F is for Fail

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Chinese Parents Set a High Standard for Success

© 2021 Chloe Tzang. All rights reserved. The author asserts a moral right to be identified as the author of this story. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review. If you read this story on any website other than on Literotica or Wattpad, it has been copied and used without the author’s permission.

As always, there’s that little note from Chloe right at the start. This story was written for the 2021 Literotica “On the Job” Story Event organized by HeyAll, so right up front, thanks to HeyAll for organizing this, and to Laurel and Manu (who keep Literotica running) for hosting this event and running Literotica to keep us all entertained, and for giving us writers a venue for our little fantasies. If you’re reading this and you haven’t seen the “On the Job” Story Event page, go find it, it’s on the Literotica Stories Page, and take a look at all the other “On the Job” stories. You’re sure to enjoy more than just mine.

And coming up on May 25th is the 2021 Literotica “Geek Pride” Story Event, with a bunch of geeky stories for you. But enough. You opened this… get reading! And I hope you enjoy…Chloe

* * * F is for Fail * * *
“Young teacher, the subject
Of schoolgirl fantasy
She wants him so badly
Knows what she wants to be
Inside her there’s longing
This girl’s an open page
Book marking – she’s so close now
This girl is half his age”
“Don’t Stand So Close To Me”, The Police & Sting

* * *

“Take your panties off for me, Krystina,” Mr. Montoya said, very softly, and he was standing behind me in that little office behind his classroom that nobody knew about, and the door was locked.I’d locked it myself. And checked.

I’d thrown the bolt as well, just to be on the safe side, because it was high school and he was a teacher. He was my Grade Twelve Physics teacher actually, and I was one of his students so what we were about to do, well, if we were caught, Elijah would be in trouble so deep he’d need a thirty foot straw to breathe through. If he was still breathing after my mom and dad finished with him, and my mom was pretty good with those big Chinese meat cleavers.

So yeah, I checked the locks and that bolt really really carefully. I pulled the blinds over the outside windows down just as carefully, I pulled the curtain over that, and I hung my blazer on the hook at the top of the door.

I was supposed to be here for my physics tutorial, but, well, what Mr. Montoya was about to tutor me in before we moved on to physics wasn’t on the official Saint Ignatius Loyola Catholic High School curriculum at all. It wasn’t quite what my dad had paid Mr. Montoya to tutor me in either, but neither Mr. Montoya or I worried about that. What we worried about was someone finding out about us.

Neither of us wanted anyone walking in on this tutoring session.

“I like it when you don’t wear a bra,” Mr. Montoya added and of course he’d know I wasn’t wearing one. He was close behind me, really close and I could feel how hard he was and his hands cupped my boobs through my white school blouse while his thumbs brushed backwards and forwards over my nipples.

“I know you do. That’s why I took it off before I came here,” I whispered, not quite shyly because I wasn’t at all shy with Mr. Montoya anymore, slipping my hands under my skirt and pushing my panties halfway down to my knees. My school uniform skirts were a lot shorter now than they used to be. I’d had them shortened so that Mr. Montoya could enjoy looking when I was in one of his classes. He wasn’t the only one that looked of course, and I didn’t mind that at all now that I knew why guys looked, but Mr. Montoya was the only one who got to do more than look.

Mr. Montoya got to do a lot more than look.

He got to do anything he wanted.

“All the way off and give them to me.” He kissed the top of my ear, releasing me and stepping back, watching, and I liked that he was watching, because I knew he’d like my new panties,and of course I did as he told me to. I was a good Chinese girl. Obedience to authority was in my genes, and obedience to my teacher came so easily.

Even more easily with experience, and I had a lot of experience now. I eased my panties all the way down to my ankles, stepping out of them, and I could hear his clothing rustling and when I turned around, he was naked from the waist down, except for his socks, and his cock was rock hard. Rock hard, and ready for me. I gave him my panties and I’d slipped them on when I took my bra off. He took them from my hand, looked at them, and smiled.

“Red G-string? Those are new, aren’t they, Krystina? When did you buy them?” I’d been right. He liked them.

I didn’t smile. I looked at him and I was breathing hard, my face burned, and I tingled everywhere. Tingled Dikmen Escort and burned and my sex was hot and slippery wet and I wanted him inside me. I wanted his hands on me and his body on me, riding me, taking me and he knew. I knew he knew, and my heart pounded.

