Brianna Dawson was a 25-year-old married teacher at Central Valley High School as of last year. She had always been considered attractive. At about 5’7″, 120 pounds, perfect C-cup breasts and a firm ass that stuck out a bit no matter how she tried to hide it under business suits, she really was very attractive.
Just last summer, Brianna had married Ben Dawson, a communications Vice President for a large defense consultation firm. Ben was tall, tanned, slender but fit. Their marriage had sparked hundreds of conversations about the amazing possibility of knockout looks in any child they had together.
She knew she was probably the most attractive teacher at the 1,700-student high school where she taught. Sticking to the facts, she was the youngest and fittest. All the other teachers and staff were at forty or above, save Mr. Snelling, who was overweight and acne-scarred at 29.
Still, she never really let her mind dwell on the fact that she might be the object of every boy student’s fantasy. Mrs. Dawson knew that such ideas would interfere with her teaching, and she was right.
One afternoon, however, her attitude shifted slightly.
All day long things had been frustrating. Her husband was away at a weeklong conference, which was annoying and stressful for a whole list of reasons. Today, Wednesday, was smack in the middle of the week. The kids were worn out, Mrs. Dawson did not want to be there either and so classroom chemistry was not up to par at all.
During the lunch break, she chose not to deal with the little gossipy games played in the henhouse also known as the teachers lounge. Instead, she remained exiled in her classroom where she munched away at her salad. Without other people’s dismal conversations to distract canlı bahis her, she finished her lunch early and decided to just sit back in her comfortable swivel chair for a moment and relax.
Her mind began wandering leisurely through various thoughts. For some reason, her mind was on a student of hers, 18-year-old Eric Mansen.
Eric was tall, slender and fit like her husband. Unlike her husband, he had short cut light brown hair and brown eyes. He was a basketball star, popular with the girls yet amazingly quiet and modest. And he had made a near-perfect score in Mrs. Dawson’s “Rooster test”.
The Rooster test was a game Mrs. Dawson sometimes allowed herself to play in extremely idle moments. The goal of the game was to determine a man’s cock size just by the way they were built, the way they walked, sat and talked. She knew it was silly, but it helped pass the time when she was on lunch duty or parking lot duty.
Eric Mansen scored high because he was tall, fit, and slender. He had size 13 shoes-always a good sign-and fairly large hands. He always seemed most comfortable sitting with his legs apart, as if inviting any passing women to just look at the space between his fit thighs.
Now, content and rested after lunch and comparative silence, Mrs. Dawson found herself wondering if her guesses were right. Of course, she never had any chance to find out if her Rooster game actually worked, except on her husband. She had been right with Ben, which was pleasant for her ego and for her pussy.
But now Ben had been away for a few days and Mrs. Dawson let her mind wander. She shifted slightly in the chair, then instantly froze. As she had moved, she felt an almost imperceptible wetness in her silken undies. Her eyes widened in bahis siteleri shock. Had she actually gotten wet over a few seconds of arousal?
Glancing out the small window set in her door to ensure nobody was walking by, Mrs. Dawson quickly slid her soft hand down under the hem of her business-attire pants. She curved her fingers and sought the familiar wet, warm folds of her shaven pussy. Again, her eyes widened and she felt her heat race. She wasn’t just wet-she had slowly gotten herself soaked.
Mrs. Dawson let go for a moment and moaned. Her finger softly began tweaking her hardened clit back and forth and she moaned again. In her minds eye, she could see Ben walking in and undressing her, then bending her over the desk and starting to fuck her.
Still in the fantasy, Mrs. Dawson thought again of being fucked over her desk. Only this time, Eric’s lean, sculpted chest appeared behind her and the imaginary cock buried between her smooth legs was suddenly longer and fatter. Eric’s dick was not only filling her pussy but cramming it full. Brianna Dawson was surprised at the wrongness of this thought, but kept pleasuring herself.
Then she shook her head, stopped her fingers and took a deep breath. She glanced over at the clock on the wall just as the bell rang. Her next class would be in moments and here she was, masturbating over one of her own students…
“Damn!” she swore, realizing that Eric was in that very next class. She quickly pulled her hand out of her pants, tidied up her lunch and pulled papers towards her just as the first students entered the room…
Eric Mansen entered Mrs. Dawson’s Contemporary Lit. class and found his usual desk in the back row. Mrs. Dawson was passing back corrected papers and as she bahis şirketleri passed him, he stole his usual surreptitious, admiring stare at her fine body. Today she wore a blouse and he could see where the space between two of the buttons had expanded slightly, allowing a glance under her shirt and onto a lacy bra, supporting the most amazing breast he had ever seen.
But as Mrs. Dawson passed him, he was suddenly snapped out of his reverie by the unmistakable scent of an aroused, wetted pussy. Eric was shocked and his cock, slowly hardening in response to the glance inside her shirt, was now suddenly rock solid. Eric quickly sniffed again as she walked by his desk.
No doubt about it, she was reeking of pussy juice…
Later on, during a ten minute spontaneous essay writing block, Eric got up to staple his paper together. As he walked to Mrs. Dawson’s desk, she looked up at him. They locked eyes and Eric coolly held his gaze as he continued to stride forward. Was Mrs. Dawson starting to flush? He couldn’t tell…
Eric reached her desk and deliberately went to the wrong side. “Excuse me, Mrs. Dawson.” He said politely and reached across for the stapler. As he did so, his hand “accidentally” brushed her tits. Eric heard her draw in her breath, but she didn’t move.
Eric tried to calmly staple his paper. He then reached back, his hand lingering for a second too long this time. She looked at him and the sparks were almost visible. Both of them were restrained only by the fact that there were other students about a foot away.
Eric returned to his seat in the back of the room. He noticed Mrs. Dawson deliberately was not looking at him now. But the one time she did cast a lingering glance in his direction, he deliberately reached down, grabbed his hard organ and gave it a quick stroke through his pants.
Five minutes later, the bell rang for the end of school…
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