I sat across the desk from Miss Michelle Carlyle in a cheap plastic chair borrowed from one of the classroom tables, I could see why he liked her, she looked a fair bit like Cameron Diaz back in the nineties but a little older, with tits at least two or three letters higher on the bra chart and squeezed together between her arms as she leaned her elbows on the desk, a sparkling smile across her still youthful thirty-something face. I hadn’t been in school for about twenty years but I was pretty sure her blouse was open at least two buttons more than it should have been.

“How can I help you, Mister Thomas?” Her voice was smooth as satin and her accent was that painfully upper-middle class kind that irrationally irritated me. “Are you concerned about Julian’s progress? I can assure you he’s doing very well. He has an excellent grasp of literature, I can tell he comes from a home that values reading.”

“No, no, I’m aware of his progress, I keep a keen eye on his marks, especially since the separation, these things can be rough on a kid. I’m more concerned about his extracurricular activities, I’m worried he might be getting involved with ... a bad sort.”

“Oh, I can’t say I’ve noticed anything unusual, he has his friend group and it’s seemed quite stable for the few years that I’ve known him.”

“It’s something that’s been happening more outside the classroom.” I said.

“I see. I can talk to him after class, but this may be something you want to discuss with the school counsellor, if you like I could arrange that for you.” Miss Carlyle offered cheerily.

“I might just do that, I’m still not entirely sure what I want to do, to be honest.” I replied. “However ... I don’t think you want me to discuss anything with the school counsellor. Or the headmaster ... or the police.”

Miss Carlyle’s smile didn’t falter, but something about her face now made it look like the smile was glued on, I could feel a hint of tension in the air.

“I can’t say I’m quite sure what you mean, Mister Thomas.” Her voice didn’t betray a hint of flustering.

“I’m sorry, would you get it if I text it to you?” I pulled a phone from my pocket. “Gimme a sec and I can pull your number from Julian’s phone.”

That glowing smile stayed fixed, but something in her bright blue eyes betrayed a sense of panic and her voice wavered as she spoke.

“I can assure you, Mister Thomas, whatever you may have read is a ... a tremendous misunderstanding.” She said through her fixed smile. “I’m very fond of your son as a student but that’s all.”

“Oh I can tell.” I said, flatly, keeping my eyes locked squarely on hers. “Do you tell all the students you’re very fond of that you ‘Can’t wait to have you inside me again’? Or that you’re going to ride them ‘Like a gold medal equestrian’?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mister Thomas, I don’t wish to listen to any more ludicrous accusations.”

“If you don’t want to listen, perhaps you’d like to look at the nudes you told him to delete.” I turned the phone toward her, a shot of her tits lighting up the screen. “Well educated girl like you, did you really expect a fifteen year old to get rid of pictures like these?”

Carlyle’s stunned face was deliciously satisfying.

“I need you to get out of my class.” She wasn’t leaning at me anymore, wasn’t offering up her cleavage as some sort of distraction anymore. She was straight-backed and trying to project some facade of strength or defiance that didn’t reach her voice.

I looked down, put Julian’s phone away, and got up as if to leave. Instead I came around the desk and leaned down right into her face.

“Or what?” I demanded, quietly.

She couldn’t look me directly in the face. She was doing everything she could to suppress her responses but I could see her breathing change in the way her over-exposed cleavage moved, and I could practically feel her quiver.

“Okay, Mister Thomas, we’re both reasonable adults, I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement to ameliorate this ... unfortunate situation. I have some money, if that’s what you want.”

I returned to sit on the opposite side of the desk, resting my calf on my other knee, hands in my coat pockets, staring her down. My guts burned with anger, I wanted to lay her out, there was a sensation in my arms that I had to consciously keep control of.

“I’m quite comfortable, really.” I said, pushing down my impulses. “I might not be quite as well-to-do as you but I make enough.”

She was quiet for a moment. “But ... I’m sure a little extra wouldn’t be unhelpful.”

“How much do you think raping my son is worth?” I asked, bluntly. I almost snorted at the way she stiffened and her face paled, she looked like she wanted to throw up.

“Mister Thomas I ... look ... I have a few thousand spare, I can give you all of it, in cash, we can meet over the weekend for the exchange and we can all move on from this... incommodum.”

