My Nasty Little Secret

I had forgotten all about Mr. Crenshaw when I got a phone call from a number I didn't recognize. It was from a number that bore the area code for my home town. I decided to grab the call, even though I was in the middle of one of my college classes. I tried my best to make it out the door before I said, "hello."

"Is this Christina Reina?" a male voice asked me. I couldn't place it, but I knew that voice from somewhere.

"Yes..." I answered tentatively.

"This is Shawn Crenshaw, your former biology teacher. Do you remember me?" he asked smoothly.

"Um...yeah. What can I do for you?" I was a bit weirded out. Why would my high school teacher be calling me now? It had been almost two years since I had been in his class as a junior. Now I was in college, and I wanted nothing to do with high school or my home town.

"I was hoping that maybe you could come back in to talk to my classes about your college experience. I don't know if you remember how I had people come in to talk to you when you were in my class. You got into a good school if I recall correctly, and I think you could really help the students looking to go to school, maybe get some of the ones on the fence to choose to go to college."

"Um...well, I think I will be home for a weekend in March," I said, silently cursing myself for playing into Mr. Crenshaw's hand. He hadn't been my favorite teacher, but he wasn't the worst one I'd had. I was sort of flattered that he had chosen me from the long list of former students he could have chosen.

"That would be great. Just let me know when you'll be in town, and I will make sure to set aside some class time for you to speak. I have five classes, so you'll have to give your speech 5 times."

"Speech?" I felt my throat tightening up as I realized that I was going to have to get up in front of a bunch of high school kids and talk.

"Yeah, maybe tell them about your high school experience and how it led you to the college you are going to. Just be honest. You don't need to prepare a speech. Just tell them as if you are telling a friend about your experience. "Don't worry, I can compensate you for your time."

"Oh?" I asked. I was about to do it for free, too.

"Yeah, I can take you out for dinner afterward to thank you. I'd buy you a drink too, but you're not twenty-one yet, are you?" Now, this was interesting. I was pretty sure I could hear flirtation in his voice. I perked up a bit. Was my old teacher really flirting with me? It didn't matter. He had me at "dinner." It had been ages since I'd been out to eat at a restaurant. Money was tight for me, and I was the quintessential starving college student.

"I'm not quite old enough to drink yet, but dinner sounds great," I told Mr. Crenshaw.

March came rather quickly, and I had almost forgotten about my promise to Mr. Crenshaw. He called and texted me until I answered and reminded me. The drive back to my home town was beautiful, actually. It gave me time to think and reflect on my time as a student at Hoffman High School. By the time I arrived, I was ready to give my speech, which I had been rehearsing for almost a week, despite Mr. Crenshaw telling me to just wing it.

"Christina!" Mr. Crenshaw greeted me with delight. He introduced me to his class, and I began my speech. I told the wide-eyed students about what it was really like in college and how it was different from when I had been in high school.

"Remember to enjoy what you have now. You've got it made. College is hard, and being an adult is hard," I warned them as the bell rang, and the students began to file out, and the new class began to make their way in.

"That was really good. You're an amazing public speaker," he praised me.

"Thanks," I blushed a bit. Mr. Crenshaw had lost some weight since I'd last seen him, and I could tell that he had put some effort into his appearance that he hadn't bothered with when I was his student. He actually looked handsome, something I would never have said about him when I was his student.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted, and the thought of getting a delicious dinner was the main thing on my mind. It had been so long since I'd eaten out at an actual restaurant that didn't have a drive-thru. I could almost taste mashed potatoes and steak in my mouth, which I'd been craving all day.

"So, where would you like to go to dinner, Christina?" Mr. Crenshaw asked me.

"Is Silver's still around?" I asked. Silver's was a small steakhouse that was family-owned and not too pricey for what it was.

"You craving some meat?" he asked, and something about the way he said the word "meat" made my arms break out into chills.

"Yes! I haven't had a steak since I started college!" I said dramatically as he locked the door to the classroom.

"Let's take my truck. I can bring you back to grab your car later," he assured me, and so I agreed.

Silver's was crowded, and so Mr. Crenshaw went to go get us some drinks at the bar. When he came back with two Mai Tais, I was shocked.

"You know I can't drink!" I giggled.

"I won't tell if you won't," he handed me the drink and raised his glass in a toast.

"To steak dinners!" he laughed.

