An off handed remark about Lush Stories by my psychiatrist led me to this site. I just had to find an outlet for this adventure somewhere besides talking to my $120 an hour near-retirement shrink, who’s obviously suffering from job burnout.

I am a forty-four year old school teacher who can’t believe how quickly her life can be turned upside down. My name is Teresa and I work at a Midwest suburban high school. My fourteen year second marriage is okay but I learned from my first attempt that ‘spectacular’ is only an illusion that lasts for a short time. We’re happy, but ‘steady’ is probably a better description. The last of the three kids from my first marriage is off to college and I was hoping the ‘empty nest’ syndrome might rekindle some of the spark of our once white-hot relationship but, sadly, he’s bogged down in a job that is very pressure-packed and the only thing keeping him going is the good money. I’m working just to keep from getting even more bored than I already am.

After reading a few of these stories on the site, I realize a description is almost mandatory, so here goes…

I am very athletic. I work out and stay fit, but I am not very competitive. Organized sports aren’t my thing. I’m Italian and dark featured with black hair (a strand or two of gray but I’ve avoided dye jobs so far, since my husband thinks it’s vain). I was fat as a teenager and finally lost a lot of weight in college and have been steadfast about keeping it off. I’m starting to worry about the onset of ‘turkey neck’ and semi-fallow boobs but so far (knock on wood) my exercise and diet have kept me trim and not bad looking for my age. I’m not at all matronly like some of my friends but would consider myself average looking. I have nice legs, smile, hips, boobs, but nothing spectacular.

Brad says my pouty mouth and my nipples are my best features. I try to wear padded bras to keep the later from sticking out at school in the event I wear something more shear in the warmer months. I’m a 34B if that matters to anyone reading this.

I can’t believe I’m doing this…

Anyway, here’s the story of how one gal went off the straight path and exited on the road to hell.

~~

Brad scheduled a one night stay (all he can afford to be away from the office) on a Friday at a bed and breakfast a few hours from our home and I was scheduled to leave immediately after the last bell and meet him there. So I had brought an extra set of clothes to school. After a few break-ins on the employee parking lot, I knew better than to leave them in the car so I stuck my overnight bag in my desk drawer. It was Senior Skip Day and I knew I could duck out a little early since I only teach seniors and the little brats wouldn’t be there but I had some work to prepare for the following week.

As it so happens I got into a little snit with my Department Head about a movie I wanted to show the kids. The discussion escalated into an argument and she intimated that maybe I’d be happier at another school in the district. She has had it in for me since I started teaching there. She was always showing up in blue jeans or Capri pants and pull-over tops and I always thought that if you want to be treated like a professional, you should dress like one. So I always came to school in a dress or business suit and I suppose she thought I was trying to show her up.

I was very upset and after splashing water on my face in the powder room, I returned to my classroom. I was crying a little but since there was no activity on my floor I knew no one would see me. I decided to just tidy up, get my things, and leave.

I guess I should back track here to a conversation I had with Brad a few weeks earlier. There was an item on CNN News about a thirty-something teacher who was arrested for having an affair with one of her students. Brad thought it was funny saying that it was an experience that the kid would never forget and to make the kid out as a ‘victim’ was ridiculous. Brad said, “He’ll be retelling this story in bars until he’s seventy.”

Anyway, I found myself waking from a dream a few nights later about having sex with one of my students but I couldn’t identify him. I hardly ever have sexy dreams. It was surreal and foggy but strangely compelling at the same time. I tried to imagine what it would be like for that gal that got arrested; how embarrassing. But did she on some level think it was worth it? Maybe a romp in the hay with a wiry nervous little stud would be good. I could imagine showing a virile teen a thing or two about how to please a woman. The next time I was making love with Brad, I found myself searching my brain for a student--even one from past years that I could fantasize was inside me, but even racking my brain I wasn’t able to come up with someone.

Brad’s okay in the sack but not particularly great. Since I consider myself no better than an ‘average’ lover, given my lack of sexual experiences prior to my first marriage, I never thought I had a right to complain about it. He’s not particularly well hung, he doesn’t last very long in me and he’s not particularly amorous or gentle. I figure we deserve each other. But I did think the fantasy helped the sex seem better that night. Maybe I’ll mentally tag onto some kid when Brad and I make love at the B & B and see if it helps me get more aroused. Anyway, back to the story.

