“So yeah, I’ll be late for dinner”, my wife said over the speakerphone located in the storage alcove adjacent to my classroom. I could hear papers on her desk rustling over the phone line. She was distracted by work, so I might be able to stumble my way through this, so to speak. “I might not even make it until late. Go ahead and have something on your own. You’re always eating at your desk anyways, so that’ll be fine. I just wanted to let you know before you thought anything bad happened.”

On my end of the conversation while she was talking, there was something bad happening. Very bad. There was a soft grunt, thankfully inaudible over the phone that sat on the floor beside my head, as a long, thick turd inched closer to my mouth, not only growing longer but also astonishingly thick considering the petite teenager it was sliding out of, squatting inches above my face. As it emerged with a soft, moist hiss of escaping flatulence from her distended, tight ring, the lower tip entered my mouth. My eyes were wide open and locked on the monstrous log. It just kept coming. I prayed that there was some anatomical limit to how big a log her colon could produce, or that it would break off, or that she would just not be so obvious during the phone call. But it just glacially flowed on. Slowly her hips moved back and forth causing her chocolate tail to sway along in gentle arcs. There was my answer. She was going for full on humiliation while I was on the phone with my wife, whom I prayed was oblivious to the noises on this call. Watching me the entire time, she wanted me to chase her turd back and forth. I complied, carefully lifting my head and inching it into my mouth with my lips and teeth, trying like hell to prevent it from breaking off and smearing into my hair and clothes. Inches passed, moist and rank, until her seemingly bottomless colon finally ran out of raw material and I began to chew through the soft, horridly bitter mass as quickly as I could to avoid any abnormal lull in the conversation, trying to hold my breath so as to delay any inevitable retching on my part. “Mmmmhmmm” I replied, nasally but as calmly as I could manage without gagging as the ample dump overwhelmed my senses. Swallowing what I could, I croaked out “I’ll be fine” with a mouth half full of the heady foulness. I swooned.

My wife laughed. “I can hear you eating already. Don’t have too much of that junk. It’ll make you sick. I’m always telling you that you need to chew your food sweetie. I’ll see you when I get home. Love you, bye!”

My response of “Love you!” came out muffled as I was disconnected and the ass that was supplying my dinner lowered back down, fully onto my face, and supple, smooth buttocks surrounded me and sealed off my view from the floor.

“Junk? We’ll see about that. She is right, though. You need to take your time and chew,” followed by a girlish laugh came from above me.

The filthy ring blossomed into my mouth like some obscene flower as she farted, loud and wet, with my mouth sealing it. “Ready for the main course? I kept it warm for you so wouldn’t be hungry later!” I groaned from my position underneath her as she began to rapidly deliver the rest of my meal with a renewed vigor into my still half-full mouth.

In another context those words would sound so caring, but here and now they had so much menace in them that I involuntarily shivered since I knew it didn’t matter if I was ready or not, it was coming and I had to make space as it began snaking out from her and into me. Sure enough, my mouth filled much faster than I could swallow as her supply seemed to be limitless. I knew this was intentional on the part of my tormentor. She must have been controlling herself during the phone call, to prolong the anticipation of her dump, but not now. She was unloading at a high rate now. I knew there would be no mercy from her. It was swallow or choke on her rich gift.

“Save some room,” she teased “I’ve got loads more!” I could hear her heavy breathing as she frigged herself and neared orgasm.

It wasn’t always like this.

I teach science. Where isn’t important. Let’s just say it’s older kids, high school juniors and seniors mostly. It’s no place special and the school itself is just an average public school you could find anywhere throughout the country. Besides, I’d hate to have this story get out. The internet and other technologies have made it really easy to trace people these days over just the smallest revealed detail. I am still somewhat amazed that I have not gotten into more trouble than I’m in now over this.

Last fall, I called a new class of students to order with a welcome back from summer vacation, a roll call and then a brief review of the course syllabus and what topics we would be covering over the year. I have been teaching for a few years at this school (gotta be careful about revealing how many!) so I had a good rhythm in my teaching style by this point in my career. Still, I was young enough to imagine myself in their position: sitting inside on a beautiful day, in a funk because summer was over, and the march of seasons that meant autumn was coming soon and then winter.

