Head Teacher – cunnilingus anilingus pussylicking asslicking

I had been chatting with a woman named Karen on an “adult” dating site for a few days. Total number of messages: about five each. Progress: coming along, I guess you’d say. On these sites, I tend to take it quite slowly, even though everyone knows what you are there for. You don’t want to scare anyone, because if she’s just a little slower than you, and it took all her courage to put a profile out there, she could come in a moment.

My profile made it very clear that I was looking for someone who liked to be surrounded, because that’s my thing. The words I used were “must like having her bottom licked,” and Karen’s first message confirmed that she did. She seemed to be a fairly kind, bright and airy person and able to string a few words together, which is not really essential in a sexual context, but it can make the first date more comfortable.

She worked in a bank, she said, and was divorced with two adult children. I assumed it was true, but I wasn’t bothered if it was really, because as long as I could have a few hours of his time, that was all that mattered.

She didn’t want to send me a picture of her face or, but she gave me a nice picture of her breasts, which she was clearly very proud of. I’m not really a man, but an important pair tends to indicate a full-figure woman, and that blue I like. So what I gathered about Karen was that she was an important, pale-skinned woman. Maybe blonde, maybe brunette. Again, it did not matter.

We lived about 50 kilometres apart, so we arranged to meet in a hotel bar halfway through. I booked a room, but if one of us didn’t want to stay the night, it wouldn’t be a desperately long drive home. She would know me by my olive corduroy jacket and blue Oxford shirt, and she would wear a pink top and black skirt.

The next day, when I took the jacket out of the wardrobe, I remembered that there was a big tear in it where I had grabbed a pocket from a bench in the garage. I took another one, a dark blue thing that I didn’t like so much, but damn it, it was just a jacket.

I arrived at the hotel about to eight o’clock, ordered a beer and sat in the window, overlooking the parking lot. The place was busy, guests mostly pass by; not the locals, I decided. A car stopped a few minutes later and a woman came out, wearing a long Burberry coat against the fall cold. It was Mrs. Robertson, the principal of my son’s old school, and suddenly I felt guilty, a child caught up in the act of something.

Mrs. Robertson walked confidently into the bar and looked around. She did a double take when she saw me and seemed not to know what to do. I beckoned like the mature man I was still pretending to be despite all the evidence to the contrary. Maybe everyone thinks that way. She looked at the bar, scanned the room again and walked over to me.

“Mr. Clark,” she said. “Want to meet you here.”

She explained that she was meeting a friend and that he was notoriously unpublished, which infuriated her. I agreed. I offered her a drink and told her she could sit with me while she waited. She looked dubious, but then worked in her head and sat down with gratitude.

It wasn’t much hotter inside than on, so she kept her coat and buttoned up, even though she did take off her scarf. When I came back with her dry white wine, she crossed her legs and I remembered that I used to fancy well. A lot, actually, to my ex-wife’s disgust. But there were a lot of things in me that disgusted my ex-wife.

Mrs. Robertson and I chatted in manless areas, or so it seemed to me. I was in no hurry to confess the mission of my evening. I told him I was expecting several friends, but I was early as usual, and as they would all travel in a car, if one was late, they were all. I was trying not to look offbeat. When Karen came up – if she did – I would just apologize to the teacher and make my appointment at the other end of the room.

Five minutes went by. Ten. Twenty. My gaze crept from the parking lot to the door and to my companion. Cars came and went. The guests arrived and the place filled.

After half an hour, I had an idea.

“Well, that’s silly,” I said. “I’d better call them.”

I didn’t have Karen’s phone number – she was obsessively discreet – but I had to go through the moves. I called my own landline and let it ring for a long time.

“Don’t answer,” I said.

“My friend is the only person on the planet who doesn’t really have a phone,” she says sadly.

“I will give them another ten minutes,” I said. “Then it’s plan B.”

“What is Plan B?” she asked.

“Then I ask my son’s former principal if she would like to join me for dinner.” She did not respond. “If she is still waiting for her own knowledge to arrive. So if they all show up, we’ll have a party. I laughed nervously at my own little joke.

“Mmm,” she said, her eyes flashing here and there. “Okay, why not? I haven’t been up since I was seventeen, and I don’t plan to start now.

The decision made, she unbuttoned her coat, got up and slipped it. Pink top and black skirt.  What a coincidence. She saw me looking and thinking, then looked at my shirt.

“You know what would go well with that shirt?” “An olive green corduroy jacket.”

