"Summer School Footslut"

by Cinque Manson


The teacher sat at her desk watching the last class of the day file into her classroom. The day had seemed twice as long as normal, the first day of summer school, and she couldn't wait for it to end. All the children were seated and the bell rang. She commenced the lesson on cell biology. After drawing a diagram on the blackboard, she lectured on the component parts of cells, occasionally asking questions of the gaggle of thirteen and fourteen year old teenagers that sat attentively in rows before her. She glanced at the clock hanging above the door and said,

"Alright, for the remainder of class I want you to read pages 258 through 280 in your textbook. Then begin the quiz at the end of the chapter. All work not finished by end of class you will do as your homework."

The biology teacher leaned back against her desk, armed folded across her ample breasts, and smiled as twenty-four teens extricated long forgotten texts from their backpacks in forlorn unison. Ellen Hornbeck loved the power she wielded over these young people. She looked out the window at the cherry trees in blossom in the soft hazy sunlight of the late spring day.

She was authoritative and powerful, nearly six feet tall in her bare feet, six foot three in the high heel sandals she wore that day. Her long thick raven hair was pinned into a french twist atop her head. She had learned, in her dozen years of teaching, that conservative dress elicited the proper respect from her adolescent charges. Once, early on, she had made the mistake of wearing a short minidress to school on a day that broke records for heat and humidity. None of the boys in any of her classes paid the slightest attention to her lecture, staring candidly at her full figure and long bare legs. She noted nearly every one of the boys sported bulges in their pants. Althought she found this response flattering, and certainly arousing, it played hell with class discipline, and she made mental note to never repeat the display.

Miss Hornbeck took stock of herself. She admired her starched white cotton blouse, with the ruffled front, which covered her almost industrial style wire ribbed bra. Not a hint of nipple peaked through the layers of stiff fabric. Her full breasts, which swayed weightily when unleashed, topped by oversized puffy wrinkled brown nipples, were firmly contained in their armor. Her navy blue skirt of thin wool stopped right below her knees. Although she was still statuesquely beautiful at thirty-five, her outfit projected power, not sex. The only breaches in the armor of her rectitude were her legs, which she had not encased that morning with her customary pantyhose, because the tan she'd achieved over the short vacation before the beginning of summer session had turned her snow white skin an even golden brown and she felt it a shame to cover it with cheap nylon. Her long tanned legs culminated in perfectly proportioned feet, which stretched in a perfect arch in the sleek black high heel sandals. She wiggled her toes, admiring the nails painted a deep red that matched her lipstick. She wiggled her toes, remembering her vacation, and the wonderful pedicure she'd gotten the last day of her trip...

She went back to the same luxury hotel every year in the spring. Often there was still a chill in the eveining air back home in mid-June, so it was heaven to spend two weeks on an isle in the Gulf of Mexico. Especially since the hotel was so sensitive to the needs of women like her, unmarried women of a certain age and inclination. As she remembered the warmth of her room, the lush terry robe around her relaxed and pampered body, she conjured up a memory of the two boys, not much older than her students, who sat on low stools in front of her reclining chair and took her feet on their laps and massaged them with special unguents.

They knew their business, Miguel and Rigo. They worked in unison, running their small strong thumbs along her arch. The lotion, laced with ground cayenne, caused her feet to tingle and burn with delicious heat. The boys, dressed only in tiny black speedo swimsuit, splayed her toes and worked the goo between each one. This was delicious! As they rolled and tugged her elegant long toes she felt a sympathetic rolling in the center of her sex. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes and surrendered to the lovely erotic feelings the Mexican teens were coaxing out of her toes. Miguel and Rigo patiently worked her arches again, with the knuckles of their smooth brown hands. Ellen parted her legs slightly, just enough for the boys to peer up beneath her short white robe and sneak glimpses at her firm thighs.

Miguel pointed at the immodest display and smiled. Both boys were sporting compact little boy hardons which stretched the fronts of their speedos. They lifted the gringo lady's ankles and moved them farther apart, ostensibly to be able to better access the top of her feet, but also because it allowed them to gaze at the thin sheer crotch of her panties, which displayed an undeniable wet patch at her cunt. Ellen opened her eyes to slits, to spy on her servants. She knew she was luricating uncontrollably, and she knew by the looks on Miguel and Rigo's faces that they could see right through the soaked material of her panties. Her full wet pussy lips shined luminous and pink, flecked by her ebony pubic hairs. She noticed their pricks pushing the lycra of their tiny shorts.

She bent her knees slightly, just enough to bring the tips of the toes on each of her feet into contact with the boys's dicks. She raised her legs so she could lightly caress the rock hard boydicks with her lotion covered toes. Miguel and Rigo held her ankles lightly, their eyes on the obscene teacher's feet in their laps. Ellen shamelessly pushed the balls of her feet against their twin pillars, then down to their tight balls. Moving as one, the boys tugged the waists of their speedos and pulled them down, exposing their erections, hooking the waistbands beneath the tight hard spheres of their nutsacks. Ellen was dismayed that at the little crests of black pubic hair crowing their groins. She liked her boys smooth. She shook her head, and lost herself once more in the delicious sensations welling from their laps.

Ellen groaned deep in her throat as she caught their cocks in the crotch between her big toes and the next and began to jack them off. Few things satisfied the beautiful brunette than a boy's manhood beneath her feet, and this was doubly good. Their cocks were relatively short and slender, but Ellen found their smallness arousing against the length of her size eleven feet. The boys worked in measured unity, fucking their cocks between her toes as she kept their testicles trapped beneath her heels.

"Ayyyyyeeeee!" cried Rigo, baring his small white teeth as the mature woman pressed his dick roughly into his belly. Miguel simply smiled and humped lazily between the gorgeous American woman's squishy toes.

