Tasting Candy

by Candy Quinn

  Of course… she had reason for that: school was where the boys were. Where the men loomed over them all.

  Mr. Hawthorne closed the door to the classroom, shutting out the noise in the hall before he turned and made his way back towards her.

  He was her favourite teacher, for obvious reasons. So big and tall, a fit man who worked out on his lunch breaks, he had a great sense of style to boot. Always in nice European-cut pants, with rich shirts undone a couple buttons, and a shiny vest atop that. Sometimes a fetching blazer.

  He wore glasses, but he made them look good, with his thick, luxurious golden hair framing his face. He was twice her age, but always reminded her of the father she’d not had since she was but a little girl.

  “Brittany,” he said, in that smooth, masculine voice of his as he sat down on the edge of his desk and brought his emerald gaze to bear upon her. “You’re not about to pass your exams without help, are you?” That authoritative voice challenged her to defy his logic.

  And, of course, she couldn’t. Her blue eyes glimmered for a moment before she tried to hide them from him under the long, dark lashes. She wore plenty of mascara to make up for just how fair they usually were, with her natural blonde hair and porcelain skin. She’d tried to tan, but all it had done was given her a cute brush of freckles across her nose and cheeks that she hid with concealer and powder and blush.

  Still, they were mildly visible under the harsh glare of the school lights.

  “I’ve been studyin’ really hard,” she replied, batting her eyes at him flirtatiously. “I just have a lot on my mind distracting me.”

  “Studying?” he said questioningly, sounding surprised with her, his full lips shifting into an amused grin. He reached out, his long fingers sliding over her cheek before his large palm cupped it. “Why are you wasting time at that, hun?” he said, his glittering eyes studying her, admiring her beauty. “We both know you’re not the kind of girl made for that sorta work, don’t we?”

  She bit in her lower lip, tasting the vanilla lip gloss she loved, and held his gaze. She played a bit shy, but only because she knew it got to him.

  She drew in a large breath, her silver chain sparkled along her collarbone, the delicate cross hanging lower beneath the cusp of her white blouse.

  “What else am I supposed to do at night, when you’re home with a family and responsibilities?”

  He gave her a crooked smile as his thumb traced along her lips, feeling the thick lower one softly as he admired her beautiful features. Wetting his own mouth with his moist tongue, he said, “Now, Brittany, I’m separated, but that’s not the point of this talk…” he remarked, growing increasingly enraptured with her by the moment, she could feel it. One thing she did know, just instinctually, was men. “We could come to an arrangement for me to get you a passing grade, but what good would that do you, huh? You’d only bomb your other courses, right?”

  She paused for a moment before reluctantly nodding. “Probably.”

  He was so near to her, she could smell some soft, woody aroma from him, and she leaned in to inhale him deeper into her. Just as instinctually as she knew men, she lusted for them. Was desperate for them.

  Him in particular.

  He gave her a gentle, tender sort of smile as he continued to softly stroke her cheek, letting his fingertips graze back over her ear and hair. “I knew your mom way back when,” he remarked off-handedly. “You’re a lot like her. Bet you’re just as man crazy as she was, huh?” he said with a bit of a wry grin forming. “You’re much prettier than she ever was though.” His voice grew progressively deeper and sexier as he spoke and she licked her lower lip hungrily.

  “She and I don’t talk much about that stuff,” Brittany admitted, but she quickly started remembering the comments her mother had made over the years and it all started falling into place. Her lips curved upwards and her cheeks dimpled in such a complimentary manner, a bit smug with the favourable comparison.

  “Take my word for it then,” he said in that husky, paternal voice of his laced with that added layer of lust. “Now, Brittany. Knowing who your mom is, and watching you very closely every day in class”—and the look he gave her said it all, truly—“I could offer to give you a passing grade if you agree to get down and suck my cock.” He let that hang a moment as he studied her reaction. “Or…”

  He trailed off there, his fingers curling in her hair and giving just the slightest hint of a tug on the blonde strands.

