Chapter 7

It was early morning at school. A cold wave had blown through River City and a chill was still in the schoolhouse as the big furnaces creaked, rumbled, with their first start-up action of the autumn.

Nancy stood in the girls room applying a thick red slash of lipstick to her juicy young lips. She coated her glimmering red lips with a shiny, shimmery look, extra sweet and kissable. Her cheeks were rosy red, and she wore a light-blue sweater, tight and clingy so her titties bulged out and bounced in front like softballs. The little jeans skirt was denim blue and the hem rode high on her pretty, smooth thighs. Her legs were still tanned, and her feet were in white tennies with blue anklets. The jeans skirt wrapped around her fine hips and her plump tight ass like a wet towel. She fixed her bangs so they were straight on her forehead, then she tied up her ponytail with a white ribbon.

Thus fixed up, Nancy headed out to class. She walked down the hall.

Mr. Dixon, the history teacher, was coming around the corner.

He looked handsome and manly to Nancy. He wore a blue tweed sports coat, gray slacks, blue shirt and a dark-blue tie.

"Well, good morning," he said, appraising the youthful beauty of the darling girl.

"Hi," Nancy said.

"Little chilly this morning."

"Sure is."

"I know how we could warm up, Nancy."

"How?"

"We'll just slip into the men's faculty toilet, find an empty stall, and --"

"Gee," Nancy said. "The toilet?"

"No one will find us. Everyone will be at their first class. You can cut, and since I don't have one, we should be fine."

"I better not," Nancy teased.

Mr. Dixon reached in his pocket and pulled out several folded twenty-dollar bills.

"How 'bout this? Will you, for this?"

He handed the money to Nancy.

She took it, put it in her white purse. "Well, okay then."

Nancy and Mr. Dixon sneaked into the faculty men's room. It was a little bit chillier in the cement darkness of the facility.

Mr. Dixon turned on a light, a dull yellow light. The tiled floor sparkled, and the bittersweet smell of industrial cleaner clung to the air.

Mr. Dixon led Nancy to a toilet stall. They went in, and he locked the stall door.

Nancy looked up at him, her pretty face was as fresh as the early morning. The deep-rose blush on her cheek was enhanced with her own natural blush at the chilliness of the men's room. Her glistening red lips were slightly open, looking wet, luscious.

Mr. Dixon took her into his arms and kissed her. Her fine body, clad in the light-blue sweater, the darker blue jeans skirt, her tennies and sox, a darling teen taste of ecstasy.

The teacher's cock leaped to a hard-on faster than if it had been plugged into a wall socket.

Nancy felt the length of his thrumming cockstalk against her. Mr. Dixon gripped behind her and clutched his hands into the rippling luxury of her fine, tight ass.

Nancy didn't know why, but she liked the way older men held her. She loved his manly hands on her ass. Her heart thumped.

Her pussy gooshed. She was no longer chilly. She rolled her hips against Mr. Dixon.

They broke their kiss and he gulped.

"You're lips are delicious."

"Taste like cheery cherries?" Nancy whispered.

"Yes," he said, bringing his hands around between them, pushing her a few inches away, cupping her titties. "And these big tits of yours. They are so... they... they feel so good, too."

"Good," Nancy cooed.

"You are so good!" he gasped, his hands all over her, roaming like vibrators, feeling her hips, her ass again, back to her titties, her thin waist, her thighs, and finally one hand slipped under the jeans skirt, pushed forward and rubbed the hot little muffin between her legs.

"This feels good too!" he whispered.

Nancy liked the feel of his big, masculine hand down on her cunt, fucking her pussy.

"Mmmmm, yeah!" she purred.

Then she reached between them. Her little hand found his erection. She grasped it and squeezed. "This feels good too, sir. You're big peter."

"Oh, darling!" he sighed, then kissed her again.

Their lips felt wet and warm in the chill of the men's room, and with the wintergreen smell, the pungent odor, the sweet smell of the early morning wafted in the air as they clung together, rubbing each other's hot spot.

Mr. Dixon, with trembling hands, managed to slide Nancy's skirt up to her hips. He slid his hand back down into the crotch of her sopping pink panties. His hand rubbed gently, lovingly, on the squishy nylon. Their lips mashed together, their tongues slapped.

Nancy unzipped his fly, got inside, curled her fingers around the hot, stiff stalk of his erection, then pulled his big nine-inch cock out. She gripped his throbbing cock in an overhand clasp, pushing down on the bending prickstick.

Mr. Dixon dipped into her panties. His fingers slid into the gooey sweetness of her muffin-hot pussy. He slicked a finger into the slit.

Nancy pumped in a slow herky-jerky on his prick.

They broke their kiss.

"Ohhh! Ahhh! Honey!" he panted, his free hand dipping into Nancy's panties from behind, feeling the smooth curves of her ass. They were clutched in passionate love there in the toilet stall, melting the chill of the cool morning with their heated breaths.

Mr. Dixon's cock thumped in Nancy's hand. Her pussy gooshed, quivered, spritzed as his finger fucked lovingly in and out, his knuckles bulging the crotch of her pink panties. Nancy jerked on his prick. His cockhead bubbled, then oozed on her panties.

"Should I beat ya off?" Nancy whispered.

"Yeah, please!" Mr. Dixon gasped.

He broke from her, pulled down his pants and shorts and stood against the door of the stall. Nancy's skirt was so tight that it stayed above her hips by itself. She moved to the side of the teacher, reached over and got an underhanded grip on his stiff prick and pumped slowly.

"Baby!" he panted.

"You're squirtin'!" Nancy whispered as a big chunk of cream flew from the cockhead and splashed to the tile.

"You're wonderful!" he gasped, reaching down, again dipping into her panties, finger-fucking her.

They masturbated each other, the sound of slurping cum filling the toilet stall.

"I wanna fuck you!" Mr. Dixon gulped.

"Do you?"

"Yes, and eat your cunt!"