Ellen lay on the bed with her legs spread, the dressing gown open revealing her soaked panties. Her head was down and she watched the boys squirming under the pressure of her tan slick feet on their throbbing dicks. She loved the way the crowns of their brown cocks bulged purple and fat when she pinched the flesh of their cockshafts with her toenails. She increased the tempo of her jerking, and watched the boys thrash under her toes as if they were being electrocuted. Their dicks were twitching, the blue veins bulging, and she knew they wouldn't last much longer.

"Ahhhhh, senora," Rigo called out, "Vengo ahorita!!!"

"Go ahead, cum for me... Cum all over me..." She purred.

Rigo tensed his whole body, and his hard little pecker shot out a string of pearly dollops that landed on Ellen's toes. Miguel watched gaped-mouth at his partner, then let loose with gobs of his own jizz, glazing the foot grasping his stiff little prick. Ellen smeared the boyjuice on her soles all over the still erect penises of her pedicure boys, laughing out loud at as they gasped.

The emperious gringa school teacher stretched her legs and worked the kinks out of her thighs, and then raised her slime covered feet level with Miguel and Rigo's mouths.

"Clean me, por favor. Limpia..."

The boys, trained well by the hotel to please their guests, began licking and slurping their cum from her beautiful feet. This was it, the moment that always sent a shock through Ellen's pussy, and she came and came in undulating waves as the boys sucked and laved. Eventually, when the boys had made sure every trace of their ejaculations was gone from their mistress, and they had stuffed their pricks back into their skimpy swimsuits, they asked,

"Algunas mas? Do you wish anything else, Senora?"

Ellen lazily reached into the pocket of her terry robe and took out a list of services provided by the hotel's beauty spa room service. She turned the list to the boys, not sure she could translate the text, pointed at an item and said,

"I think I'd like that one, the "Bikini Trim"."

"As you wish, Senora."

Miguel stood and retired to the bathroom to gather the things he'd need, and Rigo pushed his stool forward so that he sat between Ellen's spread thighs.

"Por favor", he said, gingerly taking the waistband of her panties between his fingertips.
Ellen raised slightly, and the Mexican boy slid her panties down her legs. Miguel returned with a tray, and sat down next to Rigo. He took a pair of small scissors, leaned forward, and expertly trimmed at Ellen's pubic thatch. Rigo collected the trimmings and disposed of them discreetly in a small container on the tray. Rigo knitted his brow in concentration. He snipped and clipped, combing his fingers through her pubes, occasionally rubbing her pussy lips, but seemingly in innocence. At last, he seemed satisfied.

Miguel then took an old-fashioned shaving brush, flecked with foam, and dabbed it on the older woman's mons. He followed the application of the shaving lotion by massaging it in tight circles into her short clipped hair. Rigo put a hand on either of her thighs and spread them, exposing her pussy and opening her nether lips. Miguel applied the lather to the hairs surrounding her cunt, and followed with his talented fingers. Ellen moved with the teen's carresses, and felt Rigo's hands following suit. Four little hands manipulated her labia, fingers entered her wet and waiting pussy, palms pushed and abraded her clit. Ellen's hips began to rut against the hands, and she felt a steady pressure against her pussy walls. Miguel had four fingers halfway into her, as Rigo rubbed on either side of her clit, which was incredibly engorged and poked a half an inch beyond the folds of her pussy lips, with both of his slippery lathered hands.

The lithe cabana boys guided the high school teacher through a series of building climaxes, at the same time carefully razored her clean, so that at the end she had cum half a dozen times and she was completely shaven. They rose quietly, and left the room. She lay back in her lounge chair, spent and completely relaxed...

Mrs. Hornbeck leaned against the desk in her classroom, her eyes closed. Sex had started her reverie, and sex, in the end, brought her back to reality. It made her rub her thighs together in an attempt to quell her excitement, and she realized the memory of her pedicure had made her panties moist. Her mons felt irritated and raw where her pubic stubble had begun to grow back. This wouldn't do at all. Ellen opened her eyes. She scanned her students, all with their heads down scribbling in their notebooks, paying her no attention whatsoever. Good. Wait, all except for one, Timothy Rowe, who was staring at her with hooded glazed eyes.


Timmy finished the reading, skimmed the quiz and sighed. This stuff was so boring. His mind wandered, and he looked sleepily out of the second floor window of the classroom at the wispy clouds lazily wafting across the azure sky. He pulled a sharp #2 pencil from his backback and began to doodle and sketch in his binder, pushing his tousled blond hair back from his face. Timmy was an accomplished artist, talented far beyond his years. While the other boys struggled to approximate stilted drawings of hot rods and movie monsters, Timmy drew fluid lines that gave his work a quirky life of its own. He loved to draw more than anything. He looked surreptitiously at Mrs. Hornbeck, standing at the head of the class with her arms folded. He began to draw her, just a sketch with few details.
Not satisfied with his initial attempt, he turned to a fresh page and decided to work on a detail. He looked at his teacher's tanned legs, demurely covered to the knee, and her trim ankles and feet. He began to move his pencil over the paper. He outlined the curve of her heel, the indents of below her ankles. He knit his brow as he drew the complicated lines of the straps of her shoes. As he shaded in the shadows and crooks, his breath quickened.

Timmy often did "life studies" from pictures in the magazines his father kept poorly hidden in a drawer in the garage. As he faithfully rendered the centerfolds from his father's Playboy's and Penthouse's he became completely and fully engrossed, lost in the maddening details of full tits and soft thighs, pouting butts and the mystery of pussy. Timmy had never seen an actual woman nude, and the pornographic photos of and by themselves did not arouse him. It was only when he drew the women in the magazines that his dick filled with blood and uncoiled in his jeans. Drawing them made them painfully real to him, as if his pencil were a nerve-filled extension of himself stroking the full bodies of the women he drew. Only when he'd finished a picture to his satisfaction would he free his boyish penis and jack off, teeth bared, and grace the drawing with his sperm.

