Inappropriate Guidance Ch 02

"Could you get the other coffee grounds? The ones I like?"

Brie jumped at the sound of Martin's voice, having somehow forgotten her husband was even in the house. She looked down and realized she'd poured the oat milk into her coffee but was just standing at the counter, spoon in hand, in another world. "I'm sorry," she said automatically. "You don't like these? I thought it's a good roast."

"Well, no, that's what I'm saying, I like the usual grounds, the ones I like." Martin stared at Brie mystified.

She stood up straight, suddenly worried that she was somehow telegraphing not just how far away her mind was, but where it was. How twisted it was. "I'll try to remember that, but sometimes they don't have them at the one near the school. So I just get what they have."

Martin sighed, looked down at his travel cup and grimaced. Brie's gaze drifted away. A couple of months ago she would have been worried, offered to go across town after work. Despite the fact that he worked closer to that store than she did. It didn't occur to her now. It wasn't that Brie had been radicalized, she still supposed that was her duty as a good wife. She just didn't think much about being a good wife now.

Looking down at her outfit, it was apparent to Brie what she did think about. If Martin had been paying attention, if he considered the possibility that his good Christian wife might have needs and interests of her own, he might have noticed how her wardrobe had changed. How the pencil skirt she wore, while modest in length, was tighter than anything she'd worn since he met her. How it showed off the curve of her ass to anyone inclined to look. How her blouse was another degree tighter than last week's. He might have been confused. He might have been aroused. He might even have been mad. He had every reason to be. It was maybe the only thing that would pull her back from this abyss.

"I liked it the way it was."

Brie looked up at her husband. He was staring at his coffee cup. She imagined getting down on her knees in her tight pencil skirt and opening his pants.

"Let's just go back to the old grounds."

Brie nodded. "I'll get some for you after work, Martin." And she would. And he would smile, finally pleased.

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She found herself, from time to time during the day, losing track of what she was doing or what the student she was working with was saying, her eyes caught instead on her office rug.

Brie could pick out each one of them, the multiple stains on her rug, unnoticeable to anyone else. Stripes of discolored fabric that stretched from the center of the room to her armchair. An archaeological marking of each of Jason's visits to her office since that one day.

She had allowed him to do that, to see her half-naked, to masturbate himself in front of her. And since that day he had considered it his privilege. There was no more discussion or cajoling. Her admittedly weak protests were swept aside. Each day he had a scheduled visit with his counselor, she had opened her blouse and bra, he had opened his pants, and he had eventually ejaculated across her floor.

The stripes across her rug brought the vision, unbidden, into her mind, of his penis, his hand, the sticky wet ejaculate which afterward she would scrub from the rug on her hands and knees. But it also made her hear his fantasies, his taunting, see his drawings, that continued to infest her mind. Each night she was touching herself to those memories, those words, each day she was staring at the rug lost in visions.

And each day her schedule showed "Jason Pollard - Check-in". Forty-four minutes.

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Jason walked into Ms. Madison's office on a Monday morning with a sense of intent and purpose. He had left his backpack in his locker, but he held his sketchbook in hand. He liked holding it loose, seeing the bit of terror that crossed Ms. Madison's face knowing it could just plop open to one of dozens of fucked-up sketches of her in there and ruin her whole life. And knowing she would still eagerly crane to see what he had drawn, while she pretended it was inappropriate.

"Morning, Ms. Madison." She was seated behind her desk. hair back, a boring white blouse on. But it was tighter at least, and not buttoned up all the way. He constantly had to tell himself to be patient. She was still boring as hell, practically Amish, but every week she was giving up a little bit more.

She had her hands clasped on top of a pile of papers. She was always saying they needed to do the papers, talk over his thought cycle or something. But she never insisted, not enough anyway.

Jason closed the door. He was tempted to lock it sometimes but he liked to tease her sometimes as she was exposing herself with fantasies about folks walking in on her. Joining in. It was the thing he jerked to the most about her, imagining her being a true free use slut. He didn't know why.

He still jerked to Ms. Madison, while at home, while drawing in his sketchbook. But he had kept his word - he never came. He saved it all for her office. For the daily appointments he had earned by being, and continuing to be, a total fuckup in the rest of his life.

