Hot for Teacher

Yes, I?m THAT teacher. The one you fantasized about. The one in the old Van Halen ?Hot for Teacher? video. The one that inspires the comment: ?I wish my teachers looked like that when I was in high school.? That teacher. I know all the schoolboy fantasies you harbored when you were sixteen: Private after-school detentions where I draw the blinds and ride your cock on top of the lab table. Stolen moments in my closet while the rest of the class has gone to lunch. Maybe I?ll wank you until you?re gasping for breath, shooting your cum all over my tits as they spill out of my low-cut top. Hanging back in the locker room after gym class, where I drop to my knees and suck your dick until you tangle your fists in my hair, screaming as you cum in my mouth. I know what you wanted back then. I know you remember those fantasies. I know you get hard and stroke yourself while you reminisce about ?that teacher,? and that turns me on too. But there?s a lot you don?t know about me. I have fantasies of my own, and sometimes I act on them in ways you wouldn?t believe. For example, there?s the hot new basketball coach. Yes, THAT basketball coach. The one that all the girls whisper about, doodling on their notebooks, pairing his last name with their first name to see how it looks. Walking the Escort Başakşehir long route to class just to pass by his room, then dropping something by his door so they can bend down in front of him. He?s the coach that the female teachers fantasize about. The one that they change their schedules for, plan their lunches around, find excuses to email and chat up in the hallways. The one they think about when they touch themselves at night, the one whose name they call out as they fuck themselves with silicone cocks. That coach. What no one else knows is that he?s sexting me while I?m in class, discussing the theme of revenge in Macbeth. The class giggles as my cell phone chimes. I hold up a finger to silence them as I read my message, and immediately feel a rush of heat flood my body. Him: Hey gorgeous. I have to know what panties you?re wearing. Me: Purple lace boyshorts Him: Mmmmm?purple. Want to fuck? Me: Hell yes. Where and when? Him: The field house during your planning block. Me: I?ll meet you there at 9. I click off the phone and try to get back to Macbeth, but the observant student would notice my flushed cheeks, the gleam in my eye. The observant adult would probably put the pieces together and recognize the ?I?m about to get Bayrampaşa escort lucky? expression. If you knew about the sex that goes on in schools, you?d blush. No, I?m not talking about the frantically humping high school seniors that are occasionally caught in the stairway or on the stage in the auditorium. I?m talking about teacher sex: consenting adults engaging in illicit acts in all kinds of places: the supply closet, the teachers? lounge, the library, the faculty restroom, the couch in the nurse?s office, the roof. In this case, I?m headed to the field house. It?s a good meeting place because it?s not in use during the school day?ensuring privacy, even if it does smell like dried sweat. Brad is waiting for me behind the tackling dummies, looking fine in his blue jeans and coaching jersey. ?Hola,? he says. I grin in response, and we waste no time before sharing a passionate kiss. Brad and I have been fucking for about a month now. We?ve gone on a couple of dates, but there is no commitment between us. We both just really enjoy sex, and have a mutual appreciation for each other?s body. And sometimes we get so hot we can?t wait for after school. Today is one of those days. ?Oh, my God?you?re wearing those boots again,? he growls Beşiktaş escort bayan as he runs his hand up my thigh and under my skirt. He grabs my ass with both hands, firmly squeezing and lifting me slightly off the ground. Then he tugs at my panties, sliding them down my legs and off. I unbutton his jeans, freeing that massive cock that would send those high school girls screaming in terror. I know they all fantasize about fucking him. I know the basketball moms that show up early to watch practice are really just watching him, soaking their panties as they imagine what his hot body could do to them. The glazed expressions on their faces tell me where their thoughts are: under the bleachers, on their knees, sucking Brad?s giant cock. That?s when I like to strut my stuff across the gym floor, interrupting practice with a quick whisper in his ear. Sometimes he blushes, like if I tell him I?m wet and ready for a hard fuck in his pick-up truck after practice. Depending on how hard I get him, he might dismiss practice early. I thrive on the jealous glances that get thrown my way, the speculation that?s going on. We both know people talk about us. We?re THAT couple?two hot, single teachers?why wouldn?t we be having sex? My thoughts are interrupted as he picks me up, hands under my ass, and carries me to the side of the field house, setting me on top of a table where the coaches sit during football practice. "Oh?if Coach White knew I was nailing you on his coaching table, he would cream his jeans,? Brad says with a wicked glint in his eye. I pull his pants down so they pool at his ankles.