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The temptation of high school senior girls was too much. He was glad he hadn’t become a career teacher — one of these girls would have surely seduced his cock into her body by second semester — if not by lunchtime on day one.

His morality and ethics were pretty strong. He didn’t have to have sex with every beautiful woman he met — however, that didn’t mean he didn’t think about it. In his life, though, sex had been something reserved for those women he loved. He’d been with just four girls in his years.

However, being with Numbers 5, 6, and 7 had crossed his mind during this school day.

But he had made it through almost the entire job. Substituting for a high school was something he had decided upon on a lark. He had his teaching degree and license, but never had gone into that career.

His “dream” job — writing books — had taken off. He made way too much money writing to ever “work” for a living. So he wrote, and he occasionally took odd jobs to help inspire his next novel or short story. For a month, he worked in a grocery store as a stockboy. For another month, he worked as a ticket-taker at a cinema. Then he went back and wrote fictional stories about the experiences. Not a bad life if you can choose it.

So now he was substituting. The story he had in mind wasn’t supposed to be about lusting after teenagers. He considered himself too mature for that. But young, firm breasts, bright eyes and seductive smiles whip maturity against the ass like it’s a lawbreaker in Singapore.

“Masturbation will be quick,” the single 30-year-old commented to himself as his final English class begun. He felt safe. His naughty thoughts hadn’t transferred into naughty actions. His mind floated like Bill Clinton’s, but not his hands. Odds were he was going to be a good boy during this substitute job.

And then Carrie walked in. She smiled at him as she walked in, and all bets were off. She glared at him like she knew his every thought, and all his fantasies.

He stood up and gave his opening spiel about his experience in creative writing. He adjusted his pants in an effort to quiet his awakening penis as he glanced at Carrie.

She wore a tight, tattered beige T-shirt, advertising some town in Florida she’d probably taken from a guy while on Spring Break. The collar had been ripped from it, along with a portion of the neckline — making it a homemade V-neck. On many girls, it might have showed white-trash. On her, it showed self-confidence.

She was wearing a knee length jean skirt and a thick black belt with it. Again, he thought, only some women could pull off this look — a ratty T-shirt and a skirt. But then again, what did he know about women-style. He wasn’t a crossdresser.

Several of the students spoke hushed to her, asking her questions. She stared at the substitute while responding, and they all acted satisfied with her answers.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to concentrate on somebody, anybody else. Ah, some kid named Roddy in the second row. Kind of looks like a doofus. More acne than a redneck’s ass. Braces. Easy to talk to him while addressing the crowd and not getting a crowd of Woodstock in his pants. Then he talked looking at Bethy. Cute, but nerdy. Roddy and Bethy could probably enjoy losing their virginity’s together — no doubt both were inexperienced in their sexuality.

Sexuality crossed his mind, and his eyes gazed back to Carrie. She held her pen to her mouth, her upper lip closing over the writing utensil; her tongue licking up the shaft. In some realms, it might have been a completely innocent habit — but the substitute’s mind reeled in thoughts. She moved the pen slowly from her lips and smiled at him. She slowly closed her eyes, and ran the pen along the V-neck tear of her T-shirt, touching her warm skin. She liked teasing the cute guy. He deserved it.

She pulled the pen back into her mouth, fully engulfing two-thirds of it.

The substitute felt his face flush and wondered if anyone else noticed what the girl was doing. While that was a curiosity, he decided his best bet was to return to his desk before others noticed what he was doing. Growing hard.

“Okay, so with that lesson learned, I’ll just ask you to write two pages in your journals on your thoughts of today. It can be private, or it can be something you want to share with the class. If you have any questions, ask me. I’ll help if I can.”

His mind drifted as he logged onto the classroom computer to check his e-mail. Being a grocerydog and a ticket-taker were much easier jobs than this. Damn. Did girls look like this when I was 18? Yes, they just didn’t pay attention to me near as much, he determined. He glanced back over to Carrie. She smiled as she wrote … again running her fingers suggestively against the pen as its ink spread on her page.

A Ankara travesti song sang to him. ‘Young teacher. The subject. Of schoolgirl fantasy.’