“Last week,” I said, watching him as he raised them to his nose and inhaled and I shivered. “I ordered them online. They arrived yesterday.” I smiled. “I used the gift certificate you gave me for my birthday. I read your note.”

He grinned and we both knew what his note had said. Buy. Sexy. Lingerie. And a smiley face.

“Wear them again on Thursday,” he said. “Wear them all day at school. And afterwards, I’m going to fuck you while you’re wearing these.” He grinned as he held them up, dangling from one finger. “Nothing but these.”

“Yes, Mr. Montoya,” I said, breathing hard, and I was so wet and ready. The insides of my thighs were wet, and my knees were weak, and I wanted him, and he knew.

“Take your tie off and undo your blouse for me,” he said, and he watched me as my fingers unclipped my school tie, and dropped it on his desk. Thank god the uniform code didn’t say berets. That would just be too cliched. It was bad enough having to wear a uniform. Really, it was. The Catholic School Board insisted, and when I was younger, I hadn’t minded at all, but now?

Now I knew what I looked like. I was Chinese. I was pretty, and okay, I had long slender legs. I wore a school uniform, and my skirts were as short as all the other girls now, and they really did make my legs look stunning. Those Catholic girls high school uniforms were, to be honest, on a whole different plateau of wrongness for an Asian girl. Nobody, and I mean nobody, should EVER make Asian girls wear those uniforms.

Sure, you all get the traditional Catholic schoolgirl-fetish stuff, but when you’re a slender Asian girl, and you’re wearing that short pleated navy blue skirt (and thanks to Mr. Montoya, I did wore mine short now, very short, just like all the girls did) you look, well, cliched. Combine that with those knee-high white socks, those black shoes and that navy blue blazer over a white dress blouse with a school tie. When you’re a slender, long-legged and, yes, pretty, Asian girl with long slender legs, and dressed in one of those uniforms…?

Well, guess what: you’re a walking fantasy from a Japanese porn website made for men like Mr. Montoya, whether you know you are or not. By then, well, I knew. I knew it, and I liked it, and I liked being Mr. Montoya’s little Asian porn fantasy. Liked it? I reveled in it, because I was far more than a fantasy for him,and he was far far more than a schoolgirl fantasy for me.

So when he asked me to undo my blouse?

I smiled as my fingers worked their way down, unfastening those buttons until my blouse hung open. He said nothing, but as he watched me, he unfastened his own shirt and peeled it off. He stood there, naked except for his socks and he really was gorgeous. He was eleven years older than I was, twenty nine, I knew because he’d told me, and he really worked out.

He was all hard muscle and six-pack abs, and I loved looking at his body. He was short and stocky. Five foot six, and that was tall enough for me because I was only five one and I loved it that he wasn’t waaaay taller than me – I didn’t get a sore neck looking up at him and I could vine my arms around his neck easily too.

Six months ago, I’d never imagined looking at a naked and aroused man could be so exciting but it was and really, I wanted to sink to my knees and take his cock into my mouth and cup his balls and tease him the way I had last Thursday. I reached for the clip at the side of my skirt but his hand reached out and took mine.

“Leave your skirt on,” he said, and his hand ran down my hip to my upper thigh and the hem, followed the hemline around to brush my inner thigh with his fingertips. “I want you to shorten it some more for Thursday, to go with the panties.”

“How short?” I gasped, and that tension was back. My skirt was already short.

“I’ll show you afterwards,” he said, and his hands gripped me and turned me around so that I was facing his desk, my back to him, and I knew exactly what he meant by afterwards. “But right now, I’m going to teach you something new, Krystina.”

“Yes, Mr. Montoya,” I almost moaned.

“We haven’t tried this before. Bend forward over my desk,” he said, one hand on the back of my neck. “And rest on your forearms…. Yes… like that… yes… now shuffle your feet apart… further apart… a little more… yes, that’s good, Krystina.” His hands brushed my skirt up to bunch around my waist and I was exposed to him. Completely exposed and one of his hands caressed my butt.

“You’re wet,” he said, softly, and I knew he could see and I was. Hot and wet and I wanted him so much. So badly.

“Don’t wait,” I moaned. “Please.”

“Spread Eryaman Escort your legs wider, Krystina,” Mr. Montoya said. “You’re still too high.”

“Okay,” I gasped, shuffling my feet sideways and I could imagine what I looked like to him as he stood behind me and the anticipation was almost agony, and I was moaning softly with every breath I took as I waited.

