Pam stretched behind her desk, offering a slight yawn of her perfectly painted red lips. Glancing at the clock, she knew the day was dragging, but only because she was grading papers. Term papers, to be exact. They were tough to read, due to the varying levels of grammar, and even harder to follow at times, as the teenage mind was still developing, and chief amongst its priorities were fun, food, and if she was honest with herself, fucking. Tossing her teacher-red pen on the desk, she rose to her heels and arched her back, both hands behind her waist, her voice emitting a chirped squeak as she flexed and let the stiffness get worked out of her body.
"I should stretch my legs for a minute." She muttered to the clock on the wall. She was alone, as classes had been released for the day some ninety-minutes previously, and while she could wander the halls, she knew there would be students still about the campus. Some were there simply out of a duty to learn, instilled by their parents, and others were there because it was now social time, and they could do some of the things they couldn't do during school hours, or at home, for that matter.
It was no secret where the 'hidey-holes' were on campus. Under the bleachers, in a few stairwells, the janitorial closet with the broken lock, and even a few rooms where teachers were known to be absent-minded and forgot to lock their rooms up. The teacher's lounge was also a student favorite, though they were extremely careful to make sure no teachers were about, for to be caught there would be certain death. Death by teacher-discipline, death by grades, and most certainly, death by parental involvement. Glancing out the windows, she noticed that the windy day had finally arrived, the local weather-guesser having called it right, but twelve-hours late. Just in time to have to deal with it after school.
The plus side of it was that the day would be warm and yet clear, while the minus side was that students not having gone home would hunker down in the hallways, until it was time for them to go home, or wherever else their juvenile minds concocted. Another minus was Pam's outfit. It was not exactly cut-out for a windy day.
Her blouse was a stylized-print silky gold satin, buttoned to mid-cleavage, and the lapels folded to just so. It drew some attention to her nice, D-cupped cleavage, yet covered her black lace bra and bra straps, and was loose-enough to not draw criticism from the Principal. Her skirt was a high-waisted black chiffon pleated circle-skirt, hemmed sensibly at her knees. She stood on 4 inch black patent-leather heels, not out of vanity, but because she had some taller male students, and she had heard stories of how some of them tried to bully shorter instructors, and frankly, she just didn't want to have that hassle. But the plain fact was her skirt would not behave on a day like this, no matter how hard she tried. Her undergarments were mostly modest, sheer tan pantyhose and a red thong, the last because she and her husband John had gone out for a date on Saturday, and after two bottles of Merlot, neither was feeling any pain, except for the hangover the next day. The laundry didn't get done. She had promised herself to do the washing the next day. But no matter what, she knew if she stepped outside, she would be doing an imitation of Marilyn Monroe standing over the subway vent, and there were way too many students still on campus to risk letting a single one of them get a look at her modesty, regardless of how innocently it happened.
Another thing Pam wasn't feeling was sated. She had hopes of having sex with her man, as they had kind of tapered off, and she was feeling needy. She was also starting to have those maternal thoughts only women have, too. Babies. That had started by holding the newborn of one of her teacher-friends, who had just had hers, and it brought out those feelings again, despite her being on the pill. Birth control pills can only do so much to curb the emotions, and what the heart wants, the heart wants. Maybe it was time to re-think children? But that brought her some frustration for though her husband really tried in bed, he was a little short in stature. That, coupled with his inability to hold an erection that weekend, and the newborn baby, and the fact that the very air was thick with teenage testosterone was making her a little... tense.
"OK... I gotta' take a break..." She shook her head and again took another look outside. The wind was fierce, and lighter debris was blowing past the windows, some of it flying flatly, while others tumbled past at a good clip. "Jeez..." she muttered, as she opened the door to her classroom.
"WHOA!" she cried out, as she was nearly yanked off her feet, the door jerking open and yanking her with it!
It only took a moment to recognize what had happened. Some enterprising young student or students had taken it upon themselves to steal the little wooden door wedges and hold open both hallway ends, making the hallway a literal wind tunnel. Standing there, her long brown hair tousled about as her hand reached up to clear her vision. Forgotten in this moment of surprise was her skirt, which was now plastered up about her chest. It took her too long of a moment to realize that the very exposure she had feared was happening, and it was indoors! Instinctively, she forgot trying to see, and turned her body into the wind, letting her hair blow back behind her, as her hands started to do battle with the hem of her skirt. That was when she heard the chortled laugh.