I’d seen most of the students in this class around the school over the previous years. Some I had even taught as underclassmen. Some were eager students, some projected boredom like a shield around them. Once you’ve progressed into adulthood, you almost forget that no one can quite project that apathetic “anywhere but here” mood the way that teenage students can. I empathized briefly but leading a class means everything runs on a tight schedule, so I dug into the lesson plan. So began another school year.

Schools have had to catch up with the changes in society so there’s a greater sense of accountability and monitoring. Lawsuits, other threats and payouts for misdeeds in other school districts mean this is just the schools protecting themselves. It’s common sense really. Cameras now silently monitor areas throughout the school and for the first few days, there is a sense of someone watching. That sense passes in time. It always does. Cameras are pervasive in society and you almost forget they’re there.

While there weren’t cameras in my classroom, there was one outside my room, focused on the door leading to the small walled off alcove attached to the room I taught in, since the room was used as storage for various class materials and equipment. The entrance to my room was just out of view of the cameras.

This particular class was a general level chemistry course. Most of the students were smart enough to plan on getting into a 4-year university post-graduation. In fact, since the class was a mix of grade levels, many had already applied to various universities, local and distant. The class was a fairly even mix of male and female. Where maybe a decade or so before, most math and science courses were weighted heavily towards male students, there was a gradual trend to more girls applying themselves to the sciences. This was a good thing, in my opinion.

As I noted, I am younger than many of my co-workers. Not fresh out of teaching school, but not an old fogey either. Of course, I have heard the stories of some of the student lolitas begging teachers for improved grades and offering various things in return. Well, I suppose all teachers have heard this. Turn on the news and not a month goes by during the school year with some teacher or school official being caught with their pants down in some form or another. That wasn’t me. Really.

I had been married for a few years (oops, almost slipped again!) to a woman I met in grad school while I was getting my teaching degree. She was pursuing her J.D. to become a lawyer. We were friends for almost a year before we began dating. Looking back, time fogs as it tends to do, and it’s hard to remember exactly how that all came about, but it seemed like “boom!” and we were a couple. The relationship progressed and we ended up married after she had passed the bar exam.

Of course, law schools around the country produce a bumper crop each year and there are fewer and fewer of the plum positions available to these freshly-minted graduates. So, my wife ended up finding a job as a paralegal in a city across the state. At least she had some income. I was able to get a job as an on-call substitute teacher in a town just outside the city teaching various disciplines and together, we made enough consistent income to get a small apartment on the edge of the city.

As time progressed, I finally got a full-time teaching job and things seemed on their way up. My wife was committed to her job, but her progress up the career ladder had a few more obstacles than mine did, so she stayed as a paralegal, working long hours and waiting for her turn. As such, we had no kids; there just wasn’t time yet for the responsibility, although we kinda agreed that we would discuss the issue more seriously once we had more stability in our lives. I took that word “stability” to mean once my wife finally advanced to a full lawyer salary. Teaching may have perks, but a big salary usually isn’t one of them.

This class progress through the weeks into autumn and the students began to fall into their roles, almost if there was a plan. As usual, some had good mastery of the initial course material, some struggled a bit. I always made myself available to students for extra help after class (I had a free period immediately following this class) or after school. With my wife working long hours, it’s not like I had to rush home, so I tended to be generous with my time. If no one came for help, I could use the time to grade papers or polish my lesson plan. Some students took me up on it, but not all of the ones who were falling behind were using the help I was providing. I can’t make to floundering ones get the help they need, but I can advise them when I see the potential for trouble. Usually around the first major exam midway through the semester is enough to spur some of these students to start seeking extra help.

