Every week my dumb ass winds up fucking the shit out of the same married woman that I swore a dozen times I’d leave alone.  “Yeahhh, Yeahhh, fuck me with that big dick!  I want to see it drip!” She’d scream those same words every Saturday night while I pounded away in what had to be the best pussy of my young, 23 year-old life. 

      Her name was Mrs. Dawson, a curvaceous 12th grade English teacher at Booker T. Washington High School, a school, I might add, that I attended less than six years ago.  Back then the teachers didn’t come stacked quite like Mrs. Dawson.  For a woman in her late forties she had it going on.  Hips and thighs that gave people the impression she was more of a seasoned stripper or some retired hip hop video vixen rather than a suburban school teacher and housewife.  I’ve known Mrs. Dawson now for about ten years and still find myself masturbating to her the same way I did as a child.  The only difference now is that when I masturbate, I’m usually fantasizing about all the amazing sex that she and I often engage in.  Maybe that’s why it’s so hard for me to stay away from her, even if it is the right thing to do.  If only I could find the strength to leave her alone once and for all.  

      This Saturday night would be no different from the others, except for maybe the scenario she wanted me to act out.  Each week she likes to fulfill a different sexual fantasy by way of role-playing.  She says the reason she loves role-playing so much is because she can explore all of her hidden desires that her husband was never open-minded enough to try.  In the beginning, all of this acting stuff was new to me.  I didn’t really have any hidden desires other than the typical boyhood threesome fantasy; that soon changed.  

      Role-playing with Mrs. Dawson opened me up to a sexual world that I never knew existed.  I got to the point where I anxiously anticipated her arrival to my place each Saturday, to see what kinky new sex role she wanted to play.  This week I was supposed to pretend that I was one of her horny little out-of-control students that had a crush on her.  I was definitely game for that. 

      The game was to commence as soon as she arrived at my apartment.  She tapped gently on my door as usual, as not to alert any of my neighbors… or anyone else that might possibly know her.  It’s such a small world that you can never be too careful.  I always knew when Mrs. Dawson was at my door by the sound her wedding ring made against the hard wood.  We were always covert because we never knew who was watching; we had our own little special knock and everything.  Although it was understood that she would be at my place at nine o’clock sharp, she would still phone from the parking lot before coming up.  This was just a precautionary method we used just in case one of my friends happened to be at my place. 

     When nine o’clock came and I heard that familiar knock, I was so excited that when I opened the door my hand was trembling.  I had waited all week long for this day to come but nonetheless I jumped right into character and asked, “Mrs. Dawson.  What brings you to myhouse, ma’am?” with a surprised look on my face.  I was trying to control the obvious hard-on growing within my track pants but it was a lost cause.  Mrs. Dawson was wearing a navy blue business skirt that showed off every one of her voluptuous curves.  She also had on the matching suit jacket and blue stockings.  In her right hand was a black briefcase with bulging sides that told me something other than schoolwork was inside. 

      “Darryl, you know exactly why I’m here.  Are your parents around?” she asked sternly with a deadpan expression that left no room for a smile or grin.  Mrs. Dawson was so good at role-playing that it was often hard to tell when she was being serious or just acting. 

      “They’re both at work for at least another hour, ma’am,”I explained, trying to keep with the innocent look going. 

      “I guess I’m going to have to just wait here until they get home then,” she responded with a sly grin. She then invited herself in and made her way over to the loveseat to sit down.  My cock was swelling by the second, quickly reaching its eight-inch peak as I watched her donkey of an ass switch across the room.  Regretfully I thought, Darryl,why do you keep doing this to yourself?. You know how hard it is for you to resist her once she’s in your presence.  

     Mrs. Dawson’s skirt was hugging her ass so tightly that it seemed to be fighting stitch upon stitch not to split down the seams and bust open.  After sitting down she told me how disappointed she was that my grades were slipping, while removing her suit jacket so I could see her hard nipples protruding against her white transparent blouse.  Damn, Mrs. Dawson isn’t wearing a bra, I thought embracing my role as the horny adolescent boy.  The sexy temptress now sat across from me in the loveseat with her briefcase on top of her lap and her legs slightly parted to reveal her panty-less crotch.  From my position I could easily see where her blue thigh-highs stopped and where her shaved pussy began.  Frustrated now, I questioned internally how much longer I could endure her torturous sexual teasing.  As if sensing my intense yearning, Mrs. Dawson withdrew a wooden paddle with black tape wrapped around the handle from her briefcase.  This was certainly a new twist to our routine scenarios, but strangely, it was turning me on even more.  

