This is the sequel to "Night with Mr. Morgan".
*
"Mmmmm," Chris sighed as he buried his nose in my hair. "You smell like... I don't know... orchids," he uttered as he pulled me closer to him. I lay basking in the afterglow of another round of our lovemaking as he slowly began to kiss my neck. I arched my back into him and settled in, loving the feel of his steely arms around me.
It was the dead of winter, but Chris Morgan, my sexy, older co-worker, and I were keeping the home fires burning. We are both teachers at a local middle school, and one crazy night last spring, we gave into our yearnings and have been at it ever since. Chris is over twenty years older than me, not to mention, we are co-workers, so we've been sleeping together on the sly and we've both relished every second of it.
"I missed you over Christmas," I told him softly as he continued his assault on my neck. I began to feel myself get wet again. I crept my fingers down into the folds of my nether lips and began to caress my clit. I swear, being with this man made me insane. All I could do was think about sex and crave it when I am around him. It's addictive.
"I missed you, too, Danielle," he said between kisses. Sensing my need, he pushed my fingers aside and fingered me till I was hot with need. "I think I need to do this."
Slowly, he turned around and laid on his back, pulling me on top of him. I slid down onto his glistening cock and rode him gently. I got on the Pill months ago so we wouldn't have to worry about condoms. And it was a good thing since we have sex almost everyday.
I came again and again, loving every second of fucking Chris. He is the sexiest older man I'd ever laid my eyes on. Though chronologically he was forty-eight, he had the body and stamina of a man of nearly half that.
"Back to school tomorrow, huh?" He said as we lay once again. "I hear there's gonna be a new guy replacing that gym coach they hired back in September."
"Really? I hadn't heard that."
Sure enough, the next day, which was our first day back after a long winter break, Mrs. Chandler, our principal, introduced us to Matt Phelps. I had to admit, he was adorable. I guessed him to be about 6'3", probably a little over 200lbs, and very muscular. He had that all-American boy look: sandy brown hair, greenish blue eyes, and very sexy dimples. He was twenty six and had just finished a degree in physical education. He had tried to get into the NFL right out of college, but had injured his knee. He had decided to go back to college to become a teacher and eventually coach football, which was his true passion.
"Miss Gray," Mrs. Chandler approached me after the building meeting. Matt stood next to her. "I wanted to personally introduce you to Mr. Phelps. Now, I know you're not a PE teacher, but I paired Matt up with you because you're so close and age, and since you're a fairly new teacher and all."
I smiled warmly and shook his hand. I felt his gaze rake me appreciatively, but I was professional and ignored it. I had to admit he was looking very sexy in a pair of tear-away pants, gym shoes, and a Chicago Bears t-shirt. Mrs. Chandler left us to talk and we meandered to my classroom.
"So, if there's any questions you might have, feel free to drop in, Mr. Phelps," I told him.
"Please," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "You're two years older than me and you're calling me Mr. Phelps? You better call me Matt."
I blushed and leaned on my door. I looked up at him and smiled.
"Ok then, Matt," I giggled. "Feel free to drop in if you have questions."
As I turned to wave at Matt as he walked back to the gym, Chris stood and eyed me speculatively, his arms folded. I winked and walked back into my classroom.
Matt popped in more times that I could count over the following weeks. I have to admit I enjoyed his company. We were close in age, and he made me laugh. He was so much like the guys I had been friends with in college. One particular night, I was staying late to enter grades into my computer. I was going to meet Chris later that evening, and I couldn't wait. He had worn a pair of black dress pants that accentuated his perfect ass, and a grayish-green button down collar shirt. I sat at my desk imagining myself ripping his clothes off and taking his hard cock in my mouth when suddenly Matt knocked and came on in.
"Hey, Danielle, I'm not bothering you, am I?" Matt asked hesitantly. He looked exhausted as he plopped down in the chair facing my desk. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "What a long day it's been."
"I know it's rough, Matt, but the kids really like you. You've been here six weeks. The first year is the roughest."
"Tell me about it," he uttered as he leaned back. He eyed my desk and all the things neatly placed. I had pictures of my niece and nephews, some magnets, and a stuffed teddy bear that wore a sweater with my old sorority letters.
"You're an Alpha Gamma girl?" he asked, a small smirk on his handsome countenance. "I remember that house being on my college campus. We called them the 'wham, bam, Alpha Gams'."
"Funny," I said sarcastically, swiping my bear out of his hands. "I only rushed because my best friend begged me. I barely had the money to do it, and besides that, after a while I went inactive. I did my share of partying, but I was intent on getting my degree. I started hanging out with the other English majors and dropped the sorority girl image pretty fast."
"Well, my life was football," he explained, a certain sadness creeping onto his handsome face. As he toyed with a pen cap, his eyes met mine and we shared a long look. "I want to be a good teacher, and when my knee fully heals, I can think about coaching high school, or maybe even college."
"It's good to set goals, Matt," I told him, trying my hardest not to notice his bulging biceps. He wore a long-sleeved t-shirt that was snug in the upper chest and arms. I couldn't deny it: Matt Phelps was gorgeous.
"Oh, I'm all about goal-setting," he said, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "I've had a goal since I first met you, and that was to ask you out on a date. That's if you could handle a night with a jock. I mean, I don't know much about Shakespeare and other writers, but I could tell you all about my the Famous Phelps move I perfected back in the day."
"The Famous Phelps move?" I said, a grin spreading across my face. "Sounds intriguing."
"So... what's it gonna be?"
