Mrs. Malone sat at her desk, her eyes staring at the young man in front of her. There he was the object of her newborn sexual wish, her hottest and wettest desires for the past few nights, standing like a young black god, in the flesh, his dark black skin shining under her office's fluorescent office lights. Shocked as she was at the boldness of the boy, whose confidence she admired, her body tensed and for what seemed like an eternity of breathing she watched in lucid delight as the boy's strong, dark penis head peeked out from it' quickly rose to its full girth.
'Oh myyyyyyyy... ' was all that she could whisper to herself as the bold young man's penis drooled, pointing directly at her.
Yet what was this other thing that she was feeling? Could it be that she actually felt flattered that this young sexy black boy actually lusted for her, a middle-aged school marm; of all people in the school, hell even the town that he could have had? She knew of many of the young girls his age who threw themselves at him. Yet, right then, as he walked towards her, making his way closer to her, the object of his growing lustful desire for the past semester, it dawned on her that she was ready to submit to the ultimate yearning that she had never felt before—pure lust!
* * * * *
And like a flash in the matrix of her brain, she harkened back to that fateful beginning point in which she had her first run in with the Senior Varsity safety Daquan Johnson. He had been brought to her school this year by the new redistricting that was done to her previously lily white, upscale, suburban district that lay just outside the city. It actually benefited the school in that the athletic department had greatly improved its sports this year. Although she was never a fan of the plan to bring in "inner city" youth to give them the same opportunities as the privileged white communities, though she wasn't a "racist", she saw herself as a concerned mom and member of the community which she did not wished spoiled by the lower classes. Hers was the life ideally marketed, with a loving husband faithfully married to her since their college days in the seventies, and twenty-five years of an ideal life where she could watch her kids grow.
This being a town where football was king and athletics were prided upon she was as excited as all of the others were in the revamping of the athletic department, even if it meant having to bus in "apartment" kids from the inner city.
Ann Malone had spent the last twenty years teaching in the Cambridge Hills school district, where the biggest problem throughout her tenure there was truancy and the occasional dress code violation. She enjoyed teaching middle school in the district, but when the opportunity arose last year to become vice-principal at Clements high school she took it. Being able to keep an eye on her younger teenage children, Brandon and Alicia, was an added incentive and also made her feel more in control of her life. She had to admit to herself that she was a bit of a control freak as her family liked to point out, that's probably why she became a school administrator in the first place, she enjoyed the power that she had in shaping and influencing young minds, but she was not afraid to wield a punishment or two when she had to; must have been from the strict way she was raised. At 52 she had dealt with many a smart ass kid since working her way up as a History teacher to her current VP position. And soon she knew that she would eventually get the head job when old Mrs. Wilson retired. Life could not have been better career wise, and on the family front, she had just become a grandmother for the first time after her oldest daughter gave birth to a baby boy that summer. She enjoyed seeing her twenty-seven year old daughter Rebecca experience the joys of motherhood for the first time.
All of those idealistic thoughts soon changed, when the inevitable happened. Her school got redistricted that fall due to the liberal politicians in the capital, and now Clements was going to get its first dose of inner city life. 'Oh well', she thought, 'guess that I'll have to just make sure that they stay in line and don't turn my school into a ghetto'.
Everyday that fall she walked the halls of the school, observing, watching, and helping the newer minority kids, who were mostly black, as they familiarized themselves with the school. Most of the students were respectful of her authority and obeyed when they were told to do things. However, she did tend to often feel uncomfortable in trying to be the authority figure when it came to some of the unruly boys, many of whom joined the football team. To her these young men seemed arrogant, and always with a chip on their soldier. Ann's views were sternly with the persuasion of most middle-American moms, that too many black kids would ruin her school. They also seemed even more fit in stature and strength then the school's original all white football roster of the previous year. Understandably she was a bit nervous those first few weeks when dealing with the new young black men's attitudes. Her mind would occasionally romanticize a bit about some of the history books that she read over the years about the southern antebellum way of life. She usually placed herself in the character of the head lady of the plantation, the mistress if you will, watching over the slaves.
Most of her teaching career was spent teaching her neighbor's children whom she knew, and had watched grow up over the years. They knew that they had to respect her, because Mrs. Malone knew all of their mothers and fathers. Now, she had to deal with these young "urban" students, street kids, who she felt were not as well mannered as she was accustomed to. She wasn't going to let these kids getaway with acting bad. It was almost comical to watch the demure, conservative, middle-aged white woman, who was no more then 5'5" and a recent grandmother, in the hallways reprimanding the physically imposing male black students who were twice her size.
* * * * *
At eighteen years old, Senior Daquan Johnson was a ladies man. He had lost his virginity to one of the "hood rats" in his neighborhood when he was still in middle school. His uncle and brothers had openly taught him about the kinkier sides of sex. He laughed truthfully at the family BBQ's when one of his uncles would drunkenly brag about having big dicks and how big dicks run in the family. In his neighborhood high school he had the pick of all the finest girls in the school. He loved the black girls that went to school with him, but he often wondered what the social taboo of dating white girls was like. At his old all black school, he would often sit in class and day dream about some of the cute white cheerleaders that he often saw, jumping up and down for the losing team on the opponent's sideline.
When his neighborhood got redistricted to the suburbs his senior year, he became even more abandoned towards his fantasy. After being educated by old black ladies in the city for most of his life, the lily white scenery of the pretty white girls and especially the teachers of the Cambridge Hills school district was not only a culture shock to his senses, but also to his blossoming libido, which by now was giving him some of the best wet dreams that he had in his young life. A lot of his most recent dreams centered on fucking the cute white girls that he now went to school with, but after a few months during that fall semester, those dreams started to change, as he became more acquainted with the school's faculty and staff. He noticed a lot of the teachers around school and many of his new white classmate's moms, which were the typical suburban "soccer mom" type who dressed conservatively, and enjoyed the prototype family values lifestyle that the suburbs offered. Most were middle-aged and still looked pretty good to Daquan.
By October his lust filled dreams of the cheerleaders started to morph into dreams of their soccer moms who would sit in the stands. More often then not his mind would wonder in his classes as he sat watching some of his older teachers. He was turned on by some of the ladies that were instructing him. What really started to trip him out was that the various teachers in his dreams were ones that were a bit on the elder side, the ones that were more school marm like. He soon began to desire the more mature ladies that worked at the school with their conservative dresses and their plump middle-aged white asses walking down the hall in their professional pant suits and unassuming heels, and leading their middle class bourgeois lifestyles. All of his perceptions matched the ones that he usually saw marketed on family sitcoms which produced images of the perfect life that sure wasn't where he was from. His young cock would be rock hard by the end of class after dreaming of having his way with one of them on their desks and in different parts of the school. He often pondered upon what their sex lives were like, most often coming to the conclusion that they probably had never even imagined or experienced some of the sexual things that he was experienced in and would like to do to them.
