"Lessons After School" - читать интересную книгу автора (Michaels Ward)

Chapter 4

"Hi," Ben Sommers said. He was leaning against the frame of Betty Wingate's classroom door.

"Oh, Ben, you startled me," the blonde teacher said, looking up from the papers she was correcting. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing. I just thought maybe it was time to go home. It's nearly five."

"It is? I had no idea. I got so involved in these term papers that the time got away from me."

"I know," Ben said, smiling. "Time flies when you're having fun."

"Not exactly. I'm almost done, though, and I'd like to finish."

"If I wait around 'til you do, can I buy you a drink?"

Betty was surprised. Ben had never made a move like this before. She was tempted to ask him why he was doing so now, but she decided against it. That was his business. She was lonely and knew she had been spending too much time alone. Why else had things reached the point where she was eyeing her students' crotches the way she had done with Dale Paulson earlier in the day. That episode still had her shaking. A drink and some good conversation were exactly what she needed.

Betty swept the papers into the top drawer of her desk. "I can finish these first thing in the morning," she said. "Let's go."

The Zebra Lounge was not a usual hangout for teachers. That was why Ben picked it. He did not want to take a chance on running into anyone else from school. All afternoon his mind had been on Betty's cute little behind and the way it had caught his eye as she swung out of the teachers lounge. Maybe he could get to know her better, a lot better. A drink at the Zebra was a good way to start.

Betty and Ben found a table and ordered. The two of them made small talk, neither very sure of what to say. Betty sipped her drink slowly, her mind still on what Ben might want. How silly, she thought. All the man did was ask me out for a drink. The way she was acting, one would think she hoped for something more.

As the two of them sipped their drinks slowly, Ben eyed Betty carefully. How should he make his approach? She seemed so naive. He could not help comparing her to Susie Walters. Even though Betty was several years older than the voluptuous student, and even though she had been through college, she seemed much less aware sexually. With Susie all he ever had to do was ask. Sometimes she even did the asking. With Betty, he would need some old fashioned courtship.

"You know," Betty said after a long silence, "what I was talking to you about earlier today is a real problem."

"You mean Dale Paulson?"

"Yes, and that girlfriend of his, Susie Walters. They practically make love right in class."

"Yeah, I've heard the other teachers complain about it too," Ben replied, finishing off his drink. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rising. Whenever he thought of Susie with Dale, or with any other man except himself, he grew angry. It was not rational on his part, and he knew it. He had no claim on the girl, and he wanted none. She was nothing but a little tramp. Still, sex with her was so terrific, so completely animal, so satisfying to the most hidden parts of a man's nature. As he thought about her, he felt his giant penis beginning to creep down his leg, growing steadily and rigidly erect.

"How about another drink?" he asked, trying to take his mind off the dark haired, uninhibited student.

"I suppose so," Betty answered. "I really shouldn't, though. I still have those papers to grade."

"Aw, come on! Forget books and papers for one night. Let's have a good time. We've earned it, just putting up with the little sons-of-bitches all this year." He gestured to the bartender to bring them a second drink.

Betty giggled. Ben's open disregard for the convention of the way teachers were supposed to behave was attractive. She looked at him, thinking once again how handsome he was, his curly hair insisting on coming down over his shiny forehead. She longed to brush the stubborn locks back out of his eyes, but she could not do that. It would be much too forward.

"Tell you what," Ben said, gulping his drink. "What are your plans for dinner?"

"I was going home and have a sandwich as usual. That's all."

"Let's celebrate. Have dinner with me."

"But the nearest decent restaurant is in Rucksville, and that's thirty miles away. We could never manage that on a school night."

"We don't need to go anyplace. I know a great place to eat right here in town."

"You do? Where is that?"

"My apartment. I'm a pretty fair cook. Single guys get that way. It's self preservation." He grinned at her winningly, his perfect, white teeth flashing in the dim light of the lounge.

"Your apartment? I don't know if… "

"Hey, come off it, Betty. This is the end of the Twentieth Century. You're acting like it's eighteen ninety, and you're the new school marm!"