I felt blush, and then I felt the excitement start to grow. If it was Karen – and I was frantically trying to remember Mrs Robertson’s first name at school – then I had already told her I wanted to lick her. And she had already hinted that she would let me do it.

“I have one, actually,” I said. “Was going to wear it tonight, but it’s … it needs to be repaired.

“Oh my God,” said Mrs. Robertson, her head scrambled with the same thoughts as me. This guy wants to have sex with me and I made him feel like it’s going to happen. And not just sex, but real dirty things. George Clark’s father.

“I am Andy,” I said, offering my hand as if we had just met.

“Karen,” she replied, shaking my hand briefly. We sat silently for a few seconds, then the two started talking nervously.

“So… Ok… Well I…” and then we looked at each other and smiled helplessly.

“Weird,” she says.

“You don’t have to stay now that you know it,” I said bravely. “I totally understand.”

“No,” she said. “Why should it make a difference? We know each other’s terrible secret and we are as guilty as each other.

“Dinner?” I said.

“Another drink,” she says. “I’m going to get them.”

By the time Karen came back with the drinks, we had both calmed down a bit. He was really a mature person, even if I wasn’t. She was at the head of a school, for heaven’s sake. She was a real adult. And I could see her looking at me as she crossed the ground, but it was not a look of judgment. She made a decision. She looked almost relieved.

We spoke again, always on safe ground and did not mention the site, but more relaxed because we could drop the pretext. I was trying to restart, to get back to what would have happened if we hadn’t known each other. The arrangement had been that we dined together before or after.  But that’s when we were carefree and anonymous who communicated remotely.

“Are we going to have dinner?” I asked.

“They serve up to 10,” she replied.

# # #

“Christ,” said Karen, closing the door to the hotel room. “It’s scary, isn’t it?”

“That’s nice,” I said. “But I’ve always loved you.”

“And I have always loved you,” she replied. “Sexy Mr. Clark and his irritable wife. Come here.

“It’s like doing an exam and already knowing what the questions will be,” I say, unable to avoid the school train of thought.

“And the answers,” she said, looking me in the eye.

We stood by and kissed, and it was amazing. I’ve been thinking about this woman for years. I had masturbated thinking about her. In a completely different context, I had seen her breasts. We had discussed what we were going to do together, at least some things. Does that mean I could move forward now? I decided to treat it as a normal sex date. I put my hand under her top and unplugged her bra. She helped me and stayed naked from the waist up.

I kissed her breasts and sucked her nipples. She stroked the back of my neck and then her hand was on my flies and elle was decompressing my pants and his hand was there and in my underwear and … Mrs. Robertson was holding my dick and that cock was getting up, telling her she was ready to fuck her.

We got rid of the rest of our clothes and lay down on the bed. My tongue wandered through his body. She was beautiful. But more than that, she was wonderful. I kissed her smooth mound and she sequestered her legs, inviting me to lick her. Her was as beautiful as the rest of her, and she had a divine taste. I sucked his lips and clitoris, then I kissed his crotch and licked his thighs.

“And when are you going to get to the best part?”

“What part is it?” I teased back.

The part, Mr. Clark, where you lick my, she said, triumphing over her reservations and perhaps her upbringing.

“Turn around,” I said firmly.

“On my knees?”

“On your knees,” I said. I’m going to lick your.

And I did. His back was as wise, as classy as anything else about him. It was elegant, even. She had beautiful smooth buttocks and the halo around her little hole was smooth and had a kind of tanned look.

“Oh my God, Mr. Clark,” she gasped. “I can’t believe someone is finally doing that to me. It’s fantastic. I am partly ashamed of myself and partly delighted. It’s so beautiful.

“I want you to come,” I say. “Do you think so…”

“Oh yes,” she said, “and then hesitated.” “Can you see what I got for lunch? Do you want to get in there and have it? Is that you, Andy? Do you like my butt as much as your tongue looks like? Oh fucking, oh shit … Excuse me. Oh, fuck. Oh my god! She screamed as she orgasmed. Her legs trembled at her ankles and her lips trembled as she strove to get her mind about her again.

I held her in my arms and we are lying in a post-rimming stun.

“Better to go to dinner,” I said at length.

“Don’t you want to… Continue… Finish?

“No,” I said. “We can come back later and do everything else, and I want to say it all. But I want to sit in front of you at a table with the idea that my face has just been between your buttocks. And you’ll know you just got your licked on our first date. And the waitress is going to wonder what we’re glowing about. or if it’s a man, he’ll wonder how a guy like me could have as much luck as looking into the eyes of a woman as beautiful as you.

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Head of school