MY HOT TEACHER: (Volume 5 of the "My Hot..." series; a stand-alone, New Adult novel) by Isabella Johns Page B
Authors: Isabella Johns
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the kissing everywhere. Our entire bodies are giant playlands for the other.
But old Randy Sawyer can’t help himself.
He enjoys this too much.
Or I’m just too good.
Because it isn’t long before his hand is a jackhammer and I feel it well up from his balls, spasm through his mighty shaft, and explode in ropey spurts over his muscular chest. He cries out in ecstasy, calling out my name, which thrills me. Despite being disappointed that this might be the finale to the entire evening, I drive him hard past the finish line with extra forceful licks and deeper pressure with my nose, wanting to give him maximum pleasure, my timing well-honed in the hills of New Hampshire.
Done, immobilized with satisfaction, hands to his side now, no move to clean anything, Randy lets out a breathy compliment: “No one has ever done shit like that, Celine!”
I smile, lean back against the passenger door, stare at him, kind of amazed and pleased that the Professor isn’t the only one I can elicit this type of reaction from.
He says, “I bet you’re disappointed that I came already. Like I’m just leaving you hanging. Well once isn’t enough for old Randy Sawyer!”
I’m pleased he isn’t done, though I question his sudden shift to the third person.
I’m well-moistened from causing this reaction to such a robust male organ. And yes I will be disappointed if I don’t get all I deserve, the final act to help me fully understand the complete context and perspective .
But can he really perform again so soon?
The only time the Professor ever did it twice was that snowy night, with several hours in between.
Randy reaches into his glove compartment for a fast food napkin and cleans up. I notice several packets of condoms. He repositions so that his feet face the driver door and his face points toward me.
He kisses my face, neck, breasts, nipples, and stomach, moves quickly from one to the other. I always love how the Professor takes his time. Randy probably does his best, for someone who just came. But it kind of reminds me of the art kit my aunt bought for me when I was ten that included picture outlines peppered with enclosed numbers that indicated what color to use. It doesn’t take much effort or thought but when you’re done you have a painting.
He helps me take off my jeans and panties. He kisses and licks me between my thighs. Now you’re talking ! My body relaxes against the door. When done right I like this so much I can see myself floating away on some erotic cloud while letting a man enjoy me there all night while I rise and swell into multiple delightful spasms.
He suddenly rises up on his knees. No, please , just a little more, I want to say, we’re almost there!
His penis, still a decent size, is flaccid, but nevertheless looks delicious. He must think I can’t wait to have it. I am quite eager. He ducks his head so he doesn’t bang it against the ceiling and gives me a little nod downward. I take my own shortcut—in anticipation of feeling such a deep thick penetration—and eliminate the licking and teasing and go right for some fast and vigorous porn sucking.
Perhaps he likes this as well, or it’s enough to have me down there again as he closes his eyes and seems to be reliving my last blowjob, because, incredibly, he’s soon as rock hard as the first time. What incredible powers of recuperation! Athletes really are super-hot! He reaches into the glove compartment for a condom and soon has the wrapper ripped open and the latex sliding down his own personal Washington Monument.
He holds it in his hand, I hold my breath, as he thrusts it inside me.
Too fast! It hurts. Maybe because he’s so big, or maybe I’m not as wet as I thought. The Professor always penetrated slowly at first, except after he had worked me over for what seemed like hours and knew I was soaked with anticipation.
Randy pumps me. And I finally relax as he begins to reach
But old Randy Sawyer can’t help himself.
He enjoys this too much.
Or I’m just too good.
Because it isn’t long before his hand is a jackhammer and I feel it well up from his balls, spasm through his mighty shaft, and explode in ropey spurts over his muscular chest. He cries out in ecstasy, calling out my name, which thrills me. Despite being disappointed that this might be the finale to the entire evening, I drive him hard past the finish line with extra forceful licks and deeper pressure with my nose, wanting to give him maximum pleasure, my timing well-honed in the hills of New Hampshire.
Done, immobilized with satisfaction, hands to his side now, no move to clean anything, Randy lets out a breathy compliment: “No one has ever done shit like that, Celine!”
I smile, lean back against the passenger door, stare at him, kind of amazed and pleased that the Professor isn’t the only one I can elicit this type of reaction from.
He says, “I bet you’re disappointed that I came already. Like I’m just leaving you hanging. Well once isn’t enough for old Randy Sawyer!”
I’m pleased he isn’t done, though I question his sudden shift to the third person.
I’m well-moistened from causing this reaction to such a robust male organ. And yes I will be disappointed if I don’t get all I deserve, the final act to help me fully understand the complete context and perspective .
But can he really perform again so soon?
The only time the Professor ever did it twice was that snowy night, with several hours in between.
Randy reaches into his glove compartment for a fast food napkin and cleans up. I notice several packets of condoms. He repositions so that his feet face the driver door and his face points toward me.
He kisses my face, neck, breasts, nipples, and stomach, moves quickly from one to the other. I always love how the Professor takes his time. Randy probably does his best, for someone who just came. But it kind of reminds me of the art kit my aunt bought for me when I was ten that included picture outlines peppered with enclosed numbers that indicated what color to use. It doesn’t take much effort or thought but when you’re done you have a painting.
He helps me take off my jeans and panties. He kisses and licks me between my thighs. Now you’re talking ! My body relaxes against the door. When done right I like this so much I can see myself floating away on some erotic cloud while letting a man enjoy me there all night while I rise and swell into multiple delightful spasms.
He suddenly rises up on his knees. No, please , just a little more, I want to say, we’re almost there!
His penis, still a decent size, is flaccid, but nevertheless looks delicious. He must think I can’t wait to have it. I am quite eager. He ducks his head so he doesn’t bang it against the ceiling and gives me a little nod downward. I take my own shortcut—in anticipation of feeling such a deep thick penetration—and eliminate the licking and teasing and go right for some fast and vigorous porn sucking.
Perhaps he likes this as well, or it’s enough to have me down there again as he closes his eyes and seems to be reliving my last blowjob, because, incredibly, he’s soon as rock hard as the first time. What incredible powers of recuperation! Athletes really are super-hot! He reaches into the glove compartment for a condom and soon has the wrapper ripped open and the latex sliding down his own personal Washington Monument.
He holds it in his hand, I hold my breath, as he thrusts it inside me.
Too fast! It hurts. Maybe because he’s so big, or maybe I’m not as wet as I thought. The Professor always penetrated slowly at first, except after he had worked me over for what seemed like hours and knew I was soaked with anticipation.
Randy pumps me. And I finally relax as he begins to reach
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