Roddy raised his hand with a question about his text. The substitute went to the doofus with all intentions of helping him. He felt the weight of Carrie’s eyes looking at him as he crouched down to help the schoolboy think of other words for “acne”.

“Excuse me,” Carrie asked from behind him. “Could you critique what I’ve written so far, sir?”

He smiled at her. Sir. Like anyone needed to call him Sir. She certainly didn’t need to. “Yes, Carrie. I’ll critique if you’d like.”

“Well, sir, it’s a bit private. I don’t want it shared with the class.”

“That’s fine.”

His pupils focused on the words, as his nose inhaled the scent of her body. Inside he moaned in pleasure and temptation, but he continued looking the part of a relaxed teacher. Granted, he was still more sexually aroused than was probably legally permitted in a high school.

He read her words of her private journal. “I want to taste the body of my substitute today. All of it. My pussy is just getting wet as I see him look at me and get hard. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted a person. I want to masturbate right here. If I had wore panties to this class, my wetness would be ruining them. Luckily, I don’t have my panties on right now. My clit is sooo sensitive …”

The substitute cleared his throat and laughed a nervous laugh. “Well, ah. Um. Carrie, yeah. That’s a good start for a private journal. Perhaps not as poetic as I think you can be, so maybe a B for writing — but an A+ for boldness and bluntness. And sometimes, bluntness is much better than poetry. For getting what you want.”

“You think?”

Oh my God this is killing me, the substitute thought. Just 30 more minutes, and my day is over. -I’m a married spud, I’m a married spud- he joked with himself — referencing Toy Story 2.

Problem was, he wasn’t married … nor was he a potato. He was a single man, susceptible to seduction. Enjoying seduction.

She scratched out another sentence for him as his mind drifted. “I want him so badly I want him inside me, I’m longing for his longing. For him I’m an open page. He touches me as he reads my words. I’m half his age.”

Again he coughed. The lyrics to the song beating in his head. “Don’t Stand So Close To Me.”

“Well, that’s not quite plagiarism as long as you know that’s a song by The Police your paraphrasing and give them credit.”

“How would I give them credit in a journal? Do I need a reference page?”

He laughed at her joke. “No. You know journals are complete freedom of speech. Just a mention of why that song is on your mind.” His eyes leered at the girl as she wrote another sentence. Her body was beautiful. Her eyes as warm and welcoming as a winter fireplace. And damn that body.

She dotted the period on her sentence. To retake the substitute’s attention, she ran her hand lightly — and quickly — across his pants. Feeling the rise of his manhood and jolting him like an IV of Mountain Dew.

“I want to fuck my substitute,” she wrote. He read her sentence, and grinned, shocked by her words and touch. “Again, B for creativity. A+ for boldness,” he whispered.

She looked at him. “Well, it seems like I need help in being creative. Any idea how I could get extra lessons in that?”

The schools public announcement system clicked on. The assistant principal, Old Man Rippledoch, had a surprise for the students.

“Now kids,” he said “don’t ever let it be believed that I’m not in touch with what you want. Today, right now, we’re having a concert with a rock band. This is being sponsored by an anti-drug and an anti-sex-for-teens league. So all who want to can check out CornABUSE in the gym. That’s right. CornABUSE! With their Top 10 hit ‘All Stalked Up.’ All teachers and students are encouraged to come.”

“WOOHOO!” Roddy shouted. “CornABUSE! Those guys rule!”

“Okay. Well, looks like we’re going to go watch a concert,” the substitute said.

The teenagers, led by Roddy, bolted from the classroom. The substitute calmly gathered up his bookbag and shut down the classroom computer, thinking he’d just chaperon the activity. Down the hall, he heard Roddy’s call “WooHOO!”

The substitute was starting to walk out and saw Carrie still sitting at her desk.

“Not wanting to see CornABUSE?” he asked suspiciously.

“What do you think, Wade?”

“I think you’re trying to get me in all sorts of trouble, love.” He turned off the lights and shut the door. He locked it so the two of them would not be interrupted by anyone during the rest of the afternoon. Light shined through the windows, but they weren’t worried about anyone outside the classroom Konya travesti looking. Neither cared.

