| Straight: Serial Stories: Teacher: Teacher: Part I (4/6) |
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not really friends… people from work. Stag do. Come on, Miss… Mrs Cheetham… let’s get out of here.’ ‘It’s Anna, not fucking “Miss”.’ The fresh air and the short walk had conspired to flood her bloodstream with alcohol. Her light mood turned quickly dark and she suddenly seemed to lose control. ‘Fucking wait here!’ She stuffed her handbag into my hand and started to walk unsteadily back towards the club. The gang stopped jeering and started murmuring uneasily between themselves. Her heel clicks echoed on the tall buildings of the square as she sashayed provocatively towards them. ‘You wanted to see my cunt? Here…’ and she lifted her dress. I was behind her, but I could tell what she was doing. She pulled aside the front of her thong and parted her lips for them. It was reflected in their faces, sharply focussed, as plain as in a mirror. ‘Now, who wants to taste it?’ The guys were frozen for a spell, but soon they pushed Dave, the reason for tonight’s celebration, out of the crowd towards her. ‘Go on, Dave. Give her a good seeing to…’ ‘Yeah, get some practice in for Saturday!’ ‘Come on, boy.’ The word ‘boy’ was spat contemptuously into the gutter. ‘What are you waiting for?’ She spoke like a teacher and her tone humiliated him, challenged him. He suddenly rushed drunkenly towards her as if to attack, but she never flinched. At the last moment he fell to his knees, buried his face into her crotch. Miss Cheetham held his tie like a leash, placed a sharp-heeled stiletto on his back, opened herself up for his tongue. His friends were stunned at first then they slapped backs, high-fived, whooped and hollered into the warm night air. Dave was lost in her bald pussy, lapping like a dog on a lead in the middle of the street. Miss threw her head back and laughed, looked over her shoulder at me and winked then drew air in through pursed lips, shuddering and moaning deeply as she exhaled. Dave’s tongue was definitely doing the business. After a few moments, Miss pushed his head away and started to walk purposefully towards the other end of the square, pulling Dave with her, still on his hands and knees. The noisy gang followed and, at a distance, so did I. She stopped by the fountain amid the neat formal gardens that adorn that part of the city centre and turned to face the baying mob. The lights weren’t so bright here and leafy shrubs offered us some cover. ‘Silence!’ Her slurred voice rang above the tinkling waters and the boys obeyed her command. ‘Right. Line up! I want your cum. In my mouth, in my hair, on my tits, belly… in my cunt. Who’s first? Dave? Spunk on me… or in me… your fucking choice, Dave. Help him, boys. He seems a little confused.’ She pulled her dress over her head, stood before them in just the thong and high, black, strappy shoes. Her tits were pert, like two large oranges in a pair of pop socks and were tanned the same shade as the rest of her. Her arse was rounded and firm and was made to look bigger by her tiny waist. She obviously looked after herself because her body was quite stunning and belied the lines on her face. The guys helped Dave to strip, which wasn’t easy because he was so drunk – a fact outlined by his shrivelled cock. His mates pointed |
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Mixed feelings.........