About a week after the first big exam, a group of students were around my desk, discussing the day’s lesson and trying to understand the finer points that were emphasized on the week’s homework set. Hovering around the back was a senior named Margery. She was a smaller, somewhat lean Asian girl with long hair perpetual in a ponytail that would’ve reached to the middle of her back if she let it down. She was pretty in a soft and feminine way and favored knee-length skirts and long sleeve blouses, simple conservative fare. She was a quiet student, and seemed serious enough that I never really noticed her beyond the normal class activities. Seeing her in the cluster around my desk, I remembered that she had stumbled badly during the recent exam. Ah. The request for extra help.

The group around my desk thinned and Margery came to the front where I gave her my attention and she politely and quietly asked if I would be available that afternoon to talk about the challenges she was having in the class. Of course, I said I would be available and happy to take time to work with her. I got a small smile from her as she nodded and then skipped out of my class and I moved on myself to the teacher’s lounge for my free period before lunch.

After school, a few students remained from my last period class amid the bustle in the hallways as the school went through the daily routine of kids going every which way – going home, or to sports practice on the athletic fields, or any other of the seemingly countless after-school activities. Sometime during this organized chaos, Margery was there in the room, putting her heavy looking book bag beside the desk she normally occupied in the front row of my class and quietly waited.

One by one, the students round my desk took leave until there was just Margery and I left.

“Well, then! Now that that’s done, I’m all yours Margery.” I said with a soft clap of my hands and smiled at her. She beamed at me, as her eyes crinkled at the edges of her face. I turned around and began to clean the boards of the day’s notes that were left behind. “What can I do for you?”. I turned back as she reached into her bag and pulled her notebook. Rising from her chair she approached my desk. As I watched her, I noticed her supple, graceful movement and saw that her legs were not as slender as I had assumed before. Instead, under her plaid skirt, she had strong calves with noticeably prominent musculature. Well now, how had I missed that? I thought. I pride myself on not “perving” on the girls in my classes, so it’s quite possible I missed this during class, but what has been seen cannot be unseen.

Margery rounded my desk and sidled up to my chair as I took a seat to check her notes. We went through the current lesson and while she was a bit weak in some of the concepts but with just a few moments of one-on-one time, I felt she had a good grasp on the material. We ran through a few sample exercises and I noticed her smell as she leaned over next to me to write in her notebook that sat in front of me. A healthy girlish smell, both fresh and exciting in a clean way. I began to wrap things up with “Is there anything else you’d like to cover today?”

Margery stood up straight and got a serious look on her face. “The exam. I bombed and...”

“You didn’t bomb it, Margery.” I interrupted “But I’ll admit, you could’ve done much better.”

“That’s just it,” she said as she rocked while adjusting those legs and calves. She looked a little flustered. “I’m counting on this class to help with my college transcripts. My parents will kill me if I don’t ace this class. They’re always pushing me to do well, and I just can’t let this class slip.”

“Well Margery, I am happy to help how I can. And like I said, you didn’t do that badly. There’s plenty of time before the term ends, so I’m sure you can get those scores up. You and everyone else who didn’t do so well last week. Besides, you seem to have a good grasp of this material so just keep hitting the books.”

“You don’t understand my Mom!” she insisted, eyes wide as she stood up straight and began to close her notebook. “Any kind of failure is unacceptable. I can’t have this on my grades!”

“I feel for you, I really do.” I countered. “Parents can be the toughest critics, but you can get through this. We can do some one on one work and fix your grades.”

“Really?” she asked hopefully.

“Really,” I answered. Then Margery’s face changed a little. Not really hardened but set in a way like she had proven a point and got what she wanted. She turned with her notebook and went back to her desk. As my eyes followed, they inevitably dropped to her ass. Like her calves, the shape and musculature was both very feminine but very strong underneath that plaid skirt. For the second time that day, I wondered how did I miss such a thing, and I thought that maybe I had been seriously underestimating this girl. I turned back to finish erasing the boards and I heard Margery pack up and head towards the door.

“Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow” she said from behind me. I turned my head to watch her walk out and she was staring at me. It seemed as though she was almost daring me to look away.

I did look away, as I said “Bye Margery. Remember what we talked about.” But she was gone.

