My student waited for me in the square with everything planned

I’ve been teaching at a high school in the north side of the city for three years, and I still haven’t gotten used to the effect a pressed shirt and an ID badge hanging from your neck can have. Authority attracts people, I learned that quickly. Not the shouted kind of authority, but the other kind, the one exercised with a low voice, a measured smile, and a couple of well-placed silences. For some female students, that package works like a magnet they don’t fully understand themselves.

In my fourth-semester group there was Renata. She had just turned eighteen, she was slender, very fair-skinned, with brown hair that she almost always wore tied back in a loose ponytail. She had medium-sized, round breasts, and a narrow back that made her waist stand out under the uniform. When she sat in the front row, she crossed her legs and the skirt would ride up a couple of centimeters without her seeming to notice. Or maybe she did notice. I’ve spent a long time trying to tell one thing from the other and I never quite get it right.

Renata spoke little in class. She only raised her hand when she was very sure, and when the hour ended she stayed just long enough to ask me some question I suspected she had made up. She looked me in the eye a second longer than was reasonable. Sometimes she brushed my arm when handing me a sheet of paper. I acted oblivious, smiled with that neutral smile of a tired teacher, and carried on with my business.

But I watched too. When some classmate got too familiar with her, I’d step in with any excuse: the rules, the phone put away, the uniform worn properly. I did it with everyone, not just her, so no one would suspect. And still Renata noticed. I could tell by the way she looked at me when she left the classroom, with a mix of gratitude and something else that wasn’t innocent.

One afternoon, after a test, she stayed behind at the end, waiting for the room to empty. Her eyes were red. She told me things were bad at home: a stepfather who shouted too much, a mother who didn’t dare defend her, a younger sister she felt obliged to protect. She spoke staring at the floor, playing with the hem of her skirt.

—I’m thinking of leaving —she said at last—. I have a friend who says I can crash on his couch for a few days.

—Bad idea —I answered calmly—. Things seem temporary until they stop being so. And sometimes you get involved with whoever promises you an out and end up worse off than before.

She nodded in silence. Then she lifted her face and held my gaze longer than she should have.

—And you, prof? —she asked—. Do you have bad ideas too?

I took a while to answer. Not because of the question, but because of the way she asked it. Her voice trembled a little, but her eyes were steady. It was a question that already had its answer in her head; she just needed to hear it from my mouth.

—Half the school has bad ideas about you, Renata. You should know that.

—And don’t you want to make a bad decision with me? —she said, and she put a hand to her chest without really trying to hide the gesture. She squeezed one breast over her blouse, two fingers twisting the nipple until it showed under the fabric—. Because I think about you every night, prof. I slide my hand under my panties and touch myself thinking about your cock. I don’t even know what it looks like and I already make myself come alone imagining it.

***

I stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then I took out my wallet, pulled out a bill, and left it on the bench between us.

—If this is going to happen —I told her very seriously—, we do it my way. I’m not giving you my number. You’re not messaging me. We’re not talking about this inside or outside school. I get out at three. We meet at four in the new square, the one by the bridge. That money is for the bus, if you need it. Today or tomorrow?

—Today —she answered almost breathlessly—. Today, prof. I can’t wait any longer.

—One more thing. When you get there, you’re going to hand me your phone switched off. I’ll have it until we’re done. And I’m going to check that you didn’t bring another one. I’m not trying to scare you, I just want to be at ease.

—Okay —she said, and a smile lit her up that wasn’t the same as before. She took the bill with two fingers, slipped it into the pocket of her skirt, and left the classroom walking slowly, swaying her ass under the plaid fabric as if she wanted me to look.

I looked.

***

I left school and drove to a pharmacy three neighborhoods away, where nobody knew me. I bought condoms, lubricant, and a box of emergency pills, just in case. Then I went to the new square and parked in a far corner, under a tree that gave shade. At four oh five I saw a girl get off a city bus. Pink backpack, sleeveless purple blouse, light gray sweatpants, white sneakers. It took me a few seconds to recognize her. Without the uniform, without the ponytail, with her hair loose over her shoulders, she looked like someone else. Older. More determined.