  Her lip trembled at his... request? Demand? It didn’t matter. Her stomach still flipped and she squeezed her thighs together beneath her navy-blue skirt.

  She was a fairly thin woman, yet she’d been blessed with an ample bottom and full chest that threatened to make the buttons on her blouse pop open at any moment. Her breath caught again and they rose even higher, so deliciously near to his hand, begging to be touched.

  “Or?”

  He gave her an approving little smile, and his fingers uncurled from her hair as he leaned forward, his masculine musk so clear and pleasant to her as he neared her. He filled his suit so well, she noted, looking so professional yet stunning as he trailed the backs of his fingers along her collarbone and grazed along her breast flesh. “Or you can forget this silly learning nonsense, and focus on what you were made for, darling. You can come over to my place after class, accept you’re gonna be a high school dropout, and I’ll teach you what you really need to know to survive in the world. How about that, hm?”

  “Oh god.”

  The words slipped out of her throat, so breathy and raw and instinctual, filled with such longing. As if he’d plucked from thin air just what she needed to hear, and her legs squeezed tight again, her pussy throbbing against her panties.

  Her throat felt so raw and her stomach was twisted with her emotions.

  She wanted that.

  “But my mom will be so upset,” Brittany managed in protest, but her smoldering gaze dared him to tell her she was wrong.

  WIth a shrug of his shoulders he said, “So what? You’re eighteen now. High school’s behind you, and you can do what you want. Besides” —he gave her a cocky, knowing grin— “she did it when she was even younger than you. I should know, I advised her to do the same back then.”

  His thumb trailed along her lower lip, pushing the moist morsel down as he leaned in close to her, those green eyes of his seeming fiery with desire. “If it’ll ease your mind, after you come stay with me, I’ll go over and calm her down some. How’s that sound?”

  She swiped her tongue along the salty, textured pad of his thumb, staring at him intensely.

  Regardless of what transpired in this classroom, she knew that she would flunk out before the year was through.

  And she wanted him so bad.

  With his thumb still between her full lips, she murmured, “Promise?”

  She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, seeing and feeling her taste his digit exciting him even further. “Promise,” he said, smoothly withdrawing his hand to reach behind him and grab a notepad. He jotted something on it then handed it to her. “Here’s instructions to my place. Nice and detailed. Can’t be seen giving you a ride home yet, doll, so you come on over after class and I’ll start teaching you the only stuff that’ll ever matter to you.”

  He stood up then, dangling that piece of paper before her, a commanding look on his face that said it was no longer an option. The choice was made.

  She grabbed for it eagerly.

  Brittany never went home, but straight to his place, following the directions on his note.

  It led her to a quiet neighbourhood, and then right up to his house, which was a lovely place. It was a bit nicer than a teacher typically had, but then he had a wife before, seperated now, so it must’ve been bought then.

  His car was in the driveway, and she recognized it immediately. It was a nice, silver Lexus that looked only a couple years old.

  Heading on up to the door, she rang the bell. She was a bit nerv
ous, she had to admit. She’d never done anything quite like this, though she had thought about it so often. Fantasized about following him home one night or hiding away in his backseat, just waiting to pounce on him in private.

  She’d fixed up her lipstick and straightened her skirt, but still she stood in those Mary Janes, the navy skirt that just grazed her white knee high-stockings, and her pressed white blouse. She knew it showed off the red, lacy bra beneath if anyone stared hard enough, and it always made her wet to think about.

  To know that the boys and men around her were going to their rooms with the teasing glimpses of her cleavage and thighs on their mind.

  It felt like an eternity, but a few moments later he appeared there before her, opening up the door and welcoming her in.

  “Come on in, babe,” he said to her with such a casual air of confident control, gesturing her up the stairs to his living room. His home was well furnished inside, the living room nice and big with a bar on one end. She noted his sleeves were pulled back, showing his thick, bulging forearms, the veins protruding prominently.

