Chapter 12

The collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the cold war took the rest of the week, because its effects were so wide-spread and continuing. Cecelia's parents thought it was unfair that teachers had so much work to do out of the classroom, and became ardent supporters of educators getting better pay.

Cecelia, while her parents were muttering about low pay and long hours, was spreading her legs for Bob, and muttering for him to go deeper, and keep going longer, as she bucked her hips up at his penetrating rod.

"I love this," she moaned as he stroked languidly in her. "I can't believe I waited so long to feel it."

"It wouldn't be nearly this good with any other man," he panted. "I'm an expert, you know."

She laughed, and wrapped her legs around him, milking him with her pussy muscles and nibbling on his earlobe.

"Cum in me," she whispered. "Give me your hot stuff, Bob. I want to feel you spurting in my pussy."

With a groan he gave in to the almost instant urge to do exactly what she was asking for, and let the streams of semen flow.

She squeezed hard with her legs, holding him firmly in her, and giggled. "Who's the expert?"

Knowing they'd be able to sate their mutual lust after school while they "prepared" for the next day, allowed them to feel less tension during the days in the classroom. Instead, they felt anticipation. If they'd have thought about it consciously, they would have believed that nobody noticed that either.

As education proceeded in their school-room, a school of sorts also went on in Bob's house. She had said he wasn't her teacher any more, but that was a conditional statement. She became his willing student in a different sense of the word, eager to learn all the different ways a man could make love with a woman, and vice versa. She even went so far as to check out a copy of The Kama Sutra from the library, and demanded that they try a different position each night.

The weeks flowed by as both teachers had a summer that, by some standards, was better than that of the teachers who HAD been able to go to Cancun on vacation. And through it all, they were quite sure nobody other than themselves had any clue as to how close they had become.

There is an interesting trait that humans have. They like the familiar. And what's familiar often becomes habit, without establishing the habit on rational thought. While Cecelia loved to experiment with different positions to be in while Bob's lovely fat prick penetrated her, the familiarity she had established with spermicidal suppositories settled into a habit. She never pursued getting on the pill for the simple reason that it was just as easy to slip an egg-shaped giant pill in her pussy ten or fifteen minutes before it might be needed.

Sometimes, of course, it was only five minutes before it was needed, and on more than one occasion, she dropped her panties, reached for a suppository and pushed it between the folds of her labia as she crawled into bed.

On at least ten occasions, Bob's penis pushed the undissolved prophylactic deep in her pussy where, presumably, it was a better place to be anyway.

Unless he spurted before it dissolved, of course.

And Cecelia WAS an expert, in her own way. Most women view premature ejaculation as a hindrance to sustained pleasure. And Bob always apologized when he popped off early. But for Cecelia, who really had nothing to compare Bob with, she took special delight in being able to manipulate him into bursting within her quickly. It made her feel astonishingly desirable to know that he couldn't control himself when she really poured it on.

And, from her perspective, when he came like that, she knew she was in for half an hour of intensive foreplay while he recharged, and that the SECOND time would last long enough for her to have half a dozen orgasms before he spurted in her again.

Over the rest of the course Bob and Cecelia covered, among other things, the beginnings of cloning and genetic surgery, the movement to protect and rescue the environment, the resurgence of religious fundamentalism on every continent, the rise of global markets with the increase in economic inequalities both within and among nations, and the evolution of television, and its dominance in forming world opinion.

By the end of the class it was unusual if Bob or Cecelia had enough time to present all the intended points, because the kids had studied ahead and were prepared to discuss the subject. Examples of issues in their own lives, or that of someone close to them were routine now, and a sense of almost militancy evolved as the students identified things adults were doing that were causing problems that these very students felt like they'd have to clean up some day.

"It's a tough world," said Bob. "Those with power call the shots, quite often. And power often corrupts. That's why you rarely want to elect somebody who's actually running for office. The ideal thing would be to draft people into office for one term and then kick them out. Never trust a career politician. That's my motto." He grinned.

The kids did not.

The last week required more intensive work from both teachers, both to fine tune a final exam, and to do the paperwork associated with the end of a class. Five of their students could graduate if they completed this class successfully. Bob wasn't worried about that because based on what he had seen nobody would get less than a C in the class at all. Kids COULD learn, if they were motivated to do so.

But while Bob and Cecelia still spent time together outside of the classroom in that last week, there was less time to fool around. Their circumstances were a little different than would be usual for most teachers in their situation. There would be one more week of wrap-up after the students were gone. That would be for Bob's evaluation of Cecelia, and for her to write the reports required by the evaluation board back at her university. Because of the way things had worked out, once her student teaching was successfully accomplished, she would have one more semester of college to complete before she graduated. And because of THAT, she was in a position to apply for jobs now. There were always positions vacated mid year, for one reason or another, and quite often the principal knew that before school even started.

So most people in their situation would be looking forward to what was left of the summer. In Cecelia's case, it might be the excitement of applying for jobs and getting ready for her last semester of college. For Bob he had a whole month to spend doing anything he wanted to.

What was uppermost in both of their minds, though, was that in another week, neither would have any "legitimate" excuse to spend lots of time with the other.

It was Friday, and the final exams were in Bob's briefcase, ready to be graded. He had issued the test in the morning, and all of the kids had turned it in before lunch. That was a good sign, though he'd planned it that way, so they could take off early. Cecelia had said she needed to run an errand, so he was sitting at a table in the teacher's lounge by himself when Denny sat down opposite him. It occurred to Bob that he'd spent very little time with Denny lately.

"Where have you been?" he asked, impulsively.

"Right here, bro," said his friend, smiling widely. "I'm glad I got this chance to talk to you, though."

"This chance?"

"With her not here," said Denny.

"Her."

"Don't give me that," scoffed Denny. "You know exactly who I'm talking about."

"I do, huh." said Bob.

"Oh, everybody's all happy about it," said Denny casually. "Even me, despite the fact that it cost me my best friend."

"Happy about what?" asked Bob.

"You two, of course," said Denny. "Most everybody thought you needed to move on after Sherry shit on you, and they're glad you have."

"I haven't moved on," said Bob, getting a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah, right," said Denny. "And you haven't been tapping that sweet slice of happiness long deep and continuous either."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Bob tersely. "And pipe down. Somebody will hear you!"

"Oh ... sure ... OK." Denny grinned. "You are so sad."

"I'm not sad."

"All right, pathetic then. Do you really think you could hide it from everybody? Even the people who don't know you all that well can see it."

"See what?"

"That you and your student teacher are head over heels for each other," said Denny. "Mrs. Miller was even all happy about it, saying it was about time."

"Shit," said Bob, dismally. "If she knows, Horace knows."

"Of course he knows," said Denny. "He'd deny it, but I'd be willing to bet that he's the one who came up with the pool on when you two will go public with things."

"Pool?" Bob's eyebrows arched. "You're shitting me."

"Not at all," said Denny. "I chose way too early, so I'm out of the running already, which is the only reason I'm willing to talk about it. Wouldn't want to be accused of finagling the results, you know."

"There's a fucking pool on us?" Bob groaned.

"Well, it's highly confidential, of course. School personnel only. Horace insisted on that. While everybody here at school thinks it's a great idea, we don't want the school board knowing about anything until after she's finished being your student teacher. I can't tell you who, of course, but there were a bunch of people who put down dates clear into August, saying you were much too savvy to get public with things until then.