All characters 18 and consenting

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Mrs Breeland walked into the classroom with authority; her chin raised up and her handbag held low.

Her meticulously manicured feet were carefully placed in her designer heels, her sundress perfectly ironed.

Almost instinctually she whipped her long blonde hair off her shoulders, before finding her place in the lone green chair that faced the teacher’s desk.

Softly she sat down, her poise and grace so effortless. She stared at the preoccupied teacher who sat behind the oak table, his feet raised up onto it, a book in front of his face.

“I just love Orwell, don’t you Mr Tucker?” Mrs Breeland called, politely announcing her presence.

“I prefer Huxley but the curriculum says this is the text I gotta read.” Mr Tucker replied, his eyes never leaving the pages.

The pair sat for a moment, the air heavy between them before Mr Tucker prodded;

“I thought Mr Breeland would be attending tonight’s parent-teacher meeting?”

With a giggle Mrs Breeland replied; “oh heavens no! My Jeremy is much too busy at work to be attending to me…I can’t see how he would even begin to fit in a meeting such as this.”

The room fell silent again, no response forthcoming from the illusive Mr Tucker. The only sound that filled the cool night air was the sound of crisp pages being turned.

Silent and still Mrs Breeland sat with a calm, muted expression waiting for Mr Tucker to attend to her. As the clocked ticked, it’s silver paneling dusty, Mrs Breeland tapped her foot in unison with the second hand.

“Must you tap your foot Mrs Breeland?” Mr Tucker said, slamming the book closed in an annoyed outburst, revealing his striking bearded face. Holding the book clasped closed, like a preacher addressing his communion, he stood up from the desk.

Now towering over Mrs Breeland she craned her neck up to view him in all his glory. Ill-fitting dress pants hung off his tall frame, his dress shirt untucked and half unbuttoned. Tattoos littered his forearms that were visible thanks to his rolled up sleeves, a canvas of artworks and symbols from a life he wished to forget, although his skin would always remember. He was a piece from a completely different puzzle and Mrs Breeland liked that.

Clutching her bag tightly in response she almost instinctively clutched her pearls. Mrs Breeland gasped at the sudden change of demeanour, even herself not quite so sure if the gasp was one of fear or excitement.

“Mrs Breeland do you know why I called you here?” The towering teacher asked, slamming the book down against his table, a gesture befitting of a man of his likeness. The sudden noise startled Mrs Breeland yet again but this time her smile was visible for just a second longer.

“I don’t rightly know, I assume it has something to do with my boy George.“ The southern lass chimed back, her voice radiating with a lost elegance.

“Your son broke our window!” Mr Tucker said, his deep voice booming loudly as he gestured to the window from which cardboard hung loosely in the frame.

Immediately on the offensive Mrs Breeland spoke up, her voice steadfast yet nurturing and ever so kind;

“Now now Mr Tucker you don’t know for certain my Georgie did that. He’s a good boy and breaking a window isn’t something he would do.” She finished, shaking her head in utter disagreement.

“I know he did it because we caught it on camera.” Mr Tucker said, pointing to the far wall of the room, Mrs Breeland’s smile fell harshly as she saw the small camera affixed to the chipping plaster.

“It’s as cut and dry as this Mrs?” Mr Tucker asked, holding the question.

“Zoe, Zoe Breeland.” Zoe answered, the inflection of her voice heavily leaning on the ‘e’.

“Alright Zoe, as I was saying, the school wants me to pay for the damages as I’ve only just transferred here from out of state. But seeing as your son did this, I have to hold you liable for damages.” Mr Tucker said, walking around the oak table to stand in front of it, a thin sheet of air between the towering teacher and the still seated belle.

Zoe smirked, her eyes never leaving his visage. She nodded as if she were listening yet had almost completely ignored the diatribe Mr Tucker had went on.

With a flick of her blonde hair and a subtle readjust of her dress she asked; “You haven’t yet told me your name Mr Tucker.”

Mr Tucker sighed running a manly, thick hand across his face, his eyes rolling in perfect pairing with his exhale; he wasn’t used to the southern semantics — “It’s Alex, Alex Tucker.”

“And what does your wife call you?” Replied her tone much more sultry and breathy than before.

Instinctually Alex replied, almost dismissively; “Nothing. I don’t have one.” His long hair falling to one side of his face.

