Chapter 3: The Accidental Blackmailer, Part Two

I sat back in my chair, having just exploded into my French teacher's mouth. Well, mostly into her mouth. I actually hadn't jerked off for the last week, so I did have a lot in storage, so to speak. She eagerly drank down what she could, though, allowing only a little bit to leak out between her lips. Most of that slid down my cock to pool above my balls, although some spurted out a little further, landing on her upper chest.

I just sat there watching, as she pulled every last ounce of fluid out of me and then let her lips slide down my cock, where she sucked up the cum clinging to my balls.

Finally, she looked up at me, her face wholly undecipherable.

"I suppose you're going to want to fuck me now," she said.

If I were a little bit more experienced, I like to think I would have recognized the Coy Lover, and tossed off an appropriate response, like "I suppose I am," or "I suppose you want me to, don't you?" or something really obnoxious like, "Yeah, I think you've earned it, baby." Well, no, I couldn't pull that one off, but maybe something with sophistication and style, like "How 'bout I give something back to you first?"

I was still light years away from any of those answers, though, because I didn't even see that woman. The woman I saw was the Angry Blackmailee, and my response was entirely different.

"No, no, no, no," I held up my hand. "We had a deal. You sucked my, um, my weenie, and I'll hack into the school computers for you. Wow, that was incredible, Ms. Lee. You were amazing."

"Um, but seriously," she started, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and then licking that clean. "Don't you want to —"

"You know what I want to do?" I interrupted her. Honestly, did she think I had no principles at all? "What I want to do is spend the afternoon out by the pool. I can study French, and if I have any questions, you'll be right there to answer them. I mean, it's not like you can leave, huh?"

"The pool?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah, don't worry, nobody can see in," I told her. "We've got one of those privacy fences."

She still looked skeptical.

"I'm sure Mom won't mind if you borrow a suit," I told her. "Come on. It'll be fun."

By this point, I'd stood up, stepped around her, and pulled my sweats back on. She stood up and, with a final puzzled look at me, went down the hall to my parents' room. By the time I got down to the pool, with a tray full of sandwiches I'd thrown together in the kitchen, she was already there, in a white bikini that complemented her long dark hair and her dark skin. Her tits, as I would have guessed, were swimming in my mother's top, but hey, was it my fault she didn't think to bring her own bathing suit?

"I'm sorry, Terry," she looked over at me. "This was the best fit. So I'm afraid you'll have to put up with some skin. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," I said calmly. "Help yourself to a sandwich."

We spent the afternoon by the pool, me with lemonades, Ms. Lee with a series of gin and tonics that looked to my untrained eye as if they were getting lighter and lighter on the tonic as the sun started down toward the horizon.

By six o'clock, I was done with my studying.

"I thought I'd grill some shrimp tonight," I said. "How does that sound?"

"I'm sorry," Ms. Lee yawned and stretched. "I guess I fell asleep. What did you say, honey?"

Honey?

"I, uh, said I thought I'd grill some shrimp," I said. "But I've got to go get some charcoal from the store, so can I ask you to start the salad while I'm gone? Everything's in the fridge. I'll be back in like twenty minutes."

"My pleasure," Ms. Lee smiled at me.

I cycled down to the store and returned with a bag of charcoal strapped to my handlebars. The block party was still going strong, so I had to weave my way in and out of various neighbors as I returned. I threw the bike into the garage, and as I walked toward the kitchen door, I took a quick glance in through the window.

Oh, my fucking God. Ms Lee was standing at the kitchen island with her back to me. She'd started the salad; ranged around the countertop were little cut up piles of peppers and carrots, and a bowl of shredded lettuce. It was the zucchini that had evidently proved too much for her. Because there she was, her knees slightly bent, her feet spread about two feet apart, the crotch of her bathing suit pulled aside with one hand, fucking herself with the little green guy. She held the slimmer end in the tips of her fingers and alternately thrust it inside herself and then expelled it back out with what must have been some incredible internal muscles.

I could have watched her all day — nobody could see through the window unless they were actually standing in the driveway — but pretty soon people on the street were going to notice that I was standing outside my own house just looking inside. With one last look, I shook my head and headed for the kitchen door.

She must have heard me coming; she was standing at the sink washing her hands when I walked past her with the bag of charcoal. The zucchini, oddly enough, was nowhere in sight.

"Hey," I greeted her as I set down the bag.

"Oh, hi," Ms. Lee answered in what seemed to me to be a strained tone of voice. She turned to give me a smile as she grabbed for a towel. She took a quick glance down at my swim trunks, though, and I remembered that while I was cycling I'd unbuttoned the shirt I'd been wearing when I left. I hadn't re-buttoned it when I got back home, so Ms. Lee could clearly see the tip of my rock-hard dick poking its way through the waistband.

"Oh, my God," I said, "I'm so..."

Before I could finish my apology, she'd evidently gotten so flustered by my immaturity that she knocked over the plastic salad bowl, spilling lettuce on the floor.

"Here, let me help," I offered.

"No, don't bother," she answered, still clearly flustered, "I'll just..."

Ms. Lee had dropped to a squatting position to retrieve the lettuce, and I watched as her eyes glazed over.

"Oh, shit... ," she squeaked.

"Are you okay?" I asked, taking a step closer as I noticed the odd flush on my teacher's face.

"Oh, I," she moaned, wrapping her hands around my right knee and pulling her face tight against my thigh as she began to tremble. "I'm... I'm..."

"You're... ?" I said.

"Unnngggghhhhhhh!" Pam groaned, her body shaking violently.

I was shocked to find that my beautiful French teacher was rubbing her crotch up and down against my shin, kind of like our old German Shepherd, Lucky, used to do, before Mom made Dad take him to the shelter. And then I felt it, something hard in her swimsuit, just like there was something hard in mind.

Oh, shit, I thought, she's one of those, those, um, she-males. Oh, gross... NO, WAIT! It's the zucchini. She's still got that fuckin' zucchini in her! My entry must have surprised her more than she let on, and she couldn't get the little feller out in time.

"OH, God," she murmured, "Oh, I — "

My cock was even bigger now, a full inch protruding above my shorts against my stomach. She was looking directly at it, and to my shock, she suddenly turned her head sideways and tried to take it into her mouth.

The funny thing is, I'd watched that videotape of the card game probably ten times all told. I'd heard Natalie Winston call Ms. Lee a "quantity queen." Hell, I'd even heard Ms. Lee tell the other ladies that if she thought any of her students had a good six inches she'd be — how was it she put it? — conjugating all the verbs he wanted for him after school. And I knew that I had a good eight, maybe even nine inches.

But until that point, I swear it had never occurred to me to put the two of them together, or, quite honestly, to interpret her behavior earlier this afternoon as anything but a response to my accidental blackmail. Yeah, I know, give me a fucking break. I already admitted I was whipped, right?

That ended the day of the Norton Avenue block party. Increasingly confident that I had what Ms. Lee wanted, what Ms. Lee claimed she needed, I slowly pulled her upright by her upper arm.

"No, I —" she whimpered.

Without speaking, I bent my beautiful teacher over the countertop, forcing her curvy ass outward as she braced herself with her hands.

"Qu'est que çe, Mademoiselle?" I teased her.

I reached down with my free hand and squeezed her bikini-covered ass, eliciting a moan of arousal. I slowly slid my hand downward until I felt the bulge that I'd noticed against my leg. I pushed against it, feeling it disappear inside her. She moaned again, her strong muscles involuntarily pushing it wantonly back out. I pushed twice more, watching with interest as Ms. Lee — hell, we were friends, right? — as Pam sank to her elbows, her breasts pressing against the countertop.