Why was he taking so long? Didn’t he know how much I wanted him? But I knew that he knew, and that he was teasing me by keeping me waiting. I enjoyed that too, knowing that he was teasing me. Knowing that he knew that I knew, and that we had hours. There was no hurry, we both knew that, but my body wanted him desperately.

I wanted to feel his hardness inside me again, because it was Tuesday, and it’d been last Thursday when we were here last. Five whole days without him making love to me, because Tuesdays and Thursdays, after school, those were my tutorial sessions with Mr. Montoya. He tutored me in Physics. After he tutored me in what we were about to do.

The physics tutoring, that was arranged and paid for by my dad. This subject, this was arranged between me and Mr. Montoya, and I was more than willing to be tutored in this subject. More? I was very willing. Enthusiastic, even.

“So beautiful,” he breathed and I gasped and jerked as his hands brushed my hips, his thumbs sliding across the backs of my thighs and my butt, stroking, teasing, not quite touching me where I needed and wanted him to touch me. “So beautiful, Krystina.”

“Ohhhhh,” I moaned, my hips jerking and my knees were weakening, my hands clawed at the desk and I waited. I couldn’t do anything else except wait and my wetness was trickling down my inner thighs. “Ohhhh please… please… please, Mr. Montoya.” I knew his name. His first name. It was Elijah. But I almost always called him Mr. Montoya. I was worried I’d call him Elijah accidentally in front of someone. Anyone really.

Because no-one could know about us.

He was one of my teachers. Physics. And what we were about to do was going to get very physical. The sort of physical that a teacher shouldn’t get with his student.

“What is it, Miss Wong?” He called me Miss Wong in class. He called me Miss Wong when we were making love, sometimes, but only when he wanted to tease me, because he would never call me Krystina by accident. His voice was soft, teasing me, and now his thumbs teased me too, brushing my sex, lightly caressed my slippery sex lips, parting me, teasing me, drawing my wetness from me to flow out onto my inner thighs.

“What is it, Miss Wong?” he asked again and I moaned again, wordlessly, wanting him inside me. Wanting him to fuck me and unable to express it.

“Oh please… please … I can’t stand it,” I was almost sobbing with my need and my desire. I wanted him inside me, deep inside me, filling me and moving in me. I was enjoying what he was doing, I knew he was enjoying this too but I needed more. He liked to make me wait until I begged and pleaded with him, and I knew his cock was ready for me, rigidly erect, ready to take me at any time, and I was ready to be taken. I wanted him to take me. Badly. Right now.

His thumbs caressed my lips, my wetness flooding and slippery, his thumbs parting me, peeling me open, and he knew what he was doing to me. He knew me so well, knew my body, knew what excited me, and I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him, but he was holding back, his anticipation building and he had so much more self control than I did, because I had none. Not when I was with Elijah.

“Ohhhhh… ohhhhhh… ohhhh.” I whimpered softly with every breath, my body at once tense with anticipation and limp with excitement.

“Ohhhhhhhh.” His thumbs peeled my lips wide open, and something touched me. Something big, and I knew it was the head of his cock. His swollen cockhead, large, plum-sized, and I’d thought he was huge those first few times. Now? Now he was perfect for me. Large, yes, stretching me, yes, but not too large, just right and I loved the way he stretched me around him as he entered me and slid up thickly inside me.

“Oooooooh.” I moaned as he pushed lightly, his cockhead pushing inwards between my labia, pushing against my entrance, easing back, pushing again. Teasing, not demanding and shivers of delight ran through me, that gentle sliding pressure filling me with desire, with need, with want and there was nothing I wanted more than to experience his cock sliding relentlessly up inside me to fill my sex.

“Please,” I breathed. “Oh please, Mr. Montoya… do it to me now. I can’t wait.”

“You’re mine, Krystina,” he breathed, and his voice was different, almost desperate. “You’re mine and I want to take you hard today.”

“Okay,” I moaned. Gentle. Hard. Over his desk. On the floor. Hanging from the ceiling. I’d do it anyway he wanted me to. Any way at all. All he had to do was tell me.

“I’m Esat Escort yours, Elijah,” I gasped, knowing I was. I was his. Completely.

“You’re mine, Krystina,” he said again, telling me what we both knew, and his cockhead was there, against my entrance, and he pushed, not roughly, but irresistibly, his cockhead stretching me and opening me. My body surrendered to him, as it always did now, and he was inside me, my entrance circling his shaft below the glans, my sex accepting his cockhead, feeling him inside me, swollen, large, hard, pressing thickly against my channel walls.

