Heartbroken homeroom teacher

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

A week later, the open class began. To be honest, the homeroom teacher wasn't the kind of strong woman who excels in big situations. The more I learned about her, the more I realized she was actually like a little girl who hadn't grown up, and had a very feminine personality. Compared to those renowned teachers who performed with composure and elegance on stage, she was far inferior. In life, she's a dreamy, playful, and somewhat childlike person, and she didn't abandon these traits on the stage. So, when a nervous and stage-frightened young woman stood on the open class stage, there wasn't much hope for her. Actually, these problems weren't unsolvable, but she refused to do what some people do: have students line up in order, practice for half a month for a single lesson, and rehearse everything repeatedly, ultimately turning it into a performance. Therefore, it's easy to imagine that the open class was very unsuccessful. As
soon as the class started, I noticed she was extremely nervous on stage, her face completely pale. Coupled with the lack of prior practice and poor time management, the bell rang before she had even finished half of the lesson. Although she left class with a smile, I knew she actually valued the lesson and had prepared a lot. Previous teachers had had similar embarrassing moments, but I never cared. I always thought that as long as my grades were good and I was knowledgeable, I didn't need to curry favor with the teachers; they would like me just the same. But this time, watching my homeroom teacher's hurried departure, I felt uneasy and wanted to comfort her.
Finally, school ended, and I dashed to the Chinese language department. I immediately saw my homeroom teacher looking listless. When other teachers said goodbye, she just nodded silently in return, showing no intention of leaving.
After the other teachers had left, I quietly slipped into the office. I saw my homeroom teacher slumped over her desk, her shoulders heaving, clearly crying. For some reason, I felt a pang of sadness.
So, I locked the door, walked over to my homeroom teacher, and gently patted her shoulder. She jumped up like a startled kitten, her eyes brimming with tears; she really did look like a pitiful little cat. I gently hugged her and said, "Don't be sad, okay? Your crying makes me sad too. No matter what, you're still my good sister, and your classmates consider you their best teacher. Don't cry, okay?" The homeroom teacher buried her face in my chest and burst into tears. I remembered how my mother comforted me when I fell as a child, so I used that gesture on my homeroom teacher. I buried her head in my chest, gently stroking her back, silently giving her strength.
After a while, the homeroom teacher's crying subsided. She looked up at me, and there seemed to be many things I couldn't understand in her limpid eyes, but the gentle ripples in them always gave me a strange feeling. A little embarrassed, I changed the subject, gently pinching my homeroom teacher's nose and saying with a smile, "Sister, you're over thirty years old, and you still cry? How embarrassing!"
My homeroom teacher immediately protested, twisting her body and pinching me hard, saying, "You're so mean! I'm so sad, and you're making fun of me!"
I quickly defended myself against her pinching, laughing and begging for mercy. After a while, my homeroom teacher looked up at me, her face turning red before she could even speak. After a long pause, she said in a voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz, "Come to my house tonight. What you didn't see last time, I'll show you today."
I was overjoyed, jumping for joy, picking her up and spinning her around (note: I was 1.68 meters tall at the time, taller than her), and then giving her a big kiss on the cheek. Seeing how happy I was, my homeroom teacher rolled her eyes at me and scolded, "You little pervert."
Walking into my homeroom teacher's house again, remembering the enchanting moment from last time, I couldn't help but feel restless. The homeroom teacher threw down her bag and said to me, "Sit down for a bit. You can watch TV or play on the computer. There are drinks in the fridge; help yourself. I'll just take a shower and be right back."
My mind was already wandering; I had no interest in playing on the computer. I grabbed the teacher and kissed her passionately.
After a few passionate kisses, she said, "Stop fooling around. Let me take a shower first." I finally had a chance to be intimate with her again, and I wanted to be with her all the time. How could I let her go shower? I instinctively said, "I don't want to play on the computer. I want to shower with you." The teacher looked at me in surprise, then tapped my nose and scolded, "You little pervert." Although I was still quite naive back then, I wasn't stupid. I could tell she had given her permission. I happily followed her into the bathroom. She elegantly took off her blue dress, revealing the body that had appeared in my dreams several times.
This time, her lingerie was a rose-red set, possessing a provocative and alluring beauty. I grabbed her and said, "Sister, let me help you take it off." I started to unhook my homeroom teacher's bra, but she had unhooked it herself last time, and I'd been searching for the clasp for ages. I panicked and grabbed the bra, pushing it up.