So,most days in the past week, by the time Jason sat down in her little armchair, he had the bluest of blue balls. Today was no different. He perched at the edge of the chair, his cock already half hard.

"Come over here, I want to show you something." He gave a crooked grin, it always went like this now. She stood up, nervous, uncomfortable, knowing what was coming and yet enjoying it. Enjoying the way he watched her walk around the desk. She was wearing some long-ass skirt, but it was tight. It showed off her ass. Nicer than he would have thought. Tonight he'd watch some porn and imagine cumming on her bare ass.

Ms. Madison sat down in her matching armchair, kitty corner to his, leaned back in the seat creating some 'professional' distance between them, but her eyes were on the book. "What did you want to talk about today, Jason," she offered. As if they were doing that - counseling.

"Cum. I've noticed how into it you are. You like watching mine." Jason tried not to present anything as a question. He noticed she would still protest and argue if he did. But when he just stated it, she rarely said a thing. Her eyes were growing wider at his words. If he asked she'd say it was from shock. But he didn't think so. It's why he kept going, kept doing this. He wasn't an asshole, he wouldn't torment the woman, really blackmail her or something. But Jason was pretty sure Ms. Madison was turned on, excited to hear the word, excited to be baited into thinking about it.

"It's what initially got you excited. When I was talking about Jenny, drinking all that cum. But lately I haven't been thinking about you swallowing it." Jason opened up his sketchbook and flipped through. It was an assortment of crudeness. He thought he was pretty good at art, but he couldn't find any interest in drawing things other than this. That kind of restricted his audience.

"Here we go." He flipped open to a full page sketch, and turned it to face Ms. Madison. He knew it well, had spent a long time drawing it, interrupted by frequent bouts of porn. Seeing her tits every day had been driving him crazy, and he'd been practically drowning himself in tit fuck videos, tit groping videos, oiled up breasts. Bukkake videos where guy after guy cums on the girl's tits and face and hair. It made him so fucking hard, thinking about that happening to Ms. Madison, thinking about walking over to her right now and cumming in her hair. It drove him crazy, the things he could do if they weren't in this fucking office. Her tits would look so good oiled up, her hair dripping cum.

He'd almost forgotten the drawing. Jason let his eyes focus again, back from his reverie, to register Ms. Madison's face. Her mouth was open in a silent O. Those gorgeous brown eyes were wide, dark with dilated pupils. Her eyes were what had first convinced him she could be a slut. The way they widened, darkened, gleamed, when he got real nasty.

She was staring at the page where he'd drawn her - he'd gotten pretty good at capturing her face, he thought. In the sketch, Ms. Madison was kneeling, ass on her heels, topless. He'd drawn her bare tits oiled up -- tried to, it was hard to capture it. But that's what he'd been working on: how to show wetness. Because the woman he'd drawn was wet. Gleaming oily breasts, cum drenched face. Cum in her hair. Multiple cocks surrounded her, attached to barebone sketches of the men themselves. He didn't care about drawing that, though he'd drawn the cocks in cartoonish detail. Bulging, veiny, fat heads. One was laying right on her head, down her part, as if the guy was standing right behind her. And cum was leaking from it right on her forehead, like it was dumping a load of paint.

Jason let her stare for a bit without saying anything. It sometimes felt like she was hypnotized. He knew she was so Christian, so narrow, she'd never even seen a porn, so it was like he was showing her everything for the first time. Letting her get a tiny glimpse of the kind of scene he'd watched a hundred times. Then snatching it away. Leaving her alone with her thoughts and her fingers and hopefully desperate for more.

"Can you imagine getting that drenched with cum?" Ms. Madison's gaze broke away from the sketch at the sound of Jason's voice. He smiled as she met his eyes. "Dripping down your face. You'd love that. Just a line of guys out this door trying to get their turn to mess you up. That's the kind of thing guys are thinking about when they see you in the hall in this tight skirt. They want to fuck you up, this perfect woman, get you dirty."

Jason sure did. He stood up, he was restless, holding the sketch in one hand but touching himself with the other.

"Get your shirt open, your bra off, Ms. Madison. You should have those tits out as soon as I get here. They've been hidden away for years. That's messed up." Jason shifted from one foot to the next, watching as Ms. Madison unconsciously began to undo her buttons. "Your husband doesn't even look at them, does he?"

