My Son’s Teacher Is A Creamy Pussy Spit In Face Cum Drinking Slut

On the grimy floor of some backroom, her leopard print headband a twisted parody of innocence, Mrs. Thompson, my son’s teacher, is sprawled out like a filthy sacrifice. Her legs splayed wide, white cotton tights stretched taut over thick thighs, her skirt hiked up to reveal the damp crotch of her panties. She’s gagging on my cock, her mouth a warm, wet cave of debauchery. Her eyes water as she fights to take it deeper, to be a good little cum drinking slut. She chokes on it, spit dripping down her chin, but she doesn’t stop. She knows what she is here for. Her hands grab at my ass, pulling me in deeper, urging me to face fuck her harder. She wants every inch, every bitter drop of precum that hits the back of her throat.

The room is filled with the obscene symphony of her gagging and my grunts. Her tights ripple with the motion of her thighs as she bucks her hips, rubbing her pussy against the rough concrete. She’s getting off on this, the dirty bitch. Her eyes, when they meet mine, are wild, hungry. She pulls back just enough to gasp, “Fill my fucking mouth, you filthy bastard,” before she’s right back at it, sucking, licking, choked sobs escaping her as she feels my cock swell. She knows it’s coming. She wants it. She wants to taste it, to swallow every last drop. Her fingers dig into my flesh, her nails leaving crescent moons as she prepares to drink her reward, her cream-filling face a testament to her depravity.