Dear reader: As you read, please consider who won, Mrs. Huffman or Harold.
*
MARYJANE HUFFMAN turned on the television: Nothing but reruns of Law and Order. She shut off the television set . She got out the vacuum; no, she didn't really want to clean the apartment. She put it back. She slipped her hand past the elastic of her panties and began to diddle there. Better. Much better. Good. Except for Harold.
Him!!!
Harold McCarthy, he called her cell phone an hour ago, how had he found her?. She was busy .She didn't have the time to speak with him. She did not want to see him. Maybe her cunt wanted to see him, but she definitely did not. . She was busy packing and doing all those other things a person needed to do before going on a trip, cancelling the newspaper, stopping the mail. . She needed to shop for new clothes. She needed to check with the airline. She had to make sure that she had packed everything she needed to pack. She wanted to just lay down, close her eyes and dream about how she was going to be a super-sexy slut, how she'd get herself fucked and fucked good over and over during her vacation.
But now Harold McCarthy was here. He said he was coming to her apartment. He was probably here by now. Fucking Harold.
She wanted to be alone, to just lay down and fantasize, diddle herself. Harold was real. The guys in her fantasies always smelled good. Harold? Maybe if he'd once in a while rinse off the dried pussy juice and cum from his privates. No, he wouldn't smell good even then.
The voice mail clicked on. She heard his voice "Hey Mrs. Huffman, come on, pick up will you? I know you're there."
She was not going to pick up! She could feel the moisture beginning to flow deep within the pink folds of her cunt. But she was not going to pick up. Definitely. Not. He was crazy, he was obsessed. He had some crazy idea that he could make her a perfect slut. Okay, she was a slut. He had helped her discover that facet of her personality. He had fucked her. Fucked her plenty. And she had liked it. Fuck, she had loved it. But this perfect slut idea of his was just too fucked up.
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HAROLD McCARTHY sat in his car parked downstairs from her apartment. . He saw her car, so he knew she was home. But, like always, she was being a bitch, refusing to pick up. Man, he could have been eating out his volleyball player friend from school. Now, there was a great piece of ass! Lovely thighs, big, sweet and smooth, clean shaven, and with a lot of muscle, but with just enough fat for him to be able to grip tight while he sunk his face deep into her sweaty cunt. He loved it down there, especially her musky smell after a hard practice.. He loved how she squeezed his ears against his head with those legs of hers, held the top of his head down with her hands, groaned and groaned and yelled until she came. But he was here and right now she had probably just finished a nice sweaty practice and was back in her dorm room probably getting eaten out by one of her volleyball teammates.
And all he could do was to sit in his car and wait for Mrs. Huffman to pick up her phone.
The only reason he was there was because he felt sorry for Mrs. Huffman, his old teacher. He was sure she was missing him fucking her. Well, he was also there because he was a connoisseur of slut and Mrs. Huffman was a total slut. Connoisseur wasn't a word in Harold's vocabulary. In his words, "if he smelled a slut's cunt, his cock got hard." And the thing was, he knew that he could help her become the perfect slut. It was like she had taught the class about the knights of olden times. They went on quests. That was what he was here for. He was on his quest to make the perfect slut.
Well, he was also there because, let's face it, Mrs. Huffman had the sweetest ass this side of anywhere. And, for sure, he was there because he remembered how every time he slipped his erect penis into her warm, wet cunt, she gripped him tight and her hips would piston up and down in a wild drive that would lead to both of them coming and coming and coming.
He figured she was such a slut because he did such a good job in teaching her the ins and outs of being a slut.
#### The phone clicked on again. His stupid voice came on. She could feel that warm moisture begin to coat the pink insides of her home hole.
How in the hell had Harold managed to get her telephone number anyhow? How in the world had he managed to discover where she lived? She didn't need his cock, not anymore. If he came up into her apartment, he would monopolize her time. She wouldn't be able to get anything done. She was busy. She'd be fucking soon, when she went on vacation. She didn't need him now. He was stupid, nasty, a pain. He was crude. He was disrespectful. Oh, he could fuck. But!
