Mating Call of the Phoenix

Just before she went to meet with him, Illyana went to the girls' room. She took her time there: blushing her cheeks with a dark wine rouge, darkening her lips with a thick, luscious lip-gloss. She spent a good deal of time just combing out her long, honey-blonde hair, looking at the way it shimmered in the mirror, imagining how Scott would run his hands through it, pull it, make it fly about her face as he drove himself into her.

Then, fraught with excitement over being alone with the man, she went to his office. She knocked on the door.

Scott's voice rang out disinterestedly: "Come in."

Illyana entered, a whirlwind of motion with her pleated skirt, her rustling blouse, her bouncing shoes. She wondered if Scott could tell that she'd taken off her bra. He was sitting at his desk. She used her power, made him notice, let him try to stop noticing.

"You wanted to discuss your behavior, Miss Rasputin?"

Illyana bit her lip. He excited her: his proud, disciplinarian demeanor, his mature, restrained handsomeness... she wanted to see what happened when he broke down and

needed,

when he burned simply too hot for it to be contained.

"Yes, sir—I'm hoping I can avoid detention."

He motioned her into one of the chairs before his desk. She put her purse down beside it, bending over, her back to him as she did it. The little pleated skirt rose up her ass, the fingers of it plying at the lines of her panties, her young ass showing crisply white inside the skimpy underwear. She wondered if he could smell her perfume from across the desk, as she could smell the masculine aroma of his aftershave, a subtle scent that grew the closer she was to him. She imagined sniffing it from the nape of his neck. The thought made her tremble.

Scott paused to ignore the little faux pas, waiting for her to sit down and pull her chair closer to him. She caught hold of the thought in his mind and made it linger, saw him become flushed as he just kept thinking about her perfect ass... "Yes, detention—I don't think there's any reason to worry about that. I've touched base with your teachers and they all think you're doing very well. No behavioral issues, good grades, plenty of social interaction—it's good that you've made friends with Kitty, she's the kind of person you want to be around."

Illyana moved closer to him, peering at the reports he'd arranged on his desk. When she bent over, the loose neckline of her blouse fell to reveal a glimpse down her chest.

"That's good to hear, sir. I really wouldn't want to go to detention. I hate the sound of what happens to bad girls there."

Scott looked up at her with a wan smile that gave no indication whether he'd seen down her shirt. "It's nothing to be afraid of. Just a chance to catch up on your studies, maybe do a few chores you'd rather avoid. Not hard labor or anything."

"But that's not what I hear, sir." Illyana leaned across the table. One of her breasts brushed against his arm, pushing beautifully against her thin little blouse. Scott looked up into her eyes, her lovely young face, her apple-red cheeks, her pink and pouty lips. "I hear that they have to kneel down on the floor, sir."

"That's not true," Scott said, pulling his arm away. The electricity that had passed between them was still vibrating, and Illyana thought his arm was as flushed as her breast. "There are chairs."

"And while they're kneeling there, the teachers stand in front of them. They take out their big, fat dicks and make the bad girls suck them—sir."

Scott sat there for a silent moment. "That's simply not true."

Illyana knew that under the desk, there was a swelling in his trousers, a strong erection pushing up against his underwear. She wondered if he knew that she knew.

"Well then," Illyana said, "how do the teachers get their big fat dicks sucked?"

"You should leave, Miss Rasputin," he replied.

"Are you going to make me?"

He wanted to stand up and demand she go, but they both knew that would let her see his hard-on. Illyana kept looking down at where it would be under the desk, like she had X-ray vision, and then she would look up at him, smiling coyly, feeling the flickers of passion pass between their eyes.

"Would you like to kiss me, sir?" she asked, and with her power she ghosted a little thing across his lips. A sample...

"Please, Illyana, don't be inappropriate."

"What's inappropriate about that, sir? It's just a question." She leaned further across the desk, close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin, hear it rasp out from his parted lips. "Just something to think about. Not like we're

doing

anything..."

"You're my student, I'm your teacher, you shouldn't entertain thoughts like that."

Illyana was practically sprawled across the desk now, shimmying across it, towards his lap, their bodies alive and sizzling with the excitement of being so close. "But isn't that dishonest, sir? When you

could

kiss me—if you wanted—and I bet you really wanna—and I wouldn't tell anyone, I promise—why should we pretend we wouldn't?"