"Nice legs, Mrs. Anders. Red looks good on you."
Turning abruptly to the sound of the voice, her eyes could make out the figure of Dwayne Jewan Clark, of DJ as the others called him. An eighteen-year old in his Senior year of high school, DJ was a known quantity, of sorts. All the girls certainly knew him, as they had been schoolmates for most of their academic career. Given the fact he had developed earlier than most, he had also matured physically into a rather imposing young man. It was widely believed that some of those girls who had been schoolmates were also mate-mates, and at least three or four were known by everyone to have been transferred out of school due to pregnancy. DJ would never admit it, but there were just too many allegations of his virility. He never denied it, either.
There was also a social scuttlebutt in their part of town that some of those school girls who were carrying his children had mothers who were also carrying his child. A fact seemingly borne out by several families not only transferring their ********* to another school, but also moving into a new school district. This had happened every year for the past five years.
It was just one of those unproven facts. DJ had not only gotten some students pregnant, but also their mothers. The great mystery was how did he do it? Was he just that charismatic? Was he just persuasive? Did he take advantage of his size with the smaller females? The only ones who really knew were the pregnant women, and they weren't talking.
Pam squealed when she realized she was being gawked at, and even worse by DJ. She was already having some disciplinary problems with him in her English class, and this was certainly not going to help. Small hands flapping and trying to grasp the hem of her skirt, it took way too long for her to win the battle, and even then, she had to retreat back into her classroom. Standing in the doorway, the crossing wind still made an eddy into the portal, and managed to fill out her skirt, before it would billow back down, either from in front or behind, but the look was not lost on DJ, who was enticed, so he decided to get to know his teacher a little better.
Confidently strutting his way towards her, he invaded her personal space, standing so close he could easily detect her feminine perfume, a scent of vanilla that belied her femininity. Pam swallowed in a nervous gulp, as DJ placed his elbow on the doorsill, effectively blocking her path of escape. Her blue eyes looked to his deep dark brown ones, and she had to clear her throat softly to speak.
"DJ, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be somewhere else? Like home doing your homework? I think you still owe me several pages of word definitions."
"Yeah, probably... but they'll still be there in a while." He smoothly retorted, offering a dismissive wave of the hand propped up on the doorsill. His baritone was smooth, and Pam suddenly realized that he was actually rather suave in his carriage. He knew certain truths, one of them was how males and females got along. He used his free hand to reach to reach out and gently caress Pam's arm, while his eyes started to devour her.
"Maybe so, DJ, *Ahem* but your grades could use the same attention you like to pay to girls." As she felt his skin ever so lightly caress hers, she had a slight shiver, one that sent a small tease of electricity up her limb. She used that arm to use her hand and try and keep her skirt down, as she realized DJ was scoping her legs out under it.
"Nah..." he smiled. She had to admit, in certain circumstances, he had a great smile. Disarming and well-intentioned, he seemed at that moment the most genuine she had ever seen him to appear. He continued to reach for her, now lightly touching her shoulder. "Besides, I don't you we know each other very well, yet. I mean, it's good that a teacher knows her students, right? What's good, and what's bad?"
Pam pulled her shoulder back, away from his reach, making her heel click loudly as she was forced to retreat into her room a half-step. The benefit of the movement was to finally let her skirt settle into its proper place, but it allowed DJ to move past her, letting his T-shirt and jeans covered body slither over hers. The slippery liquid satin yielded to him, and he was able to feel her curves, his chest very inappropriately caressing her breasts. She could only gasp softly, unsure how to approach this, now.
DJ helped her decide by taking a seat in the farthest chair in the room, which was next to her desk, and where she held small, private counseling with her charges when she needed to remind them of overdue assignments, or follow-up on other troubles. Seating herself at her desk, Pam could not help but splay her skirt out of a purely-feminine habit, the gesture to minimize wrinkles, but at the same time give an allure every girl knew had an effect on men. She made that allure worse when she crossed her legs at her knees, and sat back.