She laughed. "I suppose you're right, but I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"No trouble at all. We'll just stop by the market, and I'll pick up a couple of steaks and a head of lettuce. After that, all you have to do is relax and put your feet up. I'll take care of the cooking."

"I can't resist an offer like that. Come on, let's go. I'm starving to death."

Ben let Betty precede him out of the bar. That way she was not so apt to see the huge bulge in his pants leg.

The first thing he did when they reached his apartment was fix the English teacher another drink. "Here," he said, "I think you'll find this exactly like what they serve at the Zebra."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly drink that. I've already had two, and I never drink even that much."

Ben pushed the glass into her hand. "It's already mixed. You wouldn't want to waste it, would you? Besides, we're celebrating, remember?"

With a sigh, Betty took the drink. She watched Ben Sommers retreat into the kitchen, her eyes focused on his trim, fabric encased buttocks. He was certainly a handsome man, she thought to herself as she sipped at the drink. It was stronger than those at the bar. Maybe she should water it down a little. How silly, she thought. She was an adult, out on her own. It was time she stopped acting like a school girl. What could happen anyway?

"Turn on the stereo," Ben called from the kitchen. "I think three or four records are there ready to go."

Betty walked across the room to the record player. Her steps were a bit unsteady. She really could not hold her liquor. It was a constant source of annoyance to her. She bet people like Susie Walters could drink and not show it the way she did. Of course, Susie probably had plenty of chance to practice. Flipping the switch to start the turn table, Betty resolved to put the student and her love life out of her mind.

There was a sudden clatter from the kitchen. "Goddamn son-of-a-bitch!" she heard Ben curse.

Betty stuck her head around the corner of the kitchen wall. "What happened?" she asked.

Ben stood there, a large metal baking pan at his feet, the front of his pants splashed with grease. He looked miserable, like a little boy who had wet his pants. "Aw, I was just putting some of yesterday's dishes out of the way, and look what happened. These slacks just came back from the cleaners too! Now I'll have to send them out all over again."

"Maybe we can clean them up enough so you don't have to," Betty said. She tore some paper towels from the roll suspended under the counter's edge and knelt before the young chemistry teacher. She began blotting up the grease as best she could, hardly thinking about what she was doing, simply reacting to the emergency at hand. She rubbed vigorously at the stained fabric, trying to remove the grease before it soaked in. Suddenly, she was aware of something hard under her fingertips. With a suppressed gasp, she sat back on her heels.

"I have some cleaning fluid if you want to use it," Ben said, his voice oddly soft.

Betty stared straight ahead of her at the gigantic engine outlined so clearly in his thin slacks. She had actually been touching the flaring tip of it, rubbing it, making it harder than before. What would he think of her? Something like that was what she imagined a wanton like Susie Walters might do. Her heart was beating so loudly she could hardly hear herself think. Was it her imagination, or could she catch the musky scent of Ben Sommers' crotch?

"I, I think maybe you should help me up now," she said weakly.

"Yeah, I guess it's a lost cause," Ben said cheerfully, holding out a big hand to help her to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go change."

"Anything I can do to get dinner started?"

"You can clean the lettuce if you want. I'll get into some cutoffs and be right back."

By the time Ben reappeared, Betty had the lettuce torn apart and draining on paper towels. She glanced down at his very short, frayed cutoffs. They revealed strong, deliciously hairy legs, muscular enough for a swimmer or a long distance runner. Sinewy as they were, they were well proportioned and powerful looking. She simply stood there staring at him.

"There," Ben said, "now I'm ready to broil those steaks. How do you like yours?"

"Medium well," Betty mumbled, trying to keep her mind on his question.

"Can't do it. My oven only goes to medium. You'll love it." He switched on the broiler. "How about another drink?"

"No, really. I couldn't possibly."

"Suit yourself. The steaks won't be long anyway, once the oven is heated. How about helping me set the table?"

As Ben handed her napkins and silverware, Betty realized that his skimpy cutoffs made his crotch bulge even larger than it had seemed before. She could not help wondering how big a penis he had, and her thoughts went back to the huge, fleshy looking lump between Dale Paulson's thighs. Had he kneaded and scratched at it for her benefit, to draw her attention to it? That was silly. Surely the boy saw her as a teacher, not as a woman. Still, all the direct looks he had been giving her while in her class made her wonder what went on in his criminal little mind.