"Because you're very nearly young enough to be my daughter!"

She brought her knees up onto the desk, now on all fours atop it like a pin-up model, stooped so her shirt fell open underneath her just for him. "Young enough to need to be taught things. Young enough to need to be punished when I'm bad. Am I being bad now, sir? Talking about you kissing me... me kissing you... kissing your big, fat

cock..."

Scott hesitated. She could practically see the wheels turning, the invitation intriguing him. Of course he wanted to kiss her. Who wouldn't want to kiss her? Illyana turned her face up to him and offered her lips, moist and parted. With her will, her magic, her new power, she pushed just a little harder at his curiosity. Wanting him to want her. Wanting him to be just a little more impulsive... a little less able to resist.

"I promise I won't tell," she whispered, and his lips practically crushed hers, a kiss that he worked hard not to deepen, to control, to turn and keep light, affectionate.

Illyana trembled, his lips against hers, so soft, so nice. She put her small hand on his muscular chest, feeling the power thrumming there, and his resistance halved... she felt him shiver with her tongue licking slowly over his, then he put his hands under her shoulders, pulled her up to him, made their kiss harder, firmer, her breasts mashing against his chest, his left hand dropping to her waist, feeling the thinness of her belly, the lush soft slope of her hip. Illyana could practically hear his cock thumping away in his trousers.

Kneeling, she put her hand down on his thigh, feeling the blood rushing through it on the way to his burgeoning erection. They broke the kiss, both gasping for breath. Before Scott could react, stop, Illyana slid her hand over to his crotch, lingering on the huge, stiff bulge she found.

"Oh, sir!" she murmured. "Have I done that to you?"

"Illyana... Ms. Rasputin... it'd just a physiological reaction, it's not..."

Illyana ran her hand up his groin, feeling the gulping motion in his shaft as her fingers tapered off it. He was paralyzed with the sensation of it, helpless as she knelt on his desk like a stripper, took hold of his big hands and brought them to her breasts. He cupped them all on his own, feeling their exquisite roundness, their firmness, the ripeness and readiness of them to be touched.

She left his hands there, feeling her, and took hold of his cock again. It was bigger now. Excitement swept through her body.

All for me,

she thought to herself, her slender hand unable to grip all of the shaft through his tight pants.

Scott wasn't letting himself fondle her breasts, and he wasn't letting himself release them either. He held them in his hands and stared at them, inspecting them as if they were expensive jewels he thought to buy.

Illyana giggled to herself with how serious he was. She took hold of a pleat on her skirt and pulled it up her tanned thigh, showing him her little white panties, the groin plastered to her labia. He managed to resist her, just a little—one hand came away from her breast, only to slide down the side of her body, the sway of her hip, down to the inner thigh she had showed him. He brought his hand higher, higher. The backs of his knuckles touched the material of her panties. They were wet.

"You should find someone your own age," he whispered. "You should be doing this with someone your own age..."

"But I don't want someone my own age. I want you. I want your big muscles holding me down, your big cock inside me. I want you teaching me all the things I don't know how to do, all the things a good girl shouldn't know how to do, all the things a bad girl would know...

Daco Dormana

... I know you don't have anyone, sir. You need some way to relieve all the stress you're under. I'll just give you something to think about, how's that? When you jerk off, you can think of this. That's all this is. We won't go through with it. We'll just give you something to think about."

"Something to think about..." he repeated, lifting her skirt for himself, taking it all the way up over her waist to see the pair of snow-white panties that tried to cover her, scrunched up at the crunch, bulging over her wet little cunt. "No, Illyana, we shouldn't be doing this."

"But I like you so much, sir. I can't be happy with anyone else. Don't you want me to be happy?" She reached to his powerful chest, rubbing the firm muscle, plying him with her warm hands as she tortured him with her young beauty, her teenage curiosity.

"I could lose my job. I could go to jail."

"I know, sir, but you won't. Because I won't say anything. I won't tell. We'll just play around a little and it won't hurt anyone. You'll have something to think about, when it's late at night and you touch yourself—and I will too."

His jaw twitched and she could see him remembering all his responsibilities, all his duties, but she didn't want that. Again she pushed, easing the weight of those terrible burdens, so all he could feel was the pleasure of her luscious body, her willing expression, her sweet smell.

