The Naughty Virgin

By: Cassandra Dee

Except here it was in Mr. Phillips’ fingers and he was smiling at me like he knew.

“Um,” I stuttered nervously. “Doesn’t look familiar, no.”

But the big man was smooth.

“I think you know,” he rumbled deep in his chest, his blue eyes dancing. “Don’t pretend little girl, I think it belongs to you.”

“Um, it’s… it’s a baby orange?” I feigned ignorance.

The big man just chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

“I think you know what it is, Evie,” he growled, his eyes suddenly intent. “It’s a kumquat and you know where it’s been.”

At that I flushed again, probably turning an even deeper shade of red. Because it’d been in my pussy, I’d moaned and screamed during my session, sure that I was alone, sure that the thumping of the music muffled any sounds I was making. But Mr. Phillips’ devilish grin told another truth – that he’d seen the whole thing and I was outed. Oh my god.

My lips trembled, in fact my whole body trembled, and I turned pleading brown eyes to him.

“Please Mr. Phillips,” I begged. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

He grinned at me, blue eyes gleaming.

“Why would I tell anyone?” he drawled. “It made my day, my entire month in fact.”

I gasped. What was he saying? That seeing me in the hallway, nude, my pussy pulsing had made his month? Could it be true? Surely not. But the way the air was tingling told me that something had changed, that suddenly we were more than just a student and teacher, that this was more than a talk about AP exams and after-school tutoring. A bolt of lightning ran through my body and I could tell the big man felt it too, our conversation suddenly supercharged, my cunt moist, my breasts sensitive.

And Mr. Phillips’ eyes flicked to my nipples as if drawn by a magnet because they looked like rocks under my sweater, stiff and perky. Although it seemed impossible, I actually blushed a little more. I’d worn a tight top and modest skirt today, a change from my usual jeans and t-shirt. I dunno, I guess the release I’d gotten from Homecoming, my masturbation session had made me feel devilish, sexy, and I didn’t want to wear the same old boring stuff anymore. So I’d worn something sexy, form-fitting, flirtatious.

Except now my nipples were clearly poking out through the cashmere, the material so fine, so soft, that it highlighted the protrusions. I cursed internally. God, oh god, why was this happening to me, now of all times? I thought wearing the outfit would be a nice reminder of the fun I’d had Saturday night, a memento of sorts, except now I was being betrayed by my own body.

But Mr. Phillips ate it up. He smiled knowingly again, eyes gleaming, his chest and abs hard, as his gaze swept up and down my body, making me tingle, my breath suddenly short.

“Like I said,” he said with a low growl, his voice suddenly sensuous and suggestive. “Seeing you play with the kumquat, strumming yourself to a finish, was the highlight of my month.”

And I gasped again because he’d finally put words to it, we were beyond innuendos, vague suggestions at what had happened. He’d said it. I’d “played with the kumquat” and “brought myself to a finish,” and it was totally true, I’d done all that … and more. I’d dreamed of him while fingering myself, imagining the big man touching me, running his dick in and out of my sweet spot, making me tingle and shudder, his big cock doing the dirty, making me feel good.

And my gorgeous teacher just chuckled again.

“And Evie, I loved witnessing it,” he rumbled, eyes ravenous, pushing back from his desk, leaning back in his chair so I could get a good look. “See what you do to me?” he said, gesturing to his pants.

And I gasped. Because the tent at his crotch was huge, and I mean really enormous, the way his penis was curved under the tight fabric looked painful, it was almost bent over and wrapped around his waist the way it strained. My mouth grew dry, my hands suddenly trembling.

“Oh my god, Mr. Phillips,” I breathed. “Are you okay?”

He groaned, his hand lightly caressing the rod through the twill material, running up and down the arched curve.

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