Due to the sudden, unannounced, and completely deletion of the entire erotica section of another website, where this story was originally posted, I am re-publishing here. With some minor editing already done by the Author, this story should fall within all confines of the Literotica ToS and other requirements. The other website, which was widely known for a more relaxed view on certain story-content constraints, made their actions without any notification or consideration for content that was clearly in the artistic side of erotica. The other site was named as ex- and a child's pet rodent.
This story contains material related to interracial sex, non-consensual sex, cheating/cuckolding, and possible pregnancy. If these subjects offend you, then please go no further and find another story to enjoy.
This story was written at the request of another couple. Some of the descriptions and content are tailored to them, and them alone. Chapter 2 is written and will be posted separately. Any chapters beyond that are subject to feedback and motivation to proceed with this series. The Author hopes you enjoy.
Any names, resemblances, and/or descriptions resembling real or fictional characters under copyright is purely coincidental.
Any meaningful and well-intentioned critiquing is welcomed, but if the subject matter offends you, stop reading and go somewhere else, as the Author does not care about your feelings. Be polite, or keep your mouth shut like an adult.
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Pam stretched behind her desk, offering a slight yawn of her perfectly painted red lips. Glancing at the clock, she knew the day was dragging, but only because she was grading papers. Term papers, to be exact. They were tough to read, due to the varying levels of grammar, and even harder to follow at times, as the teenage mind was still developing, and chief amongst its priorities were fun, food, and if she was honest with herself, fucking. Tossing her teacher-red pen on the desk, she rose to her heels and arched her back, both hands behind her waist, her voice emitting a chirped squeak as she flexed and let the stiffness get worked out of her body.
"I should stretch my legs for a minute." She muttered to the clock on the wall. She was alone, as classes had been released for the day some ninety-minutes previously, and while she could wander the halls, she knew there would be students still about the campus. Some were there simply out of a duty to learn, instilled by their parents, and others were there because it was now social time, and they could do some of the things they couldn't do during school hours, or at home, for that matter.
It was no secret where the 'hidey-holes' were on campus. Under the bleachers, in a few stairwells, the janitorial closet with the broken lock, and even a few rooms where teachers were known to be absent-minded and forgot to lock their rooms up. The teacher's lounge was also a student favorite, though they were extremely careful to make sure no teachers were about, for to be caught there would be certain death. Death by teacher-discipline, death by grades, and most certainly, death by parental involvement. Glancing out the windows, she noticed that the windy day had finally arrived, the local weather-guesser having called it right, but twelve-hours late. Just in time to have to deal with it after school.
The plus side of it was that the day would be warm and yet clear, while the minus side was that students not having gone home would hunker down in the hallways, until it was time for them to go home, or wherever else their juvenile minds concocted. Another minus was Pam's outfit. It was not exactly cut-out for a windy day.
Her blouse was a stylized-print silky gold satin, buttoned to mid-cleavage, and the lapels folded to just so. It drew some attention to her nice, D-cupped cleavage, yet covered her black lace bra and bra straps, and was loose-enough to not draw criticism from the Principal. Her skirt was a high-waisted black chiffon pleated circle-skirt, hemmed sensibly at her knees. She stood on 4 inch black patent-leather heels, not out of vanity, but because she had some taller male students, and she had heard stories of how some of them tried to bully shorter instructors, and frankly, she just didn't want to have that hassle. But the plain fact was her skirt would not behave on a day like this, no matter how hard she tried. Her undergarments were mostly modest, sheer tan pantyhose and a red thong, the last because she and her husband John had gone out for a date on Saturday, and after two bottles of Merlot, neither was feeling any pain, except for the hangover the next day. The laundry didn't get done. She had promised herself to do the washing the next day. But no matter what, she knew if she stepped outside, she would be doing an imitation of Marilyn Monroe standing over the subway vent, and there were way too many students still on campus to risk letting a single one of them get a look at her modesty, regardless of how innocently it happened.
Another thing Pam wasn't feeling was sated. She had hopes of having sex with her man, as they had kind of tapered off, and she was feeling needy. She was also starting to have those maternal thoughts only women have, too. Babies. That had started by holding the newborn of one of her teacher-friends, who had just had hers, and it brought out those feelings again, despite her being on the pill. Birth control pills can only do so much to curb the emotions, and what the heart wants, the heart wants. Maybe it was time to re-think children? But that brought her some frustration for though her husband really tried in bed, he was a little short in stature. That, coupled with his inability to hold an erection that weekend, and the newborn baby, and the fact that the very air was thick with teenage testosterone was making her a little... tense.
"OK... I gotta' take a break..." She shook her head and again took another look outside. The wind was fierce, and lighter debris was blowing past the windows, some of it flying flatly, while others tumbled past at a good clip. "Jeez..." she muttered, as she opened the door to her classroom.
"WHOA!" she cried out, as she was nearly yanked off her feet, the door jerking open and yanking her with it!
It only took a moment to recognize what had happened. Some enterprising young student or students had taken it upon themselves to steal the little wooden door wedges and hold open both hallway ends, making the hallway a literal wind tunnel. Standing there, her long brown hair tousled about as her hand reached up to clear her vision. Forgotten in this moment of surprise was her skirt, which was now plastered up about her chest. It took her too long of a moment to realize that the very exposure she had feared was happening, and it was indoors! Instinctively, she forgot trying to see, and turned her body into the wind, letting her hair blow back behind her, as her hands started to do battle with the hem of her skirt. That was when she heard the chortled laugh.