With a devious smile, Zoe re-crossed her legs, her long stiletto heels cutting through air. With a tight bite of her lip she simply replied; “Is that right?”

Alex paced over to the window and back ignoring Zoe, his stride confident and long. Zoe watched him like a cat about to pounce before hearing him address her again;

“Mrs Breeland…Zoe, all I’m looking for is for you to pay for the window to be repaired. Your son won’t get in trouble and you can be on your way.”

Looking down into her handbag, Zoe began loudly riffling through the contents of her purse, going as far to put some items along the oak desk.

Perfume bottles, lipsticks and scrunchies of all different patterns now littered the table. With a heavy almost forced sigh she said; “oh darn. I seemed to have misplaced my chequebook.”

Alex walked over to the table and began handing back the items to Zoe, their hands rubbing against one another for only a brief, passing moment.

As she reset her bag Alex leaned up against the desk, his hulking figure moving the desk back slightly, the groan of the table legs loud and obnoxious. Looking back to Zoe he saw that she was now standing, her heels not enough to bring her to eye level.

With a soft smile, her red lipstick popping she spoke; “Now surely there is another way I can repay you for these damages Mr Tucker.”

Alex scoffed, almost offended; “I’m afraid a batch of homemade cookies won’t cut it.”

Smiling coyly back at him, the notion causing her cheeks to blush she stepped forward, their bodies inches apart.

“I had something a little different in mind…but, oh golly I shouldn’t be asking this…but it all hinges on one thing.” She said through an almost performative innocence.

With a raised eyebrow and curled lip Alex replied; “and what’s that?”

Slamming her hands into his tight musclebound chest, she leaned in even further now, their faces millimetres apart. Feeling her hot breath against his skin, he could only grip the table in equal shock and delight as Zoe asked softly;

“Is that camera turned off?”

With a truthful yet confused nod he affirmed her question. Immediately her arms were around him, her lips pressed against his.

Just as quickly as her innocence had appeared it was dropped, her hands yanking his head down to her level to steal a passionate kiss.

As their lips parted ways, Alex looked toward the open classroom door and windows; he was visible from every angle. His heart palpated as Zoe’s hands began to caress down his chiseled frame, finding their way to his cock and balls.

Massaging his ever growing bulge through his pants Alex leaned back against the table as Zoe unclasped his belt, practically ripping his pants down to his ankles along with the underwear.

Both terrified and exhilarated Alex began to grow at an exponential rate as Zoe’s warm and inviting hands encouraged him to full mast.

Standing naked from the waist down, leaned up against his desk, Alex panted as his heart beat with primal fear which only hardened him further. Zoe knelt down between his massive legs, gripping his long veiny cock with both hands.

She lightly slapped his cock against her cheeks, early spurts of precum now adorning her face. She stroked him deeply and slowly, pulling back his foreskin to reveal a thick, bulbous dickhead.

Her eyes grew as she looked at it hungrily. Bringing one of her hands to her mouth she licked from the tips of her fingers down to the base of her wrist, covering her hand in a thick, warm coat of her southern saliva.

She wrapped the drenched hand around Alex’s dick, the spit acting as an impromptu lubricant. Repeating the process with her other hand she gripped him tightly, one had working the shaft, the other the dickhead.

Without warning or suggestion she began stroking his long hard cock at a frantic pace. Her rhythm was immaculate and her enthusiasm unparalleled. If not for his immense self control the visage of her eager smile would’ve made Alex cum buckets then and there.

As the strokes continued, the wet sloshing sound of a fantastic handjob continued, Alex gripped the ends of the oak table hard, his knuckles going white.

Maintaining firm eye contact, Zoe’s deep blue eyes called out to him as her voice did the same;

“Oh Mr Tucker, you’re so big. It takes both of my little hands to hold you.”

As if feeling the compliment firm him up she spoke again;

“Oh my, you’re practically dripping!” She said her voice pitching up higher as she leaned her now open mouth closer to the tip, teasing Alex beyond words.

He released one of his hands from the table and placed it on her head, trying to push her supple, sexual lips around his aching cock. With a slap of her hand he recoiled as she stroked him with one hand.

“Alex Tucker! I am not that type of girl!” She said using her now free hand to remove her natural, mature breasts from her sundress.

The boobs were large and bouncy. At one point they had been full of milk and were even larger than they were now. The stretch marks exciting Alex even further. I’m an odd moment of clarity he thought for the first time as he stared at her hardened nips that he was jealous of George for sucking on those elegant, amazing boobs.