"Alright, DJ, I'll play your little game. What should I know about your troubles?"
What followed surprised her, as he began to confess to a multitude of dalliances and mis-adventures. She was almost surprised into shock to find that he had been intimate with a growing number of wives, mostly wives of male teachers, and even her high school principal! Then there were other girls, in an out of school. He admitted to a larger number of pregnancies than she had heard he was credited with, and started to get into more lurid details. Other teachers he had been intimate with, which explained how he was going to graduate with such miserable attendance and homework scores. What wife liked what positions, who liked various other kinks, including risky sex and breeding games, and other women who he continued to see out of sheer blackmail. Surprisingly, his prowess had made him in demand, and some women just would not take no for an answer.
All of these tales had given some rise to her libido, and Pam found herself asking for more and more information, imagining herself in some of those situations. For over an hour she listened as he recounted tryst after tryst, and by the end of it, her heart was thudding, and her nipples were proudly displaying through her lace bra. Of course, none of this was lost on DJ, who had been eying her.
He rose to his feet, and Pam did as well, her assumption being he had finished venting his feelings. Then he gave her a smile, and squared off in front of her, both hands grasping her shoulders as he bent his head to her upturned face. His thick, dark mouth mashed to her red-panted glossy lips and his tongue began to invade her mouth, as she began to squeal, taken aback at his swiftly he had began his assault on her, his arms drawing her to him, until she had to either lean forward or take a step. It was over before she had realized it had ever begun, and she found her tongue wrestling with his, as his hands slid from her shoulders to her chest, and he began to maul her full, ripe breasts through the silky satin covering them. Her voice could not stop from mewling as he started to take command of the situation, and her, while her hands fell to her sides, helpless to deny his kiss.
Once the kiss broke, which she found herself disappointed by, he slide his hands to her hips as she let loose aloud cooing, trying to exhale away the escalating arousal. Spinning her around, he pushed her firmly against the wall behind her desk, her eyes spying the wide-open door to the hallway, as his hands re-gripped her waist and pulled her butt out.
"DJ... what do you think-" and her voice was cut off by the sound of his zipper, and his pants falling from his slender and powerful hips. "DJ... we can't. YOU can't! I'm a married woman!"
The young man had not wasted any time at all, in positioning his body behind hers, holding her in place, as his growing erection started to reach up under the hem of her skirt. As he began to dry-hump her notch, sliding his thick rod in the gap between her thighs, he leaned forward and she felt his hot breath on her neck.
"You know you want it, Mrs. Anders. You are just like the other teachers. Fuck the black guy with the big cock." His words were punctuated by his lips nipping at her earlobe, tugging on the small diamond piercing her husband had given her for their anniversary, before latching onto her neck, and biting her. The teeth marks and the intense vacuum his mouth created would leave a large dark spot that marked her as his territory, and would be difficult to hide, especially from her husband.
Pam could not help but moan as she felt him all over her now, hands roving her curves, sliding down her sides to her waist and then down her thighs, until he reached under her skirt and drew down her pantyhose. Taking her thong with them, he drew them down to her knees and resumed humping at her crotch, only know there was bare skin, his black throbbing shaft against her moistened petals, which started to coat the top of his black cock with her dew.
Her voice tried to protest, but her words came out muffled, as she turned her head to protest again, only to find her lips muffled by his own, and he kissed her yet again. His hips bucking at her slipperiness were being aided by her heels, which had increased the rotation of her pelvis, until with his hand pressing down in her back, he found he could begin to push her gates asunder and gain access to her womanhood.
Pam tried to push him off, reaching behind her as best she could flail her arms, but her attempts were half-hearted at best, and he simply reached for her wrists and planted them high up on the wall.
"Don't move..." his dark voice menaced back into her ear, before collecting her curled ponytail into his fingers to hold her steady. Using his free hand, he made one small adjustment to his manhood, and he began to start bucking his hips as she felt her petals part for him, and in a series of six, eight, or even ten thrusts, he was pushing himself ever deeper inside her. Her voice could not stop crying out softly with every thrust, as her sweet spot was massaged by his cock, a new set of sensations she would never feel from her husband. DJ was just built far more superior than he was.
