What Am I Doing Here Ch 06

10 minutes have elapsed since the end of CH. 05

Mary Jane Huffman, followed by Harold McCarthy, walked into her condo apartment and shut her door. "Ok," she said, "Go wash up. You know where the bathroom is. I am going to lie down. I have to rest."

Mrs. Huffman was tired. She had been on an almost non-stop fuckfest for three days now and she needed to rest. She needed to sleep.

Also, she needed to get clean herself, but Harold was using her bathroom. For the nth time, she thought, she should never have allowed him in to her place. She let him in and the next thing that happened was they ended up fucking. She did not need that now.

She needed to use the shower, needed to soak in the tub.

Her body was speckled with dried cum. Her cunt had been leaking come down the insides of her thighs. More cum, souvenirs from her jacking off the boys in her car, was now dried and stuck in her hair. Her dress, of course, was all wrinkled and cum splattered as a result of her fucking in the cabin, her screwing in the Back seat with Harold and her gang bang with Leroy, Marquise, and Buttah at their apartment. And, of course, the night before's activities in her bed with Harold had left a further residue of his and her discharges on her face, arms, and torso. Her mouth tasted of man cum and the women's vaginal secretion, her own, that she had tasted while blowing the various men and boys who had fucked her.

Tired and dirty didn't describe how she felt. Exhausted and filthy, that was it. Yes, especially the filthy part.

She had just enough energy left to shout at Harold, "After you finish washing up, just leave and close the door. I have got to get some rest." She plopped down on the bed and got under the blanket without removing her cum and sweat drenched dress. She spread her limbs wide to ease her strained and tired muscles.

She heard Harold mutter what she supposed was his reply. Water ran in the shower.

She fell asleep.

*****************************

Hours later, she blinked her eyes open. Daylight was streaming into her bedroom. When she had laid down to rest, the sun had just begun to go down. It was now high in the sky, near noon she estimated. Well, she had needed a long, quiet sleep like the one she had just had..

She pushed her body up into a sitting position, and stretched. She was still wearing the dress she had been too tired to take off before falling asleep.

A smell of fresh coffee!

It had better not be. But it must have been.

It was.

Harold came into the room. He was holding a half filled cup of coffee in his hand.

"Why are you still here?" she said.

"I found your dildo and vibrator," was his reply. It didn't matter what anyone said, Harold would turn any question, any conversation, into a statement that involved sex. At first she thought he did that only because he didn't wish to answer a question. Later, however, she figured he did it because sex was the only thing he thought about.

"The vibrator and dildo were in the box under my bed! Did you climb under my bed while I was asleep?"

"Hey, I could see where the mattress sunk down under your ass. If I wanted, I could of petted your ass through the mattress, but I decided to let you sleep. "

"You are disgusting. Let me have a cup of coffee."

"Ain't none. I drank it."

Harold McCarthy was totally objectionable person. When he was a student in her class, he never paid attention. He hardly ever turned in his homework on time. He was rude and disrespectful. And his pimply face and skinny body weren't exactly works of art. Mrs. Huffman was incredulous. She had asked him to leave last night, but he was still here. He made coffee using her coffee maker and, no doubt, her coffee but hadn't made enough for her. She didn't, really didn't, like him.

MaryJane Huffman pushed herself up and out of the bed. She needed that cup of coffee. She needed to get Harold out of her apartment. She couldn't believe it. She had fucked , she looked at him, this goofy looking slob almost non-stop for two days now.

She staggered her way towards the kitchen. Harold, followed her. She knew, she could feel, that he was watching the sweet globes of her ass bounce beneath the sheer fabric of her dress as she made her way from the bedroom to the kitchen. God, he had made breakfast for himself and piled the dirty dishes in her sink.

"Do you expect me to wash your dirty dishes?"

"You know, you got the prettiest ass of any teacher in the whole world," he said.

"Why aren't you out of here," she said. "I told you to leave last night." She was at the sink rinsing out the coffee maker. He stood behind her and ran his hands down her back side, feeling the silky smoothness of her rump. "Stop that!" she yelled as she tried to concentrate on making the coffee. She couldn't believe it, she had allowed this stupid slob to fuck her to, how many, ten, eleven, twenty orgasms in this bed, in her car, at the cabin in the last two days and she didn't know how many times in the last two months before now.

"Your nipples are hard. I can see them poking against your dress," Harold said. "You ain't wearing no underwear."

"You know I haven't been wearing underwear for two days now. You stole my panties. I don't know what happened to my bra or if I ever even wore it. I am a whore."

"Hey, don't say that. You ain't no whore."

"I ain't no whore? You guys don't laugh and call me a whore when I'm not there?"

"Hey, I said we don't call you a whore. A slut maybe, but not a whore."

He was a nudge and a pain in the neck. "A slut? A whore?' What's the difference?"

"You're a slut. But you are not a whore. That's all!"

He was a former student in the high school English class she taught at Holy Mother of God High, and he had been a miserable student. He had never paid attention. He had been disrespectful in class, disruptive. He had barely passed the course, passing, as a matter of fact, because she really didn't want him in her class a second time. And now, here he was in her condo, drinking her coffee and telling her she was a slut and defining for her the difference between a slut and a whore. And worse, here she was, listening intently to what he had to say.

"A slut, she does it, fucks, because her cunt tells her to. It feels good! A whore fucks because her head tells her to. It'll help her get money or something."

"So you're saying I'm a slut because....." She paused to think.

"Because you like to fuck, you need it!" Harold interrupted.

The coffee had perked through. MaryJane filled her cup. She looked for sugar. There was none.

"I finished the sugar, that's what you lookin' for?"

"Don't you think you ought to stop before you finish all the sugar?"

Harold shrugged his shoulders. "You crave a hard cock. Your cunt does!"

It took her two seconds before she realized that he was harkening back to the 'slut' conversation. Mrs. Huffman gave him a sour look. She cradled the coffee cup in her hands and began to walk to the kitchen table. Harold was right behind her. He reached around her body and gripped his fingers together around her stomach. She felt his penis press against the hard roundness of her ass. Oh, God, his hands were slipping downwards and his fingers were pressing against the fabric of her dress, rubbing over the bush adorning her cunt.

"Please," she said. "Please stop that."

"How come you don't shave down here?" he said as his fingers traced little circles to explore the top of her slit.

"Because I'm not a child and it looks like a little baby's if it's shaved. I said STOP."

But the little circular motions of his fingers around her clit didn't stop. They grew more aggressive. He pushed harder against her clit and Mrs. Huffman stopped trying to stop him. She raised her coffee cup and sipped from it. She relaxed her body and pushed her behind against his hard, stiff prick. She stayed where she was for a moment, forgetting everything, lost in the warm sensation spreading from her cunt outward.

He pulled her a bit tighter against his groin, grinding his prick against the top of the crack of her ass. "I bet your cunt is really getting wet," he spoke behind her ear.

She was getting wet. She brought an elbow backward against his stomach and stepped away from his embrace. "All you think about is sex," she said.

"Yeah, so?"

"So, Oh, never mind," she said. She went to her breakfast table and sat down. She took the one croissant left in the bread basket and began to nibble at it. She definitely needed to stop this with him. There were other things in her life than sex. She had to quit this randiness. She had done it before. Quit. Stopped sex. She would now again.

Harold sat down opposite her. He reached down under the table and pulled her feet up, placing her shin on his thigh. His hand reached down and smoothed the top of her thighs underneath her dress.

"I knew you were a slut the first time I seen you. It was when you walked into our Junior English class and stood in front of the room. You had your hair in a sort of a bun. You were wearin' a tight white blouse with buttons down the front. If you had on a bra, it must have been a thin one, because I could see the dark tips of your tits pressing against the blouse. You were wearing a tight skirt and it clung to your hips and backside. I could see your ass squiggle every step you took. Your face was flushed. I couldn't smell it when you walked past my desk, but I bet you were leaking cunt juice like crazy. I told the guys after class that you were one hot cunt and that we would all be fucking you someday. Was I right? Or was I right?"

Oh, he was right, alright. MaryJane Huffman remembered the day very well. It was nearly two years ago. But she remembered it very well. But this moment, Harold's hands softly stroked up and down the inner part of her slightly spread thighs..... Jesus, she wished he wasn't doing this. Her body was on fire. Yes, she remembered that day.

All during the first period, she had been afraid that her flowing pussy juice would flood her cunt and run down her legs and puddle on the floor. When the bell finally rang for the first break in that class, she had run to the bathroom to sop up the juice and to push a wad of paper into her cunt to keep the juice in. She had been excited in her life, but not ever before like this.

Mrs. MaryJane Huffman, had not been prepared, not prepared at all, for what had happened.

It was the first day of suddenly being surrounded by a full class of 17-year-old boys in that all-boy's Catholic High school. They were wearing military style uniforms.

She was excited about teaching at a new school, nervous about her lesson plan. But, what she had not been prepared for was how all that maleness would affect her. The testosterone level in that class had been overwhelming. Even without really looking, she was able to spot at least 11 hard ons among the 18 boys in the class.

And her own clit was as on fire as it had ever been. She was barely able to breathe sometimes. She would catch herself dreaming during that class. She would stop in the middle of her lecture, spotting some guy's cock hard and poking itself up against the fabric of his pants, and she'd start thinking of sucking that guy's cock, or some other guy's cock, sucking them off and swallowing their cum. She blushed each time she had another thought that involved daydreaming of fucking and sucking, and even gangbangs. The students had their heads down as they answered the questions on a first day pre-test. She bent her head down, attempting to look as if she was reading an important paper. But her mind created a vivid scene in which she was surrounded by the class while she knelt down and they forced her to take their penisis in her wide open mouth one after the other. These mad fantasies passed through her mind and sent her pussy juice flowing all day as she taught the class. It had been an ordeal.

She had been proud of herself when she had finished class without molesting even one of her students.

What she had learned during that first day of being locked in a classroom with twenty hormone sweating 17-year olds in uniforms was she had to control that libidinous urge. She could not continue to walk around in that classroom and see all those erections she was causing without there being serious problems. There was no way she could concentrate on her job, teaching, as long as she allowed thoughts of fucking to intrude. She had to shut off those urges. It was hard, but she had to do it. It was a lot of work, but Mrs. Huffman made it happen. She just stopped thinking about sex except when she was alone in bed with her dildo and vibrator. She surprised herself by ignoring the raging hormones, the flying testosterone during the day. She'd get home and masturbate to beat all hell, but no congress with a man. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Huffman had stayed celibate for more than a year and a half after that first day. Mrs. Huffman had been a very good girl. She had even gone to mass on the obligatory holy day and an occasional holiday. The church, after all was her employer.

She had been a good girl until that night of the school Mardi Gras when the guys had forced (sort of) her to let them undress her and then let them fuck her. And it had been a non-stop fucking session since then. After she had held back from sex for so long, it had happened once and she couldn't stop it. A lot of the fucking had been under the duress of blackmail. But the truth was that she was like a drunk who had one drink and couldn't stop. She wondered if she could stop now like she had a year and a half ago.

She certainly would not stop it, though, if she didn't quit letting Harold into her apartment. Like now: Harold was leaning all the way forward and his hands had advanced all the way up her thighs. His thumbs were again circling her clit in slow stroking motions and his fingers pressed against the top of her thighs where they met her groin. She could feel her clit swelling up against its hood.

When Harold suddenly stood up, she stood up too. In a daze, she held onto his hand as he took her hand in his. She wasn't sure it was a good thing, but Mrs. Huffman gladly followed as he led her back to her bedroom.

He lay her down on her bed crosswise, her ass on the edge of the bed. He moved her dress up past her hips and continued the gentle massage of the area around her vulva. She didn't say anything, but a series of very quiet little moans escaped her lips. As she saw him drop his pants and saw his hard prick show itself between her spread legs, the sound of her moans got a bit louder, as did their pace. By the time two of his fingers had invaded her cunt and had begun to explore inside of her, her cunt was sodden with slippery fuck juice.

She moaned continuously and looked up at him with an unfocused stare, waiting for his lovely erect rod to enter her wet inner space. She wanted to stop this. She wanted him to leave. But more than that, a lot more than that, a thousand times more than that, she wanted him to begin fucking her horny cunt.

He pulled her lengthwise onto the bed and raised her knees while he slid his body between her widely spread legs.

She waited with that faraway look in her eyes and slack expression of her mouth. She waited for the one thing that would animate her out of the stupor she was in---the entrance of his long, skinny rod of a dick into the hot cavern of her craving cunt.

He slid into her, and her reaction was immediate. She let out a loud grunt and then a long growl. Her legs shot out and up and locked around his torso. Her hips began a quick series of upward bucking against his hips. They fucked like that, hard and fast without any sound except for Mrs. MaryJane Huffman's grunts and growls for maybe ten minutes. Then Harold slowed the pounding of their bodies together.

"You see why I said you were a slut?" he asked her.

She didn't say anything in return, only nodded her head yes and continued her groans and grunts, gripping his dick harder with her inner cunt muscles. He asked her if she knew that she was a slut. She answered by nodding her head as if she was Molly Bloom, yes and yes again. Yessssssss.

Along the way, after they had switched positions twice, before he had cum, but after she had yelled her way through three or four orgasms, he suggested to her that maybe she ought to let him break her ass in for some anal penetration. She said no and he didn't pursue the issue.

After he had finally come, shooting a thick wad of cum deep into her cunt, she slowly separated her body from his. Her clit was finally relaxed. Her cunt was satisfied. Her tits swollen and tender. "Maybe I ought to go and shower." She said. "And maybe it's time you left here. I think I maybe I will try to sleep a little."

Harold looked at her. He had his very hard and glistening prick at the ready in his hand."Hey, Mrs. Huffman, before I leave, I bet you'd like sucking my prick clean? Your juice is all over little mr. fuckit."

She hated the jerk, but Mrs. Huffman was awe struck at his ability to tickle a sexual nerve. She had thought about the taste of his cock fresh from her cunt. She had plenty of that taste from him recently, but it was always new each time she took him in her mouth. The feel of his prick laying on her tongue and the smell as her nose pressed against his groin was a hot experience for her. It was especially exciting when she did it doggie style, her ass up in the air and exposed while she faced his groin and she embraced his cock with her mouth.

She wondered how he had known that sucking his cock was what she wanted. His cock was long but only semi erect and glistening with the dew of her cunt. She knew that by enveloping it in her mouth she could get it hard and she gladly slid down the bed to take his flaccid prick into her mouth. She began to suck it clean of her juice and his cum. She fondled his scrotum with one hand and bobbed her head up and down over the head of his prick while holding tight his shaft with her other hand. As he started to become hard again, she swallowed his prick as deeply into her mouth as she could and then gripped his shaft with her lips, inviting him to fuck her mouth. She inhaled deeply as she tasted the tang of her juice on his prick and smelled the dank odor from his groin. She rubbed her clit as he fucked her mouth through her tight lips.

She must be a slut, she thought, as she took pleasure from the feel of his erect staff pressing on to her tongue and the back of her mouth. She thrilled at the expectation of his cum soon to jet into her mouth. She waited for the cum to fill her mouth and suffuse her taste buds with its salt-tangy flavor as she swallowed.

She must be a slut. Why else did she love how she felt sliding her hand around his body to cup the soft swell of his ass to draw his groin closer to her face, his prick deeper into her mouth.

Who else but a slut would want her cunt to engage in an orgy of sex with so unpleasant and so selfish a young man as Harold.

Was there any doubt but that she was a slut when all she wanted to do was to get this boy's prick into her cunt?

If she wasn't a slut, why had she fucked Leroy and Buttah, and marquise.....and the guys inn the cabin.....and.....well...she was a slut. That's why. Of course!

He came finally. And, after swirling his discharge around in her mouth to fully enjoy its salty flavor, she swallowed it. She sucked his dick clean and then moved up the bed to press her mouth against his and to touch his tongue with hers. She was a slut.

It wasn't that his prick tasted that good. It was so pure sex. It was somehow...she didn't know.

But she had to try once again to get him to leave.

"Harold, you know that I enjoyed that very much. But enough is enough. I have to rest. I have things to do. Please leave."