My name is Veronica and I'm a senior in high school. I turned 18 today, which means that I'm finally a woman. I'm not that tall (just a little over 5 feet), with long brown hair and brown eyes. I'm slim but slightly athletic. My boobs are bigger than some of the other girls my age—milky white with puffy pink nipples. As it turns out, I have long, slender fingers and plump lips that like to wrap around hard cocks. Well, at least one cock so far...
I started my first morning as a woman by sucking Daddy's big dick. My throat was still a little tender and my voice was a bit husky from the abuse it took taking Daddy's cock deep in my throat. Oh, but it was worth it! Daddy's dick was beautiful! I loved the way it felt when he pounded the head against the back of my throat—and how my cheeks sucked in and puffed out as he thrust his baby-maker in my mouth. My nipples hardened just thinking about it. My virgin pussy quivered. Oh, boy. I can't wait to take on more womanly responsibility!
I couldn't wait for the school day to be over so I could see if my daddy needed anything else. My mom always said it was a woman's responsibility to fulfill a man's needs. Keep their bellies full and their balls empty. That's how to keep a man happy, she used to explain. And if they ask you for anything—ANYTHING—it is your responsibility to obey. So, I learned how to cook and bake from an early age. Now, I'm old enough for part 2.
My pussy ached thinking about Daddy. I just couldn't focus in math class. It was the last class of the day, so I was just counting the minutes until I could go home. Mr. Martin, my math teacher, was a tall, heavy man. His frumpy brown slacks, big in the waist, sagged loosely around his legs. His blue dress shirt was only partially tucked in and showed the remnants of his lunch. His large-framed glasses kept sliding down his face and he repeatedly pushed them up with his pudgy fingers. While his somewhat shaggy brown hair was kept neat, it was obvious that he wasn't particularly well groomed. I imagined that there were no women fulfilling his needs. I felt sorry for him. I thought about how full his balls must be. I thought about how his fat sausage fingers longed to grope young, supple breasts and how his dick would grow wrapped with warm, obedient fingers. I thought about how his hard cock would stretch a small, wet mouth and how his hot his cum would feel against soft, milky skin. I bit my lip and squirmed in my seat. I thought about how much poor neglected Mr. Martin needed a real woman to make him happy—if even for just the afternoon.
He was rambling on about variables and axis, but all I heard was, "Blow me, Veronica. My fat dick needs you. Milk it good. I'm a man and you're a woman. Do your job, dammit! My ball sack is waiting for your soft mouth. I want to shoot my load all over those puffy pink nipples."
The bell rang and everyone filed out of the classroom. The only thing I had accomplished the whole time I was in math class was drawing a dick in my notebook and getting very, very horny. Mr. Martin was standing at the blackboard erasing the example equations. I walked up beside him.
"Mr. Martin, I'm having trouble with these equations. I just can't seem to grasp what you're teaching," I said. Mr. Martin cleared his throat and shifted his weight from foot to foot. I knew by the way Mr. Martin licked his lips and stared at my breasts that I had been right: he was definitely in need. And as a woman, it was my job to comply. I took a step closer. I knew the teacher-student relationship was frowned upon, but I was an adult and Mr. Martin's needs must come first. "Mr. Martin. I might not be able to grasp what we're learning in class," I said, hooking a finger into the waist of my teacher's slacks, "But I think there's something else you need me to grasp. Am I right, Mr. Martin?"
I looked up, coyly, into Mr. Martin's dark eyes. He looked nervous and wild. "Wh-what are you doing, Veronica? This is, uh, inappropriate." Mr. Martin's rolled his tongue in his mouth.
"Mr. Martin, I'm 18 now. It's okay. I'm a woman and it's my job to make sure you're taken care of. Now, relax," I said, as I rubbed the bulge in his pants. He moaned and closed his eyes, loosing himself for a second while my fingers ran up and down his package.