It was Senior Skip Day and all my students were gone. In fact there was no one on the floor at all. So I walked back through my homeroom door feeling pretty sorry for myself about my confrontation with the department head and there were three students gathered around my desk rummaging through my overnight bag! I heard one of them say, “Damn, no purse! But here’s some clothes and some makeup and shit.” They were juniors up on our floor between classes looking for a place to hide out and smoke a joint or whatever.

I don’t know if my guard was down because my students were out of the building (or because I was rapidly considering the job change suggested by my bitchy boss), but I said the word I’ve never said in front of students before. As I stormed over to my desk, I said, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”, as I snatched my sweater and a bra out of one of their hands.

“Whoa!! Ms. Delaney said ‘fuck’!! I got suspended for two weeks for using the ‘F’ word in Mr. Patrick’s class! Nice mouth! Actually, you do have a nice mouth??”

The other two started laughing that kind of chiding laughter because he had complimented an adult, like he was brown-nosing. As I stuffed my clothes back into my bag, blushing, I said, “I’m sorry, that was wrong, but you will not disrespect me or my things!”

“Well, it was your ‘things’ we were checking out, Ms. D. You see, Brenda told us that you had on a nice little number last week. She said you bent over to pick up a notebook before class and about five guys and gals saw you had on red panties. Brenda peeked between the buttons of your blouse and, sure enough, Ms. D., you had on a matching bra! We just wanted to see if you had those pretty undies in your bag.”

More derisive and nervous laughter from the other two didn’t fool me. These delinquents were probably in my room looking to steal my purse! And for them to be so bold in talking to a teacher like this, I figured I was right: they were probably high on pot. So Brenda helped out the boys with their mischief. I’ll have to talk to her about that next week.

“So, ‘Lady in Red’, do you have them on today?”

As the tall one moved toward me I reached for my purse on the desk. It had my alarm button and my mace spray in it. As I did, one of the other wise guys pushed my purse onto the floor, spilling its contents. I walked slowly around to the front of my desk and started to bend down to pick everything up but wisely thought the better of it. I shot daggers at the talker and stood tall in an attempt to defuse the situation. He motioned to one of the others with a nod to go stand watch at the door.

I told them, “Discipline for going through a teacher’s belongings is very severe. Are you three looking for a suspension?! Isn’t the fact that you are all eighteen and still juniors because you’ve all been held back enough punishment for you?” If you look scared, they never respect you, so I stared him right in the eye and put my fists on my hips. As I did I saw the guy to my left bend down to ‘peek’ between the buttons of my blouse. Just like their buddies had done last week.

“Nah, Marcus, she’s got on a white one today. Ha, Ha!”

In the innermost recesses of my brain, I thought to myself ‘Now I have a student to fantasize about when Brad is laying on me. And he has a name... Marcus.’ Could it be that I never settled on a fantasy student because I had ruled out all the black male students I’ve had? Was I secretly prejudiced? Would thinking about a black student when I’m with Brad make me more excited? Less?

I pushed that thought aside roughly with a shake as I tried to look authoritative. I dropped my arms and smoothing out my cream colored blouse to defend against lecherous teenaged eyes. I remembered the day I had on my pink bra and panties (they were not ‘red’!) and realized that the short punk who was trying to get a peek was right. I had on a white bra and camisole that day.

Do I sense my nipples getting tight? No, this can’t be! I’m scared for the first time in my twenty year teaching career. I can’t let them see anything poking through my top. That could further provoke these idiots. I may have to hope someone comes down the hall and breaks this up. I dare not bend down to pick up my purse. At the very least, they’ll be trying to get a peek at something… or worse? I think this skirt is long enough to keep wondering eyes from seeing too far up it if I do bend over but I have to keep them all in my sightline.

A cell phone rang but unfortunately it’s not mine. Marcus says, “Better get that, Jerard, but make it quick. Ms. D has threatened us with suspension. We have to, ah, negotiate a settlement with the ‘Lady in Red’ ‘cuz I think maybe Maurice here might be wrong about that color. He doesn’t have his glasses on, ya know?”

Then Marcus smiled at me… well not at me, but at my chest, which had started to heave a little as I tried to keep from hyperventilating. That has to be nerves, right? This rapid breathing!? Jerard moves down the row of desks and takes the call. The third kid was over by the door, closing it. I kept my eyes riveted on Marcus as he moved toward me, licking his lips as he eyed my chest. “Just a peek, Ms. D., to see if Maurice needs to get his eyes checked. Then we’ll go as long as you don’t report us.”

As I retreated from him by stepping backwards, I stumble dover my purse and my thighs hit the top of the desk just as his right hand had started to fumble for a peek between my top blouse buttons.

