Part I Senior Year
Senior Year Gets Off to a Good Start with Mr. Miller
I turned 18 three weeks before my senior year of high school started. I’d been sexually active for a couple of years by that point, but was already getting a little bored of the boys in my school and what they could do for me — they all seemed to be done quickly and not much interested in making sure I genuinely enjoyed myself, too.
So when, a week or two later, I noticed Mr. Miller, one of our high school math teachers, who happened to be our backyard neighbor, out grilling on his back porch wearing only a pair of cut-offs, I found myself staring out my bedroom window watching him. He clearly worked out regularly, as he was one of the men I thought could — and should — pull off that look.
Thinking that I wanted to pull off those shorts, I put on my string bikini. I tied the bottoms, which never did a great job of covering mine, high on my waist — hopefully high enough that it could slip past my hips if a certain situation arose. Then I tied the top firmly under my breasts, knowing the fabric of the cups wouldn’t reach far enough to fully cover my areola. Sure enough, after I’d tied it around my neck and looked in the mirror, I saw breasts that were cupped with the nipples just barely covered.
Dressed to maim, and with my parents out for the afternoon, I sauntered across our lawns, and asked Mr. Miller what he was grilling. He didn’t turn right away, as he was pulling steaks off the grill and putting them on a plate.
“Steak,” he said back to me, “and potatoes inside,” he added as he turned to look at me. His eyes got wide as he scanned my body, and I’m certain I saw the tip of his cock extend past his cut-offs as his erection grew at the sight of me.
“Well, if you like the sight of me, which seems to be the case,” I said, indicating his erection, “there’s not much more to see, but they are the juicy bits.”
His eyes rolled back up into his head as he turned from me and I heard him say, “Follow me right back,” which I did, apparently unknown to him, as he later told me he actually said, I’ll, uh, be right back. As I followed him down a short hallway, I thought I saw him undoing his cut-offs.
And, as he turned into his bedroom, he dropped them to the floor and scuttled them across the room with one foot. Now this athletic specimen of a man was naked in front of me. My eyes were drawn to his ass, but the movement of his hand to his cock — still out of my view — drew my attention to his tricep as it flexed and released as he stroked himself.
That didn’t last long before he reached out with his other hand and grabbed a nicer pair of shorts. Which is when he turned — and I finally got to see his cock — and he realized I was in the room with him. He just froze and made no move to cover himself, which gave me the perfect opening.
“One of us, it seems,” I said reaching both hands to the ties of my bottoms, “is overdressed,” I finished, allowing the fabric to drop to the floor. With that I turned away from him, putting my hands on his dresser, leaning forward a little, and looking at him through the mirror that backed it. As I spread my legs a little, I looked him in the eye through the mirror and asked politely, “Will you please come over her, stand behind me, and slide that,” and here I nodded down towards his rigid cock, “between my legs?”
I watched him through the mirror, walking up slowly behind me, his hands reaching my ass first, then sliding around to my hips as I felt his warm cock slide between my legs until his abs pressed firmly against my ass. He lifted then, splitting my lips with the base of his cock, coating him with my wetness.
He pulled back, grinding the length of his cock along my clit, simultaneously undoing the straps holding my top in place. Just as it fell free, landing on my hand, still on his dresser, I felt the tip of his cock slide past my clit and rest just inside me. Again simultaneously, he pressed deeply into me as his hands found my breasts, cupping, pinching, fondling them.
He continued lavishing attention on my breasts as he slowly pulled back until only his glans was inside me. He then grabbed each nipple and seemed to use his grip on them to pull himself back into me. My appreciative groan was all I could offer at the time.
Mr. Miller continued to slowly fuck me, stopping deeply within me with each thrust, until one of his hands dropped between my legs, first coating several fingers in my wetness, then settling on and around my clit. He kept his cock deeply inside of me then, only making short thrusts that seemed to press him further inside me each time. Between those deep thrusts and his fingers dancing on my clit while his other hand still fondled my breasts — I felt like a musical instrument being played to perfection.
I had never cum around a cock before. The sensation spreading throughout my body from my pussy was intensified by having an actively thrusting cock inside me while I came. I was glad I had my hands still on Mr. Miller’s dresser, because that helped me catch myself when my legs gave out — well, that and Mr. Miller’s cock, which somehow penetrated even deeper, accentuating the waves of that orgasm.
As I came back to my senses and regained some control of my legs, Mr. Miller asked if I felt okay.
“I feel great!” I told him.
“You sure do,” he commented, adding, to my surprise, “and I’m going to fuck you now.”
“I thought that’s what we w—“ I started to come back with a witticism, but he grabbed my hips, pulled almost fully out of me, then slammed deeply into me again, which is what cut off my words. He pulled back much quicker and slammed into me again, groaning with that thrust. And that’s when I learned what it meant to be getting fucked.
He was a machine, holding my hips and only slightly moving them back and forth to meet his thrusts, but he started fast and hard and only got faster and harder. I was crying out and cumming again as I felt his hands grip me tighter as he erupted inside of me, pulsing over and over almost in time with my own waves of orgasm.
He held me tenderly, then, standing in front of his mirror, as his cock softened and finally slipped out. He released me and walked backwards away from me, sitting on the edge of his bed. I briefly double checked that my legs were working before I turned to him, slowly lowered myself to my hands and knees and started crawling over to him, my breasts swaying with each step.
I crawled up and knelt between his legs, first caressing his cock with my hand before gently picking it up and kissing the tip. As it twitched in response, I took the head into my mouth, then, on impulse, took his whole cock into my mouth and started licking his balls. As his cock became erect, I lost contact with his balls, but I kept sucking his cock — this amazing cock that had been inside of me for two orgasms, one of which it shared.
I simply wanted to make this cock happy, and with a little repositioning on my part, was able to take it down my throat so I could lick his balls again.
As I pulled off of him I stood and began to straddle him, asking, “How do you feel about sloppy seconds?”
He quickly pulled me forward and guided me onto his cock, replying, “Nothing wrong with natural lubrication.” And with that, he lay back, grabbed my breasts, and told me to enjoy myself as long as I cared to.
I fucked myself through another orgasm on top of him and finally got him to join me for a second. And again, the sensation of cumming around a cock was joyous, but the sensation of cumming around a cumming cock was indescribable.
I spent almost every Sunday afternoon of my senior year at his house, fucking and sucking and cumming over and over again. And if those were the only stories I had to tell you, I think we’d be pretty happy. But I didn’t content myself with just one teacher.