Her moisture was already falling from her labia into long, thin tendrils, which snapped and then the fallen droplets started a puddle between her heels, forever staining and marking the first time DJ had fucked his new conquest. It would be the first of many. Then the fucking got earnest, and he began to hammer his cock into her. Every thrust harder, and seemingly deeper, as if that were possible from this position, and her voice rose louder and louder. DJ used his grip on her hair to balance himself against her, while Pam kept her palms flat on the wall, her long nails trying to claw into the bulletin board as he made her feel every higher and higher levels of passion.
"Oh! Oh! OH! DJ! OHMYGOODNESS!" she cried out.
DJ, for his part, started to feel the pleasure rising in his scrotum, and he knew he was going to cum soon. He always did with the new ones, and Pam would be no different. His own voice started to growl hard repeated as her body was flexing on his black shaft, her body overtaking her mind's will, and doing its best to successfully complete the act of mating. By now a small gathering of students had formed in the doorway, to see what the noise was, and when they witnessed Pam's carnal destruction, phones started coming out, taking photos and video, recording this momentous occasion.
Pam was heedless of her humiliation, lost in the rising tide of raw sexual tension that large black cock was feeding into her, and her voice stopped speaking and turned into a loud, high, tight whine, with her teeth gritted. Mixed with DJ's guttural growls, they made the most of the feelings and sensations building between them, until Pam shook violently, her voice releasing aloud wail as a small splash of her lubrication escaped the seal of her folds and DJ's cock. Her orgasms tripped his own, and DJ let loose aloud, mighty bellow as he began to ejaculate, shooting blast after blast of his hot, sticky cum into her pussy, coating her quivering cervix with his black baby batter.
As they both began to come down from the high of sexual climax, a small smattering of golf-claps erupted from the doorway, and it was them that Pam realized she had been recorded. She looked on in horror, and exclaimed loudly "DJ! LOOK!"
DJ, however, was nonplussed, and he simply looked to the throng of cameras and gave a thumb's up and simply said "She's a hot fuck. I'm gonna make her my bitch now!"
Then he gave her a few more thrusts, which made her moan, as he pussy was clenching down on his cock, buried deeply in her vagina, the head of his cock resting comfortably against her cervix, her body eager to coax every drop of his cum into her waiting womb.
Her head fell forward against the wall, and she could only mutter "Thank God I'm on the pill..."
DJ grunted back at her. "For now...."
(chapter 2 to follow)
"I should stretch my legs for a minute." She muttered to the clock on the wall. She was alone, as classes had been released for the day some ninety-minutes previously, and while she could wander the halls, she knew there would be students still about the campus. Some were there simply out of a duty to learn, instilled by their parents, and others were there because it was now social time, and they could do some of the things they couldn't do during school hours, or at home, for that matter.
It was no secret where the 'hidey-holes' were on campus. Under the bleachers, in a few stairwells, the janitorial closet with the broken lock, and even a few rooms where teachers were known to be absent-minded and forgot to lock their rooms up. The teacher's lounge was also a student favorite, though they were extremely careful to make sure no teachers were about, for to be caught there would be certain death. Death by teacher-discipline, death by grades, and most certainly, death by parental involvement. Glancing out the windows, she noticed that the windy day had finally arrived, the local weather-guesser having called it right, but twelve-hours late. Just in time to have to deal with it after school.
The plus side of it was that the day would be warm and yet clear, while the minus side was that students not having gone home would hunker down in the hallways, until it was time for them to go home, or wherever else their juvenile minds concocted. Another minus was Pam's outfit. It was not exactly cut-out for a windy day.
Her blouse was a stylized-print silky gold satin, buttoned to mid-cleavage, and the lapels folded to just so. It drew some attention to her nice, D-cupped cleavage, yet covered her black lace bra and bra straps, and was loose-enough to not draw criticism from the Principal. Her skirt was a high-waisted black chiffon pleated circle-skirt, hemmed sensibly at her knees. She stood on 4 inch black patent-leather heels, not out of vanity, but because she had some taller male students, and she had heard stories of how some of them tried to bully shorter instructors, and frankly, she just didn't want to have that hassle. But the plain fact was her skirt would not behave on a day like this, no matter how hard she tried. Her undergarments were mostly modest, sheer tan pantyhose and a red thong, the last because she and her husband John had gone out for a date on Saturday, and after two bottles of Merlot, neither was feeling any pain, except for the hangover the next day. The laundry didn't get done. She had promised herself to do the washing the next day. But no matter what, she knew if she stepped outside, she would be doing an imitation of Marilyn Monroe standing over the subway vent, and there were way too many students still on campus to risk letting a single one of them get a look at her modesty, regardless of how innocently it happened.