Carrie stood up to her lover and went to him, kissing him ferociously on the lips and pulling his body to hers. They had a numbers of encounters before — all at his home on the edge of town. During those encounters, it had always been mutual seduction. Here, for some reason, Carrie wanted control.

Her fingers skimmed along Wade’s shirt, tearing down through the buttons and then pulling loose his tie. He was backed up against his desk as the teenager pulled his shirt from its tucked position in his Dockers. She was desperate for sex with him.

“Slow down, love. We shouldn’t do this here. Officially, you’re a student of mine today,” Wade said — trying to speak some sense into her, as well as into himself.

She didn’t slow down at all, though. She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulled loose his belt and ripped down his pants to his knees. She nuzzled against his gray cotton boxers and looked up to him.

Her mouth opened as she licked the straining fabric. Underneath, his cock grew.

“I’m not your student. I heard you were substituting for this class, so I skipped my math course and came in here to tease you. I’m not your student. I’m your lover. And I want you to make love to me. Fuck me. I’ve been thinking about this all day. All day … all …”

She stopped mid-sentence and maneuvered his cock from his boxers. She looked up to his face as she licked his manhood slowly, gently massaged his balls and began giving him head. He leaned back grinning and moaning as he enjoyed the pleasure. And he enjoyed her boldness in her move today — coming to a class she wasn’t taking to seduce him. A+ for effort. A+ for creativity. A++ for bluntness.

“You’re so evil, Carrie,” he smiled and groaned, running his hands through her hair. She slurped as she took his entire length into her mouth.

One of his hands drifted down her tore V-neck and palmed her right breast. Slightly larger than a softball, but feeling much more wonderful as his fingers grazed her nipple. Her wetness, that she’d contended with all day since she discovered her lover was in her high school, flowed from her body.

She continued to suck on his cock, pulled back and slowly spit on her palm. She used the natural lubrication and gave Wade a handjob with the shaft of his cock while she concentrated on licking the precum from the head of his penis.

“Oh, God, baby,” he exhaled.

His legs began to fail him and he slowly fell to sit on the floor. Their love affair had been one of intimacy and poetry most days. Today, however, it was primal. It was lust. It was a woman wanting to feel her man inside her body. It was a man wanting to feel the penetration of his body into his woman.

They were revving their hormonal engines with the foreplay. Wade grasped at Carrie’s T-shirt, finally pulling it up and over her head. She stopped only momentarily giving him oral — a line of spit draping onto her shirt as her head popped through the neck opening. Wade leaned down and grabbed onto hips. He pulled her skirt over his face and found she hadn’t lied. She wasn’t wearing underwear. No panties. No thongs. He drove his tongue against her clit as the two began 69ing.

The attention to her clit spiked her wanton mood. She slowed down on her own giving of oral to enjoy the sensation as her lover tasted between her legs. She licked and nuzzled, and then moaned as Wade forced his tongue into her teenage pussy. She groaned against his hardness and massaged his testicles — returning to momentarily lick the new precum seeping from his cock. Wade pawed her ass cheeks with his palms, eating her like he was starving and she was a spiced dinner.

Normally, Wade was annoyed by having any clothing while making love. Laying in bed one day with her, he laughed and said fucking while wearing socks on is “trailer-park sex.” But here, both were still wearing virtually all of their clothes — granted, none of the clothing was where it was supposed to be. Wade’s pants and boxers were around his knees, his shirt was half-open. Carrie’s V-neck T-shirt was strewn on the floor; but that was the only thing off her (aside from her panties in her school book bag). Her right breast had fallen free from her 34C bra and Wade’s hands went from her ass to her ticklish sides to her breasts as he ate her.

“Oh, gawd,” she breathed as she grounded her clit against his tongue. The faster he licked, the faster her knees manuevered her on the ground. She took his cock back into her mouth and tried to concentrate on giving him oral — but he went faster with his tongue, igniting her womanhood. She announced it, and then did it. “I’m cumming” she whispered loud enough for him to hear it. Carrie breathed İzmir travesti hard against his erection as she did — her small climax pleasing her body.

