Debbie leaned her head forward, trying to take more of Johnny's hard cock into her mouth. She wasn't very good at deep throating, but she was working on it. The groans she heard from overhead rewarded her efforts. Her little silver necklace rocked back and forth in time with the bobbing of her head. Loud slurping sounds filled the back office.
"Oh god, Ms Dearling, that feels so good!" Johnny babbled. "You're so wonderful. I—I'm going to come, I'm going to... oh AAAAAHHHHH!" He was coming, jerking and twitching while big spurts of hot come erupted into Debbie's mouth. She sucked hungrily, slurping down the jism like some sort of sacred nectar.
It gets better every time, she thought dreamily. She absolutely loved the taste of Johnny's come. Johnny had told her so, when she had trouble swallowing the first time. Ever since then she couldn't get enough of it. She could almost feel the potent man-juice sliding down into her stomach, warming her like a strong drink.
Debbie had been a little bit nervous the next time she saw Johnny approach her desk. Better be careful with that kid, she warned herself, he's a crafty one. He seldom said very much in class.
"Johnny, I am not going to give you an extension on your book review," Debbie said, taking the offensive. "Don't even ask. I expect it on Friday, like everybody else."
"Of course, Ms. Dearling," Johnny said affably, "that's not a problem. "You'll mark mine leniently, won't you?"
"Certainly," she replied, smiling.
What?
Before she had a chance to wonder how that concession happened, Johnny was speaking again. "Ms Dearling, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
The answer was absolutely no, of course; she made it a rule never to discuss her personal life with students.
"Sure Johnny. What's on your mind?"
"I was wondering—I know this sounds silly—but I was wondering, well, how long is your hair?"
She was taken aback. "My hair?"
"Well, yeah. You see, you always wear it up in a bun, and it looks really nice, but I can't guess how long it really is. You have such pretty hair, Ms. Dearling."
"Johnny, I don't think—"
"Couldn't you, well, let it down for a minute. So I can see how long it is? I just want to see. Please?" He looked at her imploringly.
"Johnny," she said sternly, "this is not at all appropriate." She reached up and pulled the wood and leather bob out of her hair. It burst free, tumbling down in long locks of chestnut brown.
"There, can you see now?" She swung her head a little, letting the glistening locks swing.
He was impressed. "Wow, Ms. Dearling it's really long. You have beautiful hair, you know."
It was hard not to smile at the artless sincerity of his admiration. "Thank you, Johnny," Debbie replied. "Now you've had your look." She started to bind up her hair again.
"Oh, don't put it up!"
She stopped, looking at him.
"I, I'm sorry," he said at once. "It's just that, well, it's such lovely hair, it seems like a shame to bundle it up again. Couldn't you leave it down for a while? Just for a little while?"
"Oh, Johnny," Debbie laughed, dropping the bob, "you really are too much."
"Leave it down for the rest of the day, OK?" he entreated her. "Until you go home? You can wear it up again tomorrow."
Debbie couldn't bear the woebegone look on his face. "OK, OK Johnny," she conceded, still laughing. "You win. I'll leave it down for the rest of the day. Now run along to your next class."
He left her then, calling back, "Thanks Ms Dearling" as he trotted from the room.
Debbie sat down in her chair as the next class filed into the room. I shouldn't have done that, she reflected. She ran a bit of hair through her fingers. I do have beautiful hair though, she decided with satisfaction. She was smiling all the way through the next class.
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