As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I'd blown it. For a moment, the young woman across the desk sat in stunned silence. She looked around nervously, the relief evident in her face that we were alone, although I am sure that at the moment that thought also scared her to death.
"What?" Her voice was soft, plaintive, clearly disbelieving what her ears had heard. I buried my head in my hands, unable to face her any longer.
Honestly, I couldn't believe I'd done it again. It had been close to twenty years since I had last propositioned a student in exchange for a better grade, but apparently the old kinks were still there. Buried away for nearly two decades, but still ready to pop up at a moment's notice. I knew this would be the last time. It had to be. I was fifty years old and running out of options.
Katie looked as if she wanted to turn and run from my office at the first opportunity, and I could feel the blood rush to my head, my cheeks turning crimson, my face warm in my hands. I glanced up, silently watching her fidget uncomfortably in her seat.
She looked down to her lap where her hands were efficiently twisting a tissue into tiny knots. Wanting to do whatever it took to make her forget, I froze. No words came and I could feel my breath coming in short gasps as my heart rate continued elevating.
I wanted to get up, to comfort her, but knew that was no longer an option. I had crossed the line in the sand, the boundary no teacher should ever cross. My only place now was on the carpeted floor of my office, kneeling in front of her, begging for her forgiveness. But my cock was still painfully hard in my slacks and I knew my arousal would be obvious once I stood, so I remained seated, hidden behind my desk.
I bowed my head, waiting for Katie to leave, and silently shook as I heard her stand. I imagined her heart-shaped ass poured into the tightest pair of black leather pants I had seen in many years, knowing she would be heading directly to the dean's office.
Waiting for the sound of her hand on the door knob, I sighed, closing my eyes. I wondered how long it would take to clean out my office once I had been fired. I began making a mental list of people to call and things to do in preparation for finding another job.
My teaching career had begun innocently enough. Thirty years ago, as a young college graduate, I had been fortunate enough to receive a commission teaching middle school music. At the time, I was deeply involved in a relationship with my girlfriend, Betty, whom I'd met our first year at the university.
Betty had also been an education major, focusing on history and political science. As life sometimes goes, she was unable to get a job teaching and for many years ran a before- and after-school daycare program for latch-key children. It was one of the first of its kind in the state and served as a model for many later programs.
Our differing schedules meant the two of us saw little of each other and we quickly grew distant. The love we felt was still there but with no time to show it, things fell apart. We separated two years after college.
I had never enjoyed living the life of a playboy and I quickly reverted to my pre-college habits-a clean apartment, an immaculate reputation, and a filthy mind. One of my favorite discoveries during the mid 1970s was a small adult bookstore run by the father of one of my students.
Having decided weeks before to begin an early morning exercise regimen, I was that Saturday walking in a part of town I rarely frequented. I was leaning against a storefront catching my breath when, to my surprise, I saw Mr. Harrison, the father of little Mary from one of my classes, hurrying toward me.
"I'm sorry I'm opening so late this morning," he called out as he approached. Confused, I looked around me for the first time. The nondescript building I had been leaning against appeared to be abandoned at first glance. Looking closer, I saw this was clearly not so, judging by the industrial-strength bars on the windows and dead bolt lock on the door. Mr. Harrison pulled a set of keys from his coat pocket and quickly unlocked the door. "Come on in," he said, waving me ahead.
"Oh... I wasn't here for your store," I started, by way of explanation. "I was getting a little exercise and stopped for a moment. Sorry."
"Not a problem."
"What kind of store is this, anyway?" I was curious. We certainly weren't in the best part of town, and certainly not in an area that got much traffic.
"Ah... I run an adult shop," he answered. "Sorry. I thought you knew. Forget I mentioned it."
"Nonsense. I'm an adult. I know about places like these." I hated sounding so naive, but I had to admit I'd always been a bit curious about such things. For some reason I'd always managed to date the purest and most unimaginative women possible.
