The bell rang, signaling the end of my second hour class and the passing time before the start of third hou; my preparation period. I'd been teaching high school English for seven years, all of them in this small high school of some four hundred plus students.
Lunch was still an hour and twenty minutes away, but, as the bell rang again to signal the start of third period and the end of my between classes hall monitoring, I thought I might as well walk down to the teacher's workroom/lounge and get a snack from the candy machine. I've got a serious case of the Ronson family sweet tooth syndrome.
As I came abreast of Trudy Trueheart, the Spanish teacher, she nodded and said, "Hi, Ted, how's it going today?"
"Hi, Trudy, quite well, thanks. What about you?"
"Also great," she replied as she kept walking, holding up a large group of papers. "Gotta get started grading these. See ya."
Really great body she has there, but she keeps those legs together tighter than two drumheads in the desert. That was the thought that went through my head as I continued on around the hall corner towards the work room.
Ruth Ransom, the girls phys ed teacher stepped out of her office, nearly colliding with me. "Hey ya, big boy, watch it," she smilingly chided, "I might have bounced you off my 38s and into the other wall, ha-ha-ha."
"Promises, promises," I shot back.
"I'll try harder next time," she said as she started off down the hall in the opposite direction, "gotta parent conference in five. See ya."
I sure would like to bounce off those 38s, multiple times!
Ruth was, to say the least, one stacked lady as in "like a brick shit house." That was especially true in light of her otherwise petite frame and tightly packed little ass. Her face, like that of Helen of Troy, could lead a thousand ships astray. Although I was single, Ruth was not.
Oh well, a guy can always fantasize.
Yeah, I'm still single. I graduated from the university with my B.A. seven years ago. Going to summer school only after that so I could keep teaching, I barely finished my M.A. in English just before the current school term began. At least it was in time to get the salary increase for the new degree level.
I dated lots of girls during my undergraduate years, but I just never latched onto one permanently. It's not that I'm ugly or anything. I'm six foot six, two-hundred-forty pounds in the shower, and still retain my six-pack abs from my daily workouts. Sometimes, people ask me how I get such broad shoulders through doorways. I've also been told by some that I have a rugged, chiseled face. Personality? Well, no one's complained so far.
I've had a couple of serious affairs over the last seven years. The first was with a young personal trainer at the gym where I started working out. Some extra curricular gym hours got that affair started. After a year, she moved off to a better position in another city two states away.
The second affair began with me dating one of the cute new teachers here at Randolph High my third year on staff. That one lasted two years until she accepted a position and a big increase in salary in a school on the left coast. A bit far from the heart of the Illinois corn belt for an affair to continue.
None of the women I have dated since Miss Newby held more than a passing interest for me. I fucked about half of them in essentially one night stands. The rest of them kept their legs crossed, like Trudy. I've had a six-month dry spell and I really would like to give my right hand a rest.
As I was about to cross the "T" intersection of the main hall with a little stub hallway going off to the left, I heard a muted thump. I knew that there were two small conference rooms across from each other down that short, dead end hall and I wondered what the noise was or if someone got hurt. I turned on my heel and headed down that way.
I reached a point between the two doorways, stopped, and listened. I heard a muted buzz of mumbled conversation from the room on the left. Ruth's parent conference, I suppose. I stepped over closer to the other door on the right. I heard more muted, but softer sounds, whimpers really, and some moans.
What the hell?
I put my ear to the door in question and listened to still more sounds that were now unquestionably sexual in nature.
Who in the hell, was my thought this time.
Hesitantly, I put my hand on the door knob and gently tried it. The damned thing started to turn.
Damned fools, they should've locked the door, not to mention kept more quiet.
Really curious by that point, I quietly eased the door open and stepped in, gasping silently as I did.
My eyes bugged out and my mouth drooled as I beheld the sight before me. Stretched out on her back on the three by eight foot utility table, lay Sharon, the new, twenty-one year old, freshman English and literature teacher. She was fresh out of college and doing her first year of teaching under contract.
