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Devon's Apple for the Teacher

12

Devon Curtis seemed to have it all. The 18-year-old high school senior was the star running back of the varsity football team and had his pick of college scholarships. Pretty much any girl in school was his for the taking too, at least in his experience - any he had wanted had quickly been added to his list of conquests. And yet, it wasn't enough.

Having grown up in a tough neighborhood, Devon had quickly grown used to the ways of the world. By the time he reached high school he was already an expert in the art of how to pleasure a girl. He had refined those skills as he worked to sample every kind of female he could - every race on campus had to be tried. He enjoyed them all in different ways but somehow something was still missing. Finally he knew what it was: He wanted a teacher.

Figuring that out had been easy, figuring out why was a little harder. The lady teachers on campus weren't obviously prettier than the cheerleaders he had enjoyed, but they all had something none of those girls had. Their authority was part of it - they naturally stood above him even though he was much bigger than them physically and the idea of reversing that and dominating them was thrilling in a kind of primal way. Plus they were smart and sophisticated and their very maturity turned him on - they weren't empty headed sluts like most of the girls in school.

Somehow all that combined with their professional dress and kind, supportive attitudes made him feel sure that having sex with them would be a much deeper and more involving experience for him - and that his bedroom skills, strength and power could be life-changing for them.

Soon Devon found it an ever more exciting game to imagine what each of his female teachers would look and feel like naked and in his arms, all their authority stripped away to reveal the woman beneath, surrendering everything to him. Their ages, body types and races ranged as widely as the girls he'd had, and he imagined how each might hold their own unique delights.

Even Mrs. DeMarco, the 60-ish school principal, had been the subject of a night dream or two - he'd imagined the feisty Italian-American matron on top of him, his dark cock plunging in and out of her gray-flecked bush as he fondled her big tits. She was a screamer, he felt certain - at least he knew she would be with him, as he made her feel things no white man ever had. And that dream made him cum even harder than he did with actual girls.

But that had just been a fantasy. Suddenly the game was set aside and became a clear goal when he first laid eyes on Claire Grayson, his senior English teacher. She was everything he wanted: Warm yet sweetly sexy in a classy, ungettable woman-next-door way, with dimples and great curves that her usually severe outfits couldn't quite hide.

The rock on her finger told him she was married, and there was a picture of her with her husband on her desk. He looked a lot older and fatter than slim, petite Mrs. Grayson, who he guessed was about 30. Her short blonde hair looked natural, judging by her matching eyebrows and roots, and finding out whether the rest of her matched instantly hardened him whenever he thought of it. He was sure she was a "good girl" and would never cheat on her man, in fact she was probably a virgin when she married him. The idea of being with a younger man - a stronger man, a better lover, a black man - would never occur to her, which only made him more hot for her.

If she only knew how powerful sex could be, should be. He knew he could rock her world. He knew he desperately wanted to. He HAD to.

And so Devon began to devote as much time as he did preparing for football season on achieving his aim of seducing Mrs. Grayson. He started by doing all he could to get more involved in class, speaking up and doing extra credit assignments to impress her. Then he asked if he could be her teacher's aide in another class period, using the excuse that it would look good on his college applications. She seemed surprised but gratefully agreed.

Scoring multiple choice quizzes for her and other boring paperwork was dull but he was glad of the additional time it offered him to be around her, to talk with her and work to move their relationship from teacher-student to more of a friendship. Although he knew the moment, when it came, would still require him to take the lead and dominate her, he had no intention of raping his teacher: he would have to prepare Claire to be at least subconsciously willing to submit to him for it to be the experience he dreamed of making for both of them.

Devon took every opportunity to carry things for her, like materials to and from the school store room, and to her car at the end of a day. "Nice SUV," he said of her small sport-ute, as he visualized the two of them in it, steaming the windows.

"Thanks," Claire replied. "We got it when we planned to do a lot of hiking and camping." Devon noted the past tense - her English lessons had obviously worked on him. And her words stirred his hopes.

