101 EROTICA STORIES (160 page)

She went behind her desk, sat down on the chair, and gestured to the two chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat. You wouldn’t want to stand in there for an hour, would you?”

“No,” I agreed, and sat in one of the chairs. The seat was surprisingly comfortable, but I was a bit shifty. Being this close to Ms. Brioche did it. I smelled some of her perfume. She smelled of something white and fresh, but beneath the mask of purity was something else—Ms. Brioche’s womanly smell.

She was looking at me intently. I was too nervous to look back, so I fixed my gaze on the skull paperweight on her table.

“Blake, look at me,” Ms. Brioche ordered.

I gulped.
Here it comes
, I thought. God, what a riot. Only the first few months in school, and I’ve already fallen under the infamous “iron hands.”

“Look at me, Blake,” Ms. Brioche repeated. Her voice was slightly sharp, but it was also a little breathy.

I mustered up all my courage. I looked. And couldn’t believe what I saw.

Megan Brioche was looking back at me with a wide naughty smile on her lips. Her dark perfect hair was tousled, and she no longer had her bright sweater on. I started to wonder how she managed to get the whole thing off without me noticing, then I realized the sweater was likely to be very loose. She could easily slip the garment down her thighs like water, which was very likely what she did.

Ms. Brioche had nothing on beneath the bright sweater. I found myself staring at her small round breasts that were clad with nothing but black lace. She didn’t have the best cleavage in the world, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t agree her breasts were amazing. They were as round as I suspected them to be, and with Ms. Brioche sitting erect, they looked bigger than their normal size.

“Ms. Brioche, I whispered. “What are you doing?”

“I like you, Blake,” Ms. Brioche said clearly. “I liked you the very first time I saw you this morning. You’re a pretty little thing. I like pretty little things.” She began to brush her throat with her fingers in small feathery strokes.

I sure wasn’t little, but I’m very much aware that I’m pretty. Okay, that sounds like I’m full of myself, but I grew up to people telling me what a pretty girl I am. Although I was shocked with Ms. Brioche’s actions and declarations, I wasn’t completely surprised.

“But, Ms. Brioche, you’re a girl,” I blurted out. I realized what I said and blushed furiously again.

Ms. Brioche threw her head back and laughed. The movement revealed her pale throat even more. Despite my initial emotions of shock and surprise, I found myself wanting to run my tongue up, down, and all over that delicate bit of flesh.

“So what if I’m a girl?” Ms. Brioche asked. “I don’t give a fuck. But I do want to fuck you, Blake. Very much.” She stood up abruptly. “The couch, girl.”

She went to the couch and sat down on it. I saw she had stripped down to her panties as well but she had kept her heels on. The sight of Ms. Brioche in her underwear and black high heels aroused me, and against my better intentions, I walked over to the couch where she sat seductively.

Ms. Brioche ordered me to kneel in front of her. I knelt where she told me to. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. She buried her face in my hair, and I felt her inhale deeply. On the other hand, my face was buried in her chest. I had one of her springy breasts on my cheek. Her breast was as soft and firm as I pictured them to be. I closed my eyes and inhaled as well.

Ms. Brioche’s hands roamed all over my back. She ran her hands over my waist and up to my breasts. She cupped them hungrily and ran her tongue over her lips. She knead my twins for a while before she went to the top button of my shirt and began to undo it.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. I never expected Ms. Brioche, stunning as she was, to have a thing for females. But I discovered I wasn’t complaining. I’ve never done it with a girl before. I counted myself lucky for having someone as ravishing as Ms. Brioche do it with the first time.

My English teacher finished dealing with the pesky buttons on my shirt, and she slid it down my shoulders. Now I was wearing nothing on top but my lacy purple bra. Ms. Brioche leaned closed and kissed the tops of my breasts. Chills ran all over my body, and I shivered. I felt something wet and sticky in the space between my legs. My skirt, however, was in the way. I started to tug at the waistband, and Ms. Brioche, sensing what I was doing, reached down and helped me. My skirt became a discarded mess on the floor. I was as naked as Ms. Brioche minus the black heels. I slipped my thong sandals off my feet.

Ms. Brioche’s dark eyes roamed over every inch of my almost-naked body. She smiled, seemingly satisfied. She leaned close over my face this time, and before I knew it, her lips were on mine. She was kissing me deeply and passionately.

I kissed Ms. Brioche back. By then my desire for this beautiful creature had taken over. We kissed hungrily. We groped at each other madly. I unhooked her bra while she unhooked mine. In seconds we were bare at the top. I let go of my reservations and wrapped my arms around her as well. She stiffened, more from surprise than from any other emotion, but she relaxed in a second and allowed me to pull her close. I felt her breasts pressing against mine.

I groaned. I wrenched my lips free from Ms. Brioche’s and attached my puckers over one firm breast. Ms. Brioche moaned and arched her back. She pressed the back of my head closer to her tit, urging me to take in as much as I can. I obliged by opening my mouth even wider and taking in a whole lot of her breast inside my mouth. I pleased her using my tongue, teeth, and lips. While I was doing this, Ms. Brioche was squirming and trying not to scream out loud. Her hands were digging into my breasts as well. She was squeezing and pinching at my nipple. It hurt a bit, but I let her do her thing.

Then Ms. Brioche gently moved my head away from her chest. This time, she did to me what I did to her moments ago. She clamped her mouth over one nipple and began to suck on it. I shuddered and gripped her hair. The sensation was delicious. Ms. Brioche went on doing it, occasionally tugging at my chest with her teeth. While she was doing this, she dug her hands into my buttocks where she grabbed and squeezed each cheek furiously.