Missionary position only.
No sex with the lights on.
I knew there was a whole other world of sexual discovery and deviance out there. My previous girlfriends had left me wondering what it was all about. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt if I took a look around."
Mike ducked through the door ahead of me and walked to the back of the store to turn on the lights. Alone, I wandered through the store, amazed at the variety of offerings on display. Films, magazines, books, toys, things I'd never imagined I would see.
Looking through what appeared to be a coffee table book devoted to bondage and leather, I found myself becoming powerfully aroused, my cock thickening and tenting the front of my sweat pants. Knowing there was no way I could purchase the book in the condition I found myself in, I quickly fled the shop, taking the book with me.
I was embarrassed at my unplanned theft and walked home in a rush, acutely aware of the book I held in my hand and the lurid imagery within it. I entered my home, hurriedly locked the door, shed my shoes and jacket, and headed for the living room.
I sat on the couch and began flipping through the pages of the book, spending a great deal of time on each photograph. Even in my most fevered fantasies, I had never imagined such filth. Women bound and gagged, fucked apparently against their will, pierced nipples connected with thin ropes of chain.
I'd never considered leather to be a turn on, but seeing the tight crotchless pants, cock rings, and fringed chaps, not to mention the multitude of whips and riding crops, soon had my cock quivering with excitement and dripping with lust.
I found my gaze locked on one image in particular. Pictured were three people, two women and one man.
The man was nearly nude, wearing only a leather mask, featureless except for two eye holes and a zipper where the mouth should be. His arms were bound above his head, his forearms held together with a wrapping of leather cord. He was tied to something high enough to force him to stand on his toes, his legs spread wide by a large bar of iron shackled to his ankles.
Behind him was one of the women. She was fully dressed in what appeared to be a business suit. Hair pulled back in a bun and a pair of glasses completed the impression of a librarian or a school teacher. The image quickly proved false, as I saw her left hand pushed under the skirt of the suit. I could see her panties bunched around her ankles and imagined her fingers busy in her cunt. Her other hand held what appeared to be a leather dildo that was buried halfway up the man's anus.
I had never before thought of my ass as a possibility for pleasure. To my surprise, my cock lurched at the thought and I found myself loosening the drawstring, pushing my sweats to the floor, releasing my turgid shaft. Stroking lightly, I returned my attention to the third woman in the photograph.
She was completely naked and kneeling before the hooded man, his erection forcing its way down her throat. Her pendulous breasts hung low in front of her, nearly touching her thighs. The nipples of her breasts had been pierced and appeared to have some sort of clips attached. Her nipples were greatly distended, causing a look of pain on her face. The woman's hands were bound behind her back and wrapped with leather cord just as the man's forearms were.
Stroking my cock more rapidly, I could feel the tingling sensations in my balls steadily increase as I imagined the story behind the picture. The fully dressed woman was obviously in charge, unbound and unrestrained as she was. The idea that she might be a school teacher or librarian excited me and I could feel my orgasm slowly build toward release.
Who were the other two? Was the man her husband and the kneeling woman a friend? Another teacher? Perhaps a neighbor or maid? The woman in charge appeared to be a bit older than me. What if the others were her students?
The thought affected my arousal, driving my pulse faster and faster as I rapidly increased my stroking. I felt the veins on the bottom of my shaft, my hand a blur on my stiff shaft, the head fully engorged. Spreading my legs and leaning back against the couch, I laid the book down and began experimenting, still masturbating myself.
I wet a finger on my left hand, reached behind me, and carefully pushed against my resisting anus. Pushing harder, the tip of my finger popped through the tight opening and I felt the heat and tightness. I was emboldened by the new sensations and pressed deeper, finally burying my finger completely in my ass. Bumping into what I knew to be my prostate, I began twisting the finger gently as pleasurable sensations coursed through my body. My breath became ragged and I abandoned all thoughts, so intent was I for release.
.... There is more of this story ...