Naughty Teacher
OK, so I’m 40, but I’ve still got it where it counts. I’ve got long, blonde hair, toned legs and a figure that most girls half my age would be jealous of. And one of the perks of my job as a University lecturer is that I’m surrounded by hot guys in their twenties, five days a week. Of course, there are the occasional guys who get the hots for me, but it only goes as far as harmless flirting; I might bend down to talk to them to give them a flash of cleavage or brush up against them in the corridor – but that’s as far as it goes.
Or that’s as far as it used to go. There was a new student, Mark, who joined my class. He was a couple of years older than the others and way, way hotter; the kind of guy that might make me fantasise about him at night when I’m being pounded by my husband.
One night, I had to work late. It was a hot summer’s evening and there was no-one around, so I thought I’d freshen up. There are facilities for the students and I wandered into the girls’ showers, stripped off and started soaping my body, enjoying the cool water against my flesh. At one point, I dropped the soap and bent to pick it up. As I did, I saw a pair of feet in the cubicle next to mine. And a face. It was Mark; he was watching me and, judging by what he had in his hand, he was pretty excited. I stood up, momentarily shocked.
But then I thought: “What’s the big deal? Term’s over in a few days and you won’t see him again...”
With this thought in mind, I left my cubicle and opened the door to his. His wet, muscular body sent a thrill through me, although his cock was starting to droop. I stepped in and pressed myself against him, taking his manhood in my palm and stroking it back and forth.
“If you wanted extra lessons,” I said, “You only had to ask...”