"I love the outdoors," he said adding, "I love to feel nature" just as felt its pull in truth as she reached in to shift one of the boxes and gifted him with a momentary glimpse of her shapely ass stretching her form-fitting slacks, and revealing her panty lines. He sighed as he felt his dreams take another step closer to reality.

Claire stood up. "Yes, it's so relaxing. Unfortunately Ben, my husband, has a bad back and doesn't care to do those things anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he answered, honestly even if he still felt encouraged by it. "So you and the kids don't get to do it?"

"Oh, we don't have kids," she replied, with a wistful note in her voice and in her blue eyes. "That's a shame," he said without thinking. "You'd be such a great mom!"

She looked at him in surprise and Devon was yelling at himself inwardly for being such an idiot, until she said, "Thank you Devon, that is a very sweet thing to say."

As they stood there smiling at each other, Devon felt the unfamiliar stirrings of something beyond the familiar feel of lust for his favorite teacher. New thoughts, hopes and dreams began to form in his mind.

The next day during his assistant period, while she was busy teaching, he took the opportunity to explore her desk a little and was thrilled to find she'd left her personal Facebook page open on her laptop...deliberately?

His pulse raced as he clicked through her photo page, finally seeing her not as a nurturing teacher like in the school yearbook but as a woman out with her friends... and then his cock throbbed on finding a shot of her standing poolside in a swimsuit. The modest one-piece offered only a g-rated view but the image was still a treasure as precious as a diamond to Devon, as it showed off her shapely if pale legs and reinforced his guesstimate of her C-cup breasts.

To his surprise, he realized that was how he saw them - hers were not tits, they were breasts. And they called out to him from inside that bland, blue, middle-aged-lady swimsuit which his teacher managed to make look sexy.

Need to learn more about Claire drove Devon. As the days went on, he gently but steadily probed about her husband and despite her classy reserve, he sensed that all was not well. He was sympathetic but also excited to feel his chances with her were improving.

He gave back by telling her about his tough upbringing without a father, and series of uninterested guardians that had led to him struggling in school and having to repeat sixth grade, postponing his dreams of playing football in college and beyond and making the awkward situation of being a year older than his classmates. The sensitive teacher had been moved by his story and, to his delight, offered to tutor him after school on non-football practice days, which he'd eagerly accepted. Soon the blonde scholar and black athlete were spending more hours together each week.

Devon had thought he would just use that time to further their relationship, but to his surprise he found he was actually interested in learning with her and enjoying her guidance as well as her company. Being held back a year had turned out to be a lucky break - especially since his being 18 should now enable him to seduce her without worrying that she might face prosecution. Maybe persecution (one of her lessons had taught him the difference!) but they would meet that together, if it happened. He would look after her, protect her. He would...

Abruptly, Devon realized he was looking down the road past something that hadn't even happened, although he was increasingly sure it would.

Devon raised his game the next day, complimenting Claire on her beautiful red and white polka dot dress - the most revealing dress she had yet worn to school in his memory. And she was wearing it for him, whether she knew it or not. She blushed prettily at the compliment, emboldening him further. "By the way, you were asking the other day about how we train. We're doing practice after school if you'd like to watch."

"Well, I really should be getting home," she replied a touch uneasily, then added. "Maybe just for a short while.

"Great! See you there," he answered confidently. "Look for number 32."

She smiled prettily back. "Oh, I'm sure I will recognize you, Devon!"

And he did see her there. Focusing on his drills had been hard when Claire Grayson had climbed the bleachers to watch the football team's offensive run-throughs, her colorful dress blowing in the breeze, occasionally hugging her body's curves as she climbed. But he had felt re-energized after she sat down and waved to him. He'd never felt better as he spun through his paces and sprinted for a mock-score, then pulled off his practice jersey and walked back to the sideline barechested, being sure to pass directly past the bleachers.

"Ya doin' a striptease for us, Curtis?" the assistant coach yelled.

"No coach...not for you."

The coach eyed the woman in the stands gazing at Devon, and chuckled. "Dream on, son!"