Then several things happened in rapid succession. As I fell backwards onto the desk, his fingers had just curled inside my top. They acted as a counterweight to my fall and my blouse couldn’t hold up to the opposite forces and I heard ‘pop, pop, pop’ as three faux pearl buttons flew off my top! As I fell backward, I threw out my left hand to grab at anything that would stop my backward momentum. My hand landed on something warm and I grabbed it to keep the last button from popping off and I arched my back to prevent more of my silk blouse from being ruined. This had the unfortunate effect of thrusting my chest out. My left hand squeezed and I hear Maurice yell, “Hey, bitch! Not so hard! I’m okay with you yankin’ on it, but…”

He was at the door a moment ago! He was the look-out! Did he…??!! No! He couldn’t have dropped his pants!! My God! That can’t be his penis! It’s too thick! I’ve never felt one like that before!

At the same instant, I heard a simulated shutter click that sounded just like the one on my smart phone when I use it as a camera. I looked at Jerard and saw that he had indeed ended his call quickly and had taken a picture just as I was falling back at the same time my blouse was being ripped open. Jerard and Maurice were laughing nervously while Marcus was shushing them to be quiet. He looks embarrassed and nervous. “Uh, Ms. Delaney, that was an accident. Sorry, my bad.”

With my right hand I tried to close the gap in my now almost buttonless blouse and my left hand released Maurice’s cock like it was on fire. My mind was racing.

This is getting too intense. It felt like his penis was on fire! A fire hose… my gawd it was long! And thick, too! It feels so different from Brad’s or my ex-husband’s.

I tried to hook the heel of my pumps onto the desk so I could wiggle further away from Marcus as he started to bend down toward me, staring at my now visible cleavage. I heard another shutter click as I looked up and saw Jerard two feet in front of the desk with his phone aimed up my skirt! With my knees bent to get my feet onto the desk I realized I must be giving him a great view. The front of my skirt was puddled up on my lap. What a nice picture that would be for the boys to look at later!

Would they like what they saw?

Prior to that Maurice had shuffled himself behind the desk (that was all the faster he could move since his pants were obviously around his ankles) and his flopped his fire hose on my shoulder blade!

My eyes were darting everywhere: from Jerard’s cell phone to Marcus’ wild eyes, back to my left. As I did, Maurice’s dick made contact with my cheek. Meanwhile, I kicked out defensively to Jerard and my left shoe flew off and spun past his face. He grabbed my calves and pried my legs apart and tore off my other shoe.

I was panting rapidly now with nervousness as I realized I had few defenses left. I whispered, “It’s not a prank now, gentlemen, and you know it! It’s a crime and you’ll do time! Let me go before it’s too late!”

Everyone froze for an instant as I rose up on my elbows and realized my breasts were at least still covered with my camisole and bra but my poor blouse was wide open. Marcus’ eyes were wide and I realized he was staring at two rock hard nipples (Brad calls them my ‘Fruity Pebbles’ when he’s sucking on them) poking against the stretched material. As I started to defensively bring an arm up to cover my breasts, Maurice hooked his arms through mine from the back and pinned my shoulder blades together keeping my elbows on the desk and thrusting my chest out further.

My eyes went wide and as I filled my lungs to scream, Marcus cupped my mouth with one hand and grabbed my blouse on the right side below the collar and pulled down roughly. Any thought I harbored about re-sewing the buttons on to save it (my mind was still trying to fathom a normal ending to this) went out the window as his huge black hand yanked the entire left side of my blouse down to my waist and it separated like it was tissue! He got the camisole strap in the bargain and I heard it pop and the material slid off my bra cup and dangled there as he held the torn material over his head like a trophy.

“Maybe she’s right,” Maurice said as I felt his tube soften a little and come to rest on my shoulder. “This is getting pretty heavy, man. I ain’t goin’ back to juvie detention. And besides, now that we are eighteen and we all joined up with the recruiter, they probably won’t let us into the Army if we ra… ah, do anything here.”

“No! It’s gonna be all right,” Jerard said. “Look at this.” He showed his camera phone to Marcus who grinned without taking his hand from my mouth.

“Lady in Red, you’d have a hard time explaining this to your old man… not to mention Principal Patrick!?” Jerard then thrust the smart phone over my head to let Maurice see. All three peeled off a dirty laugh as Maurice tightened his grip and Jerard pushed the camera in front of my face.