Timmy was getting the familiar feelings in his crotch as he finished the detail of Mrs. Hornbeck's foot. Although he was only of average size for his age, his uncircumcised dick was nearly as big as it was going to get, nearly seven inches long when hard, thick and heavy. It was hard as he sat there admiring the pencil drawing of his teacher's foot. His mind raced. He put pencil to paper again, beginning a full figure sketch of Mrs. Hornbeck in the same pose as his first. But this time he drew her nude, filling in the details of her full proud breasts and the imagined puff of pubic hair from memories of magazine girls he especially found hot and attractive. His cock lay like a length of pipe down his leg, stretching the worn denim of his favorite pair of blue jeans. He stole quick glances at Mrs. Hornbeck, so that he could accurately capture the features of her lovely face. He realized that the thirty-five year old was extremely beautiful, and he sighed deeply.

His teacher had her limpid brown eyes closed, her eyebrows raised slightly. Her mouth was open just enough for her bright red lips to part, as she breathed through them. Timmy's head was swimming, Mrs. Hornbeck looked so sexy. He couldn't wait for the bell so he could run home and annoint his obscene version of his biology teacher with viscous drops of his cum...

He was almost done. He had never felt so close to cumming without touching himself, and hoped he could calm down a bit so he could stand up. His dick throbbed ominously. He stared on last time at his teacher, to freeze her in his memory, and then she appeared to wake up, take a quick look around the class. Her eyes settled on him. And then dropped to his binder. He clumsily tried to close it before she could discern what he'd been up to, but as he concentrated on hiding his art he heard the sharp clip-clops of her heels on the classroom floor coming right to him. Just then the bell rang.


"Class! Attention! Please finish the quizz tonight and be prepared to hand them in tomorrow."
Mrs. Hornbeck stood at Timmy's desk, her hand resting on his closed binder as she addressed her students. She announced,

"Alright, class dismissed!"

The crowd of children, set free at last into the spring afternoon, became a rowdy throng, jostling and pushing desks out of the way on their way to the door. Timmy tried discretely to pull his binder free, but his biology teacher pushed hard on it and stared down at him.

"You stay put. I'd like a word with you when the others leave."

Ellen needed to get to the bottom of this. She had plainly seen the drawing of a nude woman in Timmy's binder, and had decided on the spot she could not brook this breakdown in discipline. She watched the last straggling gawky adolescent leave her classroom, walked briskly to the door and locked it. She returned to Timmy's desk, picked up his binder and returned to her spot in front of her desk. She lifted on her toes and rested her bottom on her desk. She sat back, crossed her legs, and opened her students notebook. It opened as if by magic to the drawing he'd fabricated in his mind of her unclothed. She gasped. This was far worse than she thought.

"What is the meaning of this?" She turned the spiral notebook toward Timmy, who writhed in his seat.

"I... I... I'm sorry, Mrs. Hornbeck!" the boy stuttered.

She flipped through the pages. She studied the detail he'd done of her foot. A sudden evil idea jumped into her consciousness.

"You've a real talent, Timmy, this one is quite good."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hornbeck."

She began to slowly swing her leg back and forth, secretly rubbing her thighs together, and watched with satisfaction as her student's eyes followed her movements. She caught the back strap of her high heel sandal with the toe of her other shoe and pushed it over her heel. The slight shoe dropped so it dangles from her tan long toes.

"I'm going to have to give you detention, Timmy. Please stand up."

"You're not going to tell my parents, Mrs. Hornbeck. Please..."

The boy stood up and slid out of his desk chair. Ellen frowned when she noticed the outline of his mansize cock on his boy thin thigh. Oh God, she thought, I shouldn't be doing this. But she also knew she held the power in this situation. Her student stood before her, mortally afraid she was going to tell his parents, shifting from foot to foot, his boner poking down his leg completely beyond his control. The lusty biology teacher looked to the small window in the door to her class, and knew what she must do.

"No, Timmy, I won't tell anyone about this." She pointed to the binder in her lap. "I'm actually a bit flattered. Do you find me attractive?"

The change in direction of his teacher's conversation confused the boy.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You seem to know a lot about female anatomy... This sketch if very accurate in a general sense. But it's not very accurate in the details."

"I... I... I like to do studies..." He looked in agony. His hardon raged unabated.

"Would you like to draw me from life sometime, Timmy?"

"C... c... could I?"

"Perhaps. I'll have to think about it. First, there's the matter of your punishment."

Timmy waited to hear what horrible repititious assignment his teacher would hand down to him.
Instead, Ellen stood up and walked behind her desk and stood next to her chair. She pointed down to her feet.

"Come here, young man, I want you to get in here."

Timmy limped clumsily over and followed her direction. He bent down and crawled into the dark well between the columns of drawers that held his teacher's desk. A panel of plywood covered the front, and although it was a large desk, he felt cramped in there. His teacher leaned over and nodded.

"Can you lay down in there?'

He could, on his side, bent in an "S" shape with his knees bent back and his shoulders hunched forward. Mrs. Hornbeck sat in her rolling chair and scooted into her desk. She said,

"I'm going to grade papers for a while, Timmy. As I do that I want you to massage my poor tired feet, since they seem to fascinate you so much."

There seemed no space at all under the desk when Mrs. Hornbeck's legs filled what little void there'd been after Timmy had climbed in. Her right leg straightened and she rested the heel of her sandal on his hip, while the sole of her left shoe pressed his cheek. This was the shoe she'd loosened a moment before, and she caught the heel on his ear, dropping her shoe behind his head. Her pink sole came to rest on the teenage boy's face. It had been a long day, and her foot was very fragrant.
Ellen took quick stock. If someone looked in on her from the hallway they would see her at her desk, grading papers with a red pencil. She smiled, and ground her sole on Timmy's nose. She spread her legs, getting more comfortable.

