Chapter 8 - Field Trip

The better you've been, the easier it is to get away with being bad when you finally snap. My father accepted my story without hesitation; he signed the fake release form and even gave me a bit of spending money for my trip. I was offered the usual platitudes, with both my mother and father praising my academic performance and letting me know just how proud I made them. There was a time in my life that those words were all I needed to be satisfied. All I craved was a pat on the head, and the reassurance that I was a good daughter, a good student, a good person. I would preen and beam from the slightest bit of praise from my parents, and in turn they would be careful not to give it unless I had truly earned it. My parents were not cruel nor were they particularly strict; but they believed in giving praise and trust only when it had been earned and deserved.

After eighteen years of good behavior, I had a sterling reputation with my parents. All of the things that made me different from the other students, all the things that in their eyes made me awkward, boring, or nerdy were the things that made it easy for me to do something more illicit than they ever had. By being the good girl, I could be the worst girl of all. The thrill that morning as I got ready was indescribable, and I had taken great delight in picking my clothes for the weekend. I did not have a lot of sexy attire, but I still tried to do my best with what little I had. A T-shirt from my sophomore year was too tight around my chest and rode up on my stomach, and it certainly made the cut for how it accidentally showed off my assets with a snug grip. A pair of black leather boots that came halfway up my calf were another choice I had made; originally purchased for when I played a frontierswoman in a school play, they would soon be used for a much more excitement performance.

Sadly, as I rummaged through my underwear selection, I soon realized that the task wasn't to pick out the sexiest choices, but to pick the least unsexy. I never had a reason to wear enticing undergarments before, and so most of mine were a plain white variety with a few brighter colors mixed in here and there. I tossed in a plain pair of black panties and a matching bra, hoping that I wouldn't have much need of either once we were on the road. After packing my clothes I tossed in a few schoolbooks and other decoy items; just in the off chance my parents let their attention drift to my bag.

It was a nice day that morning and so I had chosen to walk to school; a twenty minute stroll that I took nearly an hour early, so excited was I to meet with Mr. Poln again. I had done my best to be patient with him during that long week, but it had not been easy. Countless masturbation sessions had left me utterly frustrated; and I couldn't wait to get my hands, mouth, and other various pieces around my history teacher's cock. Dressed in my traditional school attire, I had a slight skip to my step, marching along with my duffle bag across my shoulder as I headed to school.

When I arrived at the school nobody was there; it was too early even for the various athletics programs to start their training. I found the place near the back of the school that Mr. Poln told me to wait; out of eyeshot of the main road and away from the school's front-loaded security cameras. I took a seat, pulled out one of my books, and started to do homework for Monday.

Hey, I was only fucking my history teacher. There were plenty of other subjects in which I wasn't guaranteed an A.

Eventually I could hear a car coming around the side of the building, and I smiled as I saw my history teacher sitting behind the wheel. My hands were already in motion, putting away my homework and zipping my duffle bag back up. Rising to my feet I practically bounced over towards the passenger side, and as it unlocked from within I slid eagerly down into my seat.

"Kim." Mr. Poln greeted me sternly and simply, and no sooner than I closed the door did he take his foot off the brake. Before I even finished getting my bag stuffed into his backseat we were moving, and I gazed over at my teacher with a huge smile on my face.

"Mr. Poln." It was difficult to control my enthusiasm; to not just leap across the car and begin sucking him off immediately. A long, frustrating week was finally at a very rewarding end. I adjusted my uniform and pulled the hem of my skirt down, and yanked the seatbelt across my chest to secure myself for the ride. "Where are we going today?"

"A way's out." Mr. Poln responded calmly, and I could see that underneath his stoic demeanor that there was a slight smile pressed to his lips. "We can't risk anyone local seeing us, so I'm going to take I-90 and drive us out to a little hotel I know. About two hours out." As we paused at a stop sign he looked over at me with a smirk; a brow arched as he studied his toy schoolgirl seated beside him. I could practically feel his eyes moving over me, from my breasts contained in my blouse to how my bare knees broke free of the hem of my skirt. I swallowed nervously, and my tongue drifted forward against my teeth, running over the contours of my braces.

