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I Could Suck His Cock by the End of the Week!
by El Guaton (elguaton7@gmail.com)

***

A bet between two sexy high school girls promises a 
happy ending to an unsuspecting teacher. (M/F-teens, 
oral, school)

***

"I bet I could suck his cock by the end of the week!" 
boasted Jessica, flipping her blonde hair behind her. 

"You little slut!" laughed her best friend Amy, lightly 
pushing her, the two tumbling into each other. The pair 
were hanging out on Amy's bed after school, as they had 
done almost every day since they were eight. Growing up 
together, the two would use the time to share whatever 
was on their mind, from fashion to fights with their 
parents. Now that they were eighteen, what was usually 
on their minds was sex. 

Amy rolled off Jessica so that they were now laying 
down side by side, staring at the ceiling. "But, Mr. 
Crandall is, like, 10 years older than you for 
chrissakes, not to mention he could lose his job!"

"Yeah, but he still has a cock, doesn't he?" Jessica 
pushed her tits up and together, straining her cleavage 
upward toward Amy. "And no matter who it's on, the cock 
wants what it wants." The two broke up into hysterical 
giggles once again. 

Amy sat back up. "All right, Miss Confident, prove it. 
I'll bet you fifty bucks."

Jessica pursed her lips, intrigued. "If I suck off Mr. 
Crandall--"

"Within seven days," interrupted Amy.
 
"--then you'll give me fifty bucks?" finished Jessica. 
Amy nodded. "I'd do it for free!" she shouted, to more 
giggles from both. 

"Fine," eeked out Amy, her voice still choked with 
laughter. "I'll up the challenge. You have to tell him 
up-front what you're trying to do!"
 
Jessica's eyebrows shot up. "That all you got?" 

"And you can't let him cum -- and you have to tell him 
that too!" finished Amy, smirking. She stared at 
Jessica, sure that after all these years, she had 
finally outdared her. 
 
Jessica's glaze smoldered. She leaned in until she was 
inches away from her best friend's face. She licked her 
lips. She spoke slowly, enunciating each word. "You are 
on." The two broke up into loud guffaws, flopping back 
onto the bed and kicking their legs. 

When Amy woke up the next morning, she had a text 
message waiting from Jessica. All it said was to get to 
Mr. Crandall's class early. Not sure why, but willing 
to play along, Amy was already in her seat when, thirty 
seconds before the bell, Jessica walked in. Or strut in 
is how Amy would have put it. Jessica was wearing black 
"fuck me" boots that stopped just short of her knee. 
She moved slowly, shifting her balance from heel to 
toe; she gave the impression that she was 95% leg, and 
that it would all feel amazing wrapped around you. Her 
short black skirt reinforced the image. Above the skirt 
was the tiniest little black top, revealing her entire 
midriff, and pushing her cleavage out so that the tops 
of her breasts were visible nearly to the nipple. All 
noise and motion in the c lass stopped to watch her. 
With her blonde hair down to her shoulders, she was a 
dream image: the sex goddess and the sacrificial virgin 
and the porn star 
all rolled into one. 

"Prostitute" is what Amy thought Jessica looked like. 
Although they were best friends, and even she had to 
admit that Jessica at the least looked very fuckable, 
she could not help but feel a secret stab of jealousy. 
All of her life, Amy had tried to look like Jessica. 
She had the blonde hair, and starved and exercised and 
did everything she could to have the same hard body, 
and sometimes they even got mistaken for sisters, but 
Amy knew she was always the ugly one. 

No matter what she did her skin was always paler; her 
breasts, instead of Jessica's perfect C cups, were 
always tragic Bs (B minuses if truth be told); her legs 
were never as long; her smile was always too toothy and 
small compared to Jessica's toothpaste-commercial-
perfection; her face too homely; always the girl next 
door, never Jessica, the perfect girl across the 
street. Amy felt anger, perhaps even tinged by 
desperation, that she would never have been able to 
pull off the silent admiration the class was giving 
Jessica right now. 

Jessica pretended not to notice the classroom, instead 
proceeding to the front of the room. Mr. Crandall 
turned away from the chalkboard to face Jessica across 
his desk. 

"Good morning, Mr. Crandall," purred Jessica. Mr. 
Crandall furrowed his eyebrows, but was otherwise 
unmoved by the display in front of him. 

"Good morning, Jessica. Um... are you sure what you're 
wearing is appropriate for school?" he asked.
 
"What do you mean?" she returned, placing her palms on 
his desk and leaning forward. Her breasts were directly 
in front of him, presented on a platter, but he did not 
so much as glance down. 

