Ayley Earns Her A

Standard Disclaimer: All characters are at least 18 years old, and all events are fiction.

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Kayley sat outside Mr. Radley's house in her car and cried. Not the big, whooping sobs of heartbreak, but quieter, smaller tears of frustration. Her teeth ground together, nervous, whistley breaths darting in and out of her nostrils. The steering wheel felt like it might shatter in her tight grip.

She sat like this for a long while, as the sun set and the neighborhood lights flickered on. Families walked by with children and dogs, none even glancing at the ruddy-faced high school girl hunched over in her car. It still felt as though each and every person was staring at her, taking in her scandalously low-cut tank top and the pushup bra beneath, the tangle of her hair and smudged eye makeup, their judgment finding her wanting in every way that mattered.

After a time, Kayley became tired of wallowing in self-pity. Her butt hurt from sitting in the same position for too long. What did hiding out in her car accomplish? It wouldn't lessen the hurricane of emotions whipping through her.

It wouldn't fix her disastrous date with Travis.

It wouldn't answer the question of how Mr. Radley would feel about her showing up an entire 24 hours earlier than they'd arranged.

Taking a deep breath, she popped open the glove compartment for tissues, dabbed at her face and eyes until most of the running makeup was cleaned away. It still left her with a bit of raccoon-eyes, but the effect, when coupled with her tank top, was the kind of slutty she knew her teacher enjoyed.

Kayley didn't know if she was going to fuck him tonight. She didn't know much of anything at the moment, least of all what was happening with either of the people she was sleeping with. She needed clarity. She needed someone to talk to. It wasn't as if she could go to her friends, or God forbid, her parents. Travis certainly wasn't an option. So that left Mr. Radley, architect of all of her turmoil.

After one last glance in the mirror, she got out of the car. His house was a modest rambler, siding painted blue, bright clumps of flowers in planter boxes under curtained windows. A tidy gravel walkway led to a white door. Taking a deep breath (that did nothing at all to calm her down), Kayley went up and was just raising her hand to knock when it flew open.

Mr. Radley stood there, light jacket on and keys in his hand. His dark eyes went wide at the sight of her, hand still held dumbly in the air. She flushed and dropped it to her side.

"Um, hey Kayley. I wasn't expecting you. Wh-what's up?" he looked her up and down, clearly pausing on her cleavage, before continuing, "I thought you had a date tonight."

It wasn't the reminder of her horrible night that made Kayley burst into tears again; no, it was the mild, almost concerned tone in his voice.

Some part of him cares, she thought, scrubbing at her eyes. She felt his hand on her upper arm, gentle yet insistent.

"Hey, it's okay. C'mon in, Kayley. Okay?" He guided her inside, sat her down on a firm couch. A television played loud commercials; he muted it before sitting beside her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, "I didn't know who else I could talk to, and you gave me your address, and I just thought... I just thought..."

Kayley dissolved into tears again. Mr. Radley handed her some tissues and waited silently while she composed herself. As she calmed, Kayley took in her teacher's living room. The coffee table before her was clear but for some coasters and two bottles of beer. A large flatscreen took up the wall across from the couch, the shelving beneath it full of stereo equipment. Bookshelves took up another entire wall, filled with a clutter of mismatched hard- and paperback books. Through a doorway, she glimpsed what had to be a kitchen. With the television muted, she could hear a rushing hum.

"Take your time, Kayley," Mr. Radley said. He rubbed her back with one hand; she leaned into the gentle touch, found his shoulder with the side of her head. They sat like that for a moment, Kayley breathing in his scent, feeling the heat of his body through the thin fabric of her tank top.

At last, she was ready. Taking a deep breath, Kayley said, "Sorry, again. I just had- just had a terrible date with Travis, and between that, and us, and everything, I needed to talk. Tonight. Can we talk? I'm sorry."

She was babbling, Kayley realized. Disentangling herself, she scooted a couple of inches away from her teacher. He let her go, and smiled gently. This was a side of him she'd never witnessed before. She didn't know how to feel about it.

"Of course we can talk. I just have company, so we might get interrupted," he said.

Company? Did Mr. Radley have a girlfriend? That was a complication she didn't need. Catching the expression on her face, he laughed.

"Mr. Elston is here. We're going to watch tonight's UFC match. You're welcome to stay."