She looked around for me for a moment until she saw the car and her smile spread on its own. She crossed almost at a run, opened the passenger door, and got in without saying hello. She smelled like cheap shampoo and sweet perfume.

—You brought it switched off —I said, more as a check than a question.

She handed me the phone. It was really off. I put it in the glove compartment. Then I asked her to pass me her backpack. I checked it slowly, without rushing. Clean underwear, a charger, a little cosmetics bag, a bottle of water, a toothbrush, and, folded carefully, her full school uniform: white blouse, sweater, plaid skirt.

I looked at her with one eyebrow raised. She laughed, biting her lip.

—I’ll explain later —she said.

I asked her to open her arms. I ran my hands over her waist, her back, the inside of her thighs. I went up slowly, squeezing the soft flesh over her sweatpants, until I brushed her crotch with the side of my hand. She gasped. I stayed there a few seconds, pressing with two fingers over the fabric, and I noticed the light gray of her pants darken with a wet spot the size of a coin. I wasn’t looking for a second phone; I already knew that. I was looking to mark who was in charge and who wasn’t. She understood the game from the very first second and stopped laughing, starting to breathe deeper instead, her breasts rising and falling under the purple blouse. When I was done, I started the engine.

—Such a good girl —I said without looking at her.

—It’s just that I really want to get there, prof. I’m already all wet, didn’t you feel it?

—I felt it.

—Then drive fast, because I’m going to wear out my panties before I get out of the car.

***

The motel I chose was twenty minutes away, on an avenue with no traffic at that hour. I asked for a room with a closed garage, paid in cash, and we went up the interior stairs. As soon as I closed the door, Renata threw her backpack to the floor, snatched the pharmacy bag out of my hand, tossed it onto a chair, and threw herself at me with an arm around my neck.

She kissed me like she’d been planning it for months, and that was probably exactly how it was. She shoved her tongue all the way in, sucked the tip of mine herself, bit my lip and pulled it back. I lifted her off the floor by grabbing her thighs underneath and she wrapped her legs around my waist. As she did, her pussy pressed tight against my fly and she started rocking on top of it, searching for her clit over the fabric of my pants like a cat in heat. I took three steps and dropped her onto the bed. Before she could react, she was already pulling off the purple blouse. Underneath she wore a plain bra of the same color, simple, no lace, with small, firm breasts pushing the cups upward. She kicked off the sweatpants with her heels and was left in her underwear, looking up at me, legs a little apart, with a very pale wet stain at the crotch of her white panties.

—Wait —she said when I knelt at the edge of the bed—. I want to ask you something.

—Tell me.

—It’s going to be my first time. And I want it to be with my uniform on. That’s why I brought it.

I looked at her for a moment. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were very wide, as if waiting for me to say no.

—Put on the uniform —I answered.

She jumped off the bed and dressed in front of me, slowly, never taking her eyes off me. White blouse tucked into the plaid skirt, sweater open over her shoulders, socks up to mid-calf. When she sat back down on the edge of the mattress, she didn’t look like a student in costume: she looked exactly like what she had been that same morning, in the front row of my classroom.

—I wanted this from the very first day —she told me softly while I took off my shirt—. I imagined you all the time. In math class I’d slide my fingers under the desk looking at your mouth. When you kept the other guys away I thought it was because you’d already decided I was yours. And I did too. This all belongs to you, prof —she opened the sweater, squeezed her breasts over the blouse—. The tits, the cunt, the ass, the mouth. Use me however you want.

I didn’t answer with words. I put one hand behind her neck and kissed her again, while with the other I lifted her skirt to her waist. I hooked her white panties with two fingers and pulled them down to her knees. They were soaked. I peeled them off her flesh with a wet sound, slid them down over her socks, and threw them to the floor. She spread open on her own, ashamed and shameless at the same time, and showed me a pink cunt, hairless, shiny with wetness all the way to her thighs. I pushed her gently so she’d lie down and opened her legs even wider. I lifted her skirt up to her navel to see her completely. I started slowly, with my mouth, not touching the center yet. I went down the inner side of her thighs, came up the other side, returned to the middle. I ran my tongue flat from her asshole to her clit, very slowly, and felt her whole body contract. Renata clutched the sheet with both hands.