"I'm sorry, Jessica, but I think I'm going to have to 
refer you to the vice-principal for a dress code 
violation." 

"You don't have to do that, do you, Mr. Crandall?" She 
gave him a puppy dog look. 

"I'm sorry, school policy." He shrugged his shoulders, 
the diffident I'm-only-doing-my-job attitude. 

Jessica lowered her voice. "Wouldn't you rather I suck 
your cock?" Amy, sitting in the front row, could just 
barely hear. The entire class leaned forward, all 
sensing that something gossip worthy was happening, and 
wanting to be able to say later that they had seen it 
firsthand. 

"What?" Mr. Crandall jumped. Jessica leaned in even 
more, so that she was almost whispering in his ear. 

"I'm going to suck your cock, Mr. Crandall, until 
you're writhing and moaning with pleasure, but even 
then, I'm not going to let you cum." 

Mr. Crandall jumped back, visibly flustered at last. 
"Miss Walsh, you are going straight to the principal. I 
hope you come back not only more appropriately dressed 
but also with a more appropriate grasp of what is and 
what is not proper conversation between student and 
teacher!"

"Yes, sir," Jessica said, putting her head down and 
turning toward the door. Though she looked contrite, 
slinking away, Amy could swear that Jessica was 
smirking.

That afternoon the two were once again in Amy's bed, 
rowdy as can be. "I can't believe you told him you 
wanted to blow him!" Amy yelled, mock-hitting her with 
a pillow. 

Jessica half-smiled, her expression mysterious. "You're 
the one who dared me."
 
"And the way you were dressed! Every guy in that room 
wanted to bend you over and fuck you there, and 
probably even some of the girls." The two broke up into 
laughter over this, as the lesbian tendencies of some 
of the less attractive girls at school was a common 
joke between them. 

"Are you really going to go through with it?" Amy's 
tone showed she was more serious than she meant to be. 

"Oh yeah," Jessica responded. "It's a matter of pride 
now, and besides, like we always say, he is pretty 
cute. Just barely thirty, and I think he works out..." 
she trailed off, staring into the distance. 

"I still don't think you can do it before the week's up 
-- and with your suspension tomorrow, you have even 
less time." 

Jessica refocused on Amy, her half-smile returning. 
"Just watch and learn." Silence held, and then both 
started laughing uncontrollably. 

Because of her suspension, her parents would not let 
Jessica come over on Tuesday, and so it was not until 
the day after in Mr. Crandall's class that the two were 
able to see each other. Again, Amy was already sitting 
when Jessica showed up, but this time, she caused no 
commotion and made no detours no the way to her seat, 
right next to Amy. 

The two said quick hellos to each other, right as the 
bell rang to start class. "Giving up already?" teased 
Amy, pushing her tongue into her cheek to make it clear 
what she meant. Jessica stuck her own tongue out at her 
in reply, and then faced forward. 

Class droned on. Amy stopped paying attention, looking 
out the window, looking around the room, looking at her 
desk. Every so often she would glance to her side to 
look at Jessica, wondering if she was going to try 
something in class again. Jessica was wearing a plain 
cotton blouse and a denim skirt, and though it had 
climbed high enough to reveal half of an attractive 
thigh, it did not scream sex by any means. Her hair was 
in a simple pony-tail. Her make-up was light. Idly, Amy 
thought about borrowing Jessica's skirt and getting 
fucked while wearing it. She was between boyfriends, 
but thought she could find someone. For starters, she 
would accessorize a little better than Jessica had. 

Suddenly, something odd caught Amy's eye. Mr. Crandall 
looked like maybe he was feeling a little sick, and he 
was pausing too much as he spoke. His gaze was low, and 
although Amy could not have pinpointed what was strange 
about him, for starters he was violating his own public 
speaking tip he had given to them about moving your 
glance around the room to make it look like you were 
talking to everybody. Amy followed Mr. Crandall's gaze 
in surprise -- he was staring straight at Jessica's 
crotch. 

Jessica was slouching down in her chair just a little 
lower than seemed natural, her legs stretching out in 
front of her. The skirt had ridden even farther, so 
that now it was covering only the top few inches of her 
thigh. Jessica's unbroken tan was very clearly visible 
from Amy's position to the left of her. More revealing, 
however, must have been Mr. Crandall's position -- 
Jessica was making no effort to keep her legs together. 