Mr. Elston, her P.E. teacher. Of course. Kayley knew they were friends.

"Where is he?"

"Taking a shower," he rolled his eyes, "John decided to jog over here."

Oh. That explained the rushing noise. Water in the pipes. A shower sounded good right now. She'd come straight here from Travis's, no time to really clean up.

"Okay, well-" Kayley said, stopped. She felt so embarrassed. Coming to her teacher because of a shitty date. No, she caught herself before the pity spiral could begin again. Not just a shitty date. Worse. And why was she embarrassed to talk to the man who'd cum inside her? Kayley cleared her throat, continued, "My date with Travis didn't go so well. After- after everything that's happened this week, I guess I just needed him to be someone I'm not sure he can be."

"What happened?" Mr. Radley asked.

"Well, I- I wore this," she gestured at her top, "cuz I wanted to see if he'd like it too. I wanted him to like it."

"And did he?"

"N-no! He said I looked slutty, and that he didn't want other guys looking at me. He made me put a sweatshirt on before we went anywhere." Tears threatened once more. Kayley had been so humiliated. It was almost like Travis hated the existence of her breasts.

"That's shitty. I'm sorry, Kayley." Mr. Radley took her hand and squeezed reassuringly. His sympathetic expression helped her continue.

"We went to the movies. Sat all the way in the back and everything, no one else in the row," as she spoke, Kayley felt her embarrassment shift, grow hotter. She was getting angry, "and I- I just wanted him to want me. So I tried jerking him off, but he pushed me away, said we shouldn't do that in public. I should have left then. But no, I just had to see it through.

"We went back to his place- his parents are out of town- and y'know, finally he wants to get busy, and I'm just thinking maybe if I let him fuck me without a condom I'll get to finish for once. And of course he's into it, and of course he cums pretty much instantly. And what do I get? A 'sorry babe.' No fingers, no mouth, not even a goddamn napkin to clean up with!"

She drove her fist into the cushion beside her, letting out a long hiss of air from her nostrils. Her heart thundered as the evening's misadventures flashed through her head. She trembled, hot with anger and shame, vision tunneling down to two pinpricks.

The sudden hiss-snap of a can being opened next to her head snapped Kayley out of her spiral hard enough that she jumped in her seat. So caught up in herself, she'd missed Mr. Elston coming into the room. He stood above her, still damp from the shower, in his t-shirt and athletic shorts, sandy hair tousled into a series of cowlicks. One well-defined arm offered her a can of beer.

"Sounds rough, Kayley," Mr. Elston said, "This should help."

Hesitating for only a moment, she took the beverage and slugged back a mouthful. She was no stranger to alcohol from the parties she'd been to, but this was the first time drinking with a teacher. Teachers, she reminded herself, one of whom I've fucked. She was aware that Mr. Elston was still standing, his crotch level with her face. From the shape of his bulge, it was obvious he had chosen to go commando. It didn't bother her as much as she thought it might, nor did the slow and obvious way his eyes traced her cleavage.

Then he abruptly turned and went to the kitchen, saying, "So I guess this means you're not running out for more beer then?"

"We have a half-rack. You'll be fine," Mr. Radley shot back. Mr. Elston flipped him off before fetching both men their own drinks. He flopped down on the couch beside Kayley, not quite touching her.

Kayley sipped her beer. The alcohol was warm in her belly.

"So what do you think you're going to do?" Mr. Radley asked.

She shook her head, "I don't know yet. I'm mad. He's been blowing up my phone, but I know I won't be ready to talk tonight."

"Nah, it's good to have some space before you talk again," Mr. Elston chimed in, "Wait until tomorrow. He'll be fine."

"And you? Are you fine?" Mr. Radley asked.

Kayley shrugged, sipped again. She was actually feeling a little better. "I guess so. Don't know what I'm going to do now."

"You're welcome to hang out as long as you like," Mr. Radley said. From the corner of her eye, Kayley caught Mr. Elston giving the other man a look.

I was right, she thought, he does know about us.

Where before that revelation would have spurred her to further heights of rage, tonight it only piqued her curiosity. Did they have a thing going on? For how long? And how many students had Mr. Radley fucked, anyway?

"Okay, thank you," she said, settling back, "I think I'll do that. For a bit, anyway."