In the days following, Margery came regularly to my after-school sessions and I began to notice her more during the regular classes. There was a low-key intensity to her as she watched me lecture. She was alert and watchful but not overt in her attention. Had I always missed this? I couldn’t really say, but I didn’t fail to notice those legs and her ass under the conservative attire she wore daily.

The afterschool sessions were low key, especially since by now Margery had a firm grasp on the materials covered in the lessons and problem sets, yet she continued staying late. Almost daily she returned to the topic of the exams and how could she get the grade she felt she needed to get what she felt she deserved. Likewise, I assured her that at her current pace she’d have no concerns about grades. I do have to admit, I enjoyed having her around me during these sessions. I would sneak looks at her when she wasn’t looking, or breathe deeply of her smell when she was standing beside my desk. I found myself looking forward to time alone with her. In a professional sense, of course.

One day, as she was standing next to me desk, bobbing back and forth and shifting her legs, she asked what her likely grades would be, provided she lived up to her potential on the next exams. “I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t pull a B for the semester,” I told her.

Storm clouds crossed her face and she blew a big mouthful of warm sweet breath in my face, as I quickly added “Hey hey hey, a B is not bad for this course. I’d bet there are many people in your class who would love to have that mark on their report card.”

“No, you just don’t understand!” she practically wailed. “I have to get an A. There’s just no other way!”

“I’m sorry Margery, I just don’t see that happening but you’ll be fine.” I added “Trust me.”

“Well, is there anything I can do for extra credit? A report? Helping out in the lab? Extra problem sets?”

A light went on in my head. “You know, there may be something. I do need to reorganize the store room back there,” as I pointed to the back of the class room. “Tell you what,” I began “We may be able to work something out if you can help me back there.”

Now this was more to her liking, a slow, smile spread across her face as then she looked back over her shoulder at the anteroom. “OK, when can we get to it?”

“Jeez, I suppose we could start today. There’s not much to cover from today’s lecture, you did very well on the last problem set. You mean you want to start today? In those clothes?” I asked, gesturing to her familiar long-sleeved shirt and skirt. “You’re not worried about getting those dirty?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m pretty careful about not getting myself dirty,” she answered, and I swear she was smirking as she said it.

“Let’s do this. Come with me,” I said as I grabbed my keys from the desk and headed for the hallway.

“Can’t we just go through the door in here?” she asked, gesturing to the access door at the back of the class.

“The door on the other side is blocked. That’s one of the things we need to clean up in there. It’s mostly moving some boxes around. Most of them are empty but space is tight. Come on,” I nodded towards the hallway.

I unlocked the access door in the hall an let us into the room, hitting the light switch just inside the door frame. With a sweep of my hand, I gestured for Margery to enter the room, as I followed, looking at her firm ass wiggle underneath her skirt and the door close behind us.

Amid the clutter in the room, were a series of open shelves, chemistry equipment, expensive looking electronics gear for the physics laboratory, old test books, and boxes. Lots of boxes. We began breaking down the boxes to flats. Once we had a few, I assigned Margery storage duties. I found a step ladder and directed her to store the cardboard flats on top of the shelves. That would go a long way towards organizing the mess.

Margery climbed up halfway and I sneaked a peek at her legs and ass again. I handed her the first few flats and held the ladder steady which she arranged them on top of the racks. While she stretched up and forward, her skirt lifted to just below her ass. It was as if a thunderclap that only I could hear rocked the room. And like that, I was hooked. What I thought was a healthy, shapely teenage girl’s bottom was a mouthwatering pair of fleshy, round globes. The color was like café au lait and completely blemish free. Smooth and tight skin covered the thick round bubble of each cheek. And if there was underwear underneath the skirt, it was microscopic or hiding between her cheeks. I inhaled deeply and felt my heart hammer in my chest.

“Are you getting a good look?” she asked from above me. Oh shit. I was busted and in a bad way. She totally caught me staring like the dirty old man I suddenly felt like.

“Ummmm, ah” I helpfully explained. “Ahhhh, it’s not what it looks like. I was just...”

