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The Student and the Woman

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Ass

Gabriella reminded me everyday why I was single as fuck: women were irritating. So irritating that at only thirty-three years old I already had strands of gray in my fade. I named them after the five women I’d had serious relationships with. Gabriella was no lover, was only my student, but she’d landed her name on top of my head.

She recently turned eighteen and was nowhere near graduating. She still had tenth grade classes, hadn’t passed not one in three years. I’d done everything as her counselor from notes sent home to recommending tutoring to offering to put her in credit recovery. All of my efforts were met with silence, indifference, no’s. What made this shit aggravating was the fact she was actually smart! I’d done research on her academic past, looking for a forgotten IEP or something, only to find she made honor roll every year from first grade to tenth grade. Had unbelievable potential. Then this drastic decline happened. It wasn’t even a decline; it was a stop.

I tried visiting her home for a face-to-face with her parents. Her pristine mother sitting with me in their pristine living room gave me no explanation, only promised to make her daughter do better, to get her to graduation day, but nothing changed.

I was done with the situation, even though I promised I’d never give up on a student since a teacher’s persistence got me out of the streets and into my books. Middle school me had the desire to be something better, a desire that could be seen. In Gabriella, however, there was no such thing.

She came into my office with the note I’d given her Algebra I teacher. Sat down.

“Hello, Mr. Hendley,” she mumbled when I stared at her expectantly. Yeah, she was rude, too. Wouldn’t say nothing to you unless you made her.

“Hi, Gabriella. I brought you in here to tell you you’re being dropped from Kingston High.”

No response from her.

“That means—”

“I know what it means, Mr. Hendley. I guess this is good riddance for both of us.”

“It’s not good riddance. I still want to help you, but you won’t let me. This is obviously what you want.”

She snickered.

“What’s funny?”

“You saying this is what I want. You don’t know shit about what I want.”

“Then tell me.”

She laughed again, louder. It wasn’t a sound of humor; it was more like spite. The laugh of a she-devil.

“Take a wild guess.”

The fuck kind of answer was that? I felt my head getting hot. Another platinum thread was no doubt sprouting.

“I’m not a mind reader. If there’s something I’m not doing or your teachers aren’t doing that you feel you need to have academic success, you need bahis firmaları to let me know. I’ll see to it that it’s done for you.”

“Can I see your arm?”

It took me a minute to process her request. “What is that going to do?”

“It goes all the way up, doesn’t it? A sleeve?”

I looked at my left forearm, the tattoo that could be seen there with my sleeve rolled below my elbow.

“Yes, it’s a sleeve,” I said, heaving a tired breath.

“I want to see it.”

I was going to decline but figured there was no harm. I unbutton my button-down, taking my left arm out.

“That’s nice.”

I snorted, amused. “Thirteen hours in a chair and your response is ‘that’s nice’?”

“I got one last week.”

I was redressing myself. “Did you?”

“Mmm-hmm. It hurt a little, but I liked it.”

One of her eyebrows raised when she said that. She paused like she was waiting for me to react. I kept my focus on doing my buttons correctly.

“Wanna see it?”

“Maybe another time. We should get back to your grades.”

“It’ll be quick. You got to show yours off, I wanna show mine off.”

Her persistence made me wonder aloud. “Have you shown your friends?”

“I don’t have any.”

That explained her eagerness.

I agreed to see the tattoo with an ulterior motive in mind. She had no friends, so I was going to be her friend. Maybe this bonding over tattoos would create a breakthrough with her.

I immediately regretted my motive when she stood and began undoing her belt.

“Gabriella, if you have to expose yourself to show me—”

That didn’t stop her. She turned around, pulling her jeans down her ass. There it was. Two cherries on her right ass cheek. Still swollen from the needle.

“That’s…lovely. Now please, pull your pants back up.” I looked away, trying not to think of the shit I’d be in if someone came barging through my door. Even harder I was trying not to think of the erection that was blossoming in my slacks.

I hadn’t looked at her as a woman, ever. Never had my eyes wandered on her with any interest besides interest in helping her succeed at life. I hadn’t noticed that she was rather thick, chubby, her hips wide, giving way to thighs and an ass that were just as substantial. With the thong she wore, her ass was on full display, the cheeks more square than round, more fleshy than firm. No cellulite. A slap to them would leave a bright angry handprint on the light toned flesh, create a loud and sharp sound as the cheeks jiggled like Jell-O.

“Pull ’em up,” I said. My voice came out deeper than usual, giving away my feelings.

