Jack Lemming in Submitting to My High School Teacher

by Silk Weaver

  By now, my arousal was clouding my mind, and vision, but heightening my touch...just the thought of touching myself in front of her garnered a bead of pre to drip from my tip. She giggled and kicked a chair to me. I sat down, and my cock rested on my stomach—forcing muscle to rub against muscle. My eyes looked to her for direction with the utmost anticipation on what she would have me do next—my next mission objective to please her.

  She smirked at me and gave me a nod, sitting on one of the cleared off tables across from me. One leg tossed over the other as she said, “Spread 'em. I wanna see everything and you don't have a damn thing to hide.”

  I blinked and kept my eyes closed for an extra amount of time as my legs parted, showing my low hanging balls covering my hole to my teacher. “Good!” she cheered. Rubbing her hands together and licking her lips, she said, “Now, I want you to give yourself a good tease.”

  My eyes shot open and I looked at her with a questioningly, my head tilted a little. She gestured to me with two fingers tapping up and down an imaginary cock in her hand and I nodded, copying the action on myself. I threw my head back, letting out a gasp—even the simplest reward could send me into a tizzy. Slowly, I felt myself melting into my handling as my fingers paraded up and down the sides of my throbbing shaft, even catching a few bucks from my hips and the pre leaking from my head freely.

  “Very nice,” she cooed. “Now grip it. Nice and tight squeezes, but don't move it up and down… Only twist. With your other hand you can play with those balls and don't be afraid to get a little rough.”

  I grunted. “Urff...yes, ma'am… D-do you like it…?” She grinned, nodding slowly as I took hold of my shaft and started to massage it. I could feel my cock begging me to let it fuck my hand—fuck the table or fuck her—but I did as Mrs. Auborn said. Slowly around and around I twisted my base, making my toes curl from inside of my shoes and hold my legs up a little due to the straining pleasure. I reached down with my other hand and gently pulled at my left and right nut—seeing how it felt. It was an odd sensation that I admittedly had never thought of before, but the feeling was just as nice as my usual method—if not nicer with its novelty.

  It wasn't long until I was melting all over again, but I was starting to feel the tension building. God, this is going to be massive… Mrs. Auborn must've noticed because she commanded, “Give your hand a good fucking, won't you? I want a nice sample in my hand.” She held out her hand close to my cock's tip and I finally allowed myself to vigorously pump my cock.

  Thighs shaking, breaths heavy, and balls bouncing in my hand, I knew that I couldn't handle it anymore –I came.

  It was a cosmic level of satisfaction that thrust me into the air just as I let my final thrust into my hand, shooting a hot, thick load a few feet over Mrs. Auborn's hand a few times before the last two spurts fell into her palm. I panted heavily, hardly able to tell one feeling from the next coming at me. From blurred vision I could make out Mrs. Auborn raising her jism coated hand up to her face and giving it a generous lick.

  I felt the weight of her hand pat down on my shoulder somewhat after, sliding down my arm as she said, “Good boy.”

  Chapter 7

  It's a strange thing when you learn something new about yourself through others. Without thinking, you've already submitted yourself to that person. They lead you, show you how things should be done—show you things that may or may not change the way you see yourself. I couldn't be more glad that I had Mrs. Auborn, but there's still an itch—an itch that I've yet to scratch…

  I rolled out of bed and sat up, looking over at my night desk. My phone vibrated twice, so I picked it up and made my way to the kitchen. After a few thumb presses, I was reading a text message from my favorite teacher. It read: “Hope you're not busy on Monday. I told my friend about you and she's very interested in you. If you're not too busy, she was hoping that the two of you could spent some time together. Are you ready for the next step? I can't wait to see the look on her face when I tell her the good news!”

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed that I still had a picture of Mindy held up on the fridge as I passed by. I set my phone down, grabbed the picture in one hand, and threw it into the ground. With a grin, I picked up my phone and replied, “Always, Miss.”

  This may not be all I am, but it's definitely a part of who I am.

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  If you liked this story, you can read the next installment here or here.

  About the Author: Silk Weaver

  Silk Weaver, now age 19, grew up in Northern California where she learned at the young age of 7 that she had a gift creating stories of all kinds with only the written word. It was around the age of 15 that her drive for writing reached new heights and she became more adventurous in her endeavors.

  She wrote in every genre imaginable: thriller, fantasy, sci-fi, and of course, erotica. Of them all, she's chosen to write erotica primarily for the time being.

  You can learn more about her by visiting her website at: http://www.silkweavererotica.com or follow her on twitter @Silk_Weaver

  *The image shown is not owned by Silk Weaver.