     “What’s that for, teacher?” I asked in what I considered my best nervous boy impersonation.  However, without saying a word she just took the paddle out and politely sat her briefcase beside the chair.  I eagerly watched as she calmly took off each of her blue high-heeled shoes and placed them neatly alongside her briefcase.  Mrs. Dawson has always known that stockings and feet were my weakness— that was the point of the outfit in the first place— and I wasn’t complaining in the slightest.  My dick was so swollen by now that the front of my track pants resembled a steep ski slope, and since there was no point in hiding it any longer, I withdrew it from the polyester prison that kept it concealed.  Once it was free I started stroking it vigorously like a boy scout rubbing sticks together to make fire. 

     By the look on Mrs. Dawson’s face I could tell that my jerking off was arousing her.  “What the hell are you doing, Darryl?” she said in a stern voice while slapping her wooden paddle against the arm of the chair. 

     Startled by the paddle’s loud thud, I flinched, though she was just making me stroke my throbbing dick harder.  Obedience was never one of my stronger qualities.  Mrs. Dawson immediately sprang from the chair, stormed over, grabbed my hand and yanked it away from my dick. “You need to be taught some manners, young man.  And since your parents aren’t doing a good job of it, I’ll just have to do it for them!”she scolded. 

     She made me stand up, face the back of the couch, and bend over.  I was like “Huh?” but more curious to know where all of this was leading.  Following her orders I bent over and touched the back of the couch.  My pants were half way down with my ass tooted out when I felt the first sting from her wooden disciplinarian.  “Shit!” I yelled as the wood made contact with my tender butt cheeks.  I could scream all I wanted but Mrs. Dawson wasn’t passing out any sympathy this night.  She was actually getting pleasure from seeing me in such pain.  However, when she unbuttoned her blouse and I glanced back over my shoulder and saw those lovely 38D breasts, my mind was taken off my throbbing ass. 

     Mrs. Dawson was an extremely kinky lady.  She made me take off my shirt so she could rub her big titties across my back.  She liked to play with my dick from behind while licking my ass, all the while loving the idea that I couldn’t push her away.  Feeling helpless never felt so fucking good!  I was instructed to say aloud, “I’m sorry for pulling my dick out, Mrs. Dawson,” each time she hit me and then she might let me fuck her when she was done.  “SMACK,” went the sound of the paddle on my ass as she hit me again.  My ass was on fire but nonetheless, I repeated verbatim, every word she wanted me to say. After all, I did want so badly to fuck her.  After three more lashes to my ass she told me that the only way she could see my grades improving was if I gave her a real good fucking—so that’s what she got. 

     By the time I turned around to fuck Mrs. Dawson, my dick ached from being stiff for so long.  “Turn your ass around,” I commanded in a stern but overanxious tone.  I then pushed her, face first, down on the couch, leaving just her ass sticking up.  I was too eager to take her skirt completely off so I just pulled it up as far as it would stretch over her plump round ass.  Then I hurriedly stripped off my pants so I could enjoy what I had waited for all week.

     “Hurry up and put your dick inside me before your parents get back,” she barked, “Fuck Mrs. Dawson with that rock hard dick!”  Every raunchy word from her mouth was making my dick stiffen and ache that much more.  She didn’t know it but she was about to get way more than she bargained for tonight.  With my dick in hand, I mounted that aged-to-perfection ass and dry humped her butt crack until she squirmed and moaned and begged me to put my adolescent boy-cock in her.  My tongue had her twitching and jerking as it traced her spine from bottom to top.  In the back of my mind I knew what we were doing was a carnal sin, but like so many times before, my flesh was overpowering what little morals I had. 

     On any other occasion when Mrs. Dawson and I got together, we wouldn’t dare have unprotected sex— but tonight was different.  Tonight her pussy was so wet that my dick slipped right in before either of us could stop it.  “My God,” I cried out in pleasure as it disappeared inch after inch into her deep, addictive honey pot. 

     “That’s it, you naughty boy... work for that grade,” she moaned as my dick hit the back of her wet insides.  “Stir that juicy stuff,” she muttered while starting to ram her sweaty ass against my pelvis.  The loud pity-pat sounds of our two sweaty bodies echoed throughout my small apartment.  With each vigorous stroke I knew why breaking things off with Mrs. Dawson for good was easier said than done.  She was like an addictive drug that I would attempt to cut loose.  Then I’d find myself craving how good she would make me feel and go running back to her like a fiend in need of a fix.  I was most definitely whipped!

     “Yeah, that’s it— get it! GET IT GOOD!” Mrs. Dawson yelled, reaching back and spreading her ass cheeks apart with both her hands. She knew the power she wielded over me, and she used that power every opportunity she got. 

     Pushing her down on her stomach, I crumpled the ends of her blouse into a tight fist and reined her in close.  Then to heighten the moment I reached underneath us and started massaging her clit while continuing to fuck the living daylights out of her.  There was no question about it, Mrs. Dawson was definitely enjoying herself.  Her warm juices all over my hands were a dead giveaway.  With every thrust of my energetic cock, I continued my manual stimulation of her clit, driving her plum nuts in the process.  “Can I get an A now, Mrs. Dawson?” I taunted, “Are you still…going…to tell my…parents now… ahhhh— you nasty, fuckingbitch?” 

     Grudgingly, I yanked back on her blouse while shoving my dick deeper inside, forcing her to acknowledge that she could feel my wet ball-sack slapping against her clit.  Looking down and seeing her creamy trail of excitement covering my shaft was driving me insane.  Suddenly she screamed, “When you get ready to cum… I want to hear you say, I’m cumming… Mrs. Dawson, all in your, fat, funky ass!”  And with those words we both fucked each other senseless as if the nut we were both racing to get to would make up for all our deceitful lies.  I kept pounding her and pounding her as she gripped the side of the couch with one hand, and slid the other hand down into the side of the cushion.  Then accompanied by one of the ugliest, tightly balled cum faces I’d ever seen, she screamed “Oh my God!” several times while pumping warm spunk all over me. 

     Overexcited now and barely able to hold back my week’s load of cum any longer, I pounded her apple-shaped ass with everything I had left.  “Faster,faster,” she kept screaming as I was nearing what felt like an orgasm from hell.  The sound of my cock vigorously sliding in and out of her pussy was taking me to the point of no return, driving out, verbatim, the words that I would regret saying later. 

     “I’m cumming, Mrs. Dawson…I’m cumming! All in that FAT… FUNKY ASS!” I screamed out in a climactic moan as my cock pumped loads of cum all up inside her cum-filled cavern and dripping the rest all over her ass, legs, and carpet. 

     After my lengthy orgasmic release the two of us realized what really had just happened and panic set in.  I must be out my fucking mind, I thought in blundering fear.  A combination of Mrs. Dawson’s cum and mine now oozed out of her as she remained face down on my couch in shock. 

     To make matters worse, not five minutes after we finished our business someone started pounding on my door.  Mrs. Dawson and I both cringed at the thought that whoever this was could have possibly heard me screaming her name out in my moment of ecstasy. 

     The knocking at the door didn’t let up.  Whoever this was, they wanted inside really badly.  The only thing either of us could do, though, was stare at one another with terrified looks on our faces.  “Darryl, I know you’re fucking in there.  I heard y’all halfway down the fucking hallway,” the agitated male voice yelled. 

     Horrified, we both sat quietly, unable to breathe.  Once we got another good listen to the voice, both Mrs. Dawson’s life and mine seemed destined for the morning obituaries; the angry voice hit just a little too close to home for either of us to digest. “Is that…?” were the only two words that Mrs. Dawson’s mouth needed to say before we realized who the voice on the other side of the door belonged to.  The only question now was what in God’s name were we going to do? 

     I mean… I can’t think of too many ways to tell your best friend that you’ve been fucking the shit out of his mother on a weekly basis, can you?

    
To be continued in "The Chapters of Ecstasy."




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