yet even as those thoughts flared in my brain his next words were like water on a fire.

“Damn bitch you got’s more hair round your snatch den a lot of bro’s. got’s on dar kinky ass head. If’n you wanting to be my bitch you’s going to have to trim dat bush. Reaching around me he lifted a pair of scissors from my desk and handed them to me. Feebly I protested. Something about my husband spilled from my trembling lips though I’m not exactly sure what. My feeble protest were greeted with contemptible laughter as stepping back he loosened his belt. As if in slow motion his pants along with his boxers dropped to the floor. A gasp erupted from my throat and a wave of heat washed over me as his cock sprang into view.

My face flushed flushed and I thought I was hyperventilating as his voice. rich with street slang mockingly asked whose dick was it that I wanted? Was it his big pleasure giving black cock, or was it my husbands little pinky white dick. Unable to pull my eyes from the dark hunk of flesh that he was slowly stroking I shamefully stuttered yours, I want yours. His contemptuous I figured as much skank shamed me to my very core, yet I could not stop my trembling fingers from cutting away the hair surrounding my pussy. I was lost and I knew it and not even his mocking derisive that brothers liked their white bitches shaved stilled my fingers.

A couple of minutes later his fingers rubbed over the remaining stubble both irritating yet exciting me. “Dat’s better vanilla. At least now a nigga can see what he’s gonna be slamming dick to. The ringing in my ears made hearing difficult and his next words, sounding distant and far away were only partially understood. Still though his desire was evident and without the slightest of hesitation I slipped to my knees before him.

In the past I had always found the act of fellatio repugnant. Yet my mind was screaming at me what a wonderful thing it would be to have this young black boys cock in my mouth. Of what a wonderful and glories thing it would be to pleasure him such as no teenage girl ever had. An unholy desire to worship his rigid dark hardness with my tongue and lips before taking him between my legs filled every pore of my being. As my small fingers curled about then began to slowly pump him to greater rigidity I swear my mouth salivated. My tongue flicked out stabbing at the spongy mushroom shaped knob lapping up the pearl like droplets of pre cum almost in urgency.

Successful in my task my lips puckered and I planted a kiss to the dark chocolate tip before licking all up and down his length. Why I didn’t find his cock as repulsive as I had my husbands on the few occasions he had pleaded with me to pleasure him thus I don’t know, but I didn’t. In fact if anything my taste buds were screaming at me that this young negro’s powerful dark cock was the most wonderful thing I had ever tasted. Obediently to his huskily spoken command my mouth opened, and when his cock slide over my tongue my lips closed about its now iron hard rigidity.

With a relish born almost of desperation my tongue swirled over and about the bulbous crown of his cock. Soft whimpering moans of pleasure escaped from around my tightly clinging lips as I sucked on his tumultuous dark flesh like a baby would a pacifier. For long minutes the fingers of my unoccupied hand racked over his six pack abdomen before dropping to his testicle sack. Experimentally, almost tenderly, I hefted his egg size nodules and when he loudly moaned in response I began rolling and lightly squeezing them.

Above me his grunted words that I wasn’t as innocent as I pretended to be filled me with inordinate pride and a mad desire to pleasure him in any and all ways. My fingers slipped from around his cock and clutched at his hip seeking to pull him deeper into my mouth as his demeaning words that I was indeed a black cock loving slut lanced into my brain. As his hips jerked faster and his cock drove deeper into my hungrily sucking mouth his choked grunts that I was meant to pleasure nigga’s; that he would see to it that there were plenty of young nigger boys for me to pleasure should have filled me with shame, but instead they did just the opposite. As insane as it might sound he’s belittling words excited and aroused me tremendously.

Here was a boy who knew what he wanted and made no bones about it. Unlike my husband there was no whimpering, no pleading to get me to do that which he wanted. He simply commanded and expected that his wishes, his desires would be fulfilled. He saw me not as society saw me but as he wished me to be. To him I was not a teacher or a respectably white married woman but a tramp. A white trash black cock loving cum slut for him to mold and shape to fill his every perverted desire and may heaven help me I wanted it too.

Looking up into his smiling dark eyes I wanted desperately to please him, to make him proud of me. In my effort to do so I tried to take all of him into my mouth. Three, five, seven inches repeatedly time and again moved into the salivating sucking warmness of my mouth and into the clinging tightness of my throat. At each deep thrust of his cock into my throat the bristly like hairs surrounding the base of his dark virility tickled my lips. Never, never in all my twenty three years had I been so wanton, so completely servile to another human being, and the knowledge that I was being so with this young negro boy sent my soul soaring heaven ward.

Each time my throat encased his dark rigidity I felt as if I were choking, felt as if I would regurgitate at any second but still I pressed on. My eyes rolled in their sockets and I felt what little sanity remained in my brain loosing touch with reality as the lack of oxygen began to overcome me. Desperately I sought to breath through my nose. Instinct more then anything else told me that if I didn’t I would die of suffocation. His fingers, which had been entwined in my long red hair, and which had been guiding my efforts, relaxed their hold then dropped away. His chuckle as well as the relaxing of his death like grip on my hair let me know that he was pleased with my slavish servile efforts.