"I can't wait." I spoke softly, and bit down on my bottom lip. One of my hands moved to pinch the edge of my glasses and lower them, folding them up and sitting them in my lap. Wearing them in a moving car gave me motion sickness; it was one of the reasons I didn't drive anywhere myself unless absolutely necessary. Thankfully, Mr. Poln didn't mind driving me to the place he'd be corrupting me for the evening. "After this week, two hours is easy."

Surprisingly, it was easy, thanks in part to the conversation. As the drive went on Mr. Poln and I spoke; chatting about the very limited range of things that an eighteen year old honor student and a middle aged man had in common. It was a refreshing yet unusual experience; our talk didn't carry the same weight as one that a romantic couple would have. Most of the things we ended up talking about was, fittingly enough, the matters of a teacher and student. What college I was considering, what my intended major was, we even spoke of some of my classmates that Mr. Poln thought might fail his class. He seemed bothered by it but also had the ability to detach himself; something I imagined was a necessary skill for a teacher. As the time passed our conversations continued in that vein, and we didn't even mention our unusual relationship throughout it.

In truth, it helped me sort out a few things. Mr. Poln and I up to that point had a very limited style of interaction. We'd get together, he'd undress and fuck me until I thought I might pass out, and then we'd go our separate ways. I was a smart girl but still a teenager with raging hormones, and there was a natural curiosity about what Mr. Poln saw me as. Was I a girlfriend? A mistress? Was I something that he was developing romantic feelings for?

It turned out that I wasn't. Through our conversation I picked up that I was his student; one he happened to share a very intense, unique situation with. I was less his lover than I was his pet, and in an odd realization I learned I was quite content with that situation. Romance was messy. Sex was...well, it was messy too, but in a far more delicious way.

Eventually we found ourselves getting off the highway and pulling into the hotel he had mentioned. It looked like a nice place; a middle-class step up from the usual trucker hotel, one that boasted all the amenities one might expect from a solid three star establishment. Free HBO. Surely that would come in handy when my history teacher was hilted inside of me and I was screaming for more of his cum.

We made short work of getting our room, and as soon as we were inside Mr. Poln closed the door and the lock snapped shut, giving us our first moment of privacy in a very long time. As our bags fell to the floor he wasted no time; and one of his hands reached out to snatch my wrist, spinning me suddenly against the door. It made a loud thud as my back crashed against it, and I gave a sharp, sudden cry of arousal as my teacher treated me like a ragdoll. With my back to the wall Mr. Poln suddenly leaned in, and my lips were claimed by his in a kiss that clearly told me he had missed our interaction as much as I. Holding nothing back, Mr. Poln's tongue pressed deep into my mouth, battering against my own and wrestling it to the floor. While he did so a hand moved forward, and before long I could feel his fingers lifting the front of my skirt, his palm moving to cup me through my panties.

I let loose with an aroused moan just from the sensation; Mr. Poln's hand pressed hard against my sex bringing an affection I had missed that entire week. Panties or not, the arousal was nearly overwhelming, and I was so excited to be touched by my teacher again that I nearly came with a thrust against his palm. It was the first time we had kissed so passionately or intimately; up until that moment our interactions had been more about our bodies, and so rarely about our mouths unless mine was stuffed with Mr. Poln's cock. I stood there with weak knees as Mr. Poln's tongue continued to wrestle my own, delighting in pinning mine and holding it down until it escaped, only to be caught once more. As he kissed he pushed his frame against mine; squeezing me to the door and letting me feel the warmth of his body and the full weight of how hungry he was for me.

The kiss broke after only a few brief moments, and already I was heading down to my knees. Driven there partly from being overwhelmed by the kiss, but partly from Mr. Poln's hands on my shoulders, I soon felt my knees dig into the hotel carpet, and my face was brought in line with my history teacher's buckled dress pants. I needed no instruction or encouragement; and already my hands had moved up to caress him through the fabric of his pants, feeling the growing bulge underneath that had been waiting for me the entire past week. He was intensely hard; and the throaty moan he released as I grabbed ahold of his belt told me that the week had been rough on him as well. After all, I clearly did things for Mr. Poln that his wife did not.

