It was late afternoon when I drove past the public school in Pittsburgh, PA where I spent my early years. For nostalgia's sake, I stopped to see if any of my old teachers were still there. I found the doors open, so I walked inside through the corridors I recalled so well.
I walked the old, familiar hallways of the first and second floor, but the building seemed deserted. I went down to the basement and came out across from the shop classroom where Mr. Coree taught. I walked in, and there he was. Mr. Coree came from Haiti, wore his hair in braids, and he had the blackest skin I'd ever seen. As I looked at him sitting at his desk, I realized he hadn't changed much. He still wore the braids, but his hair was now a little gray.
"Hi, Mr. Coree," I said, walking toward the front of the classroom, "remember me?"
He looked up and said, "I know I should, just let me think a moment."
His eyes roamed my body from top to bottom, taking in my blond hair and my see through tank top that showed off my 40 inch tits and red nipples. His eye lingered at my mini skirt, which showed all of my legs, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. He smiled and nodded his approval.
"I'm Vicky Evans, Mr. Coree, don't you remember. I was in your class when I was 10 years old."
"Little Vicky Evans, of course. My you have grown." He took my tiny, white hands in his coal black ones and I noticed their size and strength. "What are you doing here at the old school?"
"I was driving by and thought I'd stop in and see if you were around and say hi."
"So you came back to see your old teacher, huh?"
"Yea," I said, smiling at him.
"Then have a seat and let's talk."
I looked at the student's desks, and he said, "No, not there, Vicky." He stepped forward and gripped my waist in his hands, then lifted me onto the edge of his desk. I wiggled back so I could sit comfortably. I saw Mr. Coree staring up my skirt, and since I don't wear panties, I knew he was getting an eyeful of my love patch. A huge bulge formed in his pants and it turned me on that my old teacher was getting a hard on over me. I spread my legs wider and gave him a big grin.
He stepped between my legs and slipped his big, black hands over my knees, sliding them along the inside of my thighs till his wrists bumped against the bottom of my skirt. My nipples grew hard as his thumbs tickled my pussy hair.
He grinned at me and said, "What have you been doing all these years, Vicky."
"I got married, but now I'm divorced. My ex said I just wanted to have fun not be married."
"If I remember right, Vicky Evans just wanted to have fun in my class. That's why I used to have to paddle you all the time, remember?"
"Boy, do I, Mr. Coree. Say, you still got the old butt buster you paddled me with?"
"I still got it, and I still use it on my students. I used that old butt buster on your butt just about every day. I thought you liked it."
"I did. I was the big shit in class cause you whipped my ass every day."
Mr. Coree pressed tight between my legs, keeping them spread apart. I folded my hands in my lap, pressing them against the bulge in his pants. I rubbed his hard dick while he tickled my cunt hair.
"Maybe you need your ass whipped once more, Vicky," he said.
"I'm a little old for you to spank me ain't I, Mr. Coree?"
"Don't argue with your teacher," he said, as he pulled my hands and stepped back, sliding me off the desk. "I do it a little different for a big girl like you. Take off your clothes."
"Yes, sir," I said, grinning up at him. All those years as a student taught me to obey the teacher. I pulled off my tank top and my 40 inch creamy, white melons popped free. He stared wide-eyed at my cherry red nipples, already growing hard for him. I unsnapped and unzipped my skirt, dropping it to the floor and revealing my patch of pussy hair he'd been playing with. I slipped off my shoes and stood on display for him.