Mr. Radley unmuted the television, turning down the volume just slightly. Two female bantamweight fighters were entering the octagon, their lean, nearly breastless bodies all ropy muscle. Kayley found her attention drifting almost immediately. MMA had never interested her, even less so now with so much on her mind.

It had been such a disappointing day, capping off an absolutely unhinged week. Now that she knew how good sex could be, Travis's bedroom behavior no longer satisfied. She still loved him (did she? Yes, yes she did; this was just one bad week), still held on to that lifeplan they'd put together, but now she knew some things would have to change.

It had made Kayley feel better to vent to her teacher. Nothing was solved, but he had actually been... nice. He listened, even when it wasn't about him. And now she was sitting beside him, quietly putting away the beer. She felt the alcohol loosening her muscles, allowing her to relax. He was close enough that she could feel him tense with excitement as the fight began, arm occasionally brushing hers as he drank his own beer. She had never been this close to him without sex being involved. It was oddly pleasant just being with Mr. Radley, despite her disinterest in the match.

To her left, Mr. Elston was much more animated, bouncing up and down on the couch with each swung fist and jabbed elbow. Occasionally his leg would press against hers. He might have showered, but he was close enough that she could smell the faintest tang of his perspiration beneath whatever soap he'd used, shorts and t-shirt the same he'd run over in. She'd never thought about how her teachers smelled, but now, sitting between them, she realized she liked their respective odors. Kayley found herself leaning towards Mr. Radley, trying to get a hint of his scent. Coffee and paper, she realized. Of course. He was an English teacher.

A wicked idea sprouted, one that linked the warmth in Kayley's stomach with a different, deeper heat.

No. That was too far, she thought. Too far.

The can was light in her hand. One more swallow emptied it. The aluminum clinked when she set it on the table. Almost immediately Mr. Elston got up and fetched everyone another round.

As he handed Kayley hers, she smiled coyly and said, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Elston?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Kayley," he replied. She'd never really paid attention to how good-looking her P.E. teacher was. He had the taut, lean build of a soccer player, nice cheekbones and deep blue eyes. She made no secret of looking him up and down; her reward was to have him sit thigh-to-thigh with her, one arm thrown behind her on the couch. This did not go unnoticed by Mr. Radley, who too-casually let his hand rest on her knee, finger drawing little spirals on the black leggings. Kayley was enveloped in their warmth, their scents.

Fuck, she thought, my panties are soaked.

Did she really want to do this? Did she want to fuck both of her teachers? Seven days ago the idea would have never occurred to her. This week had broken a dam within her, one that first cracked when she'd lost her virginity to Travis, the fissures growing wider every time she had sex, only now rupturing in full before all of the degradation Mr. Radley had subjected her to. But it was Travis, she now knew, Travis and the cavalier and condescending way he'd treated her tonight that brought the entire edifice crashing down. Mr. Radley could be cruel, but he actually made sure she came every time.

Well, almost every time. Kayley rubbed one out in the girl's bathroom after jerking him off this afternoon, biting the hood of her sweatshirt to muffle her whimpers. Her fingers weren't the same as his fingers, or tongue, or cock. So really, both Travis and Mr. Radley had disappointed her today. She knew her teacher was good for it, but part of her relished turning the tables on him a little bit. If she was reading these two men correctly, it wouldn't be the first time they'd shared a student.

The wicked idea flowered. Kayley was horny, goddammit. Today had been one disappointment after another, and she was done with it.

Kayley cleared her throat, asked, "Where's the bathroom?"

"Ah, through the kitchen and down the hall. It's the first door on the right," Mr. Radley said.

Disentangling herself from the two men, Kayley made her way to the kitchen, stopping to shuck off her flats and put them on the shoe rack by the front door. The entire time, she was acutely aware of their eyes upon her, studying where her tanktop rode up and her leggings clung tightest. She made sure to give them a little show, bending over slower than necessary to put away the shoes.

The bathroom was larger than expected, with a walk-in shower and jacuzzi tub big enough for two. The toilet seat was heated, a pleasant surprise, the vanity countertop a solid sheet of marble. As she washed her hands, Kayley studied herself in the mirror. She'd tried so hard to dress sexy for Travis: Second-skin leggings that molded to the contours of her body, with a thong to keep her decent. Her tits were heavy, pulling the front of her tank top low enough to show the clasp on her black bra. She readjusted them so they sat higher on her chest, easily four inches of cleavage still visible, then primped her loose hair so that it framed the generous amount of breast that showed on either side. She looked good, goddammit. What was Travis's problem? Why couldn't he want her as badly as the two men waiting in the living room?