She did that kaçak iddaa laugh of hers. Did the opposite of what I said, taking her pants completely off. I ran a hand down my face.

“Gabriella—”

My plea for her cooperation went on deaf ears as she also took her jacket off. “No lock on the door. Oh well.”

“I’ll have to call security.”

“Do it then.”

“Don’t make me.”

My voice was weak, like I was high. I was, in a way; high on the need for this student suddenly turned woman. This demon. This potential career-killer.

She was coming around my desk., my finger on the auto dial button number three. It would ring straight to security’s front desk.

“What are you doing, Gabriella?”

She was right there now. Right beside me.

“I’ve been thinking about this since you came to my house. Ronda said I wasn’t home, but I was. She’s evil like that. She wanted me to see her take away somebody that cared about me. I saw you two fucking.”

I closed my eyes in shame. That hadn’t been for her, or anyone, to know. It was a moment of weakness.

I realized the absurdity of her words.

“She didn’t take me away, Gabriella. I was still on your side after that. You can’t say I wasn’t.”

She said nothing. She was touching me now. Nails caressing the back of my neck. A hand on my chest.

“What is this? Some kind of competition between you and your mother? I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“You’re already a part of it, Mr. Hendley. You’ve been trying to get me to graduate, trying to save me. Do you know why I stopped caring about school?”

“Why?”

“Because Ronda was making plans for me to go to Yale. I couldn’t give her the satisfaction. I let my grades go all the way down. You and her have been playing a tug of war this whole time.”

I got up then. Moved away from her. “You ruined your life to piss your mom off? That’s fucking stupid.”

“According to my grades, that’s what I am.” She laughed.

I was rolling the dysfunction over in my head when she sat on my desk. Parted her thick thighs. “Like this. Or would you rather do it like you did her?” She bent over the desk, moving her panties to the side for full access to her puffy, rosy pussy.

Her shit was already wet. And I was a man with a weakness for women as could be seen by my hair. I should’ve thrown her out myself, half naked and all. Should’ve called security. Should’ve went screaming into the night, because this here with her and me, and me and her mother, and her and her mother was fucking crazy. But obviously I liked crazy, because I didn’t tell her no. Not even when she took those middle-soaked kaçak bahis panties off and undid my pants so my dick was out. Not even when she pulled me over to the desk, jerking my dick the entire time, and once again bent over. I touched her pussy, slid two fingers in. Tested its wetness. It made that moist sound that could drive a rather sane man mad.

I put her leg up on the desk, those fat pussy lips spreading for me. Her hole didn’t need any preparation. I put the head in her, thought that’d be more than enough for me. Nah. I pushed myself balls-deep in her pussy.

I was thrusting slow and long, savoring, because pussy had never felt so good around my dick. My half-closed eyes were going back and forth between the door and her ass. It made waves every time our skin connected. Damnit, I wanted to fuck her hard, hear our bodies slap angrily, but even more I wanted this taboo thing to last as long as it possibly could.

She made little whimpering sounds, her cheek against the desk, her straightened black hair covering half her face. I could see her face was scrunched up, somewhere between pleasure and agony.

It was probably the latter I realized when I looked down at my dick. Not only was it covered in her cream, it was also smeared with blood.

I stopped. Shocked. Was she a—

“Don’t. Keep going,” she moaned, reaching back and grabbing my shirt like it was reins.

I complied, kept fucking her, the sight of the blood, the meaning in it, making my balls grow tight. I didn’t last another minute. I pulled out, my cum leaking on her ass and her tank top. I bit my lip to keep from groaning like a wild beast. I fell into my chair.

When the hum of the orgasm ceased and I regained my senses, I began getting dressed like there was fire in my veins. I slapped her ass, telling her, “Get your clothes back on.” Only then did she come up from the desk, retrieving her panties and pants like there was no rush. I didn’t bother reminding her we were in a school, in an office with no lock, surrounded by staff and students that usually knocked and walked in before getting a “Come in”.

She looked at me as she dressed.

“How was it?” I asked like an insecure teenaged boy.

“You cumming in me would’ve made it better. Getting kicked out of school and getting knocked up… Ronda would’ve had a heart attack.”

“Gabriella…” Where did I even begin to address that comment? “You don’t have to fail school to make your mom angry. Finish school.”

She patted my chest. “Thanks for the parting gift. This is probably my best memory of high school.”

I didn’t see her anymore after that. I thought about making a house call, trying one last time, but knew it was too awkward of a situation now. Imagine if her mother answered the door. Imagine if they were both there. So, I let Gabriella go. The student and the woman.

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