My teacher gasped, grabbed my hand, and looked back at me with a teasing and mischievous glint in her eyes. Just as I was wondering what was going on, she ran her slender, white finger along her cleavage, and the bra opened from the front. She laughed and said, "Silly boy, this time, the clasp is in the front."
I felt incredibly embarrassed by her teasing. Unable to contain my shame, I pressed my teacher against the sink, her back to me, her buttocks sticking out. I raised my hand and slapped her bottom hard. The sound of the slap echoed as my teacher screamed, her face turning bright red, even her ears, her eyes gleaming with a seductive allure. My heart itched, and I raised my hand to slap her again. The homeroom teacher seemed to heat up all over, turning around to hug my neck and kissing me fiercely, the passion surprising even me.
Her little tongue skillfully circled mine, sucking all the air out of my mouth, even making my tongue sting. After the passionate kiss, her body felt limp, nestled in my arms, panting, "You're so mean, you can't spank me anymore." I rubbed her large, white buttocks, laughing, "Did it hurt? Let me rub it." After some more flirting, we were both completely naked. The homeroom teacher filled the tub with hot water, and we both got in. The tub was spacious enough for two people to sit side-by-side. At first, everything was fine, but when the homeroom teacher, completely naked, helped me lather with shower gel, I could no longer suppress my passion. I hugged her tightly, rubbing her shower gel-covered breasts against my chest. Soon, her nipples hardened. After struggling to rinse off the soap from our bodies with the shower, she filled the tub with hot water and let us soak in it.
I pulled her close, facing me, and began to nibble on her nipples, one in my hand and one in my mouth, while my other hand slipped between her legs. I expected her to stop, but she didn't resist at all, letting me do as I pleased. I touched a patch of pubic hair, thinking that this was probably the pubic hair I had seen last time, so I reached in and stroked it. I felt a warm, wet patch, which was very noticeable even in the hot water; I seemed to feel two tender labia. Immediately, I rubbed them back and forth, and soon they seemed even warmer, and a small nipple slowly protruded.
I thought to myself, "Her little nipples tremble at the slightest touch; I wonder what her nipples are like down there." I immediately reached out and pinched her nipples, stroking them back and forth. A soft moan escaped my lips, and my teacher clung to me tightly, trembling all over, as if drowning. Her legs clamped together, and I couldn't pull my hand away. I felt the heat between her pubic hairs, and a warm gush forth. I looked up and saw my teacher, like a wounded swan, her neck askew, panting heavily, seemingly even more intense than the last time on the sofa. Before she could recover, I pulled her into my arms, my hands reaching under her armpits to grasp her breasts, kneading and squeezing them until they deformed. I felt the body in my arms growing hotter and hotter, so I leaned forward, pressing my face against hers, enjoying the sensation of the warm water seeping into every pore.
I put my mouth close to my homeroom teacher's ear and whispered words of comfort and encouragement. I noticed that her ear seemed very ticklish; with each word I spoke, she would shrink her neck or instinctively try to avoid me. Amused, I gently bit her ear and mischievously blew air into it. My teacher's face flushed crimson, and she squirmed in my arms.
I pressed on, kneading her breasts with both hands, deforming them in my palms, and even twirling her nipples with my thumbs. My penis rubbed against her buttocks, and I even swirled my tongue around her earlobe. Suddenly, I heard a cry of surprise, and the teacher's whole body tensed again. Her hands flailed wildly, then she reached back and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing my face against hers. She stuck out her tongue and kissed me passionately.
I felt as if the air around me had been sucked away; my tongue was forcefully drawn into hers, the rapid intertwining and the feeling of oxygen deprivation making me dizzy. Fortunately, the teacher didn't last long. Her whole body trembled continuously, and my penis, pressed against her beautiful buttocks, felt an astonishing heat. After the frenzied swaying, she leaned lazily against me, motionless, her eyes slightly closed, her beautiful eyelashes fluttering gently, as if enjoying herself. Her delicate and lovely expression deeply captivated me. I gently kissed the dimples on her cheeks, savoring this rare moment of warmth and tranquility.
Feeling my tenderness, the homeroom teacher, with her eyes closed, lazily said, "You little pervert, you've really worn me out."
While still groping me, I asked, "Good sister, are you still sad?" The homeroom teacher didn't even have the strength to roll her eyes. She gently twisted my arm that was playing with her chest and scolded, "You little rascal, you're so annoying, you don't even have time to be sad." Remembering that gesture that first brought us together, my heart fluttered. I hugged the beautiful woman in my arms tightly and whispered,
"Good sister, I didn't see it last time, I want to see it today."