“Uuuuhhhhh.” I tensed, hands clenched into fists, back arching, eyes wide and my boobs quivered as he thrust hard. His hands gripped my hips, his body forced mine up against his desk as his cock drove into me and that rigid shaft surged deep up inside me, stretching me around him for the first time that afternoon, that was such exquisite pleasure. That first thrust was such exquisite surrender, and I shuddered rapturously, trapped between the edge of his desk and his body as he slapped up hard against me.

Filling me with his length, stuffing me full.

“Aaaahhhhhh,” I sobbed, as he pulled back and thrust in again. Hard, and he gave me everything, not stopping until he was pressed up hard against me and I was pressed up hard against his desk. “Aaahhhhhh.”

“Too hard?” he grunted.

“Don’t stop,” I pleaded. Too hard? Yes, too hard, but I didn’t care. As long as Mr. Montoya was fucking me, he could do me anyway he liked. Hard. Gentle. Over his desk. On the floor. In between. Any way at all.

He didn’t stop. He didn’t slow. He didn’t pause. He fucked me. He fucked me hard now, his cock thrusting and plunging into me, stretching my channel around his cockhead, massaging my channel with his movements, and my sex squeezed down on him, squeezed down on his cockhead and his shaft as he rammed himself into me, pressing deep with every thrust, while his hands gripped my hips and forced me to move for him as he wished.

“Fuck me, Mr. Montoya,” I gasped, jarred against the edge of the desk with every plunging penetration, and his thighs pushed my thighs wider apart so that I was almost lying on his desk as he filled me. “Fuck me hard… make me scream.”

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, pushing deep and now he held himself high inside me and I squeezed him with my sex, sobbing.

“Krystina… Krystina…” He was driving into me again, long hard strokes and I felt every inch of him sliding in and out. Easing outwards until only his cockhead was inside me, ramming inwards until he was pressed up against me, his thighs forcing mine apart as he forced himself into me. Deep. So deep. So good.

“Use me,” I sobbed. “Use me.” Bent over his desk, helpless, his cock ramrodding into me, I was his to use and I wanted him to use me. Before he’d first taken me, I’d never imagined sex was like this. So good, so exciting, so wonderful. So exquisitely pleasurable to surrender myself. Such pleasure in experiencing a man’s rigid cock within my body, an intimate surrender of myself. Such exquisite delight to be taken and used like this by a man, and it was Mr. Montoya who’d brought me this knowledge, this awareness of myself.

He’d taught me everything.

His hands left my hips, moved under me to cup my breasts, lift me a little and now I wasn’t supporting myself at all, I was hanging in his arms like a rag doll as he fucked me. His fingers found my nipples, worked on them, brushing, squeezing, rubbing and the pleasure jumped from exquisite to completely unbearable.

“Aaaahhhhhhhh,” I cried out as he humped himself hard into me and I wasn’t standing anymore. I was hanging off the edge of the desk, my feet flying with every single one of his thrusts and his hands held me. My hands scrabbled helplessly at the surface of the desk and my head hung down. Looking down, I could see his cock surging into me, thick and hard, blue veins on the surface, my lips spread tight around him and his girth, the way he fitted into me, that never ceased to amaze me.

“Uuuggghhhhh.” In me. All of him in me and he was easing out and I watched, hanging in his arms. He held me easily and I loved his strength and his size. He was five foot six, stocky, two hundred pounds of muscle, without any fat on him. I was five foot one, one hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, slender, not quite tiny in his arms but I always felt like a doll. Right now, I was a doll, a little Chinese rag doll, hanging in his hands.

“Nnnnuugghhhh.” Oh god. Again, and I watched, I felt. I felt him inside me, surging inwards, my channel walls massaging his cockhead as he slid upwards, my channel walls clasping his shaft as he buried himself to the balls inside me and I felt so full, so complete.

“You okay, Krystina?” he groaned.

“You’re so big in me,” I gasped. “I can feel you all the way up inside me.” Every time, and I loved that feeling. I’d loved that feeling from the very first time he took me.

“God, I want to fuck you forever,” he grunted, his thrusts long and slow now, not as hard. “Can you lean over the desk again?”

“Yes,” I gasped, as he lowered me and I did, bracing myself on my forearms as his hands returned to my hips and I knew what he wanted. I knew what he was going to do.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32