breathing regulated, his cock grew in his jeans—she could feel its hardness assaulting her thigh, and she crept up like a night stalker. Her juicy crotch, nestled into infinitely tight jeans, was desperate to meet him head-on.
When her hand rode down his chest, down toward that delicious dick she knew so well, he swept it away. “I’ve got to get downstairs. This is my job we’re talking about.”
She caught him before he could back away, and she knew he wouldn’t dare fight her off. Using his shoulders as leverage, she hopped up on the teacher’s desk and squealed as her jeans wrapped snug to her mound. She kicked off her jelly shoes. Her denim camel toe glowed by streetlight. When she leaned back and opened her legs, setting one foot up on the desk, Ryan was powerless. He stared at the denim mystery between her thighs as she slid her fingers down the fly.
Ryan took a big breath in, like he was going to say something, and then he let it out. Muffled music rose through the floor like a highway mirage. It thumped through her body with the energy rushing to her clit. “Lick me,” she said. “Kiss my jeans.”
Like a prophet before his savior, her husband fell to his knees. He cupped her ass in his hands, pulled her pussy close, and inhaled. As he released that breath, passionate reverberations ran through her body. He sniffed her crotch like a dog, and she loved it, but she wasn’t satisfied. “Lick me,” she repeated.
He did her one better—he attacked her cunt, biting her jeans like a rabid mongrel. Pangs of sexual electricity shot through her, from her clit to her tits, and all the way out to her fingers. Even her scalp buzzed in response to his animalistic zeal.
What could she feel through the thick denim seam pushing into her slit? Wetness—her pussy juice combined with his saliva to soak the crotch of her jeans. Warmth, too—she felt the heat of her seething pussy join his scorching breath. Her bare arms sizzled in waves as she sent her hand on a mission to find scissors in Mr. Lambert’s desk. Crazy to think that only hours ago those desks had been occupied by horny little high school students who saw her husband as nothing more than a straight-laced teacher. Imagine what those kids would say about him after tonight! She should feel guilty for making a scene, but as she pulled a pair of black-handled scissors from the desk, she felt only lustful adoration.
“Cut them,” she instructed, setting the scissors on her belly, blade facing away from him. “Make me Daisy Dukes.”
He looked up at her, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but he shook it off. “I’m not going to destroy your jeans … at my school … in my classroom!”
“Okay,” she said. She could be reasonable. “Then I’ll do it myself.”
Hopping down from his big desk, she tossed her foot up on one of the smaller student desks and started cutting from the bottom hem.
“What are you doing?” Ryan cried. “You’re ruining your jeans!”
A chuckle rumbled deep in her throat and, even knowing it might piss Ryan off, she let it out. “I think you answered your own question there, Sherlock.” She cut fast. Once she’d finished, he’d forget his objections.
He stood in the center of the floor at the front of the darkened classroom. His breathing seemed to grow deeper as he watched her cut off two entire legs of denim. All she left in the middle was the seam digging into her slit. That band of tough fabric kept her wet throughout the destruction of personal belongings. Now her trim black hair and her dark pussy lips were plain as day in the V of her thighs.
She’d cut her jeans off almost all the way to her hip bones on either side, but left the bluish-white cotton pockets hanging down. Around back, things got messy—it was hard to see what she was doing, and harder still to control the cuts. They were jagged, but they did a fine job of showing off her ass.
He barely blinked as she approached him in her T-shirt and
When her hand rode down his chest, down toward that delicious dick she knew so well, he swept it away. “I’ve got to get downstairs. This is my job we’re talking about.”
She caught him before he could back away, and she knew he wouldn’t dare fight her off. Using his shoulders as leverage, she hopped up on the teacher’s desk and squealed as her jeans wrapped snug to her mound. She kicked off her jelly shoes. Her denim camel toe glowed by streetlight. When she leaned back and opened her legs, setting one foot up on the desk, Ryan was powerless. He stared at the denim mystery between her thighs as she slid her fingers down the fly.
Ryan took a big breath in, like he was going to say something, and then he let it out. Muffled music rose through the floor like a highway mirage. It thumped through her body with the energy rushing to her clit. “Lick me,” she said. “Kiss my jeans.”
Like a prophet before his savior, her husband fell to his knees. He cupped her ass in his hands, pulled her pussy close, and inhaled. As he released that breath, passionate reverberations ran through her body. He sniffed her crotch like a dog, and she loved it, but she wasn’t satisfied. “Lick me,” she repeated.
He did her one better—he attacked her cunt, biting her jeans like a rabid mongrel. Pangs of sexual electricity shot through her, from her clit to her tits, and all the way out to her fingers. Even her scalp buzzed in response to his animalistic zeal.
What could she feel through the thick denim seam pushing into her slit? Wetness—her pussy juice combined with his saliva to soak the crotch of her jeans. Warmth, too—she felt the heat of her seething pussy join his scorching breath. Her bare arms sizzled in waves as she sent her hand on a mission to find scissors in Mr. Lambert’s desk. Crazy to think that only hours ago those desks had been occupied by horny little high school students who saw her husband as nothing more than a straight-laced teacher. Imagine what those kids would say about him after tonight! She should feel guilty for making a scene, but as she pulled a pair of black-handled scissors from the desk, she felt only lustful adoration.
“Cut them,” she instructed, setting the scissors on her belly, blade facing away from him. “Make me Daisy Dukes.”
He looked up at her, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but he shook it off. “I’m not going to destroy your jeans … at my school … in my classroom!”
“Okay,” she said. She could be reasonable. “Then I’ll do it myself.”
Hopping down from his big desk, she tossed her foot up on one of the smaller student desks and started cutting from the bottom hem.
“What are you doing?” Ryan cried. “You’re ruining your jeans!”
A chuckle rumbled deep in her throat and, even knowing it might piss Ryan off, she let it out. “I think you answered your own question there, Sherlock.” She cut fast. Once she’d finished, he’d forget his objections.
He stood in the center of the floor at the front of the darkened classroom. His breathing seemed to grow deeper as he watched her cut off two entire legs of denim. All she left in the middle was the seam digging into her slit. That band of tough fabric kept her wet throughout the destruction of personal belongings. Now her trim black hair and her dark pussy lips were plain as day in the V of her thighs.
She’d cut her jeans off almost all the way to her hip bones on either side, but left the bluish-white cotton pockets hanging down. Around back, things got messy—it was hard to see what she was doing, and harder still to control the cuts. They were jagged, but they did a fine job of showing off her ass.
He barely blinked as she approached him in her T-shirt and
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