Amy's eyes bugged out, and she almost whirled on her 
when she realized the show that Jessica must be giving 
him. The two had been moved to the front of the class 
weeks ago to stop them from chatting in the back -- and 
now Jessica was using it to help her win the bet. And 
she thought the bitch had given up! 

Mr. Crandall was trying to be stoic. He certainly had 
not been trying to catch a peek -- he considered 
himself professional to the utmost -- but he could not 
help but notice Jessica, right in front of him. As 
class went on, no matter how much he tried to focus on 
his lecture, he found his attention kept coming back to 
her, as her skirt slowly inched up her legs. It was 
like a curtain slowly being drawn to reveal a fabulous 
prize, or a slow-motion crawl to disaster; he could not 
help but look, and the higher and higher her skirt got, 
the longer his stares lasted. 

He was not sure if Jessica even realized what was 
happening. Her eyes wandered the room occasionally, the 
normal half-attention he had come to expect from his 
students. Her skirt crept up slowly and without any 
seeming effort from her; it could easily be the 
unknowing mistake of blossoming young womanhood. 

As a particular blossom of young womanhood came closer 
to being viewed, Mr. Crandall was having trouble 
continuing his lecture. Jessica's legs were spread, 
revealing the cream color of her inner thighs. Her legs 
were long and only barely tapered, the skin completely 
smooth, the tissue devoid of any hint of fat. Mr. 
Crandall's gaze bored into her. 

He could see the slightest hint of her vagina, a 
shadow. If her skirt lifted any more, he would be able 
to see everything, and he was very interested in seeing 
everything. Without his control, he felt himself 
mentally urging the last bit of fabric to move, 
attempting to will her skirt up. Languidly, her legs 
stretched outward, her skirt climbing a millimeter, 
then two, then tree. Mr. Crandall held his breath. Her 
pussy blinked into view. 

Although he could not claim to have seen that many, 
hers did seem very nice. It was completely shaven, 
though right above her lips, he thought he saw the 
faintest little square of blonde hair, almost 
translucent against her skin. The lips themselves were 
smallish and close together, with her clit proud and 
prominent above them. Mr. Crandall could not help but 
wonder if she was wet (there was too much shadow to be 
sure), or how hot her pussy would be to the touch. He 
wondered how it would feel to push his finger between 
those lips, or give them a gentle lick. His mental 
image was so perfect it staggered him, and he had to 
lean against his desk for support. 

The class was uncomfortable, students beginning to 
murmur and fidget. Jessica, either oblivious or 
feigning innocence, politely asked, "Mr. Crandall, are 
you ok?" 

"Yes, yes I'm fine," he responded, unsure whether to 
glower at her or to pretend nothing was happening. 

Jessica smiled. She brought her hand toward her face, 
biting on the end of her pencil. Aside from the fact 
that her entire pussy was on display (which no one else 
was noticing), she was the picture of studiousness. 

Her expression hardened. Slowly, she began to slide the 
pencil into her mouth, so that instead of just biting 
on the eraser, suddenly an inch of the pencil had 
disappeared. Her lips pursed around it. To Mr. Crandall 
it looked like she was actually sucking on it. She 
began to slowly, lazily, push and pull that inch of her 
pencil in and out of her mouth. To his stressed out 
mind (absently, he wondered when he'd last had any kind 
of sex, and realized that if he did not know, it had 
been a while), it looked very much like -- 

The bell rang, breaking the moment. Instantly, 
Jessica's legs snapped shut, and she began to bolt for 
the door, lost in the general crowd of students as 
everyone tried to leave. Mr. Crandall was spared having 
to acknowledge what happened, but as he sat down and 
tried to calm himself, he wondered what he was going to 
do if this kind of thing happened in the future. 

In Amy's room that afternoon, the situation was more 
tense than usual. "I can't believe you showed him your 
pussy in front of everybody!" Amy said. 

"What's the big deal? It's not like no boy has ever 
seen my pussy before," Jessica said, her tone lightly 
mocking, the faux-here's-a-big-secret voice. Amy pouted 
slightly, stopping her pacing to sit down next to 
Jessica. "Are you jealous?" Jessica meant it as a jab, 
but quickly softened when Amy jumped. Maybe she had hit 
on something after all. 

Amy's heart fluttered slightly. She was not sure what 
she was feeling -- jealousy, maybe. For Mr. Crandall's 
attention? Maybe; she had, after all, had a crush on 
him first. 

Amy's tremor dissolved. "No," she said defiantly. "Why 
would I be jealous? It's not like you've never sucked a 
cock before, either." She smirked. 

