| Straight: Student and Teacher: Call Me Chelsea (1/7) |
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In the dimmed lights of her bedroom, the air was already hot with our breathing. Hard sheets of rain could be heard over the beat-heavy rap coming from the cd player. The music she played always surprised me, no matter how often I had heard it in the past week and a half. The passion coming across in the vocals of the woman’s own rap compilation was intense, as stories of fighting and fucking were told. But then again, her raw energy always came across when teaching my biology class. Her tongue ravished my mouth as my hands glided across her thin black dress and leg skin. She was a certified MILF. I could feel my erection getting even harder as I felt her soft round ass against my crotch. Evidently, she could too, as she started grinding her big bubble butt against my hard member. Almost instinctively, my hand travelled upwards, across her tight abs, to her breasts, and I smiled inwardly. Ms. Kennedy, or Michelle, as she insisted I call her outside the classroom, had the second biggest pair of breasts I had ever had the fortune of seeing (Including the bustier porn stars my mates had shown me, though I never had any real use for porn). What’s more, from the look and feel, they were naturals. Her erect nipples pushed hard against the low cut dress top, as the fabric strained against the fullness of her boobs, struggling to keep them in. Chelsea’s boobs were even bigger when compared to her petite figure: 5 foot six inches, with a well exercised, 40 year old energetic body. Her long, silky dark brown hair blended well with her tanned skin, giving her one of the most incredibly sexual bodies I had ever known. She currently sat sideways on my lap, and I was on her massive double bed from when she used to be married. I could feel her tongue moving in my mouth, caressing and stroking my own tongue, and gliding gently across the inside of my cheek, keeping my head in place with her arms wrapped around it. As my hand found her huge tits and started squeezing them, she backed her head away. “Jacob, please, I need to be fucked again,” Michelle said in a breathless, desperate whisper. “With Dan gone I’ve been having to work hard to keep Amanda and me living here in Chicago.” Whether she said this because she was actually desperate, or just to turn me on, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. With a bit more contempt, she said, “The men at the local bars are all total tools, who just don’t know how to please a woman. And I just hate my lecherous male colleagues who perv on my tits all day.” Realising that my hand was currently deep inside her massive cleavage, I cocked a questioning eyebrow. Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “Use that A-grade brain of yours. You’re young, athletic, and have muscles moulded from all that weightlifting and basketball you do. You’re eighteen and remind me of all the hot guys I shagged when I was your age. So humour me. You know you fucking want me.” Grabbing her around the waist, I pushed her off me so that she landed back down on the bed, her boobs jiggling wildly. “You forgot,” I said, straddling her, “that I have an enormous cock.” She glanced at my crotch with a devious smile. “Well,” she said, looking |
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