“Looking up my skirt?” she said as her eyebrows went up, as if to guide my completely addled mind along a path to answer where there was more logic than lust, but somehow failed miserably. “Looking up my skirt,” she repeated “inside this locked room? With the door closed? After school hours? And with the camera outside in the hallway showing us going in?”

Oh.

Oh no.

This was bad. This was really, really bad. Everything she said was true. And everything she said made me realize that I had better try to handle this situation before I found myself in a really awkward position with the school administration. I knew that the security cameras recorded us going into the room together, but I also knew the tapes were only reviewed if there was an incident that was reported. If there was no report, the tapes would be erased and reused within a few weeks. If I could convince Margery that I meant no harm and promised to be good, I told myself that I might be OK here.

“Look, Margery, I’m sorry. I am just...”

“Just looking at my ass while I try to help you up here? Hmmm?” she finished for me. She was not going to make this easy for me. In this rush of events, I just began to notice that she was holding the position with her skirt raised up, her ass almost exposed and looking over her shoulder at me. She was all but daring me to take another look. I began to notice two additional things which made my predicament much worse. First, with her in that position, I could smell the unmistakably female aroma of her crotch, and it was getting stronger. The second thing was that I was very painfully aroused. I stood rooted to the spot, fearful that if I moved or broke the spell she would step down from above and go straight to the main office to report me, but maybe even more afraid that she would cover that ass that just broken my world to pieces.

I couldn’t quite see her mouth from my position below but there was that look of determination in her eyes that I had seen a few times prior. “What would happen,” she began, “if I went to the office and reported you for harassing me? You’d have a problem, wouldn’t you?” She finally had some mercy on me and lowered her skirt and turned to face me, but not stepping down from her position above me. “Don’t answer, just nod your head.” Her tone was firm and very much in control. She had me and we both knew it.

I found myself nodding.

“Do you think you would get fired?”

I nodded.

“Would you be on the news, do you think?”

I nodded yet again.

“Are you ready to talk with me about how we can help each other then?” she asked. Ah, here we were then. I nodded a final time, watching her eyes. The trap had been baited, set, and sprung before I even recognized it for what it was. I was impressed. She had taken some time to plan this out, and it worked flawlessly.

“OK. We will start with some serious discussions soon, but I think we need to seal this deal.” She turned back around on her ladder step while lifting her skirt in one motion, this time entirely revealing that magnificent ass, and the fact that there was indeed no underwear to cover it. “Kiss my ass.” She bent at the hips and stuck her ass backwards towards my face. I was completely and utterly dumbfounded. I was a million miles away, yet a huge throbbing pulse in my groin anchored me to that room, to that instant, to that ass less than a foot from my face.

“I figure it’s only right that you get to kiss it, since it’s what got you into this mess. Seal the deal with a kiss. I promise you’ll like it!” she ended with a girlish giggle, as she slowly, hypnotically moved her hips back and forth in a slow rhythm, rocking on those unbelievable legs. This whole scene was so surreal, and had gotten so out of control, I was not at all surprised to find that I was following along with her hips like the prey of a cobra as it glided towards its meal.

My hands moved up to hold her gyrating hips and she clucked “Uh uh. Lips only. I tell you what to touch and when. Got it?” Pointing at the crack of her twin globes, she never stopped moving her ass and legs. When did this young girl get so much control over me? How had I let this escalate? I nodded and leaned forward as she slowed her swaying and backed her ass just in front of my face and I kissed the crack of her ass ever so gently. It was warm, soft and smooth. But the smell is what made me believe that I would fulfill my end of this bargain. The odors from her backside were so intoxicating I knew that I would do almost anything to smell that again. Girlish and warm, there was some sweat, some powder and som

“Great,” she bubbled, standing up, covering her incredible posterior and climbing back down the ladder. Gone was the dominant, assertive huntress and back was the quietly alert student I had left back in my classroom. “We’ll chat tomorrow. Bye!” and with that, she scooted out the door, leaving me standing in the same spot I was in when it all began. It felt like an hour had passed but it was maybe five minutes. I finally moved again of my own free will and began breaking down boxes again.

