Against her cunt
Tiny Way Of Life
chapter 12
by
copier
· original author:
fearboy
You don’t start struggling until you see Mrs. Tread lift her skirt up, exposing her tiny thong. You wildly start wiggling and trying to break free, knowing that something unpleasant is about to happen to you. Mrs. Treads grip stays strong and you remain in her hand as she pulls at the elastic at the top of her panties. The elastic underwear stretches out and you see a forest of thick dark hairs exposed. Beneath the hair, a slit can be seen, wide enough to swallow you whole. You’ve seen giant genitalia before during your brief romps with Angela, but never before had you seen such mature pussy. You shudder when you realize that you’re looking at your teacher’s crotch. Your mean, strict, bitchy teacher’s crotch.
“Stop this. You’re my teacher, you can’t do this to me. I’m your student.”
Mrs. Tread rolls her eyes, not taking your concerns seriously. Her weariness has dropped and been replaced with energy brought on by the prospect of what she is doing. The mere conception that she was about to exact on you gives her goosebumps. She was used to verbally dominating the classroom, not dominating an individual physically like she was doing with you. “I can do this to you and you know why? Unlike other students, you’re different. You need to be taught differently, work differently, and live differently. What I’m about to do to you is just one example of how different your life is.”
“But, but, but…” you stammer as you try to retort, but are never given a chance. Mrs. Tread let go off you and you plummet down to her open panties. The fabric of the thong catches you and you slip down them like a slide to her unshaven crotch. You scream as you land face first against the rough lips of her labium. As you try to stand up against Mrs. Tread’s crotch, your teacher lets go of her thong and it snaps back against you. Carefully, Mrs. Tread fiddled around between her legs, positioning you so that you’re fitting snugly against her vaginal lips. So there you are, alone in the warm, dark, wet prison of your teachers panties. The tightness of the thong forced your face against her wet flesh and busy pubic hair. You’re incapable of moving or seeing anything but the fleshy wall. You breathe the musky scent around you, unable to breath anything else. Mrs. Tread sits down and an immense amount of pressure is put against you.
A scream builds in your throat, but you are unable to let it out because of the flesh pressed against your face. Your legs feel an opening below you. This most definitely must be the entrance to her vagina, somewhere you know can only be worse for you. Maybe it’s because of the musky smell or close contact, but whatever the reason, you begin to get hard suddenly. Uncomfortably, you try to twist around to attempt to relieve the pressure on your groin. It’s too tight for you to even dry hump the teacher, leaving you in an even more uncomfortable position. All you are left to do is take deep breaths and try not to choke on the thick hairs around you.
While you struggle to breath, Mrs. Tread is getting herself ready for class. It’s hard for the teacher to suppress her moans of delight as she waits for class to start. She shivered all over as you’re pushed up against her cunt. Just before class starts, she reaches down to massage the small bulge in the center of her thong. She let herself give one last moan of pleasure, before forcing herself to calm down and wait for class to begin.
The bell rings and the classroom filled up with students. For the first time ever, Mrs. Tread let her class have a free study period, breaking her long tradition of giving out tons of work. The students don’t question the sudden good will of their teacher, only wondering why Mrs. Tread is in such a good mood and if it’ll last. For the whole class, Mrs. Tread never leaves her desk. She only moved slightly when she wiggled around in her seat, otherwise she remained completely still for the whole class.
You unlike the class are not having such a good time. Your panty prison feels like an oven. Sweat was running down your face and soaking your clothes, making this situation even more uncomfortable. The humiliation of being crammed into Mrs. Tread’s thong and smothered in her intense heat made you feel sick inside. You wanted out, but it seemed like that was out of your hands. You could only pray that once class finished, Mrs. Tread would consider your punishment over and take you out of here. Time passes and class finishes. Students leave the classroom, talking with friends and planning to hang out. Mrs. Tread stood up taking some of the pressure off you once the classroom was empty. She looked down between her legs, thinking about you and what you must have gone through.
“Stop this. You’re my teacher, you can’t do this to me. I’m your student.”
Mrs. Tread rolls her eyes, not taking your concerns seriously. Her weariness has dropped and been replaced with energy brought on by the prospect of what she is doing. The mere conception that she was about to exact on you gives her goosebumps. She was used to verbally dominating the classroom, not dominating an individual physically like she was doing with you. “I can do this to you and you know why? Unlike other students, you’re different. You need to be taught differently, work differently, and live differently. What I’m about to do to you is just one example of how different your life is.”
“But, but, but…” you stammer as you try to retort, but are never given a chance. Mrs. Tread let go off you and you plummet down to her open panties. The fabric of the thong catches you and you slip down them like a slide to her unshaven crotch. You scream as you land face first against the rough lips of her labium. As you try to stand up against Mrs. Tread’s crotch, your teacher lets go of her thong and it snaps back against you. Carefully, Mrs. Tread fiddled around between her legs, positioning you so that you’re fitting snugly against her vaginal lips. So there you are, alone in the warm, dark, wet prison of your teachers panties. The tightness of the thong forced your face against her wet flesh and busy pubic hair. You’re incapable of moving or seeing anything but the fleshy wall. You breathe the musky scent around you, unable to breath anything else. Mrs. Tread sits down and an immense amount of pressure is put against you.
A scream builds in your throat, but you are unable to let it out because of the flesh pressed against your face. Your legs feel an opening below you. This most definitely must be the entrance to her vagina, somewhere you know can only be worse for you. Maybe it’s because of the musky smell or close contact, but whatever the reason, you begin to get hard suddenly. Uncomfortably, you try to twist around to attempt to relieve the pressure on your groin. It’s too tight for you to even dry hump the teacher, leaving you in an even more uncomfortable position. All you are left to do is take deep breaths and try not to choke on the thick hairs around you.
While you struggle to breath, Mrs. Tread is getting herself ready for class. It’s hard for the teacher to suppress her moans of delight as she waits for class to start. She shivered all over as you’re pushed up against her cunt. Just before class starts, she reaches down to massage the small bulge in the center of her thong. She let herself give one last moan of pleasure, before forcing herself to calm down and wait for class to begin.
The bell rings and the classroom filled up with students. For the first time ever, Mrs. Tread let her class have a free study period, breaking her long tradition of giving out tons of work. The students don’t question the sudden good will of their teacher, only wondering why Mrs. Tread is in such a good mood and if it’ll last. For the whole class, Mrs. Tread never leaves her desk. She only moved slightly when she wiggled around in her seat, otherwise she remained completely still for the whole class.
You unlike the class are not having such a good time. Your panty prison feels like an oven. Sweat was running down your face and soaking your clothes, making this situation even more uncomfortable. The humiliation of being crammed into Mrs. Tread’s thong and smothered in her intense heat made you feel sick inside. You wanted out, but it seemed like that was out of your hands. You could only pray that once class finished, Mrs. Tread would consider your punishment over and take you out of here. Time passes and class finishes. Students leave the classroom, talking with friends and planning to hang out. Mrs. Tread stood up taking some of the pressure off you once the classroom was empty. She looked down between her legs, thinking about you and what you must have gone through.
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June 2
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