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Mrs. Mower felt a surge of titillation in her chest when she saw Scott Rungard take his seat in her classroom. He looked like his father, same eyes and nose and the same controlled verve. He was a quiet student. He didn’t make a fuss or disrupt her class. He, however, was one who, like his father, she had caught looking lower than the math problem on the whiteboard.

She controlled the tickling in her chest and began her class. “Let’s continue our lesson on axioms. And while you’re opening your books, I want to say I had some very good conversations with your parents at the conferences this week.” She avoided looking in Scott’s direction. “I told them how well you are doing. They were impressed, some more than others, at your progress. Maybe I should bump up the difficulty of this class.”

The students downed her suggestion with boos. She laughed. “Let’s get started then.”

She continued to glance in Scott’s direction during the lesson. Images of his father shot across her mind. Again, she forced herself to control the images of Mr. Rungard, the plum dress she wore and the girls restroom, which she had not entered since that evening. It was an intoxicating night. And she wanted more of him.

She relaxed a bit when the math class ended and Scott Rungard left. She prayed Mr. Rungard would leave with him. Hopefully.

That evening, she dropped her satchel on the recliner in her living room.

“Good day or bad, sexy?” her husband asked from the couch.

“Ho-hum.” She thought of the Rungards, then shuffled them out of her mind. “What are your hours tonight, babe?”

“Eleven to nine. I’ll be home after you leave. I may come by school for lunch tomorrow.”

“I like that idea. Maybe I’ll find a empy room in a back hallway.” She sat on his lap and kissed him.

“Oh, baby, that sounds good.” He returned the affection, with his lips on hers and his hands clutching her butt. “I’ll take that ass anywhere I can get it.”

She put her hands on his cheeks. “I know that’s right. You want it all the time.”

After a few hours and some subdued love-making upstairs to avoid interrupting the kids’ studying, Mr. Mower pinned on his badge, buckled his utility belt around his waist and made sure his handcuffs were snapped in place. He then checked his Glock 22’s magazine.

“Have a good night, a safe night, babe.”

He flashed the reds and blues on the squad car as he left the driveway.

The evening deflated with her husband gone. She was alone. The television was only background noise. She sat cross-legged on the floor, at the coffee table, and marked up papers with her red pen. Grading students’ recent tests bored her. She had gone through half of them when Scott Rungard’s paper appeared. The same tickling returned, like it had in class earlier that day. She let herself linger on the image of the handsome father in dark slacks, a crisp white shirt and red tie, who peeked into her classroom that evening, asking for forgiveness for being late. She recalled the musk cologne and his hands that moved all over her. Everywhere.

She pressed her palm against Scott’s paper as if an extension to Mr. Rungard. She smiled. That parent-teacher conference was amazing. It hadn’t happened in a long time. He rocked her. Even now the memory caused her to tingle, out to her fingertips.

“Mom, are you okay?”

Her eleven-year-old son’s question startled her from reminiscing.

“I’m fine, just a little tired. Hey, why are you still up? Get to bed.” She patted his butt and he trotted to his room.

Mrs. Mower took her seat on the floor again. Scott Rungard’s test still konyaaltı escort needed grading. She noticed he had clear penmanship, neat and straight. Again, Mr. Rungard came to mind. His clean style, clear in what he wanted and, she giggled, he was straight up, erect, that night.

She scanned through his answers quickly, scribbled his score at the top of the page, next to his last name, circled it and put the paper under the stack, far away from her.

Still, she had a deep-seated desire, despite having sex less than two hours beforehand with her husband, a desire that sped her pulsations.

She slowly took her phone on the coffee table by her graded tests. The screen flicked alive and she rethought her actions. How would she just call him or text him and get the conversation started without being as blunt as “I need a good fuck.”

On her phone she typed, “Are you at home?” No, too unclear. Deleted it.

“How have you been lately?” Too causal. Deleted it.

“You up?” Might be too obvious. Deleted it.

“I enjoyed our meeting the other day.” Too emotional. Deleted it.

“Want to fuck me?” She giggled at typing it but quickly deleted it.