"To steak dinners!" I agreed as we clinked glasses, and I began to drink. I was already drunk by the time we got to the table. After I ordered, I realized that I was getting sloppy. My elbows were on the table, and I was slumped over, exhausted, and also horny. Mr. Crenshaw was looking better than I remembered him. In fact, he was looking downright hot. I reached down and adjusted the black slacks I had chosen to wear because they looked professional. I was shocked to find them damp between the legs. Was I turned on? Did I want to have sex with my old high school teacher?

Things were getting blurry, and Mr. Crenshaw was telling me a story when I suddenly blurted out something I didn't mean to say out loud.

"I'm horny!" I interrupted him. He paused, confusion spreading over his features.

"That drink really got to you, eh?" he laughed. "Should we order more?"

"No, no. I'm good."

"Why don't you take off those uncomfortable heels you're wearing and stick your foot up here so I can rub it. You've been standing all day. You need to relax," he encouraged me.

I looked around and found everyone was busy minding their own business and so I did what he asked. I lifted my foot up and stuck it in his hands. He began to knead my feet with his hands, and it felt so good in the drunken state I was in that I could barely breathe. I tried my best not to moan and to ignore the way my foot was resting on his hard dick. He was pushing his cock against my foot as he rubbed, and it felt so good that I didn't dare say anything. I let it happen right there in the middle of the restaurant.

"Here are your steaks!" the waitress announced as she set our plates down.

"Thank you," Mr. Crenshaw said in a surprisingly composed voice.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked, her auburn hair pinned up into an old 50′s style.

"I think we're good," Mr. Crenshaw smiled widely at the waitress, and I felt a pang of jealousy and protectiveness. I was in shock. I wanted to fuck Mr. Crenshaw.

"Mr. Crenshaw?" I asked when the waitress had left.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever had sex with a former student?" As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I looked down, concentrating on cutting my steak. He said nothing because he was in the middle of chewing a bite of steak. In the awkward silence, I heard myself add, "Because I am hungry for meat, and this steak isn't nearly enough."

"Wait. What?" Mr. Crenshaw asked and then gave a hearty laugh. "You have a good sense of humor. I like that, Christina. You know you don't have to call me Mr. Crenshaw anymore. Why don't you call me Shawn?"

"Okay, Shawn," I giggled, my drunkenness taking over me. The waitress came back with two additional Mai Tais that I hadn't heard Mr. Crenshaw order.

"Oh, I didn't order this!" I protested.

"I ordered it for you," Mr. Crenshaw explained. "While I was still at the bar. I knew you'd want another one. I don't think meat is the only thing you're hungry for." The sexiness in his voice was so tempting. I wanted him, and I wasn't quite sure if he was trying to fuck me or just being kind to me. I couldn't stand it. Why hadn't he flirted with me more? Why hadn't he made more of a move yet? I put my foot back up on his lap and made sure that it was touching his cock. It was hard, and I was horny. In fact, I had never been this horny before in my life, not with my boyfriends, not with older men and certainly not with my teachers. I couldn't fight it, though. I just wanted sex, and Mr. Crenshaw was in front of me with a hard cock. I wished that we weren't out to eat and that we were somewhere where I could take what I needed from him.

By the time we made it out of Silver's and back into Mr. Crenshaw's truck, I knew what I wanted. I climbed into the passenger seat, and my hand immediately reached toward his dick. He looked down at my hand and then at me. Our eyes locked, and we leaned in until we were kissing. It was a slow, soft kiss at first, but it quickly turned carnal, with full tongue-swapping and that desperation to be fucked that only alcohol can induce.

"I want to fuck you!" I announced as if my actions hadn't already told the story.

"I want you too, Christina. I've always wanted you, but I couldn't because you were too young."

"You wanted me in high school?"

"Yes. You're so beautiful and smart. I just wanted to see that mouth wrapped around my dick." He pulled his pants and underwear off, revealing a very sleek dick. He grabbed me by the head and pushed me toward his cock. I was a bit shocked, but I opened my mouth and let Mr. Crenshaw fuck my face. He wasn't too aggressive at first, but within minutes he was fucking my throat violently, so violently that I almost threw up.

"Hey! Not so rough!"

"Sorry, you just bring out something dark in me, Christina." We kissed again. This time he helped me out of my slacks and panties, then parted my legs and dove down between them to eat my pussy. "I want to taste you," he moaned as his tongue flicked over my clit and expertly worked me until I was cumming. I screamed wildly, the truck windows fogging up from the heat.

"I want you inside me," I begged him, and I couldn't help but sound desperate. I was desperate. I was so horny that I couldn't stop myself from getting on top of him. I slid my pussy down onto his thickness and let out a sultry, surprised moan as he filled my insides.