Damn him, damn him, damn him. Shit, shit, shit!
####
Harold McCarthy thought to himself that maybe he ought to just leave, go, show her once and for all that she couldn't be so insulting, so mean to him all the time. Ah, but he told himself, he was just too good a guy. He was too nice. He felt sorry for Mrs. Huffman, his former teacher, her, with that perfect ass. He knew she needed what he was there to give her, a good fucking, and another lesson on how to be a perfect slut.
She always resisted him, but, when they did get it on, she always got off. Soon they would be making the beast with two backs. She had taught him about that beast....it was from Shakespeare or somewhere.
#####
Harold McCarthy was the bane of her existence. She hated him! Him, his pimply face, his scrawny body, his greasy hair, his long smelly cock. Why didn't he stop calling her?
Harold was the guy who had turned her out, awakened her to the fact that she was a slut. That had been three years ago, while he had been a student in the English class she taught at Holy Mother of God High School.
She had sucked his cock behind a dumpster, participated in a gang bangs he had set up, fucked his friends at his college dorm. She had jacked off two of his high school mates in the back seat of her car while he watched and critiqued her technique. She had fucked him in the back seat of the same car, in her apartment, on the floor, against the door, in her chair, on the stair. He had sucked her cunt, His had been the only cock, so far, to have fucked her ass. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
. How had he found her? MaryJane Huffman had moved from Dover Falls to here, Beaver Hills, 400 miles away. She was now teaching at Our Lady of Sweet Tidings High, an all girls high school. No testosterone sweating young men staring at her all day, driving her crazy. Here, At Our Lady, the polished wooden chair seats in each classroom were warmed by the sweet and innocent fat bottoms of the plaid skirted girls with shiny clean faces. No problems for Mrs. Huffman there.
At Holy Mother, those boys in their military uniforms were not sweet and innocent. Their testosterone saturated the atmosphere of every classroom. It was a very stressful place for a slut like Mrs. Huffman to be working at. But, apart from a constantly wet cunt, she had her slutness under control, most of the time.
#####
He almost felt sorry for her when he first saw her in front of his class at Holy Mother. She was wearing a tight grey, checked skirt and a white blouse. The blouse was tight too, just enough so if a guy looked hard, he could see her tits encased in her bra pressing against the blouse. Harry had noticed it right away, how she tried both to show and not to show off her body at the same time. Good luck, that round ass was too perfect not to be obvious. It couldn't be called a bubble ass, though. Her ass was maybe half of an inch under the size that would have made it a bubble ass. She'd walk between the desks as she lectured and it took every ounce of Harold's will power to keep him from running his hands up and down that smooth curve of her lovely ass. He loved to watch as Mrs. Huffman walked to the blackboard, obviously uncomfortable turning her back to the room full of sex starved boys dressed in the school's military uniforms. She tried to stand straight, Harold saw how she pulled in her stomach in an effort to keep her ass from showing too much curve as she wrote on the black board.
Yeah, Harold McCarthy had seen the slut just waiting to break out of Mrs. Huffman, the proper teacher. It would happen, he knew that the very first day he had seen her. He would be patient. It would happen. And, of course, it did. But that was long ago.
And now, he was getting impatient.
"Pick up, Mrs. Huffman, come on. Please." She always did it. He always complained to her, but she did it still, made him wait, made him beg.
Harold had appointed himself her slut-instructor. Before he had begun fucking her, she didn't know squat about being a slut. If not for Harold, she'd still be walking around her classroom in those clothes, just a tiny bit too tight on her and sweating her smelly cunt juice all over the room while the students were busy, each in his own way, trying to hide his erection. But Harold had shown her how to own up to being a slut, how to get fucked, how to fuck back, and how to enjoy every second of her debauchery.