Devon just smiled. "I will!" he whispered fervently.

Claire was there again for the next practice, too. This time she stayed until practice ended and the two met at the foot of the bleachers. After Claire had complimented him on his moves, Devon again asked her to come to the Friday night game to watch him play. He had asked twice before and she was always too busy but this time she wavered and then agreed.

The next day during his assistant period, he noticed that the portrait of the Graysons was missing from Claire's desk. It had been there yesterday, hadn't it? Could it be a coincidence? No. She had to be signalling to him.

With a surge of excitement, Devon decided that he he had to take the chance to find out. He had a big game on Friday night but suddenly that seemed just a necessary opening act. After it, he would take the biggest risk of his life in order to achieve a goal that had become a driving force.

**

Claire Grayson felt like a fish out of water in more ways than one at the football game. High school sports had never been the 36-year-old English teacher's thing, although she worked hard to stay fit personally. They just hadn't seemed important enough to her and the regular demands of coaches to pull her students out of classes, as if academics should be a secondary consideration, had always annoyed her.

But then she'd met Devon Curtis.

She'd never had a student quite like him. Since he was obviously an athlete, she'd been prepared to find him an arrogant boy and maybe even disrespectful, giving in a little to racial stereotypes due to her limited experience with black men. But the opposite had been the case.

The young black man had been earnest and eager to learn, if a little scarily intense sometimes, and Claire was surprised to find his language skills on a high enough level to justify moving him to the honors English class with Miss Sudbury, but he'd declined the offer, saying he preferred to stay in her class. She didn't push the issue since he was set on it, and anyway found she enjoyed having him in class as he provided a role model to encourage the kids to get involved in classroom discussions.

Funny that she thought of the others as kids and him as a young man, but it just seemed right. The muscular Devon towered over most of the kids and certainly had at least 6 inches on her 5'4" frame, which made more sense when she learned he not only a football player but nearly 19 due to his earlier academic troubles. Still, he was never physically intimidating. If anything, he just seemed to want to be around her, and she found it flattering as well as rewarding that he responded to her encouraging him to grow academically as well as in sports.

It was a welcome respite from her home life, too. Claire's marriage to Ben, some 18 years older than herself, had been struggling for some time, as she found after getting her Master's degree that she was feeling more independent and less in need of the support of a father figure, which she had recognized Ben had been soon into their now 9-year-old marriage. The two had less in common as Ben begged off more physical activities, blaming his bad back, although Claire felt he was just trying to excuse his getting overweight. This was especially irritating as he would complain if he thought she was putting on weight, even though she worked out steadily to stay at 125 pounds.

He had also been increasingly distant with her and their sex life had stagnated. Claire found herself increasingly less troubled and actually relieved by his frequent out-of-town trips, even though she wondered more than once whether he was having an affair and was considering leaving her for a younger woman. She had her work, and a small but close circle of work friends, and it was enough. If she had a child, as she'd hoped, it might be different and better, but she was happy, mostly.

And now, here she was watching a game she barely understood, with kids surprised but happy to see their English teacher with them on a cold fall night, cheering on the home team. Actually just one player on the team.

She couldn't take her eyes off him. Even with her limited understanding of football she could see Devon was something special, dodging opponents with ease as he breezed to score after score. She was ridiculously excited when he saw her and waved, and she waved back, giddily.

And she had gone to him after the victory, like a fan waiting her turn to congratulate him. But he had not looked at her like he did the rest. He seemed so happy to see her...why did that make her feel so good? He apologized for the sweat-soaked jersey but in truth to Claire it was exhilarating, like she could smell his strength and passion for the game. He asked her to wait for him while he showered...she agreed. Why, she wasn't sure, but she did.

When he came out in a silk shirt and slacks, he looked even more mature than he had been in uniform, or when he had taken his shirt off during practice, the flowing muscles of his ebony body looking like some classical sculpture. He had looked up at her then, and she had felt something stirring inside, something so wrong she knew she had to fight it down...but she had gone to watch him practice again, and come to this game, and now she stood outside his locker room like some kind of groupie.