In the picture I was leaning back over the desk, legs splayed open with both feet on the edge of the desk, shoulders back, breasts thrust out from my open blouse almost invitingly, white pantyhose cotton visible, my eyes wide as I stared into Marcus’s face. I had one hand on his forearm as his big hand was fumbling with my top and MY LEFT HAND WAS WRAPPED AROUND MAURICE’S PENIS!!!!

I whimpered as I cursed myself for this split second and wished I had it back. It was the perfect time to snap a picture to make it look like I was participating in this downward spiral. It looked for all intents and purposes as if I was enjoying it!!

But it was just so amazingly thick! I… I didn’t know what it was!! So warm! Big! I had never touched one like this before... probably would never have another chance. What would one that big feel like inside me?! It would have to hurt, I guess! Surely it would. Maybe. I suppose it would depend on how wet I was.

In the picture there was an amazing contrast between his black cock and my little white hand. A full four inches sticking out further than my fist and I wasn’t even holding him at the base! Was that even possible? I heard another shutter click as Jerard was aiming in between my legs with the damn phone again. I closed my knees together and as I did I felt a nasty hole form in my pantyhose as I clamping the cell phone between my thighs. As he pulled the phone out from between my legs I could feel that it had caused a run in my stocking from my mid-thigh down past my knee.

As I thought, ‘Shit! I just bought these pantyhose last week.’ I realized my brain was not able to comprehend what was happening to me. And my legs were twitching from the pain the cell phone caused when I squeezed my legs together against it. No, wait! My thighs were twitching all right, but not with pain. I realized with intense shame that I desperately wanted to rub them together.

When I get out of this mess, I’ll slip into the bathroom in the teacher’s lounge and… ummm… back and forth tightly increasing the tempo on my clit like I did when I was younger to see if I could make that wonderful sticky wetness happen. No! No! That’s wrong! It’s bad to do that! I remember my Mom said so!

Snapping back to consciousness, I saw Jerard had pulled his shirt over his head and was fiddling with his prick through his pants, like some rapper on a video. Only Jerard was growing! Rapidly! Marcus had let go and now Maurice had his hand on my mouth and his fire hose was rubbing my jaw line. It was impossibly warm but out of my vision.

Marcus had bend down under the desk and I heard ‘snip, snip’ as he exercised the jaws of a pair of scissors that had fallen from my desk to the floor. He leered as he slowly, almost surgically, cut the right side of my blouse in almost the same place as he had grabbed the left side. He even cut the right camisole strap and pulled it roughly down under my boob, just like the torn part on the other side. Jerard put his hands behind my legs below my knees and pulled me toward the front of the desk spreading me as I slid toward him, my skirt bunched up at my waist now, hips almost exposed. My bra-covered breasts were pointing toward the ceiling.

I realized I was only struggling halfheartedly. It was because the picture was so incriminating wasn’t it? I knew I’d be ruined if it got to Brad or my bosses. That surely was the reason. I… didn’t want this to happen! It was too violent! Too animal-like! This was unspoken extortion! My career would be ruined if that goddamn picture got out! I couldn’t let that happen. But how could I negotiate with these animals?

I bet that bitch of a boss of mine couldn’t make students leer at her like this! They wouldn’t stare at her saggy, fat chest like they’re looking at me now. No! That’s perverted! I’m in trouble here! Maurice’s big thing would hurt, wouldn’t it?! I couldn’t possible take all that! He… they were so young! I bet they must shoot loads that would fill me up and then some! And they could last until I was tired of being humped and begging for them to stop. Brad always came so fast. I wonder if Marcus’ dong is as big as Maurice’s. Do young guys last as long as everyone says? I wanted this to end, right? If maybe I just, I don’t know, show them a little something, they’ll let me go. They’d probably be repulsed enough with my saggy middle aged body to lose interest and leave.

Marcus had balled up the torn off part of my blouse and while I was dreaming and my subconscious racing, he stuffed the tattered part of my blouse into my mouth! He used the other part of my separated, ruined blouse and tied it around the back of my head and pulled it secure over my mouth so I couldn’t yell.

I wanted to scream! HELP! No! This was wrong! But no one has wanted me this bad since… ever! Much less three men at once! How awful! But I’m forty four and who knows when, if ever? I couldn’t help but think this was a validation that I was sexy enough to arouse men and be desirable. I always knew I could still turn heads. And these were men. Not boys.

We all jumped as the bell rang. The final bell. School’s out. No one would be coming to my rescue now. No need for anyone to come back to this floor until Monday. No one would stop this madness. There would be no one to interrupt my current predicament.

 Good!