The belt snapped open and I continued with stripping him; unzipping his pants and slipping my fingers into the hole in the front of his boxers. I could feel his shaft hiding underneath; as hot and inviting to my fingers as it had ever been. It was short work to pull him free while his pants remained on him, and before long I held Mr. Poln's thick shaft in my palm, staring straight ahead at the member I had so craved the past few days.

Too much time had been wasted already, and to compensate for those difficult days my mouth opened wide and I pressed myself forward to take him. Like old friends my mouth greeted Mr. Poln's cock, closing over his head and instantly taking the first few inches of him past my lips and against my tongue. We moaned together; Mr. Poln from the sensation and me from the taste. I had missed it terribly. Mr. Poln's cock twitched in my palm where I gripped him near the base of his shaft, and I could feel tremble after tremble run through my teacher as he was reunited with his pet schoolgirl's mouth. My tongue twisted and curled underneath his cockhead to tantalize him, and several times I let my head drift down past the point of comfort, taking him until my lips bumped against the hand holding his rod. I had gone a long way from the shy girl that had researched online how to give head, my fear had given way fully to eagerness and excitement. The taste of Mr. Poln's cock was a familiar, savory thing to me, and I relished feeling him twitch inside my well-trained mouth. One of my hands left his shaft to square my glasses on my nose, hoping to keep them from slipping off and causing an awkward situation amidst our shared joy. After I did so my hand started to drift down, moving past the edge of my skirt so I could let my fingers move against my panties. Casually I began to stroke myself, primarily focused on pleasuring Mr. Poln but seeing nothing wrong with stoking the embers of my own burning lust.

Soon Mr. Poln's hands found a place at the back of my neck, and I could feel his fingers interlock so he could keep a firm grip against me. It was an unusual position and it left me curious as to what would come next, and so I let my other hand leave Mr. Poln's shaft while my eyes opened and I gazed up at him with his cock still half-penetrating my mouth. My lips pursed around his girth, a few streaks of spit along my cheeks, and I tilted my head and looked inquisitively up at my teacher who held my neck so firmly.

"We don't have a whole lot of time." He explained calmly, and smirked at his obedient, cocksucking schoolgirl. "So I'm going to speed things up."

With that, my eyes shot open wide behind my glasses as Mr. Poln started to rapidly fuck my mouth. The very first thrust was quick and unexpected, and it would've left me gagging if I had the slightest chance to catch my breath. His hands at the back of my neck served to keep my head perfectly in place, giving me no other option than to kneel there and accept my teacher's wild flurry of motion. His knees rocked back and forth as he took me, each thrust delving hungrily past my lips and nearly crashing against the back of my throat. My eyes continued to hold open wide and surprised, and they darted in between casting worried looks to Mr. Poln through my lenses and to what I could see of his slick, angry cock that was violating me so wonderfully.

Emotions raged within me, and my body was thrown into the sort of confusing, delightful conflict that only sex could make me experience. My hands hung limp, and I had even stopped touching myself as my mouth was used purely for my teacher's pleasure. The sudden force was uncomfortable; the striking against my throat made me desperately want to cough, but he was being far too fast and heavy with his strokes to allow it. My eyes went to slits as I tried to maintain my composure, and before long I could feel them water from a mix of humiliation, arousal, and the mild ache that each thrust caused to my jaw. It was a shameful, embarrassing display...and I loved it. I was reminded of when my principal's cock was in my mouth a few weeks prior; when his thick member had pushed past all resistance and he had forced me to take him as deeply as I could. That evening I had been left coughing and spitting up on the cold tile of Mr. Poln's classroom, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes and aching with a sore throat that lasted the entire next day. Still...it had been undeniably, provocatively intense. My conscious mind knew that being treated like such an object was disgraceful and disgusting, but something buried deep inside of me relished it in a dark, depraved way I couldn't fully understand.

Mr. Poln had seen that in me that night, and he had clearly waited until this moment to push that boundary between us.