"I'll walk you to your car," he said quietly, confidently, and she let him, where they said their goodbyes. And she drove home in a daze, confused by the feelings welling up as she remembered the way he had looked at her, opened the door for her, hand lingering over her behind. She pulled into the garage, still lost in the reverie as she stepped out of the car...and saw another car pull up to the curb. And Devon step out of it.

"Devon? What are you doing here?" she sputtered.

"I followed you, because you asked me to." he said softly as he walked smoothly to her.

"I...asked you? I don't understand..."

"Your husband is out of town again," he said, looking at her with glittering eyes. It was not a question.

"What? I... how did you...?"

"Because you came to the game tonight," he answered. "You're letting go, Claire, step by step. Let me help."

He had never called her anything but Mrs. Grayson. Nor should he, but somehow the shock of that didn't hit her as hard as his other words did. "Help?" the confused woman managed to ask.

He reached for her then, pulling her behind the car door and kissing her hard. She struggled in his strong embrace. "De...Devon! No...someone will see!"

"Then let's go where they won't," he said, taking her hand and pulling her up the steps to the door to the house. There, she turned, almost plaintively. "Devon, please, go home, this is crazy, we..."

"Have been waiting all our lives for tonight," he said as he pulled her to him. "No more waiting."

They swept inside together. He was sooo strong, and the passion she had seen was now directed at her, for her. Claire tried to fight the desire rising inside her as the desperate flame of utterly opposite attraction flared like a match inside the love-starved woman. His shaved head, his musk, his hands, turning, pulling her sweater over her head in the darkened hallway, her arms rising in submission. His hands turning her to him, guiding her to his shirt, coaxing, compelling as she unbuttoned him, breathed him in.

His hands at her bra clip... how could this be happening? How could she be...Free! Bare! With a boy, no...unnn...Hands... cupping...gasping...ohhh...lower, her jeans, unzipping...nogodmustnot...unnnnn...kissing, feeling..hands, fingers, lips..ohhh!

Devon was in the dream, but beyond it, the most satisfying feelings of his life followed in turn as his beautiful English teacher revealed her secrets to him. Unhitching her ivory bra - smiling at the 36C label, just as he'd imagined - felt better than any touchdown. Seeing and then feeling her full, milky breasts was better still, pink nipples hardening under his fingers.

Kneeling before the trembling queen of his dreams, Devon eased her jeans to the floor. Kissing her ivory nylon panties, thrilling at the hint of wetness at their center, teasing it with his tongue. Sliding the panties down to gain access, seeing, as he knew he would, a triangle of fine blonde pubic hair. Kissing his way through it, tasting her wetness. Tongue flickering over her, teasing her, enjoying every moan, every sob. Slipping in a finger to follow his tongue, circling her, feeling her on the edge of cumming and then pulling out, leaving her hanging, needing him, as he stood up.

Sliding out of his silk boxers. Seeing the flood of shock break through her lust-glazed eyes as eight dark, fat inches of manhood soared and stretched toward her. Dangling it before his teacher's face, waiting for her to reach out, to feel his swollen balls, to bring its head to her lips, and almost cumming as she did, and explored him with her lips.

He wanted to cum in the sweet mouth that he adored - but wanted something else even more, and found the strength to slip free, to pull her to her feet as she obediently slipped wetly into his arms.

Lifting her, carrying her like a prize down the hall to the master bedroom past wedding photos, family photos, leaving them behind. Laying the writhing, conflicted, impossibly beautiful woman of his dreams on the bed. Mounting her, his hardened body jet black against her pale softness. "Please!" she sobbed, "wait...we must...condom...

Lovingly, but firmly he shook his head. "No, Claire."

"Nooo, wait..pleaaase, I could get..."

"Yes," Devon whispered and gently flexed forward so that his dark cockhead slid inside her, just barely. Held her there, as her moan of fear rose to the edge of a cry. He gazed deep into her stunned, disbelieving eyes. Then with a sigh of triumph, he stroked deep inside her.

12
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