Ben set down a sizzling platter before her. On it was one of the largest steaks she had ever seen.

"Oh, Ben!" Betty exclaimed, "I'll never be able to eat all that."

"Sure you will. Wash it down with this." He plumped a bottle of red wine down on the table. "Oh, no, not after three drinks. I'll pass out."

"Don't be silly. It's good for you." Ben filled her glass and then sat down opposite her. He raised his own glass and toasted. "To the end of the school year." They clicked glasses.

Ben looked across the small dinette table at the English teacher. In the half light of evening and in the wake of three drinks, she looked even better to him than before. She was pretty, he thought, with her light blonde hair and those violet colored eyes. He longed to see her naked and tried to imagine what she would look like without her plainly tailored school clothes. She had been the constant topic of conversation among all the men teachers, ever since she came to teach the first day. They claimed even the principal had an eye for her, as old as he was. Now Ben had her where he had been wanting her, in his apartment, and she was already about half drunk. A little more wine, and there was no telling where this might go. Once again, his huge cock began nosing his way to erection, only this time there was no pants leg to hide it. He felt the cool air hit its tip as its blunt roundness peeped from the edge of his faded cutoffs. It was a good thing they were at the table, otherwise he might scare Betty off.

He let his eyes sweep over the girl. Her violet eyes gazed innocently across at him under finely arched brows and long, curving lashes. Her full mouth looked as though it was capable of delivering deep, open kisses, given the right man and the right situation. The red, lush lips could also suck every last drop of seed out of his roiling balls, he was sure. Even to suggest such a thing, though, would send Betty racing out into the night.

The girl's long, creamy looking neck appeared very kissable, and he could imagine himself running his full lips over it, turning her on in ways she had not thought possible. Her whole body, he thought to himself, his itching penis growing even more erect, was nearly perfect. It was designed to give ultimate pleasure to the man who could find the key that unlocked her pent up passions. He let his eyes roam over her fine, pointy breasts. They were not exceptionally large, not like Susie's, but they were perfect in shape, and he longed to wrap his wet, hungrily licking mouth around each of them, sending her into excited, squirming ecstasy. Right now, Ben could almost feel the satiny smoothness of her flesh against his hot lips. He poured her another glass of wine.

He was probably crazy, he thought ruefully. This was not even a real date. It was a spur of the moment scene. Betty would probably simply thank him for the dinner and go home. Still, he had noticed in the kitchen that her violet eyes kept straying time and again to the bulge in his shorts. Those faded old pants had helped him out with a woman more than once. He had had them for years and thought several times he should cut a notch in the leg hole for every girl he laid as a result of displaying himself in them.

"It was wonderful, but I can't eat another bite," Betty said, pushing her plate away.

"You did pretty well. There's not much left but the bone." Ben got up to clear the table, thankful that his erection had subsided enough so that the cherry red head of it no longer protruded past the edge of his leg hole.

"Why don't you sit down on the couch and listen to the music. I'll be with you as soon as I put these things in the sink."

"Can't I help?"

"It'll just take me a minute. Here, take the wine with you." He was pleased to see that she did not resist the suggestion.

Betty settled herself on the sofa, feeling warm and comfortable. The wine made her feel as though she glowed softly, inside and out. She poured another half glass and sipped at it slowly.

Ben came and sat down in the chair facing her. "Why don't you kick off your shoes and relax?" he asked.

"I think I will," she answered, smiling at him. Taking off her low heeled shoes, she dropped them to the floor and put her stockinged feet up onto the coffee table. "That feels good," she said with a sigh. Betty stretched languorously, the hem of her sweater lifting a little to show her taut, smooth abdomen with its deeply indented navel.