Reaching a hand down to grab a fistful of her fun, bouncy boobs, he was met with a quick swat of Zoe’s hand just like before.

“You can look but not touch Mr Tucker. Now where were we? Oh yes—“ she said speeding up the jerk off as she breathed hot steamy air across his dripping fat cock “you were going to ask me something.” Continuing to blow a hot breeze across his dickhead.

Feeling embarrassed and somewhat powerless he met her eyes, his dick practically pissing precum and asked, almost moaning; “can you suck it?”

“Suck what?” Zoe said acting oblivious, the wave of pleasure building deeply in Alex’s balls.

“Can you suck my cock?” He said, barely able to spit the words out as his brain felt fried by the dopamine overload.

“Say my name.” Zoe ordered her voice so light and airy yet her tone so authoritative and commanding. She stroked him even faster now, her grip tightening. Oh fuck…he was almost there.

“Can you suck my cock Zoe?” He asked; his hands squeezing onto the desk for dear life. Doing everything in his power not to cum as the gorgeous blonde haired southern mother jacked him off with a speed and firmness he had never felt before and would likely never feel again.

“Now Mr Tucker where are your manners?” Zoe said from between his legs, her smile ever so devious. She bit her lip at him, relishing in how his brain couldn’t compute or compete against her sexual abilities. She wrapped her other hand around his long aching shaft and continued to stroke, his firmness like an overinflated car tyre.

“PLEASE please Zoe can you please suck my cock?” Alex pleaded, his knees almost bucking under the weight of the pleasurable powerhouse that sat between them.

Nodding affirmatively she dove upon his engorged penis, taking it entirely into her mouth, her manicured and delicate hands now pressed up against his tightening legs.

Bobbing and sucking, Alex felt her amazing, sensual tongue discover and enjoy every inch of his cock. His synapses were fried with pleasure, his brain overloaded by her touch.

The pleasure wave no longer ebbed but screeched high like a tidal wave, reading itself for impact. Feeling all his muscles contract and his brain go white he felt the euphoric wave crash upon the shore of his mind.

“Oh fuckkkkk” Alex groaned loudly, his voice almost certainly bellowing out of the room and down the hall.

His muscles all spasmed and simultaneously contracted, as he released a powerful explosion of cum into Zoe’s eagerly awaiting mouth.

Enthusiastically she sucked every drop from the cum fire hose that was his cock. The torrent stream filling her tight little mouth.

Gulping it down Alex fell back against the table, slamming his hip against it as Zoe continued to suck and drain the contents from Alex’s cock and balls.

With one final suck she released now limp, post-orgasm cock from her mouth. Through watery, partially opened eyes Alex squinted down to see Zoe, mouth agape presenting a mouth full of cum to Alex.

With a silent swallow the contents disappeared from her mouth and from Alex’s view as she poked her tongue free, sensually saying “ahhh”, proving she had taken it all with ease.

Panting heavily, Alex braced against the table, his lungs heaving to get in the air, his brain still searching for the correct pathways to control his body.

As if factory reset he could only watch as his body failed him. Standing now, tucking her boobs back into her sundress, the southerner flicked her hair across her shoulders as she reached deeply into her handbag.

Retrieving her chequebook once thought ‘lost’, Alex watched with a gaping mouth to see her pull out a pen and quickly sign it, the movement so fluid and almost mindless. Ripping the cheque from its brethren as Alex picked up his pants, Zoe walked over and tucked it gently into his busted open dress shirt pocket.

With a silent poise she walked to the still open doorway of the classroom.

“You know Mr Tucker, I think you’re right. Parents should be held responsible for their children. Perhaps it’s up to the teachers, such as yourself, to punish us.”

Adjusting himself, tucking his almost fully unbuttoned shirt into his pants and trying to comb his hair back into some semblance of formality Alex replied; “Aren’t you a little old for detention Mrs Breeland?”

Smirking as she gripped the door, her mature yet slender body silhouetted by the lighting in the hall. As she flicked her hair one last time she slowly pulled the door, closed she called out to Alex in that sexy, utterly infatuating accent that would forever drive him wild;

“Oh of course…It’s just that…I just find a good spanking always sets me straight is all…”

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Thanks for reading. Shoutout to the Southern lovelies who inspired this story. Let me know if you’d like a part two xx