Jessica laughed, glad that the squall between her and 
her friend had passed. "It's true, it's true. But if 
you are jealous, we can call off the bet, and I'll 
promise not to suck Mr. Crandall off -- and it'll only 
cost you one hundred dollars."
 
"Thief!" shouted Amy, but now they both were laughing, 
falling on each other. They rolled on the bed, tickling 
and grabbing as usual. 

As their giggles died down, they were side by side on 
the bed, lightly entwined. "So how do you plan to seal 
the deal?" Amy asked, genuinely curious. 

"Ah-ah-ah," replied Jessica, "you'll see." 

The next day, class passed close to normally. Mr. 
Crandall, unsure whether he was hoping for a repeat 
performance or not, struggled also with whether he 
should try to talk to Jessica about what had been going 
on, or if perhaps he should seek out advice from one of 
his colleagues, or one of the administrators. His 
lecture, if perhaps a little more dull than usual, 
proceeded without interruption. 

Amy eyed Jessica for her next move, but she was also 
rather subdued in class, taking an occasional note, but 
otherwise sitting quietly. And although her 
cheerleading outfit showed off plenty, from what Amy 
could tell, Jessica was not giving any extra show. And 
although the outfit fit her well and (again, though Amy 
was not even fully aware she had the thought) made 
Jessica look quite fuckable, there was nothing strange 
about it. Jessica was one of about twenty girls wearing 
the outfit for a pep rally scheduled during seventh 
period that day.

The only thing that veered at all from normal was after 
class, when instead of rushing out the door, Jessica 
(hesitatingly, or at least feigning hesitation) 
approached Mr. Crandall's desk. Mr. Crandall, resolving 
to project professionalism, turned to speak to her, but 
found he had a lump in his throat (and so far, 
thankfully, nowhere else). Being so close to her, he 
was taken by how the blonde in her hair matched the 
gold in her cheerleading outfit, and how much youthful 
vigor seemed to shine from her. 

From the beginning, she was in control of the 
conversation. 

"Mr. Crandall, I just want to apologize for my behavior 
the past couple of days." Mr. Crandall, who was worried 
about how much of him was not sorry about her behavior, 
attempted to look consolatory. "It's just there's been 
a lot going on in my life, and I've been having a lot 
of trouble lately." He attempted to shift his 
expression to concern, with more success than he had 
with consolatory, but he still could not help but 
notice how low the neckline of her cheerleading outfit 
plunged. "I really respect you, Mr. Crandall. Could I 
maybe come by to talk to you after school today? I 
really need to talk to an adult that I can trust."

Alarm bells were going off in his head. And yet, she 
seemed so sincere, and teachers were supposed to be 
there to help students with personal problems, and if 
she really was in trouble, it would be his legal 
responsibility to help as well, and not just moral 
(mandatory reporting and all that). He hoped his 
intentions were pure when he responded, "Of course, 
Jessica. I'll offer whatever help I can. Just come on 
by my classroom after school, that will be fine." 

"Thank you, Mr. Crandall," said Jessica, heading for 
the door. Amy, who realized she had been dawdling, 
quickly followed. 

At almost exactly 3 pm, Jessica returned to Mr. 
Crandall's classroom. Although it was obvious she had 
showered, her skin was still a little flushed from the 
work of the routine the cheerleaders had put on for the 
pep rally. Mr. Crandall looked up from his desk, 
pretending he had been grading, when in truth, he had 
been eyeing the clock, as nervous for Jessica's arrival 
as if he were sixteen again and going on his first 
date. "Come in, Amy!" he said, "Have a seat." 

"Thank you, Mr. Crandall," she said, moving across the 
room. "I'm sorry I'm a little late, but I wanted to 
grab a quick shower after the pep rally today." She 
stopped in front of his desk, but rather than sit down 
at one of the student desks near it, she leaned back 
against it. 
 
"Yes, you looked great out there," he mentally stopped, 
"I mean, you all, the team, looked great, you've all 
been working hard." He was sounding as awkward as his 
sixteen-year-old self, as well. 

"Yeah, all my muscles are killing me," she said, 
stretching out her arms and puffing out her chest, 
mimicking the contortions of an early wake-up. The tops 
of her breasts strained upward and outward. 

"So you mentioned you wanted to talk to me about 
something?" Mr. Crandall said, getting up and walking 
around his desk, so that he was directly in front of 
Jessica. He leaned 
back as well, trying to appear casual. 

"Yeah, you may have noticed I've been acting a little 
odd lately," responded Jessica. 

"Yes, a little."