Ben stared at her, his eyes wide. He would have thought she was the type of woman who still wore slips. Obviously, he was wrong. The skin of her stomach was creamy white and looked unbelievably warm and soft. His tongue moved inside his mouth, jumping in readiness to lick at and explore that silky smoothness. He could imagine himself delving into her tiny belly button, twisting and swirling his tongue from side to side, picking up the musky flavor of Betty's secret enclosure. His greedy eyes moved up again to her beautifully formed, jutting breasts. They pressed firmly against the inside of her knit sweater, and their nipples were clearly visible to him. Ben was surprised again. Betty did not wear a brassiere either. Perhaps the young English teacher was not as naive as he thought.

How he longed to take her! He wanted to run his wet tongue over every inch of those small, perfect breasts of hers. He wanted to touch his lips to every part of her lean, succulent body. He could guess just by looking at her how fresh and yet womanly she would taste. He longed to bury his face in the pits of her arms, licking up every drop of perspiration. He wanted to move over her body bit by bit, kissing and licking, laving her in open masculine worship. He would not touch the one secret, special place, though, not until he had her crazy with anticipation. When she was begging for him to eat out her hot, juicy pussy, he would dive into it, forcing its tight, pouty lips apart with his thick tongue. He would suck the sweet juice from her until she was absolutely dry.

"How about another drink?" Ben asked, his voice low with passion.

"Can't. My head's reeling already."

"More wine then." He poured her another glass before she could protest. He raised his glass. "Here's to us, and survival," he said.

"I'll drink to that," Betty answered, slurring her words.

Ben slouched down in his chair, spreading his strong, hairy legs wide apart. Betty was struck once more by the shortness of his cutoffs. She caught her breath suddenly. Something was visible through the leg opening. It was the man's bull size scrotum, hair-studded and filled with huge, cummy balls. Betty had never seen anything like it. She knew what testicles looked like, of course, but she had never seen any to match these. The texture of his skin was impossibly smooth, and she caught herself wondering what it would be like to touch it with just the tips of her fingers. Although she tried to put that idea from her mind, it would not go.

Ben shifted his position slightly, and his massive penis flopped into view. Betty could see its huge, fist shaped head glistening at her, the slit in its center moist with the fragrance of preseminal fluid. It was obvious to her that the man was equipped like a stallion. The penis was half hard, but not yet rigid. Her heart beat so fast she was afraid it would fly right out of her chest. What would it be like to hold that amazing organ in her palm? Small movements of her fingers would translate it into heavy, raging erection, and turn Ben into a sexual madman. She found herself longing for that to happen. How would she handle it? How would she deal with his lust?

"Are you enjoying it?" Ben whispered.

"Oh, ah, what?" Betty asked, her cheeks going suddenly red.

"Your wine?"

"Oh, the wine. Sure." She shifted uncomfortably, trying to take her attention away from the display between his legs.

"You were so quiet I was beginning to think you were getting bored."

"No, I'm not bored, not in the least." Her eyes would not budge from his huge, creamy penis.

"It's nice being alone with you, Betty," Ben said, his voice very low. "I've wanted this ever since the first day at school, the first day I saw you." Reaching out, he picked up her shoeless foot. Holding it by the heel, he began to massage the sole of it with his strong, sure thumbs.

Betty let out a soft moan, but she did nothing to pull her foot away from him. His hands were so warm and caressing, his thumbs finding all the most sensitive places. Maybe there was something to the art of foot massage and the way it was supposed to affect the whole body. She knew that right now every touch created a tremor deep in the hot, juicy folds of her tingling pussy. With a small groan, she pushed her foot against his thumbs.

Now his right hand began to move, carefully, almost in slow motion. It crept up along her ankle, and he squeezed his powerful fingers around it, making her fear he would crush it. She giggled quietly. Letting her head loll back against the back of the sofa, she closed her eyes. His hands felt so good on her. All she wanted now was for him to go further. Her whole body trembled with naked delight.

His hands both moved now, sliding, pulling, exploring every inch of her tapered leg, all the way to her knee. Every touch set her on fire, and she could feel that her pouty cunt lips were leaking a steady, oozing stream of fresh, filmy liquor.

"How about if we go into my bedroom now?" Ben whispered.

Betty lifted her arms to him, inviting him to carry her into the other room.