I took a deep breath in and out through my nose, tilting my head, glaring.

“I told you, I’m quite comfortable.”

“Alright then. What ... what do you want?” She asked clasping her hands together.

I held my tongue, letting the tension hang in the air, letting it weigh on her while I mulled over how I wanted to proceed.

“Get your tits out.” I said, eventually “and I’ll figure it out.”

“I see. I can do that.”

Miss Carlyle stood up stiffly and unbuttoned what was left of her blouse. Without bothering to take the blouse off she unclipped and lifted her pale blue bra, holding it up as she stared at me almost impatiently.

“Is that enough?” She asked, eventually.

The fucking gall of this woman. She takes advantage of my teenage son and thinks she can buy me off with a flash? The anger was steaming in my chest and my hands balled in my pockets. I kept a lid on it as best I could.

“Are you taking the piss? At least make a fucking effort.”

I hadn’t shouted, or even raised my voice, but the tone clearly took her aback. She pursed her lips and slipped the blouse off her shoulders until it fell onto the chair behind her, her bra followed. She stood there, naked from the waist up, sliding her hands up her torso, lifting and pressing her boobs together as she were offering them to me. She was trying to be sexy. Trying to placate me. It was painfully pathetic as far as attempts go.

“Is there anything else you’d like to see?”

“Lock the door.”

Miss Carlyle slipped her blouse back on, doing up a couple of the middle buttons, it did nothing to hide her cold-stiffened nipples and the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra anymore, but it was a fair bit past school hours now so in the unlikely event of somebody catching a quick glance of her through the narrow glass in the classroom door she’d get away with it. The key turned in the lock and she turned back to me.

“Crawl.” I sneered at her.

“Mister Thomas, you surely can’t expect me to degrade myself like that.”

“Is that unreasonable of me, Miss Carlyle? Perhaps I should ask the police if it would be overdoing it.”

Miss Carlyle gulped and relented. Stiffly she got down onto all fours and crawled her way over the rough grey carpet, sitting back on her heels in front of me and looking up, jaw clenched, trying to hold back her embarrassment.

“Do you want me to take my blouse off again?”

Her voice, previously so smooth and charming, was laced with disdain, disgust even. If it weren’t for the reason I was here that might have amused me. As it was it just stoked my anger. This cunt abused my child. This predator took advantage of my boy. Groomed him over however long and exploited his youth to kicks. He wasn’t old enough to smoke, drink, fuck – he hadn’t even started fucking shaving yet – barely a dusting of fluff across his top lip, and she had the fucking nerve to act disgusted at me? Oh, I’d give her something to feel disgusted about.

“Nah, you keep it on love, retain yourself a little dignity.” Even I could hear the cruel tone in my voice.

I stood. She seemed so small knelt down there. Pathetically small, despite her continuing attempts to maintain some semblance of stoicism and control. I could strip her of those easily enough. She made a face as I undid my belt and undid my trousers.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a little too grown up for your liking, do you want to close your eyes and pretend I’m going through puberty?” I taunted.

“I want to put this behind me, by any means necessary.” Carlyle said, with a cold voice and a heated glare.

“Then you better get started, hadn’t you?”

Miss Carlyle breathed deep through her nose and pulled my boxers down my thighs. I wasn’t hard, yet, but I was sure she could remedy that. Red-glossed lips parted around my mostly flaccid cock, engulfing it in a glorious warmth it hadn’t felt in a frustratingly long time. Her mouth was drier than I was used to, from the fear and stress of the situation I suppose, it didn’t much matter, that’d sort itself out. She teased me with her tongue as she worked back and forth, massaging my dick to life between her lips. As it grew in her mouth she wrapped her hand around the base and started stroking while her head bobbed up and down.

She ran the tip of her tongue down and up and down again, running her it over my bollocks, gently taking each one into her mouth to suck on for a little bit then licking all the way up the underside and round and around the head before taking it back into her mouth again. She looked up at me, smirking with my flesh between her lips, a gleam in her eye, she was getting cocky, arrogant, I suppose she thought she was in control of the situation again, that all she had to do was suck me off and she’d get away with everything. I can’t deny it felt incredible, perhaps that was because I’d gone without for over a year, perhaps she was just that good, it didn’t really matter, this was just a means to an end, just not quite the one she was thinking of.