I spread the lips of her cunt with two fingers and stayed there for a while, sucking her clit like it was candy, alternating with long licks along her slit. I put in one finger first, then two, curving them upward, searching for the rough spot inside while still sucking the button. When I picked up the intensity, she stopped holding back. She talked out loud without realizing what she was saying, repeated my name, begged me not to stop, said “eat my cunt, prof, eat it all, don’t stop, don’t stop.” I had to hold her hips to keep her in place, because she kept climbing onto my face looking for more. Her wrinkled school skirt under my arms, her white blouse still buttoned to the neck, her white socks at the level of my shoulders. She came in my mouth with a long shudder, squeezing my head between her thighs, moaning with a broken voice. I felt the warm liquid run down my chin, mixed with saliva. If there was one image that would haunt me for months, it was that one.

***

When she sat up, still breathing in gasps, she was the one who took control. She sat on the edge of the bed, unbuckled my belt with almost school-like concentration, and yanked down my pants and boxers at once. My cock sprang out hard and slapped against her cheek. When she had me in front of her, she laughed softly, as if she couldn’t quite believe it. Then she came closer, looked me in the eye, and stuck out her tongue to run it all over the base, from the balls to the tip. She started kissing my glans with closed lips, giving me little pecks, then opened her mouth and took the whole head in. It was obvious she had no experience: she gagged the first time and pulled back with strings of saliva hanging from her chin. But she made up for it with a strange mix of curiosity and boldness that left me breathless. She tried again, looking up at me with wet eyes, shoved it down her throat, held it as long as she could, and pulled it out coughing, laughing, with her mouth full of spit.

—Teach me, prof —she said in a rough voice—. Teach me how to suck it properly. I want to learn with yours first.

I put a hand on the back of her neck, grabbed the ponytail she’d made up halfway through the afternoon, and started setting the rhythm. I showed her how to keep her lips tight, how to use her tongue underneath, how to go down and up without taking it out. She learned fast. In two minutes she was sucking me off completely, with a wet, filthy noise echoing off the motel walls. She grabbed my balls with her other hand, took them one by one into her mouth, then returned to my cock. When I reached for the pharmacy bag, she stopped me.

—No —she said, her mouth still shining—. Buy one of those pills if you want, but no condoms. I came here so we wouldn’t stop. I came to feel all of you inside me. And for you to come wherever you want.

—Not stop for how long?

—All night. That’s why I brought clothes. I told a friend I was staying at her place. And she’s going to say the same about mine.

I just looked at her. She had just turned eighteen, a school skirt lifted to her waist and a smile far too calm for the situation.

—So here comes your bad decision —I told her, pulling her toward me.

—I’m your student —she answered—. I’m whatever you want me to be. Fuck me however you want, prof. Break me.

I laid her down again, spread her legs, and rested the head of my cock at the entrance of her pussy. I rubbed it up and down, wetting it with her, and with the first push I parted her by barely a finger. A sound rose in her throat that didn’t quite become a scream. She closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and pinned them on mine. I pushed more, slowly, feeling her yield inside with a burning tightness that clenched me at every centimeter. When I had her all the way in, she stayed still, mouth open and a tear running down her temple.

—You’re broken —I told her in her ear—. You’re mine now.

—I’m yours now —she repeated.

It took her a couple of minutes to settle into the rhythm, and when she did she didn’t want it to slow down. I started slow, with long thrusts all the way in, watching her face change with every удар. She asked for more. She dug her fingers into my shoulders and pressed her heels into my back so I’d get deeper. I tore open her blouse, popped two buttons off, pulled the cup of her bra down with my hand and bit one nipple. I held the other breast fully in my hand, squeezing it until it turned red. I licