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The story so far: Angry over being given 5 day’s detention by the gorgeous but evil English teacher, Becky “Ballbreaker” Beakman, David Finch (that’s me) devised a plan for revenge. I borrowed a video camera from the AV lab of my high school, and went to Beakman’s house after dark. The idea was to get video of her naked, and share it with the whole school. What I got instead was steaming footage of my English teacher being whipped and fucked by her dominatrix, transsexual lover! As I drove home (after a narrow escape) I realized that a whole new set of opportunities were open to me.
As soon as I got home, I ran up to my room, popped the tape in the VCR, rewound it, and hit PLAY. And there she was, the infamous Becky “Ball Breaker” Beakman, stripping down for my viewing pleasure. As I watched, my cock began to swell in my jeans. Pretty fast recovery, considering I had shot my load all over Becky’s azaleas not ten minutes ago. But considering the stimulation I had before me, I wasn’t too surprised. I undid my belt, popped the snap, pulled down my zipper, and worked my jeans and boxers halfway down my thighs. I lazily stroked my rapidly growing member, while Becky’s surprising partner scorched her succulent ass with the whip. Watching Becky writhe in pain and pleasure, I felt my balls begin to tighten. I barely had time to grab a handful of tissues before my second load of the evening burst forth in an orgasmic wave of release.
As I continued to view my pornographic masterpiece, plans began to form in my head; daring plans, deliciously evil plans. This was too good to simply hand out to the masses. This was a treasure, a source of power. Becky Beakman was mine! By the time Becky’s curiously endowed girlfriend was done flooding her well-fucked pussy with she-male spunk, I had worked out every detail of my plan, (as well as cumming for a third time).
The next morning I surprised my Mom by appearing at the breakfast table at the crack of dawn. She usually has to pry me out of bed with the help of an air horn and a bucket of ice water. I mumbled something about cramming for finals, sucked down a bowl of Cheerios in record time, and was pulling into the school parking lot at 6:45, just as the custodian was unlocking the front doors. I parked back around the side of the building, and waited a few minutes before entering. No one was in sight as I made my way safely to the AV room. I locked the door behind me and set to work. I hooked the camcorder up to another VCR. Then I went through the door that connected the AV room to the library.
From the video racks, I pulled the copy of “Romeo and Juliet”, a BBC production that Beakman was scheduled to show us in class that day. Back in the lab, I fast-forwarded the tape to a pre-selected spot. I hit PLAY on the camcorder and RECORD on the VCR, copying a segment of my masterpiece onto the BBC tape. After 30 seconds, I stopped the copy, rewound both tapes, and put “Romeo” back on the rack. Cleaning up any sign of my presence in the lab, I sneaked back to my car and drove over to the diner around the corner, to await a more appropriate arrival time.
English was second period, and first period trig seemed to last forever. At the bell, I raced to my locker and retrieved my text, and a large manila envelope. As I entered Beakman’s classroom, I was greeted by the sight of her ass. She was bent over behind the video cart, fiddling with the patch cords connecting the VCR to the monitor. Her long legs lead to a tan shirt that stopped not quite halfway down her shapely thighs. As I stared at her butt, a vision of the more intimate view I had recently enjoyed flashed into my head, making my already swelling cock throb urgently. Suddenly she stood up and turned, catching me in mid-gape. She gave me a disapproving scowl, which grew more severe when she noticed the unmistakable bulge in my pants. “Sit down, Mister Finch.” She commanded.
I took a seat in my customary spot, back row right, as the rest of the class filed in. Beakman began telling the class that, while Shakespeare’s prose was sometimes difficult to understand, if we paid attention to the play we were about to see, we would find it very rewarding. If she only knew! With that, she dimmed the lights and started the tape. After adjusting the sound, she moved to a desk at the back of the room, where she had a stack of term papers that needed grading. While pretending to watch the TV, I surreptitiously glanced at Becky. Her workspace was illuminated by a desk lamp, which shone like a spotlight on her chest. Her pearl colored blouse was opened just enough to display an ample cleavage.
About 40 minutes into the film, my attention returned to the screen. The famous “balcony” scene was coming up. I looked around the room. Half the class was on their way to sleepy-bye land, while the other half had already arrived. Juliet delivered her immortal line, “Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” Suddenly the scene changed dramatically. There was a loud “Crack!” followed by a casino oyna muffled cry. The scene showed a leather clad dominatrix from the chest down, lashing mercilessly at the upturned ass of a voluptuous blonde who lay bent and spread over a bed, her gaping pussy literally dripping. The blonde’s head was turned away from the camera, so only a tangle of golden locks were visible. Those who had been half asleep were now fully awake, many prodding the sleepers with a “Wake up! Lookit that!”..
From the back of the room came a bloodcurdling shriek, followed by a crash as Beakman leapt to her feet, tipping over the table. Term papers flew everywhere as the desk lamp hit the floor, the bulb breaking with an audible POP! She raced to the front of the classroom, and started hitting buttons on the VCR. She was in such a panic that she didn’t realize that she was bent over so far that the whole class had a clear shot up her skirt. She sure picked a bad day to wear a thong! The perfectly rounded cheeks of her ass were bisected by a thin strip of white cotton, printed with tiny roses, the bulge of her pussy lips clearly visible through her slightly spread legs. If my classmates only knew that the delectable derriere they were now ogling was the very same one that had been so thoroughly reddened on the screen, the entire class would have simultaneously creamed their jeans.
Before she could get the tape stopped, the scene changed back to the Bard’s star-crossed lovers. She finally shut off the monitor and turned, glaring at the class. Outrage, panic, fear, and anger fought for control of her features. She wanted to yell “WHO DID THIS!”, but couldn’t. The answer might prove too dangerous. A dead silence stretched for an eternity, as the class waited for the wrath of Beakman to rain down upon them. Finally, her labored breathing slowed, and she said in a quavering voice, “Class is over. Everyone go to the library for study hall.” As the class filed out, I waited behind, slowly gathering my books. Every guy who walked out was discretely adjusting his pants to a sudden stiffness. I filed in after the last one. Beakman was sitting at her desk, staring straight ahead. As I passed, I placed the manila envelope on the desk. She looked at the envelope, then her eyes raised to me. As she glared at me with fear and loathing, I smiled and left the room.
In the envelope was a copy of the full video, and a note which read “I hope you enjoyed today’s preview. Unless you want the rest of that performance to become the number one best selling video in town, you will tell the vice-principal that you have changed your mind, and are canceling the rest of my detention. I will stop by tonight at eight to explain the rest of my conditions.”
By lunchtime, word of the video had spread throughout the school. As I walked through the cafeteria, every table was abuzz with speculation about who had done it. I heard my name several times, and was even approached by my friends. But I played dumb. If they found out I did it, they’d want to see the tape. And I had other plans for it.
Classes dragged on interminably. After the last one, I dutifully headed to the JUG line, only to be told that Miss Beakman had rescinded my detention. Surprise, surprise! I ran to the field in time for practice, but found it hard to concentrate. After practice, I went home, had dinner, showered, and waited. At 7:45, I hopped in my car and took off. I pulled in down the street from Beakman’s house at five of. I sat, waiting, preferring to arrive exactly at eight. Every minute or so, the front curtain would pull back, and a nervous Becky Beakman would dart glances up and down the street. 7:59. There she was again. I waited till the curtain closed, and got out of the car, walking quietly up to the front door. My heart was pounding as I knocked on the door. There was only a moment’s hesitation before the door swung open. There stood my victim goddess. She appeared pale, somehow smaller than she did at school. She hadn’t changed clothes, still wearing the tan skirt and pearl blouse. Without waiting for an invitation, I walked in, catching the scent of her perfume as I passed.
“Mistress” was standing against the far wall of the living room, arms folded across her chest. She glared at me with undisguised hatred. The front door slammed shut, and Becky walked around and stood in front on me, mimicking her friend’s defiant stance. “Al right, Mister Finch, let’s get this over with.” She began. “What is it you want?”
I smiled at her. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” I asked, nodding toward the brunette.
Becky glanced at the other woman, who nodded her consent. “This is Martha… my partner. Now, let’s get on with it.” I ignored her.
“Hello, Martha.” I said pleasantly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re very attractive. What’s with the dick?”
Without flinching, Martha replied “The dick is original equipment, the rest is by choice.”
“Finch!” Becky exclaimed “Cut the crap and tell me what you want. canlı casino An “A” in English?” I decided to stop farting around and get down to it.
“Well, Becky, I may call you Becky, yes?”
She glared at me in silence. “Becky it is!” I continued. “After last semester’s D-, I think and A would be a tad conspicuous. Let’s make it a B+.”
“Done.” She said quickly, “Now give me the tape.”
I had to laugh! “Becky! Don’t be so naive.”
“What else then?” she asked, growing more agitated, “Money?”
“Becky, you’re an English teacher in a catholic high school.” I replied condescendingly, “My allowance is probably bigger than your paycheck. No, I don’t want your money.”
“What, then?” she asked. She already knew the answer. I could see it in her eyes. But she still held one sliver of hope that she was wrong. I dashed that hope with a lascivious leer. She shook her head and silently mouthed “No.”
“Oh, yes” I assured her. “Now, strip!”
Martha started toward me, her fists balled at her sides. Becky stopped her with a gesture. Looking me straight in the eye, she said in a cold, even voice “Very well, Mister Finch. You win. But I promise you, you will pay for this.”
“I sincerely doubt that.” I replied coolly. “And it’s not Mister Finch any more. It’s Master David. And I gave you an order.” She lowered her eyes and, with trembling hands began to unbutton her blouse. It was tucked into her skirt, which she unzipped, and both articles of clothing fell to the floor. She hesitated a moment, then reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She shrugged it forward, releasing her magnificent breasts. She cross her arms in front of her, rubbing the red marks that the bra straps had left on her shoulders. I gently took her hands and moved them down to her hips. “You’re doing fine.” I said in a comforting tone. “Don’t stop now.” She took a deep breath, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the rose patterned panties we had all enjoyed earlier, and pulled them off. Then she stood before me, gloriously naked, her hands clasped before her, eyes down, much as I had seen her last night. But now, it was all for me. “On your knees.” I commanded. She shot me a vicious glare, then thought better of it, and slowly knelt before me. Her face was directly level with my pounding, constrained cock.
“Now, I want you to beg me for the privilege of sucking my cock.” She balked for a moment, then is a small, bitter voice said, “May I suck your cock?”
“You call that begging?”
I scoffed “Not even close. Try again.”
She took a deep breath, and in a clearer voice asked “Master David, may I please have the privilege of sucking your cock?”
I thought about pushing her to embellish it a bit, having her wax poetic about my beautiful shaft of love, but I was too fucking horny. So I replied “Yes, you may.” She undid my belt, popped the snap on my jeans and pulled down the zipper. Then, hooking her fingers into the waistband of my jeans and shorts, she pulled them down in one smooth motion. My turgid erection sprang free, bobbing invitingly (or threateningly, depending on your point of view) right in front of her face. I placed my hand on her head to steady myself as I kicked off my shoes and stepped out of my pants, kicking them over toward where Martha stood fuming in silent, impotent rage. “Hang those over a chair for me, will ya Marty?” I asked nonchalantly. She never took her acidic stare off of my as she complied with my request. “And you,” I said, addressing Becky, “Suck it!”
Becky opened her mouth and guided my throbbing member past her lips. She began moving my cock in and out of her mouth in a mechanical motion. “Oh, come on!” I said disapprovingly, “You can do better than that.” She tightened her lips slightly, allowing them to drag along the length of my shaft with each thrust. But it was still an uninspired effort. “This girl needs help.” I thought, so I called to Martha “Hey Marty, come over here and show her how it’s done.” Becky backed off my prick, releasing it with a pop of suction.
“No!” she pleaded, “This is between you and me. Leave her out of it!”
“On the contrary,” I corrected her, “Martha is very much a part of this. And for your sake, if not her own, she will play along, won’t you Martha?”
“It’s OK, Becky” Martha replied, stifling her friend’s protests. “This twerp doesn’t scare me.” I made a mental note to punish her later for such insolence. But right now I just wanted my blowjob. She walked defiantly toward me and stood beside Becky, placing a comforting hand on her blonde curls. I reached out and grabbed the hem of her T-shirt.
“We don’t need this.” I said, pulling the shirt over her head. “OK, Marty” I said, “Get down there and show Becky how to please a man.” Marty knelt next to Becky, who looked like she was about to cry.
“It’s ok.” Marty said softly as she took hold of my glistening prick. I reached down with my right hand and stroked Martha’s breast. With my left hand, I fondled kaçak casino Becky’s. Becky’s tits were full and soft, with wide, silky nipples that hardened involuntarily as I stroked them with my fingers. Martha’s were smaller, but still a handful, smooth yet firm with tiny nipples that became pebbly at my touch. If I hadn’t known they were fake, I never would have guessed.