Beneath the desk, in the close cubicle, Timmy wondered how he was supposed to massage his teacher's feet when one of his hands was caught beneath him and the other was essentially useless, bent at an uncomfortable angle behind his head.

"What do you want me to do, Mrs. Hornbeck?"

Ellen drifted her foot up and down her student's face. Timmy's breath caught as he sniffed her smell. God, it was kind of stinky, but it was somehow sexy. He found it intoxicating, and inhaled her deeply.

"Massage my foot. I'm very tired today, I've been standing up all day, while beastly little boys like you fantasize about my body." Ellen spread her toes and ground them into the thirteen year old's fresh smooth features. She traced his forehead, his nose, and then drew her big toe over his pliant lips. She felt the tip of his tongue shyly exploring from the tight crack of his lips, and said,

"That's right, Timmy, lick my poor tired feet. You've been a naughty, smutty little pig, and you deserve to have my smelly old foot in your face."

She pushed her toe firmly into the boy's mouth. Timmy's eyes bugged out. He felt ashamed, and strange, but also curiously resolved. He'd been bad, he'd done something shameful, and this seemed fitting punishment. His teacher's toe filled his mouth, and he began to suck on it. He rested his front teeth her hard toe nail, and swirled his tongue around it. She jerked slightly, and he pulled back, letting her foot drop to the floor in front of his head.

"Am I doing alright, Mrs. Hornbeck?"

Ellen replaced her foot on his face, roughly jammed her big toe back in his mouth and said,
"Don't you stop until I tell you. From now on you're my little homeroom foot slut, you understand?"
Timmy hummed,"Mmmhmmm", in assent. He sighed deeply and bobbed his head up and down on his teacher's toe.

Despite her stern tone, she was delighted. Timmy was a natural foot slave. He suctioned and licked her toe, obviously excited. She noted the slight tremors in his body traveling up the foot resting on his hip. She reached down beneath the desk and pulled her skirt up a couple of inches, allowing her legs more freedom to move about.

Timmy had been ministering to Mrs. Hornbeck with his eyes closed, but he opened them now and his hungry eyes traveled up her long legs to her firm thighs. She shifted and he could see what seemed to be miles of tanned flesh, all the way up into the shadows of her crotch. He allowed her big toe to slip from his mouth, and sticking his tongue out of his wide open mouth he began to slobber and lick between her toes. She splayed her foot, and smeared the saliva he left back on his adoring face. He moved his head about, tracing the faint lines on Mrs. Hornbeck's soles in adoration.

Ellen dug in the heel of the shoe that used the boy's hip as a footstool until the sandal slipped off. She rubbed her sweaty sole on her student's levis, and dropped it down until the length of it pressed on the banana shaped bulge of his cock. Timmy gasped. She pushed and relaxed, pushed and relaxed, and thrilled at the size of the boy's dick. It was so thick, like a man's. She wanted to see it, to feel it uncovered by layers of denim. She said, in a falsely casual tone,

"Undo your jeans, Timmy. I want to rub my smelly old foot on your penis..."

Timmy fidgeted and squirmed, clumsily unbuttoning his jeans. His teacher kept him busy with the foot she continued to push it into his face, while her other trapped his dick. He finally got his pants over his ass and pushed them to his bent knees. It was as far as they would go as long as he was stuck under her desk.

Ellen luxuriated in the silky hardness of the boy' naked cock under her feet. She was lubricating freely into her panties, and she knew her cunt lips were fat and loose beneath the cotton crotch panel. She pushed Timmy's dick against his thigh, bending it away from his body although she could feet the tension trying to bring it to its more natural position pointing up toward his belly. She stared at the sketch of her naked. She said,

"You know, Timmy, this picture you drew of me is not anatomically correct. Let me show you..."

She tucked her feet together, reached beneath her skirt, and quickly plucked her panties off, letting the fall behind the crouching student. She spread her legs, drawing her chair in so her stomach pressed into the front of the desk, and pulled her skirt up her thighs.

"Can you see, Timmy? I don't have an ugly patch of hair on my pussy like you've given me. I'm sleek and smooth... Can you see?"

Timmy could see. In the tangle of his body and his teacher's legs his head was only inches from her sex. It was like a huge pink peach, shining white beyond that tan line that cut her waist. Mrs. Hornbeck spread her thighs wantonly, and the cleft of her peach opened to Timmy, her fat pussy lips glistening wet and abalone pink. His nostrils filled with her perfume, musk and the hint of lemon. At the top of the folds of her cunt a bulb stood out, and Tommy was amazed how much it reminded him of a little dick. He looked up to see Mrs. Hornbeck gazing down at him, a smile on her ruby red lips.

"See, Timmy? Much different than the brutish bush you gave me."

She rolled her chair so her pussy was suddenly pushed into the boy's beardless face. His surprise gave way to curiosity and lust, and he kissed her sex.

"That's right, boy, kiss me. Use your tongue... Ahhhh, yesssss. That bit at the top is my clit, suck it like you did my big toe, you little footslut..."

Timmy's ears burned. His heart raced and his mouth became dry, but not for long. When he pressed his open mouth on Mrs. Hornbeck's gaping cunt she filled his dry gullet with a steady ooze of pussy nectar. He swallowed and licked. Timmy shook his head back and forth, amazed as his teacher's sex opened up for me. His whole face became slick and wet from her hole. Using his lustfilled imagination he pretended his tongue was his cock, and drove it as far as he could up the velvety flesh ribbed tunnel of her pussy. She moaned, and caught his hair with a hand, cruelly pulling him into her.

"You do that nice, boy. Teacher's going to cum all over your face... Ahhh... Unhhhh..."