I laced my fingers into her silky blonde hair and pulled her face off my cock. It was absolutely rigid now, almost achingly so. Miss Carlyle looked between it and me and back again, catching her breath a little. I wasn’t wielding a foot long monster by any means, but I know I’m quite generously endowed, easily well enough to give a girl a decent stretch or lodge myself into her throat. Miss Carlyle was about to learn just how far into her throat I could go.

I put the tip to her lips and they parted around it again, gliding smoothly over my flesh as I slid it over her tongue right to the back of her mouth. She gagged a little, she wasn’t expecting me to go back there, I drew back and went in again, pulling back each time just at the entrance to her throat. Her hands rested on my thighs, something for her to push against if she needed to – they weren’t going to be any help to her.

I gripped her hair tighter and drove my dick all the way in, forcing my way into her throat, turning her sudden squeal into a ridiculous gargle. I started using her golden-haired head as a squealing, gagging, self-lubricating fleshlight, pounding into her throat with no care or concern, it didn’t matter if she could breathe, it didn’t matter if she gagged. Her manicured hands pushed and smacked and pounded against my thighs and hips, I could feel her trying to twist her head away, it didn’t make any difference, I held it tight and pushed her back against the privacy panel of her desk, she wasn’t going anywhere I didn’t want her too.

Carlyle choked and sputtered around my knob, retched and writhed when I held it all the way in, saliva and mucus drooling down her chin and onto her largely exposed tits and the blouse barely covering them. I pulled my cock fully out and a glut of gunk burst from her throat. She tried to plead while her mouth was free, tried to implore me between coughs and sputters and gasps for air as I rubbed and smeared my cock over her flushed face, but she could never quite finish her words.

With one hand in her hair I wrapped the other around her throat and hauled her up, dragging her body to lay back over the desk while I moved around it. Carlyle struggled with a strangled yowl, knocking papers and stationary to the floor, I had to smack her, an open palm across her reddened cheek, and rammed her sharply against the desk.

“Open it! Open your fucking mouth!” I snarled.

Frozen up and eyes gleaming with fear Miss Carlyle opened her mouth slightly again, her head dropping back. I pushed my cock back in, deep into her battered throat, grinding my crotch against her face, I could feel the bulge in her neck under my hand. I pulled out until only the head was still between her lips, sank back in again, balls deep, holding myself there until she started to gag and drawing back again, repeating myself a few times. She panted and whined around my head when she had the space to breathe, her warm breath washing over my saliva-slicked skin with every exhale, cool air rushing past it with every inhale, I held it there a minute just enjoying the sensation, sighing with satisfaction.

Taking both her slender wrists into one hand I started giving her the fleshlight treatment again. I wanted to destroy her throat, to leave her suffering, for every gulp and swallow and cough and word to be a painful reminder of what I was doing to her now for days afterwards, for the very idea of sucking a dick again to make her break out in a cold sweat and her throat to close up remembering the skullfucking she was getting today.

The pitiful cries out of Miss Carlyle’s throat blended hilariously with her gagging and glugging and spluttering, with the slapping of my balls against her slop-covered face, my thighs and sack soaked and dripping with the mess coming out of her. I wasn’t much into sloppy facefucking, to be frank, I didn’t care for the mess, I saw it sometimes in porn and it could be gross if anything, but making a mess of this slut, this predator who preyed on my boy, it felt like the hottest thing I’d experienced in decades, I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer.

I buried myself in her throat, staying in deep and humping her face furiously. I could feel my orgasm racing upon me, the pressure building up in my dick. Carlyle writhed and struggled, her slim figure jerking and arching and kicking, squirming even as I kept her pinned, desperate to clear her throat, desperate to breathe. She could pass out for all I cared.

My head fell back, my eyes rolled in my head, I thrust one more time and erupted, pumping my load straight into Miss Carlyle’s gullet, crying out with my release, hips jerking, thighs trembling, cock pulsing within her ravaged throat with the most intense orgasm I’d had in years. I collapsed back into Miss Carlyle’s chair huffing and panting, eyes closed. Carlyle retched hard and coughed, gasped and spat, retched and coughed some more, sniffled and sobbed and gasped and coughed and fell off the desk with a clatter and a thump.