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Sitting in night class each night tracing over my name while I ignore a raging boner throbbing against my leg isn't my idea of a great time. But it is all I can do to keep from staring at Ms. Fitzpatrick's engorged tits. She is the kind of sexy stern teacher, with thick black glasses and shirts that are always just a bit too low cut. You see, she had just come back from maternity leave to teach our segment of GED each night. Sometimes her shirt even has small wet circles around her nipples from where her milk has leaked through and I had to hold back a moan. So I looked down at my paper and traced my name "Riley O'Connor" over and over. Because I want to get through it, I want my GED.
And because I am not that kind of a guy. Really. I was a good kid in high school, I wrestled and played baseball in the fall and also was a member of the French and Chemistry club. I earned mostly A's and B's. Not your typical candidate for GED classes.
I have to endure night school, not because I dropped out due to drugs or stupidity, but because I had to take care of my mom while she went through chemo and radiation. It took two years but she finally kicked cancer's ass. So here I am, at 19, trying to concentrate the constitution and geometry proofs Monday through Friday from 6-9 with a raging hard-on because my teacher is a MILF.
About three weeks into the class we had our first big test. So I waited, with a giant smile plastered on my face the night it was due back to us, as Ms. Fitzpatrick passed out our tests. I grabbed it eagerly, sure that I aced it, as she placed it on my desk face down. F.
"I expected better, Mr. O'Connor. See me after class." She scolded sternly as she walked away.
What?! I asked myself going through the test. I knew everything. I was confident of it. So I looked at my scan-tron bubble sheet sure that I could explain this to her in some way. She had to of made a mistake. I could just explain it to the sexy vixen of a teacher, and it would all go away. Three weeks of work would be redeemed.
Except it couldn't.
I skipped one question and all of my answers were wrong off by one. I swore a blue streak in my headed and prepared a different conversation in my head while she went through the process by which congress passes a bill with the class. One were I begged for a retake.
The rest of class went too fast and before I knew it everyone was leaving while I sat in my desk waiting in shame. I wasn't prepared to advocate for myself and I knew it.
"Mr. O'Conner, please give me just a few moments and I will be right with you," Ms. Fitzpatrick requested in a polite tone before rushing through the door without waiting for my response.
Typical.
So I sat there and waited. My blood was pumping in my ears from my embarrassment. I had never failed anything before in my life. GED classes were supposed to be easy. What if I didn't pass my GED and couldn't go to college? How could I explain that to my mom? Hey mom I know you just went through two horrible years of painful vomiting, fatigue and body wracking pain and that you drew strength from wishing to see me succeed but I suck. Doomed.
After about five minutes I heard the door open and sat up straight, sweat beading on my forehead. I wanted to approach this right. She walked through the door in a completely different outfit from her pencil skirt and blue button down dress shirt. A long satin red dress replaced it. No, it was a nightgown. Without anything under it. Her breasts were perky and hard, the fabric already soaked through from what I imagined was several hours worth of milk un-pumped.
She approached me with a stern look on her face and lectured, "Riley, I am very disappointed that you did so poorly. But, I am willing to let you retest. If you show that you are worthy of it."
She bent over my desk to give me a better view of those large swollen mountains. They looked delicious. I caught myself liking my lips before stuffing my tongue back into my mouth and clearing my throat.
"Ms. Fitzpatrick, I don't think that this is a good idea. I mean someone could come in..."
Not, I don't want to have sex with someone in a position of power over me. Not, I respect you as a woman. Instead I don't want to get caught. I am so lame.
She pulled my desk away from my chair and sat on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. I had her full attention. All parts of me. She could feel it through my jeans against the very soft, very thin material draped over her body. But I didn't push her off or apologize for it. I let her know that I wanted her.
I had spent several nights wondering what those creamy globes looked and felt like. I even dreamed about tasting the flowing milk that seemed to be causing her so many problems. So yeah, maybe I drooled. A little.
"Mr. O'Connor, you worry too much. We are the only one's left in the old school building. I made sure of it. Besides, I couldn't wait any longer."
Taking each strap of her gown off she shoved what small fabric was covering her down, exposing her appetizing bounty. The honey soft flesh bounced slightly as it released and I found that my eyes could not leave them. I had taken the bait.
"Aren't they beautiful?"
"Yes," I whispered almost venerability, too late to take my admiration back.
Ms. Fitzpatrick grabbed her swollen breast in one hand and squeezed the plush flesh, a small amount, a dribble really, of milk emerged to drip off the tip of her hard pebble, falling down onto my shirt. I gulped visibly.
"Suckle me, I am bursting with milk." She purred at me, a command more than a request.
Chanukah is knocking at my door this time of year, and Christmas is just around the corner . And being the wonderful author that I am, besides celebrating two holidays, I wanted to give to the people. So, along with many other wonderful Smutistes (Artistes) decided it would be advantageous to present you with:
