The chipping green paint on the bathroom door disgusts Ian, almost enough to cool his heat, but not enough to shake the thoughts of Mrs. Croft. Closing his eyes, the young man pictures his teacher’s mature body and its luscious curves. She had worn such a thin, white shirt today that he couldn’t help but feel his excitement grow in his hands. How cruel could this woman be to force him to escape to the bathroom again?
Day after day, her heaving cleavage drives Ian to retreat away to a toilet where he can release his pent up frustration for long enough to keep a survivable amount of blood in his brain. With the image of Mrs. Croft imprinted onto his mind, he spits a mucusy glob into his hand and takes a firm grip of his stiff cock. Working his familiar shaft, the young man pumps away, reaching from tip to base, stretching back his sack with each enthusiastic pull. Each time his palm slides into the tip, he twists his fingers around the bell end of his penis.
“Fuck…” Ian moans lightly, trying not to alert anyone else who might be in the bathroom. Having checked the room before, he is confident that he is alone in this land of rusted stalls and wet floors. The matter at hand distracted him from the thought that his pants might be soaking in filth as they lay around his ankles.
“Mrs. Croft…” another moan slips from Ian’s lips. He had never been so loud when masturbating at home to videos and pictures of women in fantastical positions and situations. Maybe it was the thought of Mrs. Croft that fueled the young man to not be able to control his voice as much as he couldn’t control his throbbing member.
Ian’s tempo picked up, faster and faster as he imagined himself in those situations with his teacher. The picture of her in his mind transitioned quickly from the studious English teacher to a slut hungry for the cum of a young student made his breathing heavy and each stroke more forceful. Soon he wasn’t even sliding his hand across his cock, but instead was thrusting into his hand as he imagined that the tight embrace of his palm was instead Mrs. Crofts tight pussy, wet from being thrusted so forcefully into.
Overtaken by the act, Ian’s body lifts off of the filthy seat of his bathroom stall. One hand on his pulsing cock and another on the door in front of him, the young man thrusted into his palm. His speed builds, faster and faster, until he can feel his balls retract into his body and the thick, liquid pleasure welling up at the tip of his dick.
With one final pull, the young man shoots a stream of jizz onto the stall door as he lets out a soft, “Oh, Mrs. Croft.” Thick threads of ropey cum paint the inside of the stall, the pale white liquid contrasting against the rusted metal revealing under the lime green paint. After the initial expulsion of pleasure, more oozed out from the tip of Ian’s penis and onto his fingers.
Quickly cleaning what he could, the young man redresses and attempts to make himself presentable to go back to class. Washing his hands, both to wipe away the spit as well as the globs of cum that have begun webbing between his fingers, Ian calms his body for a moment. The ecstasy that recently engulfed the man has drained his face of some of its color. Fixing his usually messy hair to not show how forceful he had slammed his own hand, the once honor student was ready to return to class.
“This isn’t what adulthood was supposed to be…” Ian laments quietly to himself. Having recently turned eighteen, the young man had hoped that finally coming to age would suddenly open the door to a sexual awakening he had always fantasized about. Perhaps it was the extravagance of those porn-influenced fantasies that stifled his ability to approach any nearly sexual situation without immediately losing his mental capacity as blood began rushing away from one head to the other.
On the walk back to the classroom, Ian had time to think about the shame of how often he escapes from class to masturbate to the thought of Mrs. Croft. The campus had a familiar layout to high school, which only helped to make community college feel more and more like he had never moved on after graduation. It wasn’t that his grades weren’t good enough to get him into better schools, or that he couldn’t afford it. Scholarships weren’t in short supply, instead it was drive that held the young man back.
Ian attempts to quietly re-enter the classroom, but as he slinks back to his seat in the back row his eyes meet with Mrs. Croft. Her soft gaze fills him again with excitement. Fortunately his refractory period is still in full swing, meaning that the young man didn’t have to make another trip to the bathroom. Still, the flaccid penis hanging in his pants twitched slightly at the sight of his teacher.
“Thank you for joining us Mr. Ryder,” Mrs. Croft brings attention to Ian as he takes his seat. “If you wouldn’t mind staying after class, I would like to speak with you.”
The minor humiliation in being called out by the teacher, combined with the naturally flirtatious way words roll off of her supple tongue almost brings Ian’s member to throbbing attention again. Taking a moment to gather himself, one of the student’s hands lands on his thigh with his fingers landing lightly onto his penis, ready to fire another load like what had exploded onto the bathroom stall.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ian responds.
The rest of the class passes as usual, not that his daily trips to the bathroom haven’t become a part of Ian’s rut. More fantasies pop in and out of the young student’s mind, keeping him from paying too much attention to the lecture even if his attention was fixated on Mrs. Croft. It’s almost enough to make the young man pump away right there in his chair.
After the class, once the other students have left the room, Mrs. Croft approaches Ian, her luscious hips swaying seductively with each step. Her student’s mind races and heart beats with fury as her body comes closer and closer to his. From here, he can see between the struggling buttons of her stretching shirt, granting him a genuine glimpse of her heaving cleavage.
“So…” Mrs. Croft’s sultry voice echoes in Ian’s ears, “is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“Umm,” Ian does his best to keep his eyes level with Mrs. Croft’s, “No.”
“Well, can you tell me about these bathroom visits of yours? You seem to be leaving in the middle of my class almost every day. Now, is it something I’m doing?” She leans in close, almost knowingly taunting the hormonal, young man. “I seem to be having trouble getting your attention.” The woman’s naturally sensual composure continues to tease her student as she places a hand on the desk and brings her body closer to his. With a small pout she continues to speak, “You know, if you’re having trouble, then I can help. I’m very invested in my students.”
Ian’s body leans in on its own, “N-no. It’s not really anything that you can help me with.”
“So there is something.”
“Oh! Well, it’s…umm…” Ian searches his mind for a lie. “I’ve been going out to smoke.”
“Really?” Mrs. Croft stands up straight, her body presented in full form. “If that’s the case, then I’m going to have to ask you to wait until after class.”
“I-I don’t know if it can really wai—”
“You know, a young student your age should be happy that I’m willing to keep your little habit a secret.”
“Well, I’m eighteen, so it’s not like it’s illegal for me anymore,” Ian responds.
“Oh, goodness. I forget how old you kids are nowadays. I guess I still haven’t quite gotten used to being on a college campus yet.”
“Yeah, I certainly know that feeling.”
“Well, I’m sure everything must be stressful, moving up from high school to college, all those cute girls around, all these hard classes, so many huge experiences out there waiting for you to grab them and go to town,” it’s almost like she understands what she’s doing to her student’s body as it wades between the long passed refractory period and still proceeding recovery period. “But make sure that you hold your little breaks until after class. I know it’s already later in the day, but if you think you can last a little longer for me, then maybe we can work out some sort of reward. Otherwise, I’m going to have to start marking you out if you miss so much of my class from here on.”
“Reward?” Ian’s eyes slip from Mrs. Croft’s.
“Make it all the way through class tomorrow,” the woman leans in close again, her blouse opening wider as her breasts drag the color down, “and I promise you won’t be disappointed.”