CHALKBOARD
Prompt - Chalkboard : Imagine you are in a classroom. What does it say on the chalkboard?
Detention. Again. Why was it always me? Why was it always me when Miss Simmons was in charge of the detainees. And why, this time, was I the only one being kept back? I hadn't really done much wrong, but enough for her to say I should be kept back today. It was almost as if she'd done it deliberately.
I was keeping my head down, avoiding eye contact, but couldn't help but hear her chair scrape back, heels click across the floor, and the sound of chalk on blackboard. Why? Click? What was going on? She, or any other teacher, had never bothered to put anything up on the board during detention before. And surely, when she came into the room, she's been wearing pumps, or at least footwear that didn't make much sound? So where was the clicking coming from?
"Tommy."
I looked up then, and when I saw what I saw I wasn't sure where my eyes should have been pointing towards. There was the image on the board. And there was the image that was Miss Simmons, a very different image to that she'd presented when she had come into the room and told me to get on with my work.
On the board was a simple representation of an upright oval with the top and bottom points verging towards sharpness. Inside was another, similar, oval, and then details within, a small opening and a line coming down from it. Outside the oval there were small tight swirls. I knew enough to know exactly what it symbolised, even if I was yet to see the real thing. The internet was a wonderful resource.
That she had drawn such a thing on the board was amazing enough, and indicative by itself that this was no ordinary detention period. But it was her own appearance that made me stare more. Simmons was known as a bit of a prude, a fatty, a woman in her thirties or forties that nobody took much interest in, except for what she knew about history. She was dowdy, plain, unexciting. There were woman teachers who elicited desire among the boys. Simmons wasn't one of them.
But now? I had barely noticed what she was wearing when she came in. I recalled a long skirt, and her usual turtle neck sweater. Now the sweater was gone, to reveal a strappy red top with a deep V at the front. And a cleavage that, even from three rows back, looked deep and inviting. The skirt was still there, still below the knee, but several buttons had been undone so that, perched on the edge of the desk, one knee and a good view of plump thigh was on offer. Her flat footwear had gone, replaced by high stilettos that none of us could ever have imagined her wearing. And, when I could finally raise my gaze, her face was different too. Subtly, but the eyes were darker, the lashes longer, the lips redder. Her tongue licked those red lips. This wasn't an ordinary detention, was it?
"What do you see when you look at this drawing?" Recognising that I'd taken in the changes to her appearance, she was going to move things along, wasn't she? Was this heading where I thought it was heading? Wasn't she risking her career doing this?
"Umm, not sure miss." I couldn't say, could I?
"Really Tommy?" There was a softer quality to her voice I hadn't heard before, and a smile on her face that was it's new companion. "I'm not sure you're being honest with me. Are you?"
I sat, feeling my face and neck redden, feeling another part of me start to react to that voice and smile, and my mouth go dry. Had the air suddenly got thicker in here, because it was hard to breathe. "Let me give you a clue." and she slip from the desk and moved behind to the board, the clicking from the heels and a sway to her arse and hips I'd never even noticed before. I watched, dumbfounded, as she drew what was, very clearly, a erect penis. Much like the one straining against my pants at that moment. Even in all the excitement of the moment, and what appeared to be unfolding, a part of my brain was impressed by her artistic skills. That was a very realistic picture for such a raid rendition, Where did she learn to do that? And what other secret abilities did those hands hold.
"I do know what that is miss". I could hardly say otherwise, although the voice I uttered them in didn't sound much like me.
"And you can see the relevance to the first picture?" I nodded, but the movement felt jerky and forced. "Well, that's something, maybe we're getting somewhere. You need to be honest with me now Tommy." The heels clicked again, coming nearer. I hadn't thought my face could get any hotter, but it did. She sat on the edge of the desk beside me. The legs crossed. There was a lot more thigh this time. Simultaneously I tried not to look and to see further up the skirt. My breathing had stopped. "Look at me Tommy" I was. "At my face I mean." I did as I was told, immediately looked away. I couldn't, could I? She wasn't, was she? I wanted it to stop, I wanted to freeze the moment, I wanted it to move on. I no longer knew what I wanted, but I knew exactly what my erection was hoping for. "I don't think you want to carry on making notes on that book, do you?" I thought my head was indicating a negative, but I wasn't sure of anything any more. "I thought not. Why don't you come to the staff room with me, much comfier there." She stood up, reached across and took my hand, puling to get to me out of my seat and coming with her. I tried hiding what was in my trousers, but she giggled (Miss Simmons - giggling?) and told me not to bother, she had noticed already and didn't I need some help with it anyway?
I'm not sure how my legs supported me down the corridor. Part of me expected there to be more talk, maybe she'd ask what I wanted or what I thought or... No, she wasn't wasting time on any of those things. Once in the room she pulled me too her and brought her lips to mine. Her tongue explored while she rubbed against my hard, desperate cock. "Come" she ordered, and I was her obedient slave.
She stood me in front of a simple wooden chair, loosened my belt, pulled my trousers down. Soft hands rubbed against my pants, laughingly skipping over the damp patch where I'd already pre-cum, and freed the contents. Her light touch on my member was like a charge from a socket. "Sit". It was a command, and also a caress.
She unbuttoned her skirt further, further, until I could see stocking tops, suspenders, bare thigh.... and no pants. Just a closely shaven pussy, her parts glowing with pinks and moistness. I stared. I think my tongue might have been out. "Hope I didn't mislead you with the hairs on my drawing?", the teasing in the question self evident. She put one hand on each of my shoulders and manoeuvred herself over the target, looking for a successful docking, found the point she was looking for, and sank down on to me with a huge sigh.
Her body moved, twisting slightly, rocking, causing sensations to flash through me, to increase the want I had bursting from inside. Up she rose, down she fell, up she rose, down she fell, up she rose, down she fell, and I had cum. I had cried out fit to waken the ghosts of teaching staff long gone and shuddered and gasped and buried my face in that inviting chasm between her breasts.
"Sorry" was all I could mutter.
"Don't be. There's still something you can do for me, if you want to make amends..." She pumped up and down a few times more, but there was less and less for her to work with, more and more spunk seeping down on to my balls. Climbing off she took my hand, directing the other to hold my trousers up, and we tottered and scrambled to the sofa where she sat back and pushed me to her knees, grabbed my shirt and drew me in between her akimbo legs. "Lick!" Another command.
I wasn't sure where to start, but Miss Simmons did, skilfully (she's done this before hasn't she?) and gently guiding my head, telling me what to seek for, telling me when I hit the spot. The instructions flowed at first, dried up as my tongue found a rhythm, found a groove I didn't know I had. "Hold on!" Another command. I wrapped an arm around each thigh, smart enough, or instinctively guided, to know she wanted my tongue to remain where it was even while her hips were starting to heave with the increasing tension building within. It was hard to keep the place, for her movements became wilder, her need escalating exponentially until we hit the top of the line.
"Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, don't fucking stop!!" This was not a Miss Simmons any of us knew about. Her body rolled and shook and jerked like a epileptic marionette. "Ohgodyes" she forced out, "Ohgodyes." One more massive heaving shudder. "Youcanstopnow." I licked again. "Ooooohjeezfuckyesstop" I stopped. Got some breath back, savoured the rich taste of her juices and my spunk cocktailed.
"Is there any more you want me for miss?" I wondered if detention could end early.
"Oh fuck yes, so much more." But it wasn't going to.
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