My arms continued to hang limp as Mr. Poln proceeded to fuck my mouth, only pausing once or twice so he could smack his spit-covered cock against my cheeks in dismissive, dominating fashion. There was to be no mistake made about the situation; my open mouth was there for him to claim, the student he had taken an oath to guide and teach was little more than a series of wet, open holes for his delight. When he took his slick shaft and pressed it squarely against my face, lining it up along my nose and eyes, I was forced to cringe from the sticky mess, yet my tongue danced over my braces in excitement, ever eager for more.

Mr. Poln forced my mouth open once again, and sure enough his cock drove in against me with several more hard, powerful thrusts. It was faster now, and I knew my teacher's motions well enough to judge that his climax was fast approaching. He began to grow even rougher, and the sound of wet, sloppy thrusting filled the room, as well as the noise of my squeaking gags each time his cockhead crashed to the edge of my throat. Finally I broke into a sudden coughing fit, unable to resist it as thick, precum-laced spit drooled off my lips and down to the hotel carpet below. While I coughed Mr. Poln pressed one hand under my chin to lift my head, the other rapidly stroking his well-coated member.

"Smile for me, Kim." He murmured, looking down with authority lining his eyes and a dominant presence to his voice. "Nice and wide. Big smile, show me how much you love being my whore."

I did it without hesitation. Gazing up through my glasses, which were half-smeared with spit, I turned to face Mr. Poln with a huge smile on my face. I smiled so wide it would've ached no matter what I had been doing, but the rapid thrusting into my mouth had only made it more sore to do so. Regardless, I showed my beaming grin to my teacher, exposing my sterling white teeth marked with the metal of my braces.

Mr. Poln's fist continued to pound against his member, and I watched as his head moved to line against my mouth. When he came my teacher gave a loud grunt, and his shoulders hunched forward in a powerful shudder as he started to shoot his cream forward. I continued to smile as he painted my teeth, some of it rolling down the edge of my lower lip, but most of it continuing to coat my smile. Before long I was gazing at him with a mouth full of braces and cum, looking at him with absolute delight through my spit-coated glasses.

Mr. Poln grinned, and held a finger out to suggest I hold that position. I did so willingly; even though I found it terribly difficult to resist cleaning my teeth with the edge of my tongue. The mere scent of his cream, so close to my nose, was almost overwhelmingly arousing, and to be forced to hold the position like a dog balancing a treat on her snout was torturous. He seemed to have no reason for telling me to hold it other than that sheer purpose; to make me feel like a hound waiting for its snack.

"Okay, go ahead." He finally spoke, and I instantly closed my lips, my tongue moving to swirl against the cum he had plastered me with. My eyes closed in delight as I savored my teacher's flavor, and as I knelt on the scratchy hotel carpet one of my hands lifted, pushing the cum from outside my lips into the mouth that had earned it. Once I had finally cleaned up I was more aroused than ever; the rapid thrusting against my mouth had set my desires on fire but sadly had not done much to force me to orgasm. I gazed up at Mr. Poln, and my hands moved out to grab his pants, tugging at them slightly while I looked up with begging eyes. I didn't even have to speak; he knew exactly what I wanted.

"No, Kim, I thought I told you we don't have much time." He responded with a dismissive smirk, and stepped out of my range. My head tilted curiously but I didn't protest; a good student and a good submissive always listened to what her teacher had to say. "We have to get you ready."

"Ready?" I finally spoke up, my brow arched. Something big was about to happen, I could tell as much from Mr. Poln's coy, teasing grin. He picked up his suitcase and carried it over to the bed; dropping it down and beginning to open it. I watched as he pulled a few items out; my eyes growing wider and my sex growing hotter with every item that came to rest on the bed. A blindfold. A bright red ball gag. And finally...rope. Thick, rough, abrasive rope. I swallowed nervously as I watched him, my voice squeaking out once more in a timid, almost frightened tone. "Mr. Poln? Ready for what?"

Mr. Poln glanced over his shoulder, and arched a brow as he regarded me. He clicked his tongue idly to the roof of his mouth, as if what he was about to say was nothing for me to concern myself with.

"We're having company, Kim." He spoke as he brought a hand down to pick up the rope. He started to approach, and my eyes followed the rough, uncomfortable-looking rope as it swung from his palm. "And we need to get you dressed."

End of Chapter 8.

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