The Autumn sun warmly broke through the afternoon sky and shined on their love making. “On your hands and knees, love,” he spoke as she began recovering. She complied quickly and he adjusted his body in back of her. He reached around her waist and down to her clit, finding her pussy with his fingers. He held the head of his cock for a moment, and pressed it into her beautiful body. He returned his hands to her hips — hiking her skirt until it was to the small of her back. Wade slammed into her quickly, over and over again. Her pussy was warm, wet and so tight. He leaned down and kissed her back. Then he kissed her shoulders.

His tongue tasted the fabric of her bra. Part of him wanted to unclip it. Part of him knew the psychology of this quicky-sex demanded her bra stay on. She looked back, her breathing growing as he quickened his pace inside her. Carrie in the Autumn sun was so beautiful to him. Her brown hair tasseled with the movements of passion. He leaned back. She leaned back against him. Wade sat down — moving his legs between Carrie’s thighs. Without missing a beat, Carrie spread herself onto his cock. They had never stopped having sex in the maneuver. No sloppiness of new lovers. It didn’t seem they ever had dealt with that sloppiness between the two of them. The love making was as natural and powerful and erotic as a waterfall between them.

She straddled him — facing away from her lover — and rode him. Her knees reddened with the carpet, but she felt no pain. She concentrated on another small orgasm as she leaned back in warmth, feeling Wade’s hands drifting from her legs, hips, waist and breasts. Carrie reached her palm between her legs, stroking Wade’s balls, his cock, and her clit as she did so. He was as hard as he’d ever been and needing release.

Carrie turned around and laid on top of him, her bra against his button-up shirt. She took his tie in her mouth and kissed him, sharing the silk fabric in his mouth. He moaned into her ear, and Carrie licked his neck.

“MMM. Cum inside me, love,” she said. She felt another climax dwelling low in her abdomen. She reached back and played with his hardness slamming up into her pussy. She knew he was close. She knew she was close. She rode him faster and harder. As hard as she could. Carrie wrapped her right arm around his neck and massaged their pleasure zones with her left hand.

Her eruption of orgasm flowed onto his body, soaking his cock and waist. She had his neck in a headlock and bit her lips to not utter a noise during the climax. Every part of her young body tightened as she thrust up and down. In her excitement, she didn’t realize she was cutting off his airway as she bucked up and down on his hardness. A part of him worried about breathing — wondering momentarily of the fate of preying mantis males. At mid-coitus, they are routinely beheaded by their female lovers, almost accidentally. And yet, their bodies still keep going until the sex is completed. And then the female preying mantis eats the male for nourishment.

Not a bad way to die if you have to die. Better than being hit by a truck.

Before he panicked, her cumming subsided and his began to rush from his body. He slammed himself hard inside Carrie, moaning her name as his body felt devastated and energized.

“God, damn, I’m going to cum so hard, baby.”

She moaned hard into his hear. “Do it.” The permission was all he needed to hear. His climax bulleted through his hardness and shot deep into her body — she felt his passion filling her body and the walls of her pussy as she milked his cock with her body, tightening her muscles as she could.

There was an initial explosion into her body, and then a second more powerful climax shot up into her, and then two more aftershocks of cum rumbled from his body into hers. For each one, Wade moaned and screamed as his hands gripped onto her skin like she was a lifejacket and he was lost at sea.

He panted and moaned as the two slowly continued to grind into one another. The post-orgasm afterglow. He remained somewhat hard inside her body, still wet. They kissed and snuggled. They inhaled and exhaled. They smiled and laughed.

“I think I just lost four pounds,” he smiled.

“Oh, how?”

“Well, about a half-pound in sweat, and three and a half in cum.” His body was shaking, and he coughed trying to catch his breath.

“That’s far too much cum for you to keep in your prostate. You need to share some of that with me every day.”

Wade continued to shake and cough. Carrie reminded him of The Police song.

“You’re not going to become ‘Just like the old man in that book by Nabakov’,” she grinned.

“No. You’re not my student. Just a girl who came in and seduced me during class.”

She kissed him and the two slowly, very slowly, began reorganizing their clothing situation. He really enjoyed making love with Number 4 — even if it risked trouble with the principal.

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