United States Of Free Use Teacher

Mrs. Brenda Rothman, history teacher at Turner High School, stood near her desk at the back of the room and whined into her phone. "...and then the conference just wrapped up about ten minutes ago, I swear to god if I have to listen to one more parent tell me I'm being unfair because I accused their kid of plagiarism—he even copied the author and copyright, for Christ's sake!"

Brenda listened and sighed. She reached under her long kinky brown hair and rubbed the back of her neck wearily. "No, no, we'll be late if I have to drive home just for us to head back into the city. Come pick me up. We'll leave my car and you can bring me to work in the morning."

She listened some more, and when she spoke again there was an edge to her voice. "Just take care of it tomorrow, Gary. All you need to do right now is pick me up so we're not late. Those tickets cost a fortune."

She hung up, dropped her phone in her large purse and turned toward the front of the classroom clutching the strap. She dropped it when she saw the young man sitting patiently in a desk by the door. He was turned around in his seat with his elbow up on the desk behind him, smiling back at her.

Justin Fox, who had graduated from Turner two years before, was as tall and broad as he'd been in high school. But he'd also softened a little, putting on a good thirty pounds and growing a scruffy beard. His black hair, which he'd worn in severe spikes before, was longer and combed back so it curled under his ears. He watched the parade of expressions cross her face with his own smirk of amusement: first a gasp of surprise when she realized she wasn't alone, then a puzzled squint as she tried to place his face, and finally a grimace of distaste when she recognized him.

"Justin," she said with a forced smile. "So nice to see you. I didn't recognize you at first."

"Yeah, I've grown a bit more." He patted his belly with a self-deprecating chuckle. "You look exactly the same, though."

He made a show of looking her up and down appreciatively. Brenda automatically pulled her cardigan closed and crossed her arms over her considerable bust. She was a thick-bodied woman in her early forties, not morbidly fat but soft and curvy in all the right places. "God, you're all tits and hips!" A man had exclaimed lustily just a few months before, as he'd felt her up on the bus. She had liked the sound of that; it made her feel like a bountiful fertility goddess.

But she was also a proud upstanding woman, and a force to be reckoned with. She took her work very seriously, and had no interest in stirring the libidos of hormone-laden underage boys, so she dressed accordingly. Her outfit that day was a usual one for her in the chillier months: A long and swishy grey skirt that allowed her to wear comfortable boots, a thick black turtleneck sweater that kept her cleavage under wraps, and a thin but long black cardigan that rendered her silhouette mostly shapeless. During the school week, she did what she could to tame those tits and hips.

The hungry look in Justin's eyes made her feel like she was standing before him wearing much less, and two things happened to her simultaneously: she felt the heat of arousal spark in her belly, and she felt her ears turn red with anger. How dare this smarmy little prick show his face in her classroom again, after all the stress and frustration he caused her.

He'd been a troublemaker and a bully: shirking assignments, cheating on tests, throwing temper tantrums when he was caught, and constantly disrupting the class. And once, when she chastised him for vulgar comments in class, he had backed her into the corner, pressing his body close enough to hers that she'd felt him grow hard against her abdomen. She'd gotten him suspended for that.

But this was public school, and Principal Cartwright was a nervous hamster of a pussy of a man, and somehow Justin Fox had graduated. Just barely. In the end, she didn't really care how he made it through, she'd just been glad to see him leave her classroom forever.

Or so she thought.

"Well it was nice of you to stop by. It can be fun to walk down memory lane, but I was just about to leave. My husband and I have tickets to see 'Jefferson' tonight." As she spoke, Brenda picked up her purse and pushed her chair under the desk, making a show of getting ready to go.

"Of course, the hip-hop musical that's sweeping the nation. The tragic tale of a privileged man who screwed his slaves."

"That's a charming interpretation," she said as she approached him. "Have a good evening, Mr. Fox."

He tried to rise but struggled for a few moments in the small desk. "Goddamn Freshmen Fifteen," he muttered to himself. "And Sophomore Twenty."

Finally he stood, turned toward her in the aisle and extended his hand. For a moment she thought it was a nice gesture, shaking her hand before he left. Maybe he'd even apologize, give her some speech about how he'd matured in college.

Instead, he grabbed her tit. This wasn't just a sly rub or a passing squeeze. He encompassed her melon-sized mammary in his big hand and held it possessively, hefting it the way he'd longed to in high school.

Brenda gasped and lowered her head by force of habit, submitting to his touch. Then she came to her senses and looked up at him, her mouth open in surprise. The audacity of this punk!

Her blood pounding in her ears, the teacher twisted her chest away from him and took a step back. "What do you think you're doing?" She asked, as if she didn't know.

Justin grinned. "I came back to see what's changed, remember the glory days, and finally fuck your juicy ass, Mrs. Rothman."

Finally, here was the disgusting boy she remembered. Brenda sniffed haughtily "You're a pig. My husband is on his way right now!"

The young man made a show of looking around. "He's not here now."

"We are inside the school!" She exclaimed.

"And it's after hours."

"You're my STUDENT."

He laughed and shook his head as though she was being silly. "Not for a while now. Hell, it's not like you're working right now anyway."

"Now, see here-"

Suddenly out of patience, he grabbed her right arm and pulled back the sleeve to reveal the band that encircled her wrist. "Your bracelet is green, so you're not on the rag or trying to conceive. I'm nineteen years old and legally a man with access to your body. You're an unaccompanied woman with no right to refuse. Stop making excuses, BRENDA."

Brenda bit her lip and glanced to the side, not knowing how sexy she looked when she was worried. The teacher was stuck, but didn't want to be; her former student could see the struggle on her face. Everything he said was technically true. Women didn't have to agree to things like marriage or commitment, and it was rude for a man to proposition her if she was already accompanied by a man. But for any casual sexual requests, it was practically unthinkable for an unaccompanied woman to refuse.

Legally, specific locations that served minors, like schools, were out of bounds for free use. Nobody wanted teachers and administrators fucking each other when they should be teaching, or having their authority undermined by the students seeing them get railed. But once the final bell rang, this became a gray area. Certainly no one would proposition Brenda while she walked to her car, on school grounds, and yet she knew that Principal Cartwright bent his secretary Karen over his desk every day at 3:30.

But Justin's request was taboo enough that Brenda had the right to refuse it, and that's just what she did. "Fuck you, Justin."

He smiled, stepping closer to her. She could smell his body, feel the heat coming off him, and was reminded of his imposing size. "Exactly. Fuck me, here and now."

She shoved him aside and marched toward the door with a defiant swish of her hips.

"I've got a picture of you."

She stopped in her tracks, turned and looked at him suspiciously.

He took a stiff photograph from the pocket of his shirt and happily held it out to her. Even before she took in the details, she could tell it was bad news. Her bravado drained out of her, right through the floor.

"Who would have guessed you were caught up in FUSS?" He asked mockingly while she studied the photograph. "The very teacher who I remember saying that free use was proof that we're highly evolved animals. In all of nature the males freely use the females, but they fight and scrap for the right. In our country, that right is self-evident, and we're all the more peaceful and civilized for it."

"Yes, that is what the textbook says," she muttered bitterly. In the picture was a group of six students, the founding members of the University of Michigan's chapter of FUSS. Third from the left was Brenda herself, a smaller, earlier model with tits and hips that were still just the buds of what they'd blossom into. Standing with his arm around her, his hand resting easily on one of those hips, was her husband Gary. She had given her virginity to him, the day after she turned eighteen. An artist at heart, he was a sensitive and gentle lover. Still, after all theses years, he was so gentle with her. So careful.

Behind them in the picture hung a banner, a painted sheet really, that read CONSENT BEYOND 18 and in smaller letters PREPARE TO BE DENIED. That was the real problem.

"This was a long time ago," she tried to insist, but it came out too much like pleading.

"Come on, don't be stupid. I send this around and parents will complain to the school board. Your husband will definitely lose his job."

"Please, Justin."

He smiled. "That's better."

Anger flashed in her eyes again. "How did you find this?"

"Oh, I've gotten real good at tracking down information. I work in the library at college and I'm thinking of getting a degree in library science. It's pretty great, having access to so much information, curating the collections, and banging the bookish girls in the stacks. They're an underserved demographic believe me, and desperate for a good hard fuck. It's so cute how hard they try to stay quiet. Most of them are thick girls; a real handful, you know. They often have great sweaters, and there's something about the way they fill them out..."

He reached up and parted her cardigan, running his hands up the sides of her breasts. She didn't flinch or stop him this time, and when he pushed the cardigan off her shoulders she let it fall down her arms to pool on the floor. She was no longer shapeless, her thick hourglass figure revealed. The turtleneck sweater might have been tight to her throat, but it was also tight to every curve. The knit of the sweater bulged obscenely over the high globes of her breasts.

He sighed happily at the sight, then looked her in the eyes. "What do you say?"

She looked at her watch and gritted her teeth. "Ok, fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Take off your bra...but keep that sweater on."

She sighed and grumbled under her breath, but pulled her arms out of her sleeves and started working that magic trick all women know: removing the bra without removing the top. Soon she pulled a black bra out of her sleeve, folded it and put it in her bag.

Her breasts sagged noticeably when she removed their support, but they were still impressive. Justin grabbed then roughly and rolled the heavy mounds under the sweater. The feeling of her thick nipples growing hard under the soft material was intoxicating. He tweaked first one and then the other, making her gasp and glare at him.

She reached down and started hiking her dress up, but he slapped her hands away. "I wanna do that myself."

"OK, but just hurry it up alright?"

He led her back to her desk, which was wide and at the perfect height of his hips. There wasn't much to sweep off her desk, it was so clean.

"You tight ass, tidy bitch," he muttered, grinning. He still knocked her stapler and box of paperclips to the floor, just because he could.

"God, I hate you."

He laughed and humped his tented pants against her, then squatted down to remove her dress. He slid it down her legs and wasn't surprised to be greeted by luscious thighs and a plump pussy mound. Her panties were black too, so it wasn't until he pulled them off that he realized how wet she was. He hooked his fingers in the waist-band and peeled them off, but the crotch of her panties clung to her puffy pussy-lips. They made a sound when they pulled free, and he could see her juices glistening on her matted pubes. He laughed again and probed her fur divide with one finger, plunging up into her in one slick motion. She was open and wet and ready for business.

"You sloppy slut!" He exclaimed, looking up and grinning at her until she covered her face with her hands.

"Just get on with it," she demanded through her hands.

"Hang on, I always wondered what you tasted like." Justin leaned up into her crotch and the pungent smell of leaking pussy filled his nostrils. He reached out with his tongue and licked up inside her, feeling her fat pussy rolls surround the invading muscle. He tasted her deep and then flicked her clit a few times, rewarded with a tremble and a gasp.

"Hmm I should've known," he mused, standing up and pushing her back across her desk. "You taste bitter."

She glared at him as he stepped between her spread legs and unsnapped his fly. He pulled his straining cock out the hole, and Brenda decided not to look directly at it. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. It looked big, though, out of the corner of her eye. It looked veiny with a thick ridge around the head, and when Justin ran it through his fist a few times she could tell it was hard as steel.

As an adult woman in the world, Brenda Rothman saw and touched and sucked many dicks, dozens every week. But she had a particular affinity for dicks with thick veins and defined cock heads that looked just like mushrooms. She loved the way they felt against her tongue, and stroking the sensitive walls of her love tunnel. She even loved the way a thick ridge around the tip would catch at the entrance of her asshole on the way out, creating a satisfying pop when if finally pulled free. Brenda was starting to suspect she'd enjoy Justin's cock quite a lot, and it made her even madder.

She sneered up at Justin as he brought that thick tip to the entrance of her drooling hole, where it throbbed for a moment. Then he pushed forward, splitting her and ramming home. Her pussy delighted in the feeling of a cock so hard and textured it might as well have been her favorite dildo. And yet, as he held himself inside her and savored the moment, she could feel him throb and grow even more. Her pussy spasmed happily around him.

"You were the worst fucking student," she spat at him. "The worst I've ever had."

"Oh yeah?" He pulled out and slammed in again, sliding her across the desk.

"And I knew you wanted me."

He laughed. "I did everything short of whip it out and jerk off in front of you."

"You were tactless and obvious. I have to admit, a few times I wished you were a year older."

He began to fuck her steadily, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in so that his pubes tangled in hers and his balls swung forward and slapped her asshole. He reached up with one hand, mauling her tits through the sweater and marveling at that feeling of soft on soft. "God, me too," he moaned.

She laughed bitterly. "Not because I wanted your slimy dick in me—"she grunted as he threw her a particularly hard thrust—"but because I knew I'd be able to tame you. If I could just wrap you in my pussy or swallow a few of your loads, you would've been a pussycat in class. Putty in my hands."

Justin considered this, and happened to glance toward the front of the classroom. Through the open door he could see the lanky old janitor Enoch. As a student Justin had liked old Enoch, swapping dirty jokes and bumming smokes from the man whenever he skipped class.

Enoch met his gaze and grinned, several teeth missing. He stared at what he could see of Brenda's plundered body and rubbed his crotch meaningfully. Suddenly a harried woman in a blue dress and red coat walked up to Enoch, carrying a trumpet case in one hand. "Excuse me," she said in a demanding tone. "I need you to tell me where the band roo—"

The janitor barely looked at her, but gripped her shoulder and pushed her down. The woman yelped as she was jerked off her feet, landing hard on her knees. Enoch hurried to undo his pants and she sighed, adjusting her dress so her knees wouldn't be grinding it into the floor. The woman stole a glance back down the hall with an exasperated expression. "You know, I am in a hurry—"

The old man palmed the back of her head with his right hand and fed his thickening cock into her open mouth with his left. In moments her nose was buried in his wiry gray pubes. She made little choking noises as his penis kept swelling and knocked on the back of her throat, but she tried her best to accommodate.

Rocking on the desk, Brenda began to look more worried than before. She raised her arm with the watch, and tried to read its dial as it shook with each thrust. Annoyed, Justin reached down and ran his thumb over her clit in a circle. A moan escaped Brenda's throat before she clamped her lips shut.

Justin buried his thumb in her thick bush and increased the pressure on her clit. He continued to ride her hard, and soon Brenda was pushed over the edge. She shivered and shook, sweat glistening on her forehead. She heaved her body involuntarily, her breasts bobbing pendulously on her chest. Her cheeks turned red and she let out a grunt as if she'd been punched in the gut.

Embarrassed, she covered her face with her hands again. Justin felt her pussy clamp down hard on his cock, pulsing with pleasure.

The janitor continued to fuck the poor mother's face in the doorway, grabbing her ears and guiding her to deep throat his rod again and again. Finally he let out of roar of release and pushed her down on his exploding cock, holding the woman's head in place as his skinny hips jerked. The woman's cheeks bulged several times as her throat tried to kick it back up, but she dutifully swallowed each mouthful of cum until the man ran dry and released her. She staggered to her feet and together they walked out of sight, toward the band room.

No longer trying to hold back, Justin picked up the pace. His thighs smacked audibly against his old teacher's plentiful ass.

In her bag, across the room, her cell phone began to ring.

"Oh god," she moaned, "Gary's here. We have to get to our show."

"Right," Justin gasped, starting to feel that tingle in his balls. He reached down and put his hand near the base of his cock, as though he meant to pull it out of her clasping cunt. "You're going straight to something special, right? Date night?"

A look of horror passed over Brenda's face. Then, suddenly, it was replaced with heavy-lidded passion. "Ohhhh yeah," she moaned. "Yeah, just cum inside me. Cum deep inside my body."

Justin grinned.

"Please cum inside me." Brenda started to rock and undulate on the desk, her desperation clear. She squeezed her own tits through the sweater performatively, pinching her nipples between her carefully manicured fingernails. "Oh yes Justin I've wanted you for so long, fuck my brains out and cum in my hungry pussy."

Justin grimaced and his body tensed, slamming into Brenda one last time before he pulled back and all the way out.

"No, no!" She gasped. "Fill me up!"

But it was too late and she knew it. He aimed higher and lunged forward, sliding his slimy cock across her clit and pointing the tip at her face. He grunted as thick white ropes of cum shot across her sweater in arcing slashes. One load struck her under the chin and immediately slid down the collar of her turtleneck.

"Justin you fucking prick!" She screeched, struggling to block herself from further desecration. When his balls finished pumping he turned and left her there. She lay shaking on the desk with a messy and raw pussy, her boots up in the air and cum soaking into her sweater like white paint.