I moved slowly at first, grinding my pussy against his cock in ways that satisfied me and made me feel good. My inhibitions were gone. All that was left was the carnal creature that had been lurking deep inside of me, the one who craved and wanted sex. I wasn't generally like this, but on that night I fucked Mr. Crenshaw like a slut. I took what I wanted and needed as I made myself cum again and again. I rode him until I couldn't go on. I was exhausted as I looked down at Mr. Crenshaw. He looked like he was enjoying himself as I came to a stop.

"Your turn to fuck me now," I explained.

"How about doggy style? I think we can manage it here, don't you?"

"Yeah! Sounds good," I agreed as we arranged ourselves the best we could in the extended cab part of his truck. He pushed his cock into me from behind as I let out a little yelp of pleasure.

"Your pussy is even tighter than I imagined," he informed me, fucking me slowly at first until I was more opened up and ready to take all of his dick. He was bigger than I could handle, but I didn't say anything as he forced his full length inside of me. He had hit bottom, and he was moving faster and fucking me harder than I had ever been fucked before. I hadn't had too many partners, not as many as most of my girlfriends. I'd been with maybe ten different guys, but none of them had been long-term. I wasn't all that experienced, and I had no idea if other men fucked the way that Mr. Crenshaw was fucking me. I had no way of knowing if he was brutalizing me beyond repair or if this was simply the way most older men fucked.

I couldn't control my screaming. It sounded far away like it was coming from someone else, but I somehow knew it was me. I knew that Mr. Crenshaw was taking me way past my comfort zone. I felt like I was going to explode, the pressure building and building until I wondered if it could possibly build any more. I let out an ear-piercing scream as I finally found my release. No orgasm had ever been so big. No sex had ever been so good. My screams continued as my pussy clenched and relaxed, spasming beyond my control.

I could hear Mr. Crenshaw cumming inside of me. I hadn't told him not to. I hadn't insisted that he wear a condom. I was still drunk, I realized as he pulled his cock from me. I couldn't move. I remained crouched on his back seat, not sure if I would ever be the same again.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Crenshaw asked.

"I'm okay," I squeaked in a weird, little voice that didn't sound like me. I was breathless, and it felt like I couldn't get enough oxygen in my lungs.

"Can I drive you back to your car now? I've got to get home. My wife is texting me," he explained.

"Your wife?" I sat up quickly, realizing what I had just done. I had just fucked another woman's husband. A cold chill settled over me, and I grabbed my panties and slacks, which were bunched up on the front seat.

"Yes, you know I'm married with two kids. Don't you remember?"

"I...I mean, I knew that, but I guess I was so drunk I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah, same here."

We climbed up into the front seat, and he drove me to my car in silence. When we reached the school parking lot, where my car sat by itself, he turned to me.

"Thank you for coming, Christina. It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome."

"So, are you going to be in town for a little bit? I'd like to see you again."

"But your wife!" I protested.

"I've been cheating on her for years, Christina. You're the one I want."

"I am?"

"Yes, you're young and beautiful. Your pussy is so tight and perfect. It's up to you, though. If you're horny while you're here, let me know. I'd love to help."

"Okay, I'll think about it," I told him as we said an awkward goodbye. I hopped in my car and headed to my parent's house, where I would be staying for the weekend. I wanted to be a good person and not see Mr. Crenshaw again, but I was already feeling weak. No man had ever made me feel the way that he made me feel. I couldn't help wanting more. I texted him that night.

"I want you again," I texted.

"I want you too," he texted back.

Before I knew it, he was in my parents' driveway at three in the morning, fucking me in the backseat. We fucked all weekend, whenever we could. By the time I was back at school, I just wanted to return home and fuck Mr. Crenshaw some more. I tried fucking other guys, but college guys suck. They don't know how to fuck like a man. They couldn't satisfy me the way Mr. Crenshaw did. I started driving home to get Mr. Crenshaw's dick on the weekends.

My parents were happy that I was coming home to visit so much, and I was delighted to be getting the best dick of my life. The only problem was that Mr. Crenshaw was married and it didn't sit well with me. I knew that I should do the right thing and end things with him, but my pussy had other ideas. My pussy wanted what she wanted and what she wanted was my old teacher.

If someone had told me while I was in high school that I would later have the best sex of my life with my teacher, Mr. Crenshaw, I would have thought they were insane. I was living a life of insanity, letting him fuck me hard and put me away wet. I was the other woman, and it was my nasty, little secret.