No longer did he try to control my actions, it was unnecessary. I was his slut, his fuck toy to use how so ever he wished and we both knew it. For my part I readily acknowledged that fact with the bobbing of my head, the lashing of my tongue over, about and against the tumultuous dark hardness of his cock. Faint words of praise, of how servile, of how obedient I was ricocheted like buck shot around the empty cavern of my skull. My body felt as if it were aflame and the top of my head felt as if it would explode at any second, and not even his demeaning words that as his bitch I would pleasure others of his kind lessened the feeling. If anything his continuous haranguing of countless other young negro boys using me for their pleasure intensified what I was feeling.

As his dark cock once more pushed into my throat my fingers which had been tightly gripping his thighs edged around his hips to his pumping tight buttocks. With a grip like that of one possessed my nails dug into his taunt dark flesh both pushing and pulling him in cadence to the bobbing of my head. Each time my lips brushed the sparse kinky hairs surrounding the base of his cock he grunted that’s it Mrs. Lincoln, that’s it. Gobble your master’s black cock. Show me how much you like pleasuring darkies. Show me how much you like and want nigga cock you nasty white slut. For a fleeting second thoughts of my husband, of my position and standing in the community surfaced then like fog before the morning sun they vanished.

All that mattered, all that my world consisted of at that moment was the pleasuring of the young negro. I was his slave, his whore to do with as he my master desired and saw fit. I had little doubt that his promises to regularly use me was anything but an idol boast. Neither did I doubt for a second that soon, perhaps not tomorrow or even next week, but that very soon not only his gang but dozens upon dozens of black youths of his choosing would freely use me. Yet instead of trepidation at what my future held in store I gloried and wallowed in the sinfulness and perversity of it.

Like a born again Christians unshakable faith in his God I knew that when the time came for me to pleasure others of the same ethnicity and yes age as this negro youth I would welcome it. I also knew that whether Lionel chose but one or as many as a dozen for me to pleasure I would be a willing and eager bitch dog in heat with each and every one. I would deny them nothing. Neither would I care how, when, or where they wished me to pleasure them. It mattered not if their use of me were to be in my classroom, in the back seat of some beat up old jalopy, or even in some dark ghetto ally. No location, not even my own home would be sacrosanct when it came to where I would pleasure the boy’s that Lionel selected. I would uninhibitedly and without reservation freely give myself to each and every one rich in the knowledge that by doing so it would please my master.

Even as these thoughts raced through my lust crazed brain he suddenly and without warning pulled his cock from my throat. Though I tried desperately to again take him into my mouth he pulled me to my feet denying me that which I desired. His voice, telling me to climb atop my desk and to spread my legs like a good black cock slut rang like a gong through my head. Obediently and as if I were possessed I feverishly brushed books and other assorted sundries from my desk and climbed atop it. Rolling onto my back I both brought my toes to the edge of the desk and opened my legs in invitation.

A shiver of arousal and need raced through me as his fingers glided feather like up and down my inner thighs all the while drawing ever closer to the hot bubbling cauldron between my legs. Commanding yet mirth filled words that obedient white sluts that wished above all else to please their black masters didn’t wear shit like I wore. That neither did they go without makeup or wear their hair up in a bun like some old grandmother did imbedded themselves in my lust filled brain. All this and a hundred other comments rang like the bells of Notre Dame against my ears as his fingers teased and toyed with me.

Through eyes clouded with lust and passion I saw the boy lower his face and as his tongue then his heavy lips touched me I screamed that I would change. Gibbering almost nonsensical promises that as his slut I would wear shorter skirts, that I would wear makeup spilled from my trembling lips. So too did the promise that I would make him proud of me. That after today no one, not his friends, not my fellow teachers, no one, would doubt that he was my master and I his willing and obedient black cock loving slut.

His tongue, slithering, probing, my moist aroused lips. His teeth, nibbling, teasing, my clit sent my mind soaring ever higher. Throaty gasp that I hardly recognized as my own filled my ears as my hips began to jerk and twitch in response to his administrations. As if with a mind of their own my fingers dropped to the top of his head then entwined in his dreadlocks holding him, pulling him tighter to my ever increasing jerking pelvis. As if in the throes of a fever I writhed atop my desk as his thick probing tongue and nipping teeth sent my mind soaring higher then it ever had.

Rationality along with what was right and acceptable fled as like a python slithering into its den Lionel’s thick tongue repeatedly stabbed into me as far as it would go. Whimpering pleas for him to fuck me with his tongue, for him to bite my clit rasped from my dry throat. In answer to my stuttering croaks he sucked one after the other of my pussy lips into his mouth, pulling them away from my body before again turning his attention to my clit. My body shivered and thrashed as time and again his mouth, his tongue, his teeth worked their wonderment on me as no man had ever done. A scream of bliss, of rapture tore from my constricted throat as brilliant burst of light like that of exploding novas blinded me.