The homeroom teacher opened her eyes, turned back and lightly kissed my lips, gently saying, "Okay, I'll grant you anything today."
We were both refreshed after our bath. The homeroom teacher led me into her bedroom, which was filled with pink. Pink curtains, pink bedspread, and even a large pile of pink origami cranes and wind chimes tied with pink ribbons hung there. The homeroom teacher pulled me to sit on the bed, reached out and grasped my penis, stroking it up and down while gently kissing my cheek. I gently broke free from her grasp, pushed her down onto the bed, and said, "Today I'm going to look at you to my heart's content, kiss you to my heart's content." With that, I cupped her face and gave her a long kiss, then moved down her neck, gently kissing her white skin, occasionally sucking on a tender spot with my lips, licking it back and forth with my tongue, making her giggle. Next
, I took her collarbone into my mouth, tracing its shape with my tongue.
My homeroom teacher was actually unusually sensitive; almost every part of her body had erogenous zones. By this point, she was already breathing heavily with pleasure. I went to my favorite breasts, burying my face in them, sucking and kneading them incessantly. My homeroom teacher stroked my head and said, "Slow down, no one's going to take them from you." Hearing this, I felt a slight ripple in my heart for some reason. I looked up at her and solemnly asked, "Sister, can you let me see you all the time? I don't want anyone to take you from me." My homeroom teacher was taken aback, then burst into laughter. My heart ached even more. I cupped her face in my hands and said seriously, "I'm serious, don't joke around."
Perhaps my serious expression was intimidating (that's what my classmates all said, that I had a chilling aura when I put on a stern face), because the homeroom teacher's smile faded. She stared at me intently, and after a long while, as if she had made up her mind, she sighed and said, "Anyway, I'm a divorced woman no one wants anymore. I promise you, from now on, I'm yours alone."
"Really?" I was a little surprised and delighted.
The homeroom teacher pinched my nose, coquettishly scolding, "What a petty little man! So jealous at such a young age. Let me tell you, I'm all alone now, so you can't complain about me being old, or you'll regret it."
Relieved of my resentment, I couldn't help but kiss her face repeatedly, mumbling, "I won't feel at ease until things are settled. I'm not petty; if you don't like it, I won't ask anymore." The teacher smiled and sighed, "I just can't do anything with you, you little pervert, I can't even get angry at you." I immediately continued my unfinished business, looking at her snow-white belly, I couldn't resist lowering my head and sticking my tongue into her small, cute belly button, licking it. The teacher laughed breathlessly, pushing me away while trying to avoid me. I slid down, gently parting her legs, and I saw a pair of rose-red slits hidden among the thick pubic hair, like an upright mouth.
Amused by what I saw, I couldn't resist extending my index finger to gently caress and rub it. Soon, nectar welled up inside. I teased, "Sister, your little mouth down there is drooling." The homeroom teacher was so embarrassed she wanted to disappear, so she covered her face with her hands and twisted her body in protest. At that moment, I was surprised to find a red bean between her labia. Recalling my romantic encounter in the bathroom, I mischievously extended my thumb and index finger, grabbed the bean, and started to rub and knead it back and forth. The homeroom teacher let out a long sigh, panting as she stopped me, "Stop it, I'm so uncomfortable."
I laughed and said, "Really? That's not how it's written in the Chinese textbook. I only remember 'Red beans grow in the south, sprouting branches in spring. I wish you would pick more, for this is the most cherished token of love.'"
I lowered my head, blew on the labia, and said, "I've already picked the red bean. Now let's taste it." As I spoke, I put my mouth on the little bean, gave it a light kiss, and then gently licked it with my tongue.
I tasted a slightly fishy and spicy flavor, yet with a hint of sweetness, almost intoxicating. I remembered the jujube wine my mother had given me a couple of days ago, and it tasted exactly like this. I also noticed that whenever I licked my homeroom teacher's vulva, a lot of this wine would flow out. I was extremely curious, so I actually stuck my tongue into the vulva and vigorously stirred it, like licking the leftover bits on the side of a sundae. I felt my homeroom teacher's snow-white, plump thighs tightly clamping my head, and she made sounds more beautiful than singing:
"Fengfei, ah, good little brother, don't lick there, it's dirty. Ouch, stop, you little pervert, I can't take it anymore, sister is flying to heaven, sister is going to die, ah..." With my homeroom teacher's high-pitched scream, I felt the tender flesh on both sides of my tongue writhe rapidly, and a large gush of mead sprayed out, covering my face.

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