Another thing Pam wasn't feeling was sated. She had hopes of having sex with her man, as they had kind of tapered off, and she was feeling needy. She was also starting to have those maternal thoughts only women have, too. Babies. That had started by holding the newborn of one of her teacher-friends, who had just had hers, and it brought out those feelings again, despite her being on the pill. Birth control pills can only do so much to curb the emotions, and what the heart wants, the heart wants. Maybe it was time to re-think children? But that brought her some frustration for though her husband really tried in bed, he was a little short in stature. That, coupled with his inability to hold an erection that weekend, and the newborn baby, and the fact that the very air was thick with teenage testosterone was making her a little... tense.
"OK... I gotta' take a break..." She shook her head and again took another look outside. The wind was fierce, and lighter debris was blowing past the windows, some of it flying flatly, while others tumbled past at a good clip. "Jeez..." she muttered, as she opened the door to her classroom.
"WHOA!" she cried out, as she was nearly yanked off her feet, the door jerking open and yanking her with it!
It only took a moment to recognize what had happened. Some enterprising young student or students had taken it upon themselves to steal the little wooden door wedges and hold open both hallway ends, making the hallway a literal wind tunnel. Standing there, her long brown hair tousled about as her hand reached up to clear her vision. Forgotten in this moment of surprise was her skirt, which was now plastered up about her chest. It took her too long of a moment to realize that the very exposure she had feared was happening, and it was indoors! Instinctively, she forgot trying to see, and turned her body into the wind, letting her hair blow back behind her, as her hands started to do battle with the hem of her skirt. That was when she heard the chortled laugh.
"Nice legs, Mrs. Anders. Red looks good on you."
Turning abruptly to the sound of the voice, her eyes could make out the figure of Dwayne Jewan Clark, of DJ as the others called him. An eighteen-year old in his Senior year of high school, DJ was a known quantity, of sorts. All the girls certainly knew him, as they had been schoolmates for most of their academic career. Given the fact he had developed earlier than most, he had also matured physically into a rather imposing young man. It was widely believed that some of those girls who had been schoolmates were also mate-mates, and at least three or four were known by everyone to have been transferred out of school due to pregnancy. DJ would never admit it, but there were just too many allegations of his virility. He never denied it, either.
There was also a social scuttlebutt in their part of town that some of those school girls who were carrying his children had mothers who were also carrying his child. A fact seemingly borne out by several families not only transferring their ********* to another school, but also moving into a new school district. This had happened every year for the past five years.
It was just one of those unproven facts. DJ had not only gotten some students pregnant, but also their mothers. The great mystery was how did he do it? Was he just that charismatic? Was he just persuasive? Did he take advantage of his size with the smaller females? The only ones who really knew were the pregnant women, and they weren't talking.
Pam squealed when she realized she was being gawked at, and even worse by DJ. She was already having some disciplinary problems with him in her English class, and this was certainly not going to help. Small hands flapping and trying to grasp the hem of her skirt, it took way too long for her to win the battle, and even then, she had to retreat back into her classroom. Standing in the doorway, the crossing wind still made an eddy into the portal, and managed to fill out her skirt, before it would billow back down, either from in front or behind, but the look was not lost on DJ, who was enticed, so he decided to get to know his teacher a little better.
Confidently strutting his way towards her, he invaded her personal space, standing so close he could easily detect her feminine perfume, a scent of vanilla that belied her femininity. Pam swallowed in a nervous gulp, as DJ placed his elbow on the doorsill, effectively blocking her path of escape. Her blue eyes looked to his deep dark brown ones, and she had to clear her throat softly to speak.
"DJ, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be somewhere else? Like home doing your homework? I think you still owe me several pages of word definitions."