Suddenly Ellen's thighs clenched around Timmy's head, and he felt as if he'd been caught in a vice. Then her pussy unleashed a torrent of sex ichor into his waiting mouth. Then Mrs. Hornbeck
pushed her student away from her, back into the cubby hole beneath her desk. She gasped, breathing through her mouth, and brought her feet together in Timmy's lap

She caught his dick between the soles of her perfect feet. She commenced a steady persistent rhythm, and was delighted when his hips bucked in concert with her efforts.

"I want you to cum now, Timmy, cum all over teacher's feet..."

"Yes, yes, yes..."

Timmy was out of his mind. The sensation of Mrs. Hornbeck's soft soles rubbing and tormenting his dick was better than any handjob he'd ever given himself. He'd never felt so hard, so horny. His nasty teacher had let him taste her pussy, had smashed his face into it, and now she was fucking him with her perfect feet. He was in heaven. His eyes rolled into his lolling head and he pumped against her with complete abandon.

Ellen had pushed back a bit from the desk, she had to watch. Her golden brown arches dwarfed the boy's cock, big as it was, and she jacked him from its hairless base to the bulging crown, which shined hard and purple like a plum. She dropped one foot to the floor beneath his balls, pressing him into his belly with the other. She mercilessly rubbed the shaft of his dick beneath the head while running the tops of the toes of her other feet roughly into his nutsack. She sought the sensitive spot right behind his balls, massaging his prostrate. The teacher stretched until she felt her toe against his puckered asshole, and she pushed against it until she felt it yield under her pressure. She jammed her toe in Timmy's tight rectum, and felt it gather and pulse around her.

"I... I... I...." He never finished the sentence. His boydick stiffened and shot a string of white cum straight into the air, and Ellen jacked him between her toes, coaxing five more spurts out of him as he shuddered under her. She continued to rub him, even though she knew this was torment for him in his oversensitive post orgasmic state. He began to soften, and he would have pulled away but the alcove that was his prison gave him no route to escape.

Ellen turned the ankle of the foot that brought the boy off this way and that, admiring the thick coat of spunk he put there. His cum began to ooze and slide off the outside of her sole, but she quickly caught it with her other foot,and rubbed the boyjuice into the skin of her soles. Timmy just stared at this display, his dick half hard and jerking.

"Now, Timmy, I want you to clean my feet with your mouth. Do you understand?"

He did, and the instruction left him queasy. Eating his own spunk, this was too nasty. But he gulped, and she brought her feet up to his mouth together, toes pointed. I big drip of his sperm began to form at the end of her toes, and Ellen gasped when she saw Timmy dip his head so he could catch it with the tip of his extended tongue.

The salacious teacher let him clean her for ten minutes, then had him hand her her panties. Yes, he was a natural little foot slut. As he straightened himself out, and crawled out from under her desk, Ellen Hornbeck's inventive filthy mind had shifted into overdrive with plots and schemes for Timmy's future use and employment. She handed him his binder, excused him, unlocking the door to let him slink out, and then sat down at her desk and ruminated on the afternoon's events with her hand buried in her pussy.


Timmy's mother studied her son as he walked toward the car in the early summer sunshine. He squinted, dark circles around his light blue eyes. Debra Rowe was used to her son's mutable moods, but the last few weeks he seemed uniformly distresssed and depressed. She wondered if summer school was such a good idea after all. Timmy slouched in the back seat, and Debra adjusted the rear view mirror so she could make eye contact with him when she talked. She rarely go a chance to talk to him lately. As soon as her son returned from school he locked himself in his room, appearing only to eat supper.

"Are you ok, honey?" She asked.

"Sure mom, just a little tired is all."

Debra put the BMW in gear, and backed up their suburban driveway.

"Well, you're almost finished. Then you can sleep in the rest of summer..."

Timmy wasn't paying attention to his mother. He spent nearly every waking moment daydreaming about his biology teacher, Mrs. Hornbeck. Since the first day of summer school he'd been her homeroom foot slut. Everyday after class the statuesque brunette who ruled his dreams locked the door and had him fold up beneath her desk and fed him her feet. She'd basically repeated the major themes of their first encounter, allowing his mouth free access to her feet, legs, and sex, and then masterbating him to copious spumings with her soles. He'd asked her one day to jack him off with her hand, a fantasy he'd developed late at night as he stroked himself, and she'd slapped his face with the broad palm of her hand.

"Forget it! That nasty dick of yours belongs under my heels, and that's where its going to stay."

He acquiesced without comment. She was right, he was a disgusting worm who deserved nothing from her, who was lucky beyond belief that she let him lick her in the first place. He felt as if everything were wrong, but he felt powerless to extricate himself.

"Ok, honey, here we are."

His mother woke him from his reverie, and he slowly rose from the backseat and ambled into the school. Debra watched him and sighed. Something was wrong.

She drove straight home and walked to her son's room. She thought of herself as a progressive parent, the more so since the divorce. She gave her son the space she felt he needed as an unusually shy and sensitive boy. Perhaps she'd been too distant. She'd gone back to work last year to augment her alimony, and after several years as a semi-recluse, her social life had taken off as well. Debra Rowe was a young forty years old, a bouncy blonde with an oppulent figure who attracted a lot of comeons and propositions. She'd been "dating" a lot recently, mostly men she met through the real estate office. She felt a stab of guilt that while she' been out letting strange men paw her size 36d tits and casually sucking her client's cocks her son had become a junkie!

She looked around Timmy's room, noting nothing out of the ordinary except the smell... It reminded her of a subway tunnel, musky and funky. She'd notice a lot of suspicious stains on his jockey shorts lately, but that was certainly normal for a teenage boy, as well as the crusts on his sheets. Masturbating wasn't what was wrong with Timmy, but there was the spectre of drugs in the back of Debra's mind.

She didn't enjoy being a snoop, but felt it was an unpleasant duty and so she methodically looked through his closet. Nothing. Then his desk.