“Legs are spread wide right now. Need you between them.” She giggled again and then immediately deleted it. She did not want even a chance of a such message going out.

So she snapped a picture of Scott’s graded test and shared it, typing, “Scott did great on the test. Wanted to let you know.” She pressed Send. The thought of what she had just done blurred her mind with should I have or should I not have sent that. But she had no choice now.

A moment later, her phone chimmed. The reply from Mr. Rungard. “Glad for good grade. Been taught well.”

She questioned whether she had gone too far after studying what his message might mean. But the night of their meeting, he had been interested in hooking up again. Nevertheless, they did leave a little awkward after what they’d done. It wasn’t abnormal to feel that way though. She had felt it before.

She put the phone down and tuned into the TV. The possibility of them tonight was dead.

She filled a large glass with Merlot and returned to the couch. She shuffled deep between the pillows. A half-hour later, she had filled up the glass once more. However the doorbell startled her from repose.

Bong.

She checked her watch. 1:23.

“Who in hell?”

She set the glass down on the coffee table next to the coaster. She questioned whether to get the door or brush it off.

Bong

A second ring made her get up. She wasn’t dressed for meeting anyone. She was in her husband’s workout shorts and a t-shirt. Worst, no bra. But looking through the peephole, it was him. She immediately punched in the deactivation code in the security system and undid the three doorlocks.

He wore a gray shirt with Gold’s Gym imprinted on the chest and a pair of jogging shorts. She didn’t notice his shoes, because her eyes couldn’t get passed a bulge in the shorts.

“Well, Mr. Rungard, what brings you out this late?”

“You,” he said bluntly, and then stepped inside.

Mrs. Mower let him in and glanced outside for a car before closing the door.

“Where’s your car?”

“Uberred over. You know, covert operations.”

“Mhmm.”

“Now,” he wrapped his arms around her waist and slid them down to her fat bottom, “let’s get down to business.”

“And what business is that exactly?”

He tightened his grip on her cheeks. She felt the pain but also knew his hard-on pressed against her.

“What if I said ‘no’ to you, Mr. Rungard?”

He kültür escort stared directly into her brown eyes. “Try to.”

Knowing there was no way, she raised up to her tippy toes and kissed his lips.

Their mouths met, lips pressed tightly. Her tongue reached out first. It touched his. And their make-out session heated up so fast that a fire began to burn across her body. It was the same sexual fury that had ignited her in the classroom and again in the restroom while perched on the low sink.

They fell over the arm of the couch, him on top of her. Her hand reached under his shirt to feel his chest and trim torso. Then she went up his shorts to fondle his balls. He exhaled, pausing the kissing, maneuvering to allow freer access to anything her fingers wanted. She cuddled the pair and tickled beneath them. She knew she had hit a special spot on his body.

Her hand started to reach into the waistband of his shorts, and he moved again so they could be removed easily. She pressed a finger on the tip of his engorged cock.

“Yes, Mrs. Mower, yes,” he said.

But she stopped, quite abruptly.

He was awakened by the sudden stop. “What is it?”

“We need to go to the bedroom and lock the door. Don’t want anyone waking up, you know.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. When he came over, she stopped him, with an outstretched arm. “Stay standing,” she said as it seemed he was ready to pounce on her, obviously consumed by lust. “I want more of you.”

He stood before her. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She scratched her nails down his torso and then rubbed the palm of her hand against the length of his cock, sheathed inside of his shorts.

“You’ve enjoyed the night so far, haven’t you?” she asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“How obvious? Show me.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself.”

She smiled and yanked his shorts down to his ankles. In the movement, her cheek brushed against his cock.

“He needed to get out,” she said lightly. She wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked his length. It’s warmth heated up her palm.

“He did, he did need out,” Mr. Rungard answered through the pleasure of her touch.

“I need to get out now.”

His eyes popped open. “Get out?”

She lifted her t-shirt and pulled it up slowly. Her tits had been hidden behind the fabric as if forgotten. Her tits lifted higher and higher, then fell, wobbly, when Mrs. Mower took the shirt over her head and shook out her hair. She had plump freckled tits with deep brown nipples, hard and poking up. “These girls needed out.” She lifted them with cupped hands and pressed them tight together. “They love to be sucked. You want to help, daddy?” She jiggled them as if they were chewable toys for a playful dog. Mr. Rungard bit.