My rapture though was nearly replaced with frustration as he lifted his face from between my legs. “You are my little slut aren’t you Mrs. Lincoln? My black cock loving white tramp to enjoy and freely give to who so ever I wish.” In answer and without hesitation I unashamedly sobbed yes, oh God yes Lionel. I’ll be and do whatever you want, but please, oh God please don’t stop. Satisfied with my answer he again lowered his face to the seething bubbling cauldron between my quivering legs.

Like a dog lapping at a water bowl his tongue licked and speared at and between my moist aroused lips as his hands slide up my quivering body then closed over my breast. Together with his tongue spearing and honestly feeling like my husbands skinny five inch dick his fingers pinched and stretched my rock hard nipples. As his thick tongue and fingers both lathered my pussy lips and pinched my nipples rippling waves of pleasure and constant small orgasms erupted in my brain. My rapture was such that even if my husband had walked into the room it wouldn’t have mattered one iota to me

I honestly don’t know, and really don’t care if it was my mind that screamed it or my vocal cords. But the words fuck me master, fuck your black cock loving white trash slut echoed loudly in my ears. In answer to the imagined or real words his smiling wet face rose from between my splayed legs. Then with a guttural growl like that of some wild beast his fingers dug into my hips jerking me partially from my desk. Instinctively my legs encircled his hips as he pushed his cock to the bubbling seething cauldron between them. With a primordial need like that of our first ancestors I bucked and twisted against him as he lunged powerfully and savagely into me.

The flickering thought that I might become pregnant because I wasn’t on the pill, and he wasn’t wearing a rubber lanced through my lust addled brain. But as quickly as the thought surfaced it was brushed aside. Rapture such as I had not known since my wedding night seven months earlier roared through me. Through ears ringing like the alarm of an old big ben clock his guttural wheezes that I was his bitch, his white fuck toy speared into my brain. Try as I might to acknowledge his words all that escaped my mouth were oomph’s and grunts.

I felt my legs being pried from about his waist, felt them being pushed back over me opening me even further to his animalistic attack and I gloried in the savagery of it. Whimpers for him to use me like the black cock loving white slut I was were drowned by his own grunts for me to take his nigger cock. His sweat sizzled against my naked flesh like drops of water on a hot skillet as again and again and yet again his powerfully driving loins smacked against mine.

Spittle sprayed from his open and grunting mouth as together with driving into me deeper then any man ever had he repeatedly sputtered going to breed you Mrs. Lincoln. Going to breed you proper. Going to make your belly swell with little nigger babies. Whether or not I actually acknowledge his haranguing I’m not certain but I do know that my mind was repeatedly gibbering for him to give me a child. Later, much later, and after he had pulled from me and stepped back, I lay exhausted and spent. Cum, his cum sloshed inside me and dripped from my stretched and throughly fucked pussy to pool on my desk. A feeling of bliss, of pleasure such as I had never thought possible enveloped me.

As I lay supine atop my desk he walked around to where my head lay and presented his cock to my lips. Though it was smeared with the combined juices of our bodies without the slightest of hesitation my lips parted then closed over the spongy slimy knob. As I slavishly, lovingly sucked and licked him clean he told me he expected me to keep my promise. That when he again saw me I had better not be wearing old lady clothes, but instead something more fitting my new station as his black cock slut. Perhaps something such as what I had worn in those pictures my husband had taken. Raucous laughter burst from his lips and he rocked backwards almost pulling from my hungrily, slavishly, sucking mouth.

“As much as I’d like that my little slut I don’t think your fellow teachers let alone the students are ready for such a drastic change just yet. So for right now we’ll save those little pleated micro minis and other such shit for after school. Like for instance the times when you go shopping or to a movie, or better yet when you pay a visit to the gangs crib. For right now slut what I specs is for you to start wearing a lot shorter skirts then what you does now, you understand me Mrs. Lincoln?” Muffled sounds of assent came from my cock stuffed mouth as I endeavored to get the last traces of our bodily fluids from his dark hunk of virility. As the bulbous head of his cock slipped from my mouth and I pushed it to his belly in order to lick any traces of juices from his nut sack he chuckled soon’s your finished cleaning your nigga master’s cock and balls cunt you’s best be getting your skanky white ass home to your husband.

Later that night as I lay in bed with my husband snoring soundly beside me I again relived that afternoon. I tried to fathom what had possessed me to make love to a young boy. Not just any young boy which in and of itself was bad enough but a young negro boy. But worse then that, was what had possessed me to not only supplicate myself but acknowledge him as my master. What in heavens name had driven me to accept all to willingly and eagerly the role of his slut to do with as pleased him? What?

– The End –