Was this the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with?

No. NO. She shoved that thought away forcefully. They'd fix this. Their relationship would come out of this stronger than ever. She was the one who was probably acting weird, and he was just responding to that. Once she'd finished her deal with Mr. Radley, life could go back to normal. Everything would be fine.

Kayley just figured she might as well have some fun in the meantime.

***

Returning to the living room, Kayley could tell that Mr. Radley and Mr. Elston had been talking about her. She had no specific evidence aside from the studied mildness of their expressions when they turned in near-unison to welcome her back to the couch. Kayley, putting her idea into action, plopped down beside Mr. Elston, leaned back against him while stretching her feet across Mr. Radley's lap (She'd heard some men liked feet; maybe he was one of them). Mr. Elston shifted to accommodate her, draped an arm over her shoulders. His hand hung down just shy of her breast, fingertips almost grazing the fabric of her tank top. His body was warm, heartbeat palpable through her back. She wanted to press her face into his chest, inhale his heady scent, but forced herself to hold back. She wanted to see what they would do, which man would make the first move.

Mr. Radley took one of her feet and began kneading the arches. A low purr of satisfaction slipped from Kayley's mouth as his fingers unknotted points of tension she didn't even know were there. Her head fell back against the P.E. teacher's shoulder, his fingertips now resting on the upper slope of her breast.

On the television, two new women grappled each other, but no one was really paying attention.

As Mr. Radley switched feet, Kayley put her hand on Mr. Elston's leg, felt the skin jump at her touch. The crotch of his running shorts suddenly looked a little tighter. Still, she held back from further escalation, and was rewarded when his hand shifted to lightly cup her breast. If Mr. Radley was bothered by this, he didn't show it. Indeed, he pulled his legs up to sit criss-cross with both of her feet in his lap, the soles pulled against the growing firmness in his crotch. His hands squeezed and kneaded her calves, the motion causing her feet to rub along the sides of his denim-sheathed cock.

Okay then. That's how it was. Kayley stroked Mr.Elston's thigh, the texture of his sparse leg hair surprisingly soft. Each movement of her fingers pushed the hem of his shorts higher, until her questing hand found smooth-shaven skin, and the spongy softness of his swelling cockhead. He groaned as she ever-so-gently scratched the sensitive flesh. Sticky precum spilled from his slit; remembering her English teacher's face this afternoon, she scooped up two fingertips' worth, and brought them to her lips. Keeping her gaze focused on the television, incredibly aware of both men's hungry eyes, Kayley smeared the clear fluid on like it was lip balm, before licking herself clean.

Mr. Elston broke first, as she hoped. He reached over and tilted her chin up. As their lips met and tongues intermingled, he slipped his other hand into her bra, kneading the soft flesh. He pinched her nipple, and she gasped into his mouth. Encouraged, he slipped down the straps, freeing her right breast from the cup. He lifted and squeezed her tit, sending bright sparks cascading through her chest. They kissed again, his hand becoming rougher. Kayley arched her back into it, filling his palm. His other hand pulled up the hem of her tank top until her stomach was exposed; at the same time, Mr. Radley moved his hands up her thighs to the waistband of her leggings, just barely grazing her pussy as they went. Hooking the elastic, he pulled them down and off, leaving her stretched out across the two men in just her black thong and half a bra.

As Kayley pulled away to let her head and shoulders settle in Mr. Elston's lap, he said, "Travis called you a slut, huh? What would he say if he saw you now?"

What would Travis say? Probably something much worse than slut. Hell, he still insisted on having sex with the lights off, and here she was in a brightly lit living room, almost completely naked, two older men with their hands all over her. He probably wouldn't even be able to bring himself to look. Would she give him a show, then? Demonstrate everything he was missing on these two teachers? And if he looked away, she'd just get louder, narrate everything that was happening to her and let his imagination do the rest.

Yeah, Kayley was still angry.

Looking at her teacher sidelong, she replied, "I don't fucking care, Mr. Elston. I just want your cock in my mouth."