"Yeah, probably... but they'll still be there in a while." He smoothly retorted, offering a dismissive wave of the hand propped up on the doorsill. His baritone was smooth, and Pam suddenly realized that he was actually rather suave in his carriage. He knew certain truths, one of them was how males and females got along. He used his free hand to reach to reach out and gently caress Pam's arm, while his eyes started to devour her.
"Maybe so, DJ, *Ahem* but your grades could use the same attention you like to pay to girls." As she felt his skin ever so lightly caress hers, she had a slight shiver, one that sent a small tease of electricity up her limb. She used that arm to use her hand and try and keep her skirt down, as she realized DJ was scoping her legs out under it.
"Nah..." he smiled. She had to admit, in certain circumstances, he had a great smile. Disarming and well-intentioned, he seemed at that moment the most genuine she had ever seen him to appear. He continued to reach for her, now lightly touching her shoulder. "Besides, I don't you we know each other very well, yet. I mean, it's good that a teacher knows her students, right? What's good, and what's bad?"
Pam pulled her shoulder back, away from his reach, making her heel click loudly as she was forced to retreat into her room a half-step. The benefit of the movement was to finally let her skirt settle into its proper place, but it allowed DJ to move past her, letting his T-shirt and jeans covered body slither over hers. The slippery liquid satin yielded to him, and he was able to feel her curves, his chest very inappropriately caressing her breasts. She could only gasp softly, unsure how to approach this, now.
DJ helped her decide by taking a seat in the farthest chair in the room, which was next to her desk, and where she held small, private counseling with her charges when she needed to remind them of overdue assignments, or follow-up on other troubles. Seating herself at her desk, Pam could not help but splay her skirt out of a purely-feminine habit, the gesture to minimize wrinkles, but at the same time give an allure every girl knew had an effect on men. She made that allure worse when she crossed her legs at her knees, and sat back.
"Alright, DJ, I'll play your little game. What should I know about your troubles?"
What followed surprised her, as he began to confess to a multitude of dalliances and mis-adventures. She was almost surprised into shock to find that he had been intimate with a growing number of wives, mostly wives of male teachers, and even her high school principal! Then there were other girls, in an out of school. He admitted to a larger number of pregnancies than she had heard he was credited with, and started to get into more lurid details. Other teachers he had been intimate with, which explained how he was going to graduate with such miserable attendance and homework scores. What wife liked what positions, who liked various other kinks, including risky sex and breeding games, and other women who he continued to see out of sheer blackmail. Surprisingly, his prowess had made him in demand, and some women just would not take no for an answer.
All of these tales had given some rise to her libido, and Pam found herself asking for more and more information, imagining herself in some of those situations. For over an hour she listened as he recounted tryst after tryst, and by the end of it, her heart was thudding, and her nipples were proudly displaying through her lace bra. Of course, none of this was lost on DJ, who had been eying her.
He rose to his feet, and Pam did as well, her assumption being he had finished venting his feelings. Then he gave her a smile, and squared off in front of her, both hands grasping her shoulders as he bent his head to her upturned face. His thick, dark mouth mashed to her red-panted glossy lips and his tongue began to invade her mouth, as she began to squeal, taken aback at his swiftly he had began his assault on her, his arms drawing her to him, until she had to either lean forward or take a step. It was over before she had realized it had ever begun, and she found her tongue wrestling with his, as his hands slid from her shoulders to her chest, and he began to maul her full, ripe breasts through the silky satin covering them. Her voice could not stop from mewling as he started to take command of the situation, and her, while her hands fell to her sides, helpless to deny his kiss.
Once the kiss broke, which she found herself disappointed by, he slide his hands to her hips as she let loose aloud cooing, trying to exhale away the escalating arousal. Spinning her around, he pushed her firmly against the wall behind her desk, her eyes spying the wide-open door to the hallway, as his hands re-gripped her waist and pulled her butt out.
"DJ... what do you think-" and her voice was cut off by the sound of his zipper, and his pants falling from his slender and powerful hips. "DJ... we can't. YOU can't! I'm a married woman!"
The young man had not wasted any time at all, in positioning his body behind hers, holding her in place, as his growing erection started to reach up under the hem of her skirt. As he began to dry-hump her notch, sliding his thick rod in the gap between her thighs, he leaned forward and she felt his hot breath on her neck.