When I got home, the whole scene replayed. Me getting baited. Margery’s incredible legs and ass. The sudden sexual tension when she took control. The threats she made. I masturbated to an enormous orgasm in just minutes in the front seat of my car before I got out into the parking garage and went in to see my wife.

I dreaded the approach of Margery’s class, yet was shivering with anticipation of what she would do. In retrospect, I really shouldn’t have worried. What could be done in full view of a room full of people? Margery and the rest of her classmates filed in and took their seats. I followed her legs, and in anticipation, felt a swelling in my groin.

Briefly I scanned the room, and panicked wondering if she had told anyone about what had happened yesterday. The usual faces looked back. There were no secret giggles or knowing looks from anyone, at least as far as I could see. Even Margery sat with the same quiet look, wearing the same style of clothing as always, with nothing to betray the bargain that had been made. In default mode, I taught. Not one of my better classes but I muddled through.

With about 10 minutes left before the end of class, I turned from writing on the boards at the front of the room to talk with the class. Slyly, with no one else the wiser, Margery had pulled back her skirt to flash a moist and hairless vagina from under her desk at me. Two fingers were dancing across her labia showing a pink wetness. I dropped the marking pen I had in my hand and used bending over to retrieve it to mask my surprise, but other than that, I made no sign that anything was out of the ordinary. Not sure how I pulled that off, but by this point, I was really not asking how or why these things were happening.

I sat at my desk as class ended and the students filed out. Margery was towards the end of the procession and as she filed past, she smoothly reached out to touch my hand. The fingers that grazed mine were slick and covered with what I assumed was girl cum. She never slowed or looked at my reaction, just continued on her way out the door. Once everyone was gone, I brought my hand up to my face, inhaled her scent deeply and licked my hand clean of her juice.

After school again, and the students around my desk gradually peeled away, leaving Margery, whose appearance and presence went unnoticed by everyone except me. I was wary of the terms of this bargain, and not very eager to hear what she had planned.

“Oh, now look at you!” she started quietly after the rest of her schoolmates had left. There was a quiet authority in her voice as she continued “The look on your face says you’re not happy.”

“I’m not happy Margery,” I replied.

“Quiet!” she flared briefly, then waned. “I know better. Nod your head: when you went home last night, did you jerk off to what happened yesterday?” I was stunned by what she said, but I nodded. She turned away from me, presenting me with those legs and that skirt covering the treasure I so very much craved. She reached the door to the classroom and gently closed it. Once it clicked, she raised the back of her skirt to show the full moon she hid under her skirt. “Did you think about this?” I nodded, even though she wasn’t even looking at me. “Did you think about kissing it?” I nodded again. She finally turned and lowered her skirt. “About the smell? Did you like the smell?” I nodded, watching her move back, ass-first, towards me like a predator. “Good boy. I like it when you tell the truth. That will make things much easier for us. Now, I am ready to give you some of what you want, but first, you’re going to help me.”

“You want your exam grade changed, don’t you?” I asked, feeling the pit of anxiety in my gut deepen.

She smiled. “Of course, I do, silly boy. But we’re gonna do better than that. This,” she said as she reached behind her and patted her rump “is worth more than just one test score.” She continued rubbing her ass and slowly worked the back of her skirt up, working her hand back and forth, like she was wiping her ass. “I’ll tell you what. I will make it easy for you. Obviously, I expect an A for the entire year. Like duh! But, I am a high achiever, so I will actually make an effort to do some of the work in this class. Who knows, it may be useful in college. Aaaand, if I slack off too much, it will be obvious and people will notice. And we can’t have that.” Her hand came back around as she wiped a wet film across my upper lip with the heady smell of pussy and ass. I gasped and stared at her. I could not believe a girl I thought was so quiet and innocent was capable of such erotic and defiling actions. She just wiped her ass on my face and I was ready to fall to my knees in front of her and ask for more. My cock was ready to jump through my pants and I still had my clothes on.