Miss Sara’s Revenge

Jim Parker leaned against the end of his mop as
he watched Miss Sara Ellsworth walk away from him down
the empty halls of Porterville High School. She was one
fine piece of ass, and she knew it, always wearing
clothes that were just one step away from provocative.

Today she had worn three inch black pumps which
matched a pleated black skirt which came down just
above her knees, revealing the firm suppleness of her
ivory skin, and when she turned suddenly, flying up to
reveal the muscular tautness of her thighs. A white,
and tight, low cut T-shirt, revealing perfect handfuls
of breasts thrusting against the fabric and a firm,
flat stomach, was kept from being too provocative by a
long sleeved, black suit jacket, with a little bow in
the back cinching in the waist.

Her dark brown hair was cut short, and was parted
in the middle, curling slightly inward just above her
shoulders, framing her perfect face, with its large,
green eyes, small nose, generous mouth and lips, and
just a sprinkling of freckles. At twenty four years
of age, she was the youngest teacher at Porterville,
and the biggest flirt.

Jim Parker knew a lot more about Sara Ellsworth
than that, just as he knew a lot more about everybody
and everything than that, having been the school
janitor for over ten years. He was an imposing 6’3
and close to 280 lbs, dwarfing Sara’s own tall 5’7″.
He also happened to be the only Afro-American in the
school, Porterville being a rich white suburb of
several thousands. So being, he was a bit of a cele-
brity among the students, most foolish kids, he
thought, and so gathered information from them. In
his thirty five years of life and his twelve years, of
working there he had thought he had seen everything,
but he was wrong. What he had found out about Miss
Sara Ellsworth surprised even him, and if she was plan-
ning to do what he thought she was planning to do,
well, there was going to be some big fun for old Jim
boy right soon.

He had known Sara Ellsworth was wealthy, having
inherited a large, in the tens of millions, fortune
from her father–that much he had learned from the
papers the school kept on all public employees. What
he didn’t know was why the hell she was teaching: she
didn’t need the money and she certainly didn’t strike
him as hell-bent to impart the wisdom of the ancients
to the younger generation.

She seemed to be more inclined to tease all the
male teachers, and all the boys in her class, into
raging hard-ons, and then laugh inwardly at their
arousal. It had been purely by accident that, while
doing a walkthrough of the abandoned underground
classrooms, now blocked off to everyone (he thought)
except him, he had discovered her real reason for
teaching English at a high school.

It was an old abandoned classroom, dark, dusty,
and empty except for a single desk near the back of
the room. A single light bulb burned in the middle of
the ceiling, throwing faint illumination through the
room.

Miss Ellsworth was sitting naked on the edge of
the table, her lithe arms and legs wrapped around Sid,
a third string offensive lineman, clutching at him
convulsively as he pounded his cock into her. She was
crying out in a husky voice, “Fuck me…oh god Sid…
harder…fuck me harder…uhg…uhg…that’s it…
you’re beautiful…uhg…fuck….”

And Sid did, no finesse there, just a steady,
brutal poling, sending Sara gasping and panting with
lust.

Paul and Dave, two more rejects from the football
team, were waiting their turn, dicks in hand, eager
expressions twisted by lust on their face.

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