She looked away, as if running her mind through memories. "No, not really. He'll touch them, touch them a bit, when we're... having sex. But that's under the sheets." Her blouse was almost open.

"Fucking idiot," Jason scoffed. And it wasn't any mind game. He couldn't believe whoever the fuck her husband was. The guy had this hot body all to himself, all these years she didn't even dare wear anything as boring as this skirt and shirt. This prick was just as much a stupid prude as she was, Jason guessed. "You should be showing these off. To guys who appreciate how hot you are."

He didn't think he could wait for her to slowly pull the shirt open, slowly get to her bra. She'd been teasing him with these fucking breasts for a week now. He had 72 hours of cum building up thinking about how perfect they were. Jason stepped across the room to where she was sitting. He could see her eyes opening wide in surprise. He'd always stayed back, watching.

Not today. "Come on, no more games, Ms. Madison. No more teasing with these tits." He reached down and pushed the shirt open, unclasped the front of her bra. He'd been watching all week how she did it, so he wouldn't look like a fool. It came right open in his fingers.

She might not have noticed either way. Ms. Madison wasn't watching that, she was looking up at his face, astonished.

He gave her a quizzical look. "Did you think I was always going to stay over there, my side of the room, while you drove me fucking crazy showing off your body? Think I'm your little boy toy? You get to watch me jerk off, then you go home and give it all to your stupid pathetic husband?" She didn't seem to notice, but he was pulling her bra apart as he spoke. "He doesn't even know to pay attention to you."

"I do." Jason's hands were on her tits now. He couldn't believe it - as obvious as it was that they'd end up here after the last week, he couldn't believe it. Ms. Madison was looking down now, looking at her open blouse, bra hanging open, his big hands cupping her bare breasts. He didn't think she could believe it either.

She'd be feeling it now, his touch for the first time, just as he was feeling it for the first time, her skin, her tits, tight but soft under his increasing grip. "Do you know these are the first tits I've ever touched?" Jason knew she knew it, somewhere in her brain. That's where they'd started, his frustration at his sex life. The more he fantasized, the more porn he watched, the less he had felt he'd ever experience this moment - a pair of tits in his hands, his to toy with. She might have forgotten this though, the more and more confidently he instructed herself to show him, to play with herself, to be a little slut.

"Glad I waited, really. Not some stupid middle school grope. Hot, mature tits, like a fucking pornstar." He was kneading them now, squeezing. They didn't feel like he'd imagined. Jason knew most of the tits he saw online were fake ones, they hardly fucking moved. He'd imagined Ms. Madison's natural breasts would be nothing like them. And they weren't, they were soft, nothing to resist his grip. But they were firmer than he'd imagined: full, heavy. Jason was lifting them, shaking them, squeezing them. Just as she'd been doing for the past week. It was better than he'd been able to imagine.

"God, you don't know how fucking hot you are. Could be fucking anyone in this fucking town. But you're letting me, a kid, a total fuckup, do this." He was lost in the motions, trying everything: gripping each tit in one hand, watching as the titflesh pressed around his fingers; squeezing them together until her nipples were almost touching; holding them by the increasingly hard tips and shaking them, watching how they jiggled. Jason noticed he was breathing hard. There was so much he wanted to do to Ms. Madison, he could barely contain the jumble of thoughts. His thought cycle.

She was looking down at him, his hands, her breasts. She was looking up at him, his bright fevered eyes, his maniacal grin. Jason couldn't tell what she was thinking. He just knew she wasn't complaining.

"I want to see them wet. Spit on them, Ms. Madison, let me see you drool on your tits." He was rubbing them together, imagining them glistening.

"Jason, no, that's disgusting... " He had finally broken her spell. He could see her lip curl. Jason thought it was funny, her pretending that was too much, too far. He'd seen the way she stared at his sketches. He was pretty sure she rubbed herself out to them at night, if not right after he left the office. He didn't want to push her too far, but this was just words, some hot air so she could feel better about herself.

"Yeah, it's disgusting. A couple of wet sloppy tits. And it's hot too. Maybe it's something you haven't tried yet, but after today you'll be doing it to yourself, as you play with yourself. Another disgusting idea I gave you." He grinned down at her, knowing it was true, knowing she hadn't even known how to be perverted before him.

She simply shook her head, looking down. Where his hands were groping her. She didn't say no to that. He supposed she wouldn't say no to this.

Jason pulled up a mouthful of saliva and, bending his neck, he did it himself. He pursed his lips and spit it out onto her cleavage. Ms. Madison gasped in surprise, looking up at him. But he was watching as the saliva ran down the valley between her tits. He didn't bother waiting to see if a complaint was coming. He did it again, covering one full breast. So intent, so aroused, his mouth hanging open so wide that he almost drooled again, by accident. Instead, he rubbed her tits together, spreading the saliva from one to the next, watching them slip against each other. His thumb rubbed her wet nipple, watching it stiffen and glisten.

By the time he looked back at Ms. Madison's face, she was staring at her tits too, seeming mesmerized. The moment was here.

She didn't notice when one hand slipped away. But she noticed the sound of his zipper. "Jason!" she said, shocked again. He'd done this before, of course, but always from across the tiny office.

"Your tits have been getting me hard all week, Ms. Madison." He began to speak, knowing how she seemed to stop complaining when he did. Maybe she was conditioned to listen to her students without interrupting. "I want you to feel how hard." His one hand was working inelegantly inside his open zipper, trying to fit his raging hard-on through the fly of his boxers. Now he realized why those pornstars always skipped the underwear.

"You're going to tell me this is too far, it's not appropriate. But save your breath, Ms. Madison. Me jerking off in your office, that's enough to get you fired, and divorced, and probably in jail. This isn't going to make it worse."

He got it out, his huge fucking hard-on finally free and out of the hot confines of his pants. She was staring, seeing it close up for the first time. He stroked it lightly in his hand, watching her eyes follow his hand.

Jason didn't speak, didn't want to break the fragile moment, didn't want to give her any chance to open her mouth and say stop. He shuffled forward. She was trapped there in her armchair, his feet on either side of hers.

He dropped his cock between her tits with a small slap. His hand free again, Jason didn't hesitate to grab both those tits and press them around his shaft.

"Jason!" Ms. Madison's hands were clenched on the arms of the chair. She was stiff, unmoving, looking down at what he was doing with a sort of alarm. But he could feel her breathing hard, her chest rising and falling.

"It feels really good, Ms. Madison. I bet it does for you too." He could feel the wet saliva greasing her tits. Jason began to thrust his hips. Oh fuck it felt better than his stupid hand. "You're a pervert like me, Ms. Madison, you know that now, right? You're so fucking turned on right now, watching me fuck your tits." He used his grip on her tits, pushing them up and down and squeezing them tight. He rocked his hips, fucking that wet crevice.

"Jason. Please." She looked up at him, big brown eyes pleading. He wasn't sure what for.

"What? Use you? Use these fat things to get myself off?" He grinned down at her. She still looked the same as when he'd first walked in this office: composed, professional, mature. From the neck up at least. It drove him wild to see the face of his guidance counselor, and below it, the body of a slut. "That's what you like, isn't it, being totally used." He was thrusting fast now, grinning at her face as he told her what she was.

She looked stricken, with something. Ms. Madison closed her eyes. "No, Jason, I didn't ask for this," she said, softly. Trying to excuse herself, he guessed. There was no sound in the room but their breathing and the wet sound of their skin.

"No, but I've been telling you for weeks what I was going to do and you certainly didn't discourage it." Jason felt the hitch in his breath. He'd been holding off for 72 fucking hours and his balls were boiling. "I'm going to do all of it, Ms. Madison. Everything I told you, everything I drew. This is your fair fucking warning." Jason was gripping her tits hard now, he needed that pressure, that friction. He watched his cock head, dark and fat, popping in and out of her cleavage. It was already starting to leak.

Her eyes were closed, she was mumbling to herself or something. He just kept telling her, the images of all his fantasies and drawings tumbling through his head. "I'm going to cum on your tits. On your face. In your mouth. Fill your stomach. Cover your whole fucking head." He was gasping between the words now. He knew Ms. Madison knew the sound. She'd watched him do it so many times.