  She nearly stumbled as she stared, but forced her way up, slowly.

  She knew what he could see if he followed just the right distance behind. Those little flashes of milky flesh, so tender and ripe.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne.”

  He never corrected her, never told her to call him anything else, but after staring up her skirt at the round swells of her ass cheeks as she climbed those stairs, he then very casually placed his hand upon her hip. “I’ll get you a drink,” he said, his strong fingers sliding down over the curve of her rear and giving her backside a squeeze.

  She didn’t bother suppressing her moan.

  It was a slow, purposeful gesture, and he then walked over to the bar, taking out some vodka and a few other drinks as he went about mixing something for her. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing around the room, with its two large, plush sofas around a beautiful fireplace and TV; it was obviously meant for entertaining a large crowd.

  “Oh, the parties I could have here,” she said appreciatively, walking towards one of the couches and taking a seat, crossing her legs at the knee, and staring at him. It was almost like she was seeing him for the first time, her eyes traveling up his body with slow, steady purpose.

  She popped open one of the buttons on the top of her blouse, revealing more of that hidden cross as it teased between her cleavage.

  As he mixed their drinks he looked across the room at her, a wry smile upon his face. “There’ll be plenty of parties here, Brittany, and you’ll be here for ’em all from now on.” He was so purposeful and matter-of-fact about it, even as his words dripped with heavy sexual meaning. “Your mom used to be a real party girl too. Wasn’t how I met her, but it was how I got to know her way back when.”

  Brittany couldn’t help but feel a bit curious, and almost relieved, to hear him say that. It was comforting to know that she wasn’t... broken. She’d always looked up to her mom. She always worked hard, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye.

  Still, she found it a bit odd for her teacher to be talking about her mother in such a... sexual setting.

  “Are you still close?”

  He finished fixing the drinks, pouring a couple White Russians for them before heading over to the sofa with her. “Not as close as you and I are gonna get, Brittany,” he said in a low voice, handing her the drink as he slipped down beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders. He was closer than he’d ever been with her, his hard body pressed up beside her, really accentuating just how much bigger the man was than her.

  Leaning in, he inhaled her feminine scent and smiled. “Everything about you is just fuckin’ beautiful, doll.”

  She loved the constant barrage of familiar nicknames, the feel of him... lusting for her. Wanting her.

  And yet she knew she wasn’t the one in control. She wasn’t the one calling the shots.

  He was.

  She licked her lower lip before sipping the creamy liqueur, her eyelids fluttering pleasurably. “I never thought this is where I’d be tonight. Or any night.”

  He took a sip of his own drink then laid the glass down on a coaster on the coffee table before reaching over and resting his hand upon her knee. “Never?” he questioned her, as if doubting her. Those strong fingers of his rubbing over her inner thigh as he moved from her knee. “I guess imagination’s not your forte, doll. It’s okay,” he said soothingly, smiling fondly at her.

  She smirked back at him, already feeling the effects of the alcohol. Or, more likely, her youthful idea of the effects of the alcohol, combined with her own burning lust.

  “I said I never thought this is where I’d be. Not that I didn’t want it.”

  Some music seemed to start playing all of its own accord, or perhaps Brittany didn’t notice him start it up. The rhythm of it starting off smooth and getting rather lively before long, though she didn’t recognize it at all.

  “You know, I’ve been waiting for this day to come for quite some time, doll,” he said in his deep voice, rubbing her shoulder and along her thigh as he edged his fingers beneath her skirt. “Watched you grow up. Saw the telltale signs that you were becoming such a little sex bomb all the time.” He gave a big, broad smile. “I don’t think you could’ve turned out any more promising.”

  She uncrossed her legs and her knees pressed together, that throbbing of her pussy nearly driving her mad as she drank more of the White Russian. It was nerves. She knew it was. Her stomach was flipping and dancing unlike it ever had before, and she was feeling so damned hot.