Martha began expertly tonguing my cock, as Betty looked on, her expression glazing over. I let out a satisfied groan as Martha sucked my dick way into the back of her throat while fondling my balls. She pulled out my cock, and placed the pulsing purple head to Becky’s lips. Becky parted them, and my swollen cock head snaked into her warm mouth. She began to move her tongue teasingly across the underside of my dick, while gazing urgently into Martha’s eyes. Martha kissed her hard, capturing my cock between two sets of passionate lips. The fact that I was not the source of that passion didn’t bother me. I was getting one hell of a blowjob! I started fucking Becky’s face, faster and harder. All too soon, I let out a groan as I flooded her mouth with my cream. I stood there, gasping and quivering for what seemed like an eternity, when it dawned on me. I had just cum in my English teacher’s mouth! And the night is young!
I took a deep breath, stepped back, and decided it was Miller Time. “Well, that was fun!” I declared to my harem of two. “Now, who’s gonna get me a beer?” They looked at each other incredulously for a moment. Then Martha got up, went to the kitchen, and returned with a Coors light. Women!
I thought for a moment and said, “I say it’s time to move to the boudoir. Who’s with me?” I strode confidently down the hall and through the door to the bedroom. I flicked on the light and gazed about the stage that had made this all possible. I walked over to the back window. The shade was now pulled all the way down. Yes, they can be taught! Becky and Martha entered, leaving a trail of whispers behind them.
“So glad you could join me.” I declared sarcastically. “While I get my gumption back, you two are going to put on a little show. I took Martha’s hand and guided her to the bed, directing her to lay back. She still had on a pair of baggy shorts. When, at my command, she removed them, her large, semi-erect cock flopped expectantly on her thigh. “Becky,” I said, “you still need a lot of practice in the cock sucking department. Hop up on top of Marty here and let’s try a 69.” Reluctantly, Becky climbed up onto the bed, positioning her face above Marty’s now rapidly growing prick. Her pussy hovered inches above Marty’s face. Despite my presence, they looked quite comfortable this way. I concluded that they must have spent a lot of time in this position. Becky took Marty’s cock in her hand and began swirling her tongue around the bulbous head. Then she sucked almost half its length into her mouth, prompting a muffled moan from Marty. I walked around to the other side of the bed, and saw that Marty had grabbed Becky’s ass and pulled her delectable pussy to her mouth. Her fingers traced lightly over Becky’s pussy lips and asshole as her tongue flicked expertly over her lover’s sensitive clit.
As I watched this private performance, my cock began to rise. Soon, it was rock hard, begging for attention. I knelt on the bed directly behind Becky’s upturned ass, straddling Marty’s head with my knees. As I rubbed the head of my cock along Becky’s now dripping slit, Marty pulled her head away. I placed the tip of my dick on Marty’s lips, and her mouth opened, admitting my turgid member into her warmth. After a few seconds, I pulled out of her mouth, grabbed Becky’s hips, and in one long, slow thrust, buried my prick in Becky’s steaming pussy. I held there, balls deep in that moist, tight hole, savoring the sensation as I ground my pelvis against her ass. Then I began pumping in slow, rhythmic strokes.
When I pulled back, I could see Marty staring transfixed, watching her lover’s pussy being filled with hard cock. “Don’t be a spectator, Marty!” I cajoled, “Join in the fun.” Marty lifted her head and began licking at her lover’s clit and pussy. I would pull my cock almost all the way out, and Marty would stroke the underside with her tongue for a moment before I would ram it home again. Becky was moaning clearly in unabashed pleasure. She had released Marty’s cock, obviously unable to absorb this much sexual stimulation and give a decent blowjob at the same time.
We fucked this way for what seemed like hours. Finally I felt my balls begin to tighten and quiver as they prepared to deliver. I pulled out of Becky’s pussy, and began stroking my cock furiously. It quickly erupted, sending stream after stream of steaming spunk splashing over Becky’s ass and slit, before dripping down onto Marty’s face. I slid back off the bed and stood, swaying on Jell-O legs. Becky lay slumped on top of Marty, her ass perched high, glistening with sweat and semen. I staggered around to the other side of the bed. Becky’s face was nestled in Marty’s crotch, her blonde hair splayed across her lover’s groin. In her right hand, she clutched Marty’s cock, still rock hard, protruding through the tangle of golden curls like a flagpole.
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