She shifted through the piles of loose paper in the drawers. She smiled. Debra appreciated Timmy's native talent as an artist, she'd always encouraged him. The drawings he kept in his desk were all copies he'd made of pinup girls and centerfolds. She shuffled through them all, no joints or suspicious little baggies in there. Timmy's mother sighed a deep relaxing breath.

Remembering the Just Say No workshop she'd had to attend the year before, when Timmy had begun middle school, she walked to her son's bed and stuck her hand beneath his mattress. Uh oh. She felt a plastic tube and something else. Debra lifted the mattress.

There, in Timmy's most private hiding place, was another stack of drawings and a tube of Vaseline Intensive Care lotion. Debra blinked at these drawings, which weren't the innocent sketches of cheerleaders he kept in his desk. These were detailed drawings of feet, dozens of them. Worse, there were drawings of spread thighs and incredibly realistic pussies. The bottom of the pile of papers was all stuck together, and Debra knew the glue was her son's boyseed.

She carefully pried the pages apart and gasped. These pages, the ones that evidently excited her thirteen year old son the most, were his drawing of lady feet rubbing and punishing penises. Debra sat down on her son's bed, her head swimming. Her son had created these, these pencil and ink drawings of cocks spurting dollops of sperm on some woman's foot, a foot that looked alien and remote against the obviously urgent and vibrant life of the dick pictured next to it.

Debra had never done anything anyone would have remotely considered kinky. Sure, she sucked and fucked with the best of them, and no one would have accused her of prudery. But this was so perverse! The more so because the artist was her own boy! And the theme, a penis subservient to a woman's foot, disturbed her. She realized that her own sex life could be viewed as somewhat submissive, in that she never demanded pleasure from her ex-husband or the sporadic men she'd dated in the five years since they'd separated. She studied her son's drawings and realized that part of her disquiet was sexual arousal. She had a deep heat welling in her belly, and began to feel damp in her slim black bikini panties.
Her hand drifted up her leg, and before she knew exactly what she was doing, she was rubbing her petite pussy through her panties, her sundress pulled high on her waist. No pornography she'd ever perused in her limitted experience had ever turned her on like the lewd drawings she'd found under her son's mattress.


She wished she could dandle the thick cock in the pictures between her slim fingers. Her mouth watered. She'd give that dick a warmer and wetter place to cum, either in her mouth or in her pink soft pussy. She shuddered hard, and growled. Her fingers pushed her panties aside and she pumped herself with two digits. She leafed through the drawings as she thrummed the inside of her cunt with her meticulously manicured fingertips.

Debra ogled yet another drawing of a woman's foot, glazed with cum, but in this one Timmy had put himself in the picture, his face hovering over the pool of jizz, his tongue extended. His mother groaned. She wanted some stud kneeling at her feet, drooling over her toes, completely devoted to her pleasure. Debra came to the realization she didn't want just any man worshipping her body, she wanted Timmy. The desire and erotic energy her son had put on paper charged through her eyes straight to her womb and dripped around her busy fingers. She pulled her plump thighs up to her chest and dug her hand deep in her womb. Oh God, how she wanted what was in those pictures. She came in hard gasps, her knees pumping into her full tits. She wanted her son to lick her all over, just like in the picture. Then Debra slowly uncoiled and lay on her son's bed, his pencil drawings arrayed around the nimbus of her strawberry blond hair, her eyes unfocused.

She meditated and considered, laying there staring at the ceiling.

She'd found no drugs. So far so good. She'd discovered Timmy's secret masterbatory stash. Debra wondered if she should talk to him about it. How? Then she wondered at herself, an apparently normal suburban mother who had just gotten off to a fantasy of her son worshipping her feet. No, I'd better just pretend I never saw these. She replaced the stack of crumpled obscene art back under the mattress. Debra Rowe smoothed the covers down, adjusted her panties, and closed the door to Timmy's room.


Timmy walked home slowly, weighted with dread. Today had been one of those days when Mrs. Hornbeck had refused to bring him to orgasm althogether. She really seemed to get a kick out of his discomfort. He'd spent at least a half an hour with his head buried beneath her skirt, lapping her pussy and sucking her clit through the wet fabric of her panties. She had him lay beneath her desk with his dick sticking out of his fly, but made no move to touch it. He knew better than to ask her about it, she made him see stars with her stentorious slaps. He hoped his mom was out showing a house or something, so he could just go straight to his room and take care of himself.

He walked around the back of his ranch style house with his head down and heavy, he didn't have the key to the front door and could let himself in through the slider that led to the pool.

"Hi, Timmy!" his mother called out. She was sunning herself on the patio, leaning back into a lounge chair.

"Uh, hi mom." He tried to slink into the house, but his mom's voice followed him.

"Why don't you get your trunks on. The pool needs cleaning."

"Mom! Now?"

"Yes, now, young man..."

Timmy sighed.

Mrs. Rowe felt giddy, she'd been out in the sun sipping cranberry juice and vodka for the last hour and a half. She was normally very moderate in her tanning, but she was luxuriating in the feeling of heat from the the alcohol and sun. The only lines that creased her face were tiny laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, and she wanted to keep it that way. She watched as Timmy emerged from the house with a pair of baggy trunks on. He grabbed the long handled net and started to skim the magnolia leaves from the pool. Debra Rowe felt a strange warmth in her womb as she watched her son. She licked the corner of her mouth, she could see his cock bouncing against the loose fabric of his trunks.

Timmy emptied the net by shaking the detritus he collected out behind a juniper hedge. He smiled at his mom, who was looking at him work with her eyes shaded from the bright sun by her hand. She was swinging one of her legs back and forth, and Timmy found his own eyes drawn to the crotch her black bikini. He'd never paid much mind to his mom's body, she was his mom after all, but after the workouts his biology teacher put him through his sexual antennae were sensitive and alert. His mom was kind of hot, he decided, and then stuffed that thought deep within, where he hid his shameful stuff. His mind began to spiral when he thought, maybe I'll draw mom later. But to do that, I'll have to study her a bit more. His dick fattened and began to bob around in his shorts.