I was on fire, and so was Ms. Brioche. As if some unseen and unheard signal went off, we began to frantically remove each other’s panties at the same time. Ms. Brioche was so impatient that she practically ripped my lacy panties apart. We were naked in an instant. I leaned back a bit to study her body. She was every inch as stunning as I imagined she would be. I saw Ms. Brioche’s mound was wet and glistening. I couldn’t believe I managed to turn her on. I reached between the thin curls and touched her there. She moaned but spread her legs apart to give me more access. I pressed more firmly, and she moaned even louder. She decided to make things even by placing her hand in between my legs as well. She didn’t do it gently. The motion made me feel as if I were on fire. I was extremely turned on.

Ms. Brioche couldn’t take the whole thing anymore. She got off the couch and pushed me to the floor. She sat on top of me and straddled me at the hips. She placed her pussy strategically over mine so I could feel the growing wetness in there. She grabbed my arms and placed them over my head. Her eyes glinted with triumph. She had me. I was trapped.

“There’s nowhere to run, Blake,” Ms. Brioche told me. “You’re mine, and mine alone.”

I played the willing victim. Ms. Brioche shifted so she could move closer to kiss me on the lips. When she did, I shifted as well and wrapped my legs around her hips. The torrid kissing set off again, but it was steamier and hungrier than before. Ms. Brioche licked my face all over. She sucked on my chin before she ran her tongue down my throat. I suddenly remembered the fantasy I had in class. There was no way I was going to let this moment pass by without acting out that scenario. I broke our kiss and ran my tongue down her slender throat and relished the taste of her sweat. She looked at me, smiled, and resumed pleasing me with her tongue.

Ms. Brioche had a heavenly tongue. From my throat it ran down my breasts and encircled each one. It poked and prodded at my nipples then to the underside of my breasts. It made circles around my stomach and dipped into my navel several times. It swirled at the tops of my thighs then on my thighs themselves before it inched closer and closer to my dripping-wet pussy. By then the pleasure was too immense, and I had unwrapped my legs from Ms. Brioche’s hips. She, on the other hand, had let go of my arms and was now spreading my legs as far as they would go.

Ms. Brioche plunged in. Her tongue slipped between the private crack of my pussy, and I stiffened at first. It was weird but not unpleasant. Ms. Brioche made as if to slide her tongue out, but I shook my head.

“Go on,” I told her.

She went on, her tongue poking and prodding at the inside of my cunt this time. I buried my hands in her hair as black as midnight and egged her on by pushing her face closer to my cunt, practically burying it into the space between my legs that was sopping wet. She didn’t disappoint. She plunged her tongue deeper, and I gave off little moans the entire time. I was in pure bliss. I was in pure heaven.

Ms. Brioche added to the overwhelming pleasure by slipping a finger into my pussy with her tongue still inside. Her finger felt cold and hard. It was then that I understood why they referred to her as the teacher with the iron hands. So that was what that phrase meant! Ms. Brioche wasn’t punishing or torturing her students—she was fucking them.

That was why Michelle had given me a wink, I realized. Good heavens, Ms. Brioche must’ve gotten a piece of her too.

I was jolted from my thoughts by a sudden stab of pain in my pussy. It didn’t last long, though, and everything was roses again after that. I felt more than saw Ms. Brioche slide another finger deep inside me. She made thrusting, sliding motions with her fingers. She slid them in and out of my pussy just like a real penis. Her moves had the air of someone who knew what she was doing, of someone who had been doing it for a long time. And I liked it.

I felt the muscles in my vagina clench, and I knew it was only a matter of minutes before I exploded and went out my mind. I no longer cared whether Ms. Brioche was fucking kids like mad or not. What I wanted was for her to keep on doing what she was doing, and to never stop, if that was possible. My eyes were rolling up their sockets. I was so wet already. My bodily fluids had begun to trickle down my thighs. Ms. Brioche removed her tongue from inside my pussy and licked the juices trickling down my thighs. Her fingers kept doing their erotic movements inside me. I was so wet, I could barely feel her fingers anymore. She must’ve sensed the same thing because she slid in another finger. That made a total of
three
fingers inside me. The pleasure intensified, and I wrapped my legs around Ms. Brioche’s neck.

She placed her tongue back inside me. This time, she thrust her tongue and fingers faster and more urgently. I thought she was about to explode as well. Her muscles had started to ripple beneath my skin, and although her tongue and the three fingers of her one hand were inside me, her other hand dug at my breast furiously. I felt her tremble. I tugged harder at her hair, and she whimpered. Even her whimper sounded sexy, so I tugged some more. She whimpered some more, and I got even wetter.

I couldn’t take it any longer. “Ms. Brioche, I’m going to explode,” I told her, gasping.

“Do it” was all Ms. Brioche said. I must be wired to obey orders or something because I did come a few minutes after she ordered me to do so. I shivered all over, wrapped my legs even tighter around her neck, and cried out loud as my orgasm ripped through me. Ms. Brioche didn’t remove her face from between my legs while I came, but I was too absorbed in my ecstasy to care the slightest bit.

Another wave of orgasm came crashing through me, and again I let myself drown in it. I cried out loud again as my body shook and shuddered. Another wave of pleasure came, and by then I was too weak to resist. It seemed like my body would never stop shaking, would never stop giving off one wave of pleasure to another. But of course it did, and when it did, I was too spent to react.