  “Oh?” she practically stammered, and cursed herself for not being better at keeping herself calm and collected. Uncaring of her teacher’s desire for her.

  He tilted his head, his thick blonde hair spilling to the side as he smiled at her. “Yeah, that’s right. I was looking out for you even if you didn’t notice it as such,” he explained, his hand squeezing her leg as he moved in so daringly close to her feminine heat, forcibly prying her thighs apart enough to graze over her panties. “You’re a very special woman, Brittany. A beautiful little airheaded bimbo,” he said, as if it were the highest compliment.

  “Oh god,” she pleaded again, her head tilting back and her long, straight hair spilling over the cushion on the back of the sofa. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, and when he touched her, she barely knew what to do with herself. Her hands shook as she brought the rest of the drink into her mouth, eager for the creamy coolness to ease the scorching heat, but it only inflamed her more.

  Mr. Hawthorne leaned over her, his mouth finding her neck and kissing upon her smooth, pale skin as his hand crept up to rub over her panties. His long finger tracing the outline of her slit as he kissed and suckled her neck up towards her ear, where he nibbled her lobe.

  She could hear his rising breathing, and his low, lust-laden voice so quiet yet right there against her. “You’re a walking, talking dickteaser in the flesh,” he husked as he felt her dampness through her panties. “You’re pure sex, and you’ve got no room in that head for anything else, just like you should be.”

  Brittany made a small noise, but it was incoherent. Halfway between a moan and a protest, her hips writhed against him of their own volition.

  Her teacher was touching her.

  Mr. Hawthorne was touching her.

  Kissing her.

  Purring in her ear.

  She was putty in his hands as she put the glass on the end table, her body pressed to his eagerly.

  He was so different from the way he acted during class, that warm, knowledgeable veneer replaced with bawdy talk and lewd touches. This was the man in his own home, acting with her as he truly wanted to, she realized.

  The handsome, dashing man she had a crush on for so long feeling her up, pressing his long, powerful fingers into the cleft of her womanhood. Prying those well-trimmed digits in under her panties and tugging them aside so he could touch her slit bare, with
nothing between them. He gave such an expert little swirl of his fingers around her sensitive clit and stoked her excitement so high.

  “You were always an obedient girl, weren’t ya, Brittany? Just never so good at the follow-through on all that boring schoolwork,” he said in a low, lusty voice, eying her so hungrily.

  She was squirming against him without even realizing, her body needing him so badly. Wanting for him so badly.

  Her lithe thighs parted and she pulled back from him to stare at him with her bedroom eyes, her lips partially parted. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she moaned, and begged for him to tell her she was wrong. Her back arched, her chest lifted, and she pushed herself towards him, her arms wrapping around his neck.

  “Shhh.” He hushed her softly as he continued to tease and excite her, kissing along her jaw towards her pouty lips where he licked and sucked those luscious morsels. “You leave the thinking to me, doll,” he said quite firmly.

  He pulled from her, despite her attempts to get nearer to him. Lifting those cunny-slick fingers to his lips he licked and tasted them, his eyes fluttering nearly shut as he seemed to revel in her flavour. “Mm, be a good slut and get down on your hands and knees,” he commanded sternly.

  Her stomach twisted, but she knew she wouldn’t disobey. She couldn’t. The way he was looking at her was driving her crazy and she whimpered as she leaned closer to him. But she knew that wouldn’t be good enough, that she couldn’t beg her way back into his lap and arms.

  So she did what every good girl should.

  She crawled off the couch and her navy skirt fluttered around her thighs as her knees pressed against the hard floor. Staring up at him beneath those dark lashes, she inhaled deeply and awaited his instructions.

  That strong jaw of his squared off in a satisfied grin as he watched her fall to her knees so obediently, and he got up from the couch, straightening his vest as he lowered himself down behind her on one knee. Very casually he reached out, hooked his fingers upon her pleated skirt, and lifted it up, revealing the smooth, round cheeks beneath.