Timmy quickly reached down and stuffed it down his leg.

Debra Rowe noticed her son's adjustment. It looked like a small animal had been let loose in his trunks, and Debra knew it was Timmy's cock in the first flush of arousal. Oh Timmy! She couldn't believe how hot checking out her son's basket was making her.

At last he walked over close to her, grabbed a towel that was spread out to dry on one of the patio chairs, fanned it out, and lay face down on the pool deck. Debra sat up and folded her chair so it stayed upright. She looked down at her supine teenage child. Then she grabbed a bottle of suntan lotion she stashed beneath her chair.

"Hey, Timmy. Could you help me with this lotion?"

"Sure, mom", he sighed sleepily. He sat up. Debra smiled with satisfaction as she saw the front of his baggies tented by his full erection. She handed him the bottle and leaned back, her hands behind her head, her tits thrust out.

Timmy Rowe looked at his mother, mouth agape. Her nipples were hard and pushing out against the fabric of her black bikini bra. Their tips were like little thumbs. He was getting shaky, and asked tentatively,

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Oh, how about my feet..." She scooted her chair closer to him and plopped her bare feet into his lap, just short of his crotch. Timmy gulped. He turned the bottle of lotion upside down and squirted a glop into his palm. Then he took hold of his mother's right foot and began to massage the lotion into the top of her foot.

"Rub some on my soles, too, please."

He squeezed more goop from the bottle directly to her ankles, and rubbed in narrow slow circles. He used all his will to keep his breathing even as he used all the tricks Mrs. Hornbeck had taught him on his own mother. He raked her soles lightly with his fingernails, knowing just when to relent before he tickled his mother. He entwined his fingers, slick with lotion, with her toes. Debra's feet were very warm from the sun, and they felt heavenly to her son.

"Mmmmmmm, that's yummy, Timmy, where on earth did you learn to give such a good foot massage..."

Timmy took her big toe between his thumb and forefinger and moved it in an oval, loosening it up. He moved on to her other toes, repeating his motions. He looked longingly down, wishing he could take her in his mouth. Timmy wanted to give his mother the same pleasure he'd given his teacher. He wanted to be mom's footslut too. He touched the secret places his biology teacher had shown him, the accupressure spots that corresponded to pleasure centers throughout Debra's body. When he kneaded the spot correlating to her sex, she moaned. God, he was good, she tought. Her groin flushed and her pussy lips unfolded against the crotch panel of her bikini bottoms like a flower.

"Now the other one, Timmy."

He carefully placed the foot he'd been massaging on his lap and gently picked up the other. Debra arched her back in sensual approval, and when she did she slid forward just enough to jam the foot her son held in his lap against the hard shaft of his penis. He flinched and tried to pull back, but Debra pushed again, and he surrendered.

Timmy's mom mewled as her foot explored her son's dick through his swimming trunks. He was so big, as big as a man, but she didn't know any men who would treat her so well, who would sit at her feet and relax her while she felt him up with the ball of her foot. Timmy said with a quavering voice,

"I'm going to cum if you keep doing that, mom."

"I wanna see it, Timmy, pull it out for me."

He scooted out of his baggies. Debra hummed,

"Mmmmmm, Timmy, your cock is so fucking big!"

His ears burned. His mom was sitting there admiring his weiner. She reached behind her and untied her bikini bra, letting her heavy full rosy tits fall out. Debra was a bit on the heavy side, but this only served to accentuate her curves. Timmy had never seen a sexier woman than his mother.

"Move back, Timmy, give your mom some room on that towel."

She got up out of the lounge chair, and shucked her bikini bottom off. She sat on the towel on the pool deck facing her son, her knees up, and began to run both of her feet, slick with lotion, over her son's bright red penis. Debra used a walking motion, starting one foot at the bulbous head then sliding down to his hard balls. By the time one foot had reached his nuts, she'd started again with her other. Timmy's hissed. Mrs. Hornbeck had never done this, and he was going wild.

"Does that feel good, Timmy? Tell your mom how good her feet feel on your big hard cock."
Debra's hand churned her clit, and she loved the nasty thrill it gave her as her son stared goggle eyed as she masturbated.

"Do you like to watch me play with my pussy, Timmy? I like you watching, it makes me sooooo wet."

"Oooooooh mommmmm, yessssssssss!"

He leaned back and his hips pumped against her feet. Debra felt the tensing in his nuts and in his dick and she bent toward him. She brought both of the balls of her feet down on his nuts, mercilessly pushing them into the towel. Her son's cock pulsed wildly back and forth, and then he came, in a thick string that shot out and hit the corrugated rosey tip of her nipple and hung there in a nasty drip. Another rope erupted from the peehole of Timmy's distended prick and rose in a heavy arch to land in Debra's trim pubes. A last spasm dribbled out of him, coating his cock and oozing down to her toes. Timmy's mom fell back as her own climax hit her, her fingers working feverishly in the fleshy fold of her cunt.

They both lay back, panting. Debra straightened her full pneumatic legs and draped her thighs on top of her son's. Timmy followed suit, working a charley horse out of his calf. Debra stared into the clear turquoise summer sky, and said,

"Timmy, sit up please."

He clambered up, and found that when he did his dick, which had the youthful ability to stay rock hard after cumming, was sticking straight up with the underside rasped by his mother's bikini-trimmed pubic hair. He looked at her pussy, drenched in his jizz, and gulped loudly.

"You've gotten your cum all over me, Timmy."