Her blouse lay open and winged at her sides, her bra lay up around her neck, exposing her more than ample tits, and her skirt and half slip were bunched at her waist. Her panties, what there was of them, hung loosely from her left ankle. Her long, toned legs were spread wide, dangling off either side of the table.
And between those gorgeous legs, plowing her furrow as hard as he could, with his pants and boxers around his ankles, was F.J. Tacky, the middle aged chemistry teacher. They were so engrossed in their fucking that either they didn't know I was there or they simply didn't care and ignored me.
I'd barely comprehended the scene when F.J arched his back sharply and lunged into Sharon's pussy as deeply as he could reach. Balls deep, he dumped his load of cum with a supressed howl. Sharon followed a moment or two later with an exploding orgasm, leaking their combined sex juices all around his spurting cock. She had a hanky stuffed in her mouth in an attempt to stifle the moans she was producing.
"Damn!" hissed F.J. between his teeth. "Best damn pussy I've had in five years."
He withdrew his cock and Sharon just lay there, her pussy still yawning wide open in a large 'O', drooling cum and she quaking with her sexual release. She was gasping for breath.
"You two really should lock the door and keep a hell of a lot more quiet than you were doing," I said in a low voice. "There is a parent conference going on across the hall, you damn fools."
Startled, they both looked over at me. Both faces flushed with more than just their exertions.
"Oh!" Sharon managed to get out between gasps for breath.
Fuck!" was F.J.'s contribution to the conversation.
"You just did." I replied.
F.J. still stood over her pussy. semi-hard and still dribbling their combined cum down onto Sharon's shaved mound. I didn't know old F.J. had that kind of staying power. He grabbed Sharon's two hands and pulled her up to a sitting position in front of him, her generous mounds swinging into full presentation as if for full inspection.
She gathered herself up onto her knees as he commanded her, "Suck me off and clean it up, we gotta get dressed."
Sharon unabashedly complied, and I stared in fascination at her chest. There was no pendulous swing down as she bent over to comply. Her boobs were too tight and perky What immediately flashed though my mind at that point was, Damn, but that is one hell of a rack she has. They must be 38s at least. I sure would like to get MY hands on them and MY cock in the valley. That pussy looks so pretty damned delicious that I could eat it 'til kingdom come, not to mention fuck it that long.
F.J. brought me back to the reality of the moment with, "Damn it Ted, I hope I can trust you to keep quiet about this. My wife would kill me if she found out."
"Well, F.J.," I replied, "your reputation as a philanderer isn't the best kept secret in the world, as your wife likely knows that, but no, I won't say anything about this little incident. I wasn't here and I never saw a thing."
"Your eyes and that bulge in your pants belie your word, be Mr ... Ronson," grinned Sharon with a bit of a leer.
Thinking quickly, I added, "Especially if I can have a turn or two with this little piece of ass."
By then, the raging boner that was tenting out my pants was even more obvious.
"My how you talk about me, Mr. Ronson, like I was just a pound of flesh."
"Well?" I retorted.
"Don't I have a say in this?"
"By all means, Sharon, what did you want to say?"
"Excuse me," interrupted F.J., "but I've to get some work done before my next class.
He stooped down to the floor and pulled up his clothes. "You work it out with her." Checking himself over once, he quietly slipped out the door. I relocked it.
"You're correct in one thing, at least." Sharon continued, "I do so enjoy sex, lots of sex. And I would be more than glad to fuck your brains out, Mr. Ronson. But, simply because I like to fuck, doesn't make me just a piece of meat, buster. Then again," she giggled, "maybe it does at that."
Sharon was still on the table, sitting on her pretty ass with her clothing just as disarrayed as when I first stepped into the room. Her big tits sticking proudly forward at me, led by long, stiff nipples surrounded by larger than half-dollar sized aureola.
"Well, come and get it, Mr. Ronson, we don't have all day you know. Show me some goods so I can decide how to pleasure you."
.... There is more of this story ...