"You know you want it, Mrs. Anders. You are just like the other teachers. Fuck the black guy with the big cock." His words were punctuated by his lips nipping at her earlobe, tugging on the small diamond piercing her husband had given her for their anniversary, before latching onto her neck, and biting her. The teeth marks and the intense vacuum his mouth created would leave a large dark spot that marked her as his territory, and would be difficult to hide, especially from her husband.
Pam could not help but moan as she felt him all over her now, hands roving her curves, sliding down her sides to her waist and then down her thighs, until he reached under her skirt and drew down her pantyhose. Taking her thong with them, he drew them down to her knees and resumed humping at her crotch, only know there was bare skin, his black throbbing shaft against her moistened petals, which started to coat the top of his black cock with her dew.
Her voice tried to protest, but her words came out muffled, as she turned her head to protest again, only to find her lips muffled by his own, and he kissed her yet again. His hips bucking at her slipperiness were being aided by her heels, which had increased the rotation of her pelvis, until with his hand pressing down in her back, he found he could begin to push her gates asunder and gain access to her womanhood.
Pam tried to push him off, reaching behind her as best she could flail her arms, but her attempts were half-hearted at best, and he simply reached for her wrists and planted them high up on the wall.
"Don't move..." his dark voice menaced back into her ear, before collecting her curled ponytail into his fingers to hold her steady. Using his free hand, he made one small adjustment to his manhood, and he began to start bucking his hips as she felt her petals part for him, and in a series of six, eight, or even ten thrusts, he was pushing himself ever deeper inside her. Her voice could not stop crying out softly with every thrust, as her sweet spot was massaged by his cock, a new set of sensations she would never feel from her husband. DJ was just built far more superior than he was.
Her moisture was already falling from her labia into long, thin tendrils, which snapped and then the fallen droplets started a puddle between her heels, forever staining and marking the first time DJ had fucked his new conquest. It would be the first of many. Then the fucking got earnest, and he began to hammer his cock into her. Every thrust harder, and seemingly deeper, as if that were possible from this position, and her voice rose louder and louder. DJ used his grip on her hair to balance himself against her, while Pam kept her palms flat on the wall, her long nails trying to claw into the bulletin board as he made her feel every higher and higher levels of passion.
"Oh! Oh! OH! DJ! OHMYGOODNESS!" she cried out.
DJ, for his part, started to feel the pleasure rising in his scrotum, and he knew he was going to cum soon. He always did with the new ones, and Pam would be no different. His own voice started to growl hard repeated as her body was flexing on his black shaft, her body overtaking her mind's will, and doing its best to successfully complete the act of mating. By now a small gathering of students had formed in the doorway, to see what the noise was, and when they witnessed Pam's carnal destruction, phones started coming out, taking photos and video, recording this momentous occasion.
Pam was heedless of her humiliation, lost in the rising tide of raw sexual tension that large black cock was feeding into her, and her voice stopped speaking and turned into a loud, high, tight whine, with her teeth gritted. Mixed with DJ's guttural growls, they made the most of the feelings and sensations building between them, until Pam shook violently, her voice releasing aloud wail as a small splash of her lubrication escaped the seal of her folds and DJ's cock. Her orgasms tripped his own, and DJ let loose aloud, mighty bellow as he began to ejaculate, shooting blast after blast of his hot, sticky cum into her pussy, coating her quivering cervix with his black baby batter.
As they both began to come down from the high of sexual climax, a small smattering of golf-claps erupted from the doorway, and it was them that Pam realized she had been recorded. She looked on in horror, and exclaimed loudly "DJ! LOOK!"
DJ, however, was nonplussed, and he simply looked to the throng of cameras and gave a thumb's up and simply said "She's a hot fuck. I'm gonna make her my bitch now!"
Then he gave her a few more thrusts, which made her moan, as he pussy was clenching down on his cock, buried deeply in her vagina, the head of his cock resting comfortably against her cervix, her body eager to coax every drop of his cum into her waiting womb.
Her head fell forward against the wall, and she could only mutter "Thank God I'm on the pill..."
DJ grunted back at her. "For now...."
(chapter 2 to follow)
