Supervising the football game was the last thing Jeff Meagor wanted to be doing after such a horrible, nauseating day. Immediately after watching his wife worship his boss' impressive cock with her hungry, willing mouth, Jeff had to oversee the night football game between the high school he taught at and their cross-town rival. The game had promised to be packed with rowdy, drunk students, and Jeff had to work with a team of Marines from a local base to help keep order. Hiring Marines was a common practice in the area, as the Marines both served as a strong presence for order and got to advertise their branch of the military for soon-to-be high school graduates.
Even with the Marine presence, Jeff was extremely tense and on-guard, his mind playing over and over the arcing ropes of cum splattering on Amber's firm, melon-sized breasts, splashing off of her swollen lips, dripping off of her wet tongue. She had winked at Jeff, her own husband, at some point, running her cum-coated tongue over her lips and then swallowing Robert'c copious load of jizz. As he tried to keep rambunctious students in their seats and quit their vulgar chants, Jeff feverishly imagined where Amber and Robert were, where his assistant principal had taken his young, beautiful wife, in what room Amber was savoring the feel of a huge cock sliding in and out of her tight pussy with hard, slow, deep thrusts.
With a cruel erection mocking his nausea and his jealousy, Jeff blindly moved through the sea of students. Lost in a haze of jealousy, Jeff didn't see the two young black men until he walked right into them. The two chuckled at the jostling, taking no offense at being rammed into. Jeff, however, heard mockery in their chuckles, and demanded to know what their paper cups contained.
"Relax, dude, it's just soda" chuckled one amiably.
"My name is Mister Meagor, and you'll address me as such. Now, let me have the cup."
"No" spat the other young man. "We graduated last year, so we don't have to call you shit. As my man just said, this is soda, so take a fucking hike."
Jeff's face burned with the defiance, as it always did when he felt his flimsy authority was challenged.
"Well, if you graduated, then you boys can take the hike and go right back to whatever corner you sell your drugs at."
A moment of silence passed, and Jeff then found two angry, aggressive men in his face, shouting and pushing him.
"Who the fuck are you calling 'boy,' motherfucker!? Fuck you, you doughy little racist. We go to college, you Nazi motherfucker!"
Three Marines, seeing a teacher being accosted by two angry, muscular young men, rushed over and put restraint holds on the two, pushing them down to the cold, garbage-strewn concrete. After much yelling and accusing and commentary from bystanders, the young men were let up and the Marines glared at Jeff as the two men were escorted out of the stadium.
A tall blond Marine, broad and muscular, towered over Jeff and glowered down: "If you're going to start a race riot, then you can tell Mr. Wilson that tonight is our last night, you fucking asshole!"
The rest of Jeff's night had been a blur of images of his boss' big thick cock invading his wife, of the sounds of Amber begging for more and more of his black dick, of students challenging his rulings, of pissed-off Marines, and of a base worry about his job security. More than anything else, Jeff wondered why he didn't stop his boss from fucking his wife's mouth. Why did he sit like a putz, and allow his wife to slather all over the assistant principal's massive dick. He felt trapped-Robert could ruin him and his wife was disgusted with him. Revenge was being exacted on Jeff, when all he ever wanted was a sparkling smile from Zoe. He had felt emasculated in the office as his boss demonstrated a virility that Jeff could only dream of. Jeff stumbled around the football game, searching for his pride for his manhood. Mercifully, the game did not go into overtime, and Jeff limped home.
With a sigh bordering on a sob, Jeff slumped into his cold house, not surprised that Amber was not there. What surprised him, shocked him, was the sight of Zoe Valentine sitting on his couch. Zoe-the source of the nightmare that his life was turning into. She had been the object of his desires for months, and in his fantasies she knelt in awe of his intelligence and sexuality. The power of his fantasy had moved him one day to surpass simple flirting (which she sneered at) and made definite physical contact with her, rolling his crotch into her firm ass in a crowd of students. Her look of hatred, disdain, and contempt had shrunk his ego and libido immediately; apparently, simply despising Jeff did not suffice for Zoe. She was moving a sexual misconduct charge against him, a charge that would end his career. Coupled with the alleged evidence of porn from the computer in his classroom, Jeff was at the mercy of his supervisor, the man who had his wife out on a date,
Zoe looked hotter than she ever had-a leather mini-skirt highlighted her long, lithe legs, patent stiletto heels with silver tips added both a sensuous and a menacing aura, and a simple white camisole strained against the pressure of her ample breasts. Her short red-hair highlighted her angular face, which now wore a smirk of contempt.