She fell back and he climbed on her. He put his hands and mouth on the large breasts. He sucked hard and slurped around the nipples. He pulled a large breast up with his suctioning mouth and let it plop back down. He flicked the nipple with the tip of his tongue. He did the same to the other tit so one would not get more attention than the other, he told her. She moaned and at times giggled throughout the play. She watched this new man above her in her bedroom and ran her hands through his hair. “Yes! They love it. You get extra for this attention. Yeah, mhmm, you will.”

And he kept kissing the toys she was sharing.

Laying there reveling, she studied the arch of his nose. She ran her hand across a muscular shoulder, which had a tattoo of a topless Hawaiian girl in a grass skirt. She watched markantalya escort his neck strain when he sucked hard on her breasts.

Suddenly her body tensed, she closed her eyes, her face contorted, she started huffing fast. But a smile appeared. “Thank you, Mr. Rungard,” she said through quickened breaths. “That math lesson has done you well.”

“I knew math before you.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist to clutch him. “And now,” she said and raised her butt off the comforter on the bed. She didn’t need to say anything else. He peeled down her shorts. She saw his eyes hone in on her pussy. His fingers combed through her trimmed bush.

She lifted her legs up to her chest and spread them wide. But he rolled her onto her right side. Looking over her shoulder, she reacted to his raised hand, tightening her butt.

Slap!

Then he grabbed a handful of her ass cheek and made it wiggle. She was about to say something about the size of her butt; however, he beat her to it.

“You’ve got the juiciest ass I’ve seen in a long time, damn,” Mr. Rungard regripped the handful of ass flesh and wiggled it again, watching the wiggles pass from one cheek to other. He smacked her once more. “You don’t know how glad I was to get your text tonight. Just to see this ass.”

She basked in his compliment about her body and his desire for her.

“You’re an ass man? Do you like anything else?”

She rolled onto her back and then slid off the bed and down to her knees. She came face to face with his cock. She gripped his dick like he had gripped her ass.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to see your dick again.” She lowered the engorged erection and wrapped her mouth around its head. Her tongue massaged its crown and then wetted the underside with a long lick. Once lubbed, she bobbed her head back and forth quickly. She pushed her mouth farther down the shaft until she gagged. Out came the dick smeared with her saliva. She drooled onto the dick once more and took it full into her mouth again. Mr. Rungard gripped her brown hair with both hands and rocked her head in time with his thrusts into her mouth. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. She tasted a salty release of precum spray into her mouth. She stopped.

“Fuck me,” she hissed through her heat, “It’s what we’re here for.” She climbed onto the bed, lifted her legs and spread them wide open. Her pink pussy was waiting for him. He aligned his dick with the gateway between her parted lips. His cock, lubbed by her blowjob, and her pussy, waiting for a long time, made the fuck happen easily. They thumped and slapped their bodies against each other.

Thump, Thwamp, Thump, Thwamp

Both of them grunted and huffed. “Give it to me, daddy, fuck me hard! Don’t stop,” she growled wickedly.

“Say my name, bitch, say it, who am I?”

“Big Daddy, you’ve got the dick I love. Fuck me!” she screamed.

He thrusted faster and faster until he exploded deep inside of her. He remained stiff like a statue until his body relaxed to a calmer state. The pair remained inert, catching their breath and retrieving their minds. She squeezed his entrenched cock by tightening her inner muscles.

He rolled off of her and onto his back to regain his strength. She darted away for a moment and came out of the bathroom in a shear robe. The circular outline of her dark nipples were obvious against the fabric. And she didn’t think it necessary to tie it. She watched him dress.

A few minutes later, she led him to the front door. A compact car was idling in the driveway.

“Thank you for tonight, Roger.”

“My pleasure. Let’s do it again soon.”

She raised up, placing one hand on his chest, and kissed him deeply. His hands moved from her waist to heave up one of her breasts and the other to grasp an ass cheek.

“Sooner rather than later.”

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