Jessica sat down on the edge of the desk. Pushing her 
hands in her lap, her skirt was held down and her 
panties kept just out of view, but most the skin of her 
legs was in view again, her legs dangling, slightly 
akimbo. It was, Mr. Crandall thought, the way her legs 
might hang if someone were fucking her on the edge of a 
bed. He cursed himself, but he could not find a way to 
stop his thoughts. 

"The thing is, Mr. Crandall, I'm really, really 
attracted to you, and I just don't know what to do 
about it." 

Mr. Crandall stopped breathing and his heart, as if to 
compensate, began pumping at double-speed. Alarm 
klaxons went off in his head that he was entering 
dangerous territory. 

"I think that's normal, Jessica, and very flattering. I 
think plenty of girls have crushes on their teachers, 
but it's important to remember that I am your teacher, 
and that these things pass." He wondered if he was 
being sensitive enough. It was important to turn her 
away without damaging her self-esteem. At least, that 
was what the loudest voice in his head was saying. He 
struggled to ignore the whisper which said other 
things. 

He could not help but stare at her. In the afternoon 
sun, her skin glowing amber, she seemed like a goddess. 
He watched a single drop of liquid appear on her upper 
thigh and run lazy zig-zags down her leg. He did not 
know if it was left over water from her shower, or if 
her pussy was moist and leaking. He had to fight the 
irrational urge to scoop the drop up on his finger and 
taste it. 

"I think it's slightly more than a crush, Mr. 
Crandall," Jessica said, lowering her voice, attempting 
to sound sultry. Their gaze held for a few moments. 
Needing to break the spell, Mr. Crandall moved to stand 
up. At the same moment, Jessica yelped in pain, 
grabbing her upper thigh. 

"What is it?" he asked, concern evident. 

"Ow, cramp, ow, ow, ow!" Jessica had crunched over her 
right leg, holding it close to her, pain evident on her 
face. 

Not thinking, but simply following his instinct to 
help, Mr. Crandall became clinical. "Here, let me." He 
quickly pushed her own hands off of her thigh, and set 
to work vigorously kneading the skin. "You have to rub 
these out quickly." 

Jessica smirked, but Mr. Crandall was too intent on his 
task to notice. She did not lean back, but continued to 
huddle so that she nearly right on top of him. They 
could feel each other's breath. He stretched and 
massaged her leg, attempting to relieve the cramp. 
"Feeling better?" 

"You have great hands, Mr. Crandall." She slid her left 
leg away from her right leg, opening herself up, and 
causing her skirt to life. Her pussy blinked into view. 
She was not wearing any panties. 

Mr. Crandall stopped rubbing, but he did not remove his 
hands. He was mesmerized by the appearance of her 
pussy, like he was under the power of a hypnotist, or a 
snake charmer. It was puffier than he remembered, and 
glistened, but it still looked so fresh and so clean. 
Suddenly he noticed how close his fingers were to it. 

"Please touch me, Mr. Crandall," Jessica whispered, 
grabbing his hand and pushing it up toward her.  

His hand cupped her pubis, his middle finger entering 
her furrow, squishing just between her pussy lips. 
Jessica squeaked. Still holding his hand in place, she 
began to gyrate her hips, grinding her pussy against 
his hand. Mr. Crandall stared, dumbstruck, at his hand 
and her pussy. 

"Do you feel how wet I am, Mr. Crandall?" she purred. 
"Do you feel how soft I am? I shave every day." Her 
pussy was very wet and very soft. "Mmmmm," she moaned, 
closing her eyes briefly. "Let me feel your cock." She 
brought up her other arm and grabbed Mr. Crandall's 
bulge through his pants. She could feel his cock's 
outline through the soft material of his slacks. She 
began to gently squeeze his lump in synch with humping 
his hand. 

Mr. Crandall raised his gaze to look at Jessica. 
Although he still was making no effort to leave, and 
was passively, at least, rubbing her pussy, and was 
sporting a full erection, his expression was one of 
fear, like a rabbit staring down a wolf. Jessica met 
his gaze, her eyes half-lidded, her mouth smirking. She 
looked confident and seductive. She writhed on his 
hand, and gently pushed down on it. His middle finger, 
rather than just creasing her furrow, slipped inside 
her vagina, sliding past her love-ring. Her pussy was 
so tight it was almost uncomfortable for his finger, 
like having a rubber-band constricting it. 

She stopped moving her hips. Her gaze dared him to move 
his finger -- to curl it, looking for her g-spot, or 
push in deeper, or even pull out a little. His hand did 
not move. 