"I think about you already, sir. So this won't change anything. It'll just be...

fun."

Then he was hers.

He touched her—she gasped, his fingers upon her soft pussy, wetness seeping through her panties to his fingertips. Biting her lip, Illyana reached down to toy with his fly, unzipping it and pulling it back up, inches at a time. He stood up, letting her

see,

and it was enormous, everything she'd hoped for, she needed to know what was inside those tented trousers. But he was more assertive, pulling her to him, kissing her wildly, his hands fanning out behind her, beneath her skirt, on her lovely ass.

She felt the incredible hardness of his cock press into her belly. She kicked her legs out on either side of him, ass flat on the desk, lap open and waiting, and he held her tighter, her wet pussy rubbing against his leg. Hands plunged into her panties. He felt the smooth, slick curve of her naked ass, and the wet cling of her cunt. He had it all, his hands were everywhere. He muttered in pleasure, husky and harsh.

They kissed for an indelible time, Illyana luxuriating in his passion for her, Scott in his deliciously succumbing restraint. "Should I take your cock out, sir?" she asked, undoing the button, unzipping him. He gave a terse nod and she opened up the flaps, pulled trousers and underwear down, his cock momentarily hidden by their pull, then flapping upward, immense, erect.

"Wow! Oh,

sir!"

Illyana gasped, thinking it was the most handsome prick a young woman could possibly see. It stood out powerfully erect, thick as a nightclub, hard as iron, long enough to amaze her, no, long enough to frighten her. The head stood out, glistening and dripping and dark. She could see it throb for her. "It's so big!"

"Not really," Scott said demurely. "It's about average. You'll see when you have more experience."

"No, sir, no, it's very big. You have to know how big it is..." She felt about the desk, finding a ruler, and brought the wooden measuring tool up. She feinted as if to slap his hand with it, then tittered at his defensive reaction and held it along the shaft of his cock. "See, sir? You're over ten inches!"

"Enough for you?" Scott asked her.

"More than enough, sir! That's just the cock I need to stretch me out! Can I touch it, sir? I need to make sure it's real!"

"Yes, yes," Scott puffed hotly, and smiled proudly as she grasped his cock in her small hand. She loved the feel of it, its size, its heat, the veiny rigor of its hardness, the need it radiated into her hand. She squeezed softly, then firmly, watching precum run rampant from the tip.

"Do you want to touch me too, sir? Show me how to use fingers? I've used my fingers to touch myself, but it never feels very good. Would you show me, sir? I bet you could make it feel very good..."

"You hot little bitch," he murmured, almost unconsciously, and reached down to her snug panties, caressing her cunt first through the nylon, then around it. The wiry blonde coils of her pubic hair stirred against his fingers, tingling, then buzzed around his touch as he pushed into her slit. Then, feeling her warmth around his finger, he seemed to return to himself somewhat. Center himself behind the impenetrable shield of his ruby quartz. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," Illyana said, and kissed him wildly. As her tongue entered his mouth, she felt his fingers slicking in and out of her cunt. She felt herself clenching, she was getting tighter and tighter, her cunt was going to lock his fingers inside it for all eternity, an infinite orgasm—

Scott sat back in his chair, his trousers around his knee, his cock standing up from him like a sword ready for battle. Illyana gazed at it, doing no more than staring with her hair ruffled, her blouse out of sorts, her skirt drawn to one side so that one bare thigh was visible, and her panties in disarray, exposing her labia lips. She waited for him to give into her. She didn't have to wait long.

"Take your fucking skirt off," he said, the expletive shooting from him as uncontrollable as his optic blast.

Illyana unzipped her skirt at its side, sidling it off her legs, twisting and turning atop his desk to get it off, leaving her panties snug on her crotch. His eyes glazed over her adoring young body, all ready for him.

Still he hesitated. Illyana tensed her legs, letting him see the sparkle of wetness that anointed her inner thighs. "Should I take my panties off too, sir? I think they'd be in the way. Wouldn't it be easier to finger me if I weren't wearing them?"

"Yes," Scott whispered hotly, his eyes trained hatefully on her panties. "Much easier."

She slid them off her thighs, off her knees, her calves, her feet. Leaving her bare from the waist down, just her little socks and her little shoes after miles of leg. Feeling his hot gaze on her cunt, she brought it closer, scooting to the edge of the desk, spreading her legs, offering him as close a look as he wanted.

