She never once thought about the difference in their ages, or the fact that she was a high-school girl and he was a teacher. It didn't occur to her that any relationship between the two of them would be hopeless from the start. Connie wasn't used to thinking very far ahead. She wasn't used to thinking, period. She wanted romance, that was all.
The blonde teenager eyed him all the way through the final class of the day, smiling a sweet, sad smile whenever he looked her way. She did a great deal of heavy sighing. Then, when the other kids had tumbled out of the room after the final bell, eager to be gone, she took a deep breath and approached his desk.
"Mr. Dean?" she whispered shyly. She tried to make her voice sound deeper and more sophisticated, but it still came out sounding like a little girl's.
"Yes, Connie, what is it?" Mr. Dean answered. He'd been watching her for some time, curious about her strange attitude. He sat back in his desk chair and put his hands behind his head.
Connie didn't know how to begin. She hadn't thought too deeply about how to approach and interest Mr. Dean, and now that the young blonde was alone with him, she was confused. Connie had worn the sexiest dress she could get away with in school, and she had applied eye makeup and lip gloss in the washroom before this last class. But she still felt like a helpless little girl in front of this sexy older man.
"Are you ill, Connie?" he asked pleasantly, studying her. "During class, you looked a bit odd."
"No. I mean, yes. I don't know," Connie blurted, blushing. Was she that obvious? What an idiot he must have thought she was.
He stared at her without speaking, his gaze running up and down her bountiful young figure. It always amazed him how the young girls he taught often had the bodies of fully grown women. They had minds as empty as puppies. He sometimes wondered if they ever so much as opened a newspaper. And yet they had full, sensuous bodies that made him ache with lust. It was crazy.
Connie's tits strained in the tight halter of her dress. She'd gone braless again and, while her nipples weren't fully erect, they dented the dress front noticeably. At a loss for words, she thrust her chest out more proudly, as if to distract him. She ran her tongue over her full lips, making her mouth shine like wet fruit.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, swinging up from his chair, then going around the desk to her. While he stared at her, his cock had begun to stir in his slacks. As he had leaned back in his chair, his hard-on had been very noticeable.
Dean came up to her and placed a hand on each of her shoulders, as if he were dealing with his favorite niece. He stared into her eyes gently, trying to ignore the swell of her full tits. His cock continued to grow in his slacks.
"Oh, Mr. Dean!" she suddenly choked. Before he could respond, she had shoved herself into his arms and crushed her lush young body against him. Her hands snaked up under his sport jacket, and she clung to his broad back.
"Connie! What is it?" he croaked. He was very much aware of the bulk of his prick crammed tight against her belly. Even through their clothes, he thought, she couldn't be unaware of the great thickening of his prick.
"Mr. Dean! Mr. Dean!" was all she could say. It seemed much better than trying to explain. He was holding her so tenderly in his arms. She was thrilled.
Dean felt the full weight of her plush tits against his shirt front. He could smell the sweetness of her tousled blonde hair, feel her breath against his throat. His cock throbbed, and he suddenly couldn't help himself. He gripped Connie around the shoulders, led her to the rear of the classroom, then through a door marked for storage. He closed the door behind them.
Connie had always wondered what the little room sat the rear of each classroom were like. She had never been in one before. They were used for stocks of books and equipment, film projectors and things, and the walls were lined with crammed shelves. It was no larger than a closet, really, but it was adequate for what Mr. Dean had in mind.
"What are we going to do?" asked Connie, thrilled at the unexpected turn of events. Her eyes were wide and dazzling. She was breathing raggedly.
"What do you think, little girl?" he sneered. He unbuckled his belt, and his pants dropped, to the floor.
"Mr. Dean!" Connie gasped, staring at the bulge in his shorts. Everything was happening so fast. She didn't know what to do.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" he croaked. "Isn't this why you've been looking sick all during class? It took me a while to catch on. You'll have to excuse me."
He shoved his shorts down his legs, and the thick boom of his cock swayed into view. It was about seven inches long and stuck out from his crotch hair at a ninety-degree angle. His balls hung tight in their hairy sac below. Taking his cock in hand, he began to pump it slowly.
"Mr. Dean…" Connie began. But she didn't know what to say. This was all too much for her.
"Come on, what are you waiting for, little girl? Drop your pants. Show your tits. Let's go!"
Still, she hesitated. Dean impatiently yanked her dress off her shoulders, forcing the fabric down far enough for the heavy swells of her tits to wobble into view. He gasped and paused for a few seconds to mold his palms over her lush pear-shaped tits. He squeezed and mauled them, circling his hands around and around on the full mounds.
"I'd no idea you were built so beautifully, Connie," he whispered, gazing at the stiffening knobs of her nut-brown nipples. "You have the tits of a nude model."
"Mr. Dean…" Connie murmured hesitantly. She was standing quite passively in front of him, letting him do as he liked. But, just as she'd done in the car with Bobby, she found herself protesting quietly.
"Shit, I'd like to suck on those sometime," Dean muttered. "But we don't have much time. You never know who might happen by. Turn around. Lean up against the shelves."
"What?" Connie asked. But he was already grabbing her, twisting her round to face the wall-shelves full of books. She was forced to put out her arms and support herself against them.
"Spread your legs. Let's see what you got down here," he went on, his voice low and excited. "Shit, what a body you got."
Propped up against the shelves, Connie did as she was told, arching her back and spreading her thighs for him. Her pretty ass stuck out invitingly under her dress. He stood behind her, leaned down and began fumbling with her. Suddenly, he had the dress flipped over her back, and he was reaching his fingers underneath the elastic of her panties and hose.
"What are you going to do?" Connie asked, though she had a pretty fair idea. "What are you going to do to me?"
Dean didn't answer. He was suddenly on his knees behind her, tugging her panties and hose down off her hips until he had them halfway down her thighs. He gave a choked gurgle, tore down her panties until they were around her ankles, then mashed his face in the sweet girlish pussy crack between her legs. He gripped both of her ass cheeks in his hands, spreading them wide apart, and forced his mouth onto the lovely tufted gash of her cunt.
"Mr. Dean!" Connie gasped, totally shocked. "Mr. Dean, what are you doing?"
"Sssnnnrrrfff," Dean answered, forcing his face deeper. He was licking up and down her fuck slit, digging his tongue between the soft, puffy slabs of her cunt lips. Her pussy hair tickled his chin. His nose was trapped in the crack between her perfectly tight little ass cheeks.
Connie sighed deeply. It felt so strange to have a man using his mouth on her down there, in her most private places. It was so dirty, in a way. But it felt so nice. His tongue was probing inside her, dividing her pussy lips and exploring inside like a friendly little animal. It was making her go all tense and trembling inside. She was weak in the knees.