The lump in her other hand was appreciable. Rather than 
just squeeze it, she wrapped her hand around it, like 
she was offering a handshake, and began to tug, lightly 
jacking him off. His legs began to shake under him. His 
cock felt like a volcano, like it was tapped into the 
primeval blaze at the center of the earth, and that at 
any moment it could spurt. And she had just barely 
begun touching him. 

"Do you want me to suck you, Mr. Crandall?" Jessica 
murmured. Whatever was left of Mr. Crandall's sanity 
suddenly broke. He began ripping at his pants, 
haphazardly undoing his belt before shoving his pants 
down. His cock leapt to attention, glistening. 

"Oooh, you do have a nice one," Jessica cooed, holding 
his cock in her hand briefly, as if admiring it. It was 
good-sized -- not a porn star's cock, but certainly 
nice enough at slightly more than six inches length and 
a good thickness. His pubic hair was closely trimmed 
and lined just the base of his cock and the tops of his 
balls. Jessica swooped down upon his cock. 

Mr. Crandall cried out as his cock disappeared into her 
mouth, sliding all the way back in one movement. His 
hands fell into her blonde hair and grabbed, and he 
began to buck into her mouth. Jessica squealed, but it 
was a good sound; she was not used to men taking 
control and needing her so quickly. She held her lips 
over her teeth and tight together, trying to create 
suction for him as he pounded into her. Her hands 
gripped his buttocks, her nails leaving white trail 
marks in his skin. She began to pull him into her 
almost as frantically as he was pushing into her, her 
breath escaping in hot bursts through her nostrils. 

Her bet with Amy had included that she could not let 
Mr. Crandall cum, but she did not have a clue how she 
was going to pull that off. Mr. Crandall no longer 
seemed to be in 
conscious control of his body, and by the way he was 
humping her, he did not plan to last long. He was 
holding her tightly, too -- she could barely breathe. 

She grabbed his hands, and after a few more strokes, he 
stopped pushing on her. She gasped as his cock fell 
from her lips, saliva and pre-cum all across her lips 
and chin, and more puddled on the ground. "Mr. 
Crandall, you can't come in my mouth," she panted. 

Mr. Crandall let out a moan, not of anger or 
aggression, but of mindless need. He put his hands on 
her shoulders and began to push, attempting to make her 
lay backward. His body also pushed into hers, his cock 
stabbing at her wildly, hitting her knee, and then her 
abdomen, and then her thigh. It was like Mr. Crandall 
had become some sort of caveman -- no language, no 
civility, just the urgent need to fuck. 

He began to hump the air, his cock smearing saliva and 
pre-cum against her thigh as it hit her. He was not 
hurting her, but the pressure was mounting, and she was 
starting to have to lean back against it. His cock was 
inches from her pussy. "Mr. Crandall, really, I don't 
think we should be having sex!" She tried to sound 
shocked and prim. 
 
Of course, she was anything but prim. She had fucked 
her share of cocks (and sucked a lot more), but she was 
no slut. She didn't just fuck whoever, whenever. 

She realized what she had to do. It was something she 
had done before with more than one aggressive boyfriend 
in more than one parked car. 

"Here, try this instead." She quickly contorted to the 
side to escape his hands, and then using her hands, 
angled his cock upward. As he thrust forward, his cock 
disappeared into her mouth. She slurped around it. 

He began to buck and moan, really fucking her mouth. 
She began to knead his balls, moaning through the cock 
in her mouth, slurping on him and lashing him with her 
tongue. 

Suddenly, Mr. Crandall stopped jerking. The first spurt 
hit her in the back of the throat, then there were more 
and more. Jessica swallowed as quickly as she could, 
licking her lips to get the saltiness. 

Mr. Crandall collapsed into a chair, shock on his face. 

A few minutes later, just outside the school's gate, 
Amy was impatiently pacing when Jessica caught up to 
her. "Did you do it?" she asked. 

Smiling and flushed, Jessica nodded. "Where's your 
proof?" Amy asked, slyly. With that, Jessica stopped 
walking, turned to face her friend, put her hands on 
either side Amy's face, and before she could react, 
moved her mouth against hers. The kiss was instantly 
open-mouthed -- tongues wrestling and exploring. It 
lasted thirty seconds, before Jessica dropped her hands 
and stepped back. Now both were out of breath. Amy was 
stunned. 

"I thought we agreed that you couldn't let him cum?" 

Jessica had lost fifty bucks. 

END

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 53