"I'm not wearing them now, sir. I'm not wearing barely anything anymore..."

His head bowed, bent, lower and lower—she could see the rippling muscles of his back through his tight shirt as he was seemingly pulled to where she sat on his desk. He kissed her knee, almost innocently, then a little higher, a little higher, the smoothness of her legs seeming to let his kisses slip all the way up to her thighs, to her lap—he nuzzled his face into her golden thighs. She felt his stubble grate on her soft flesh, the chill of his glasses's lens press into her skin, then he kissed her cunt lovingly.

"Ahh, jeezzzz," Illyana moaned. "That feels really good, sir! Even better than your fingers, sir!"

His hands flowed behind her. He clutched the cheeks of her ass, finding it fit his strong hands just perfectly. Illyana let herself moan, loud and pleased. His tongue was long, wet, and adept at finding secret places inside her, fast licks to excite her and big slow laps to ease her into longer pleasures.

Scott felt a little more reticence, buried inside her thighs, but his thoughts were an echo chamber that shouted down his guilt: she'd asked for this, she'd wanted this, and he'd done his best to dissuade her but now that he'd gone far enough to ruin his life if anyone found out, there was no point in resisting. He might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. He soon felt no guilt at all in feeling her fine ass and tasting her sweet pussy.

"My clit, sir!" Illyana gasped loudly, teasing her fingers through his hair. "Can you show me—what it feels like—to have my clit licked?"

His tongue approached it slowly, tip inexorable in touching it—then Scott wildly flicked it with his tongue. It seemed like the most sensitive spot on Illyana's whole body. The slightest touch sending tingles of sheer delight sweeping through her body. She'd never known she could feel so wonderful.

In one moment, Illyana became too excited to sit there and take it. She slumped back across the desk, touching her toes to the ends of the desk, throwing her knees so wide apart that her pussy seemed to just open up to Scott.

He was forced to come up off his knees to follow her, to keep his tongue in her delicious honey. As his face slipped even further between her legs, he felt the heat of her aroused sex burning hotter than ever. It engulfed him, a sweet furnace with his tongue for fuel, legs stretching past on either side of his head,

saturated

with her liquid desire. Her wetness covered the parted lips of her womanhood, the deep crack of her ass, her shapely buttocks. It tasted wonderful.

"Oh! Oh! Ohhhh...!

Sir!

" She sighed longingly, lovingly, looking down at what a handsome face she had kissing her sex. Her chin tucked into her collarbone, committing to memory the sight of his strong jaw set against her pussy, decadently long tongue fucking inside of her. She put her hands on his shoulders for balance, digging her fingers into her shirt as her body weakened, her flesh shuddered, her whole self embracing the ripple of climax starting inside her massaged clit. "Ah... ahhhh!"

He turned her over, bending her over the desk, licking her from behind now. His tongue now seemed to buzz against Illyana, attacking her from a new position, giving her sensations she wasn't used to. And she didn't have to do anything now, didn't have to think about staying in place—he was holding her there, all she had to do was let her arms lapse over the edge of the desk, actually grab hold of the bottom of it, giggling and smiling over how little what she did matter now that he was pleasuring her.

The climax grew, took control of her, making her shake wildly and push her womanhood at Scott's wonderful tongue, her entire being consumed by the overwhelming sensation. He opened his mouth wide and seemed to suck her entire cunt onto his tongue, kiss every inch of it at once.

"Sir!" she yelped. "Ohh, sir! Sir! I hope I taste good!"

She was ripped out of herself, jerked away from all thought as her climax gripped her. She rode it out, coming and coming and coming, loving every second, every tingling thrill, and especially the satisfied noises Scott made as he tasted her copious juices, flowing out of her well-loved cunt. It ran over her thighs, his chin, a pump Scott's tongue was diligently working.

"Mm... mmmm...

yes,"

she sighed, coming down from the heavenly plateau she seemed to have spent an eternity on. She shook all over. Her body was laved with sweat and tingling with afterglow. She was dizzy, but Scott was careful in rearranging her fully on his desk before sitting back in his chair, his cock still standing up, but now with thick streams of white spilling down from the head like an ice cream cone melting in the summer sun.