The Naughty Virgin

By: Cassandra Dee

“I will be,” he rumbled deep in his throat, “after you kiss it.”

I gasped again. Kiss it? Kiss a man’s cock? Because Mr. Phillips had hit upon my secret weak spot. Sure, I touch myself all the time, play with myself, even insert fruit into my sweet pussy, but the fact is that even though mentally I’m really dirty, physically I’m a virgin. Nope, I’ve never had a man touch me, much less run his dick inside, and the thought of playing with Mr. Phillips’ cock made me … well, it made me go weak actually, I was dying to try it.

So I dropped to my knees in front of him. No need to tell him about my inexperienced state, this was the perfect time to get a little practice. My little hands went up to his waistband to unfasten his belt, but the big man pushed back in his chair.

I let out a little whine of disappointment, my eyes flicking to his, still on my knees.

“No little girl,” he said getting up and standing, that big cock practically in my face now, making me hungry. “Girls who suck do it naked.”

And I gasped. Naked? Me? Here at school in the middle of the day with people walking around outside?

The alpha male just grinned again, striding around the classroom, pulling down the shades and locking the door. We were now in a darkened space, not black but dimly lit, and I knew from the outside it’d look like an empty classroom. I could hear a few muffled conversations outside, the slam of a couple lockers, but otherwise there was no indication that anything was different.

“You’re lucky,” the big man said, sitting back down in front of me. “It’s lunchtime so people are gone and no one’s gonna suspect. Now take off your clothes,” he commanded.

I paused for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes before slowly getting to my feet. Was I going to do this? Was I really?

But the thing is that Mr. Phillips was literally the man of my dreams, the guy that I thought about when I was alone in bed, teasing myself with my fingers, moaning with ecstasy. He was literally the stuff of fantasies except now it was real … and we were about to play.

So slowly, I grasped the hem of my sweater in both hands and pulled it over my head, shaking my curls free. I took a deep breath before sneaking a look at him and was immediately gratified, my cheeks coloring, my body heating up to a thousand degrees.

Because the big man was entranced, his gaze riveted by my girls, the luscious, creamy orbs encased in a lacy demi-bra, the pale pink material cupping my breasts lovingly, showing off their pale bellies in the dim light.

“You like?” I murmured, slowly tracing a finger along my décolletage, teasing him, running my finger into the deep valley between my girls.

“Little girl,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I fucking love.”

And I giggled then, my hands going to the back clasp and undoing it with a quick snap. Slowly, I eased the straps over my shoulders, stroking them off until my breasts were revealed in their full glory, pendulous, hanging, perfect ovoids with stiff red nipples at the tips.

Coyly, I ran my fingers around both nips, tracing the sensitive flesh before flashing a look at him and cooing again.

“They taste really good,” I sighed. “You wanna try?”

And the big man was literally struck speechless, his eyes riveted by my movements, his cock out now, one hand going up and down that huge shaft in a rhythmic stroke, the veins pulsing, balls high and tight.

“I want to taste it,” he growled low in his throat, so turned on that the words were a little garbled, hard to understand. “I need a taste.”

But it was my turn to be in charge and so I shook my head coyly.

“No tastes for you, big guy,” I cooed. “Only for me.”

And with that, I lifted one of my girls up and licked the nipple, savoring the sweet bud, running my tongue around and around, electrical sparks shooting straight from my nip to my clit.

“Oh,” I moaned between nips and licks, “Oh oh, tastes good,” I murmured wickedly.

And the big man just groaned, his hand a blur on his shaft now. There was so much pre-cum that his pole was completely wet, his fist easily pumping away, stroking through the copious lube, so much that it pooled on the chair, making a sticky mess.

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