She reached down and put her left hand, which still wore the wedding band despite the divorce, on the top of Timmy's thick veined cock. She pushed it down so that it spread the fat pink lips of her cunt. She felt him jerking in her hand as she cocked her hips so her clit rubbed against the ridge along the underside of her thirteen year old boy's erection. Debra took her free hand and dipped her fingers in the puddle of sperm that lay on the flushed skin in the deep crevass between her swaying tits. She rubbed the boyjuice into her decolletage, then to the dark round aureole, finally twiddling the slime into her baby finger sized nipple. It was so thick, her son's seed, when she took her fingers away a string of it clung between her long scarlet fingernail and the distended erect nipple. She pulled away until the thread of spunk broke and dropped to her rounded belly. Putting her fingers on Timmy's lips, she forced them apart and watched in ecstacy as he licked and sucked, taking to his own sperm as it were chocolate sauce.

Debra was pushing the limits, going for the whole fantasy she'd created when she'd found her son's personal jack-off art collection that morning. She knew he'd do anything she asked at this point, and planned to spend the rest of the summer giving him dirty tasks to fulfill.

She took back her fingers, and watched a reverse string of Timmy's cock sauce pull from his lips. Debra ground her splayed cunt against her son's outrageously hard boner as she cupped her huge breast and raised it to her son's mouth.

"Suck the cum off my titties, Timmy..."

Her son stuck the tip of his tongue out and moved it around and around her wrinkled dusty rose colored nipple. She pulled his head into her breast, and cried out as Timmy opened his mouth wide to take it in. He washed her clean of his boycum, and then was offered her other breast.

As Timmy nibbled and sucked her teat Debra remembered the secret excitement she'd felt as he'd breast fed from her as a baby. She loved to feed him her milk engorged tits, even in the dead of night awakened from a deep sleep, because as he fussed and sucked she always came in sharp little waves unlike any other orgasms she'd ever had. These same pangs shuddered through her as her big boy Timmy sucked her nipples so hard they tingled. Combined with the delightful friction of her son's cock against her hard engorged clit, Debra was panting through clenched teeth.

Debra pulled her breast from Timmy's mouth, leaned back a bit, and pushed his thick cock down, spreading her cleft. She aimed him right at her center, and raised her ass just enough that when she moved closer to him once more she felt his vein ribbed boner sink deep inside her. She hooked her ankles around his back, holding him still.

"Don't move, Timmy, don't you move."

She positioned herself so clit rubbed against Timmy's hairless groin. The fullness of her son's cock inside her and the soft but insistent friction on her clit put her over the edge. She moved her hips in tight circles, grunting into Timmy's ear.

Timmy couldn't believe the sensations inside his mother's pussy. Without moving a muscle he clung to his mom as her turbulent orgasms made the ribbed walls of her cunt grip and relax him so strongly it almost hurt too much to bear. His natural reaction to this onslaught was to retreat and protect his sensitive manhood, somewhat raw from the incomparable footjob his mom had given him earlier, but her strong legs held him in a tight clench. Timmy was almost crying in pain, in pleasure, in the two inexorable and inextricably woven together.

Debra felt him enlarge, in amazement she felt the crown of her son's dick inside her throbbing and growing. She had passed the crest of her last batch of orgasms, and now wanted to change the pace.
Unlocking the hold of her legs,Debra pushed her son Timmy on his back without releasing his prick from her sex. She dug her heels into the towel next to his elbows, and used the leverage of her plump silky legs to bounce up and down on him. She held herself up by her hands and feet, touching him only with her pussy. Debra pulled up so that he almost fell out, then slid down his pole until she once more bumped her clit on his pubic bone. She repeated this move, over and over, giving herself a steady long-dicking. Debra speedened her thrusts, she wanted to feel her son's cock burst inside her.

"Cum for mommy, cum inside my big old pussy, Timmy, fill me up with your fuck juice..."

She chanted obscenities to her son, enflaming him. He was lifting his ass to meet her strokes, violently thrashing and thrusting, his calves and thighs taut as iron bars. He was entranced, by his mother's filthy mouth, by her big bouncing tits, but most of all by her pussy, framed by short trimmed blond hair and hot as an oven around his stiff sore dick.

Ungh... ungh... ungh... I'm... I'm... Cummmmmming...."

He cried out. And he did, so hard and so fast if he hadn't been nestled deep in the folds of his mother's cunt he felt he would have shot jizz over the roof of the house. The velocity and force of his cum burned his urethra. He bucked wildly and nearly threw his mom off onto the cement of the pool deck, but she brutally ground her cunt down on him, forcing him back to the ground.

Debra felt the cum building in Timmy's prick, but it surprised her with its power. It sprayed out of the tip of his cock and splashed against her uterus, as if someone had jammed a garden hose up her. She held him with a tight pussy monkey grip as his pulsed and spumed.

"OOooooooooooohhhhhh Gooooooooodddd!" She heard the voice and only after the cry quietened did she realize it had been her own voice. She fell back, exhausted, her ass resting between Timmy's thighs. They were still joined by their genitals, Timmy was still hard and held tight in her vagina. Now it was her turn to pull back from the overly sensitive sensation. She slid her son out of her. His chafed and chastened cock snapped up and slapped against his belly. Debra gazed at it thirstily, then thought better of it. Plenty of time for that. Timmy was now her sex slave, and she let vague and wild plans dance through her head as she looked at his adolescent form sprawled on the ground between her thighs. She delightedly bounced her knees together a few times and smiled. She felt her son's discharge begin to seep out of her blood filled labia, and decided to do something about it.
She rolled forward, sat on Timmy's thighs, and then crawled up his body, leaving a trail of cunt lube and boy splooge from his hip to his chest. Debra planted a knee on either side of her son's ears, and said,

"Open wide, baby, mommy has something for you."

As Timmy opened his eyes and blinked at the sight of his mother's cum-filled cunt lowering down on his face, he silently thanked his biology teacher, Mrs. Hornbeck, who'd patiently taught him everything he knew about pleasing a woman. He kissed his mother's wide open sex and worked to swallow the copious load of his own cum mixed with pussy juice and nearly wept for joy.

The end

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