Paul… oh, Paul, she thought as she masturbated frantically. Just pretend it's Paul's prick penetrating you, she thought wildly. Where is he? Where is Paul? I want Paul to fleck me, to fill my cunt with his cream and lick my nipples!
"Oh… oh… I'm going to come," she groaned. "Stick it in me, Paul, stick it in deeper and deeper… oh… oh… mmmmm…" and her cunt gave one violent contraction as wave after wave of orgasm washed over her body.
It was all over. She turned onto her stomach and buried her head in her pillow as she cried herself to sleep.
The next morning Brenda told herself it was all over. She had made up her mind during the night that she would not tutor Paul any more. The temptation was just too great. She decided that she would talk to Brad Livingstone and tell him that she wanted someone else to help Paul with his lessons. Oh, God, how can I do it? she wondered. How can I let that beautiful prick go? I have to do it, I have to! Before she could change her mind, Brenda changed into a pair of slacks and a shirt and decided to see if she could find Brad and tell him of her decision. She would have to think of some excuse to tell Brad. Uncertain what it would be, Brenda mulled it over in her mind.
She would simply tell Brad the "truth". She would tell him how Paul had come to her cottage for his French lesson and how he had made suggestive remarks and how he had "attacked" her. "Yes, that's it," she thought aloud. "That's what I'll tell Brad. I'll beg him not to say anything to Paul. Brad can just say I'm too busy to tutor him, that one of the other teachers will do it instead."
Brenda hesitated before entering Brad's office. What if the little bastard told Brad what really happened? No, Brad wouldn't believe Paul. After all, she was older, wiser, a respected member of the faculty. Certainly Brad would never think that she could perform such a depraved, immoral act!
Brenda hesitated in the doorway and then gently knocked. Brad yelled, "Come on in!"
She didn't say anything, but for a moment hesitated, about to leave.
"Brenda, what's the matter?" he asked gently.
Without answering, Brenda turned around and began to leave.
Brad jumped to his feet and crossed the room in rapid strides to her side.
"Brenda, what on earth is wrong?" he asked.
With a sob, she lunged toward Brad and fell against him. She sobbed and mumbled something which he could not understand.
He held her away from him for a second, and even though her problem was his first concern, he couldn't help but notice the two huge breasts that were obvious even under her ill-fitting shirt.
Brad put his arm around her shoulder, one hand trailing lightly across her tit as he moved his hand. The action went unnoticed.
"Brenda, don't cry. Please tell me what's wrong."
"I can't tell you," she stammered. "It… it's too awful to talk about."
Truly concerned now, Brad decided the best thing to do was calm her down at once. She just wasn't making sense standing there in the middle of his office, mumbling words about something that was too awful to talk about.
"C'mon Brenda, let's go to your cottage where we can talk and I'll fix you a drink and you can tell me all about your problem."
Brad was beginning to have a problem of his own. He felt his prick stirring in his slacks as he held Brenda close to him. Yeah… take her to her room… maybe I can fuck her and shell relax a little and tell me about her problem, he thought.
She didn't decline the offer and he quickly maneuvered her out of his office before she changed her mind. He had an overpowering urge to fuck her then and there in his office, but the risk was too great. What if Dee came looking for him, or Betty? He'd really be in trouble if he were caught with the voluptuous Miss Andrews.
Neither one of them said anything as they walked across the quadrangle toward her cottage.
Once inside, he walked into the kitchen and took some ice out of the refrigerator.
"Do you have any liquor, Brenda?" he called from the kitchen.
"Yes… it's in the cupboard above the sink," she called back.
Several minutes later Brad emerged from the tiny kitchen, two drinks in hand. He handed one to Brenda and winced as she swallowed a large gulp of the golden-brown liquid. Before he could sit down, she finished off her stiff drink in two large swallows and he quickly got up from the couch and went into the kitchen to mix her another one. I'll really put some booze in this one, he thought.
She'll really relax and tell me what's wrong, he schemed.
He handed her the second drink and patted the couch beside him. "Sit here, Brenda," he said, "then we can talk." He smiled encouragingly at her and a wild idea raced through his mind. I'll bet she's having a sex problem and wants to discuss it with a man. All right, here I am, and I'll help her, maybe even fuck her before the day is over!
Brenda sat down on the other end of the couch and sipped her drink thoughtfully.
Brad tried to visualize what her body looked like beneath her clothes, and again his cock stirred as he tried to picture her naked breasts and her hairy cunt.
Don't rush it, he thought. At least have the courtesy to listen to, her problem before you try to fuck her. Maybe there really was something you can do to help her.
"Brenda, can you tell me now what's troubling you?" he asked gently.
"Brad… oh, Brad…" She started to sob again. "No… I won't cry any more, Brad. I'm an adult and you'll be very upset with what I'm going to tell you, but I have to say it."
"Brenda, please…"
She didn't let him finish. "No, Brad… I have to tell you. If you want to fire me, then you will have to, but I have to talk to you and let you know what I've done."
He stared at her intently as she continued. "Brad I… I've been having sexual relations with one of the students."
His face reddened with fury. How could an adult woman do such a thing? How could she? Then he simmered down. After all, hadn't he been fucking a teen-aged girl? His own stepdaughter at that!
She was surprised at his calmness. "Brad, I knew you would understand," she stammered. "I never meant for it to happen. He came to my cottage and he made suggestive remarks and he… oh, Brad it was awful!" She began to sob again.
"I didn't want him to fuck me, Brad. I'm old enough to be his mother. I don't know how it happened. All of a sudden he whipped out his cock and he threatened me. He said if I didn't let him fuck me he would tell you that I had molested him. Oh, Brad… I was afraid. I didn't really want him to fuck me," she lied. "He's just a boy… Oh… Brad…"
He moved over closer to her on the couch and put his arms around her comfortingly. She sighed and relaxed against his strong muscular chest.
"Oh, you poor dear," he whispered gently. Fucked by a boy… you should be fucked by a real man! he thought to himself. "How awful for you," he said.
"Thanks, Brad, I knew you would understand," and she leaned closer to him.
Brad wasn't too certain later as to the sequence of events, but he did remember her pressing against him tighter, one of her hands dropping to his crotch as he gently stroked her breast through the thin blouse.
"Mmmm…" she murmured as he kissed her harder.
"Brenda, oh… Brenda," he said huskily, and without another word he carried her silently into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed.
She looked up at him with wonder and amazement in her eyes. "Brad…"
He didn't answer her. He was pulling his slacks off as she watched him.
She gasped as she saw his huge prick jut out from his shorts. Paul was okay for a boy, she thought, but Brad was really a man!
He walked toward the bed, his huge erection jutting out from his body. Brenda rose to a sitting position, and as he came toward her she gasped and sucked his huge prick into her mouth in one quick motion.