Young guy continues to humiliate former teacher

With apologies to writer Edward Bulwer-Lytton, it was a dark and stormy night. The novelist may have written those words more than 150 years ago, but I have always wanted to begin a story that way.

Yet it was not a dark night a couple months back, the sun was setting but there was still enough light to see things as I gazed across at room 23 at the inexpensive Friendly Motel owned by my friend Jake’s family.

Nor was it stormy, as in fact we were in the middle of a southern New Jersey drought. Normally this time of year the corn was six to eight feet high, the flowers blooming in wonderful colors and the watermelons humongous.

Still, I had always wanted to write that line, which somehow came to mind because I was so darn bored. I kicked myself for having to be at the seedy motel, known as a No Tell Motel by teenagers and others with a bent for discretion, but it was something I needed to do. See, I had lost $2,800 on a “sure bet” at the race track and I needed to pick up a few bucks in addition to my regular job as an accountant at a local insurance company.

I told Jake of my troubles, he asked me to fill in for a couple months, a day here and there, and both of our problems would be solved. I got the money I needed and he had someone reliable to relieve him until his wife got back from helping her mother in Pittsburgh. Simple and convenient, if not dark and stormy.

So why am I telling you all this? Simple, it was the person who left room 23 at 6:32 p.m. this Wednesday evening. I remember checking the guy in earlier in the afternoon, about 3, but didn’t see his “company”. But when “he and she” emerged that night from the room a whirlwind of memories wisked through my brain like a Midwest wind storm.

It was Mrs. Jennifer Sinkinson, my 12th grade homeroom teacher, leaving the motel room in early evening with a man I was betting was not her husband.

Oh, she was a bit chunkier, her hair was lighter and she seemed smaller than I remembered, but there was no way I could ever forget that face.

I hated the bitch.

Okay, okay, I know, 12 years was a long time to hold a grudge, but Mrs. Sinkinson caused me nothing but heartache my senior year. It wasn’t enough that she was on my case about this or that for the entire school year, but with just a month to go before graduation she scored a triple play of trying to destroy my life.

Let me back up. I was never a great student, but I got Bs and Cs in all my classes. The one Mrs. Sinkinson taught, an elective course in the political election process, was an easy B for everyone in the class —- except for me. I got off on the wrong side of the woman the first week of classes, and it got worse as the year went on. Nothing I could do would satisfy her, everything I did was wrong. I was barely holding on to a C through midterms and struggled over the second half of the year.

Still, things were going on well for me. I had plans to travel the west for the summer, I found an unbelievable girlfriend in Tiffany Dawson, and had already decided to spend the next year at a local campus of Penn State.

Tiffany was a heck of a find. I had been with two other girls before meeting Tiff, and she was a whole lot different. While I had gotten lucky with Barbara Ann Fahey and Connie Whelan, Tiffany didn’t believe in sex before marriage. So why was that good? Tiffany was one hell of a cocksucker. Uh huh, while she wouldn’t have sex with me she had no problem sucking me off nearly whenever I desired.

The girl was a natural born cocksucker, and I found that out on our third date when she gave me a fantastic blow job in the parking lot behind Lone Star. That was followed by an equally incredible head job the following Saturday, and soon, why, while I wasn’t getting any pussy I was getting the mouth of a pro four times a week. This was a once in a lifetime babe, a girl who enjoyed pleasing a guy as long as that pleasure would in no way make her pregnant.

By :JRob

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