Slutty Stories: The Slut English Teacher

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Mrs. Stark stopped crying and just stared at the younger woman. “Yes, you are very pretty,” she finally admitted.

Out in the parking lot, both of us woozy from low-grade champagne and pre-lunch martinis, Aunt Doris handed me the keys to her convertible. “You drive. Get used to driving dreamboats for a change.” I sometimes f**k random people just so i’ll have someone to eat all the baked goods I make. (I live alone so they’d only go to waste when I don’t eat them). Mrs. Stark looked up at the face staring at her and said, “Oh Lord, you’re so young… and so pure. How could you help me? I should just go. This was a mistake.” Yes. I hope that you enjoy the experience, but I won’t go out of my way to make sure that you do. This arrangement is to fulfil my needs. You won’t always like it, sometimes you will receive pain, but I hope you will accept it. You feel the need to be dominated?” Does he really want to spank me for what I said? He is an ass. I’m not going. When the end of the day arrives, I am going home.People still flew around in silver Constellations in those days. Everything in America looked big, beautiful, full of hope and dreams. I parked my incredible new car as close to the runway as the law allowed, watched the gleaming airplane taxi, race its engines and take off towards the sunset. I waved at the porthole I thought might be filled by Aunt Doris’s face. I stayed on the runway till dark.

He seemed to like that she thanked him and paused to rub his hand across her hot cheeks. “Stand up,” he said. “Remove your trousers and your underwear.” So, after seeing all those sweet young things, do you still want to shag this old hag?” Gail asked, jokingly. Steve’s jaw dropped and he couldn’t even speak, but the more forceful Johnny said almost too loudly, “No way… we’re not queer.” It was a stupid idea. Instead, she left and went to her usual coffee shop for a coffee and a panini before her bar shift. The work day ended and the work week, well, for everyone else at least. Layla had a full weekend of bar work to look forward to. Her only consolation was she didn’t start until the afternoon on Saturdays and Sundays and could enjoy some sleep after tonight’s shift was over.

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Marge became flustered when her husband asked where she had been. Because of the “extracurricular activities” in the hotel room after the movie, she was gone longer than usual when making one of her “special” trips to the big city. In the past, her husband had no idea she had left town or, for that matter, even the house. He wasn’t one to ask her how her day went. The young wife came up with an excuse about searching for a present for an upcoming birthday and the trusting preacher accepted it. Marge hated lying and worried about adding another sin to the list she’d have to answer to on her day of judgment. So, I've lived in this house that I'm currently living in for about 15 years (since I was 8). Ever since I was 8 I've had the same neighbors. A nice man and a nice older lady. The husband moved out of the house last year to move closer to work (about 2 cities away) and she stayed at the house. They decided to rent the extra rooms out to some college girls.

It will be my pleasure,” the preacher’s wife said with a big smile on her face. “Sandy, lie down on the blanket.” The preacher’s wife was troubled. She was still aroused from the previous activities and the stranger was confusing her. She thought he was going to ask to touch her breast again. After all, that gave her enjoyment. But he wanted to touch her vagina. How could she let anyone touch her there? Her husband never would, so how could she allow the stranger to do it? But he said he’d leave if she let him try and it wasn’t pleasurable. There’s no way touching her there would give her pleasure. No way!! But he had put doubt in her mind. She needed to know if he was lying to her or if her entire upbringing was a lie. And if he was lying to her, at least she’d be free of him when she told him he was wrong. He’d leave and she’d be able to return home to the life she understood. God designed our bodies so that we would enjoy the touch of another person. God filled us with love and wanted us to love each other in ways that give us pleasure. Why are you going against God’s will?”

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Layla changed reluctantly into her bar uniform, refreshed her make-up, and made her way out of the office. Mr Larson was leaving the kitchen armed with a microwaved meal as she walked towards the exit. “Goodnight, Mr Larson,” she said. After they had rested, the preacher’s wife stunned Mrs. Stark by saying, “I’d love to see you make love to your husband.” I’m going to make you into a man today,” the preacher’s wife hissed, still rubbing the boy’s crotch. “But first you have to please me.” Layla burned with shame as she felt the moistness between her legs. She was laid over a desk receiving a beating from her boss, but she found the experience intensely erotic. She cursed her body its betrayal. Mrs. Stark’s eyes burned into the hem of the preacher’s wife’s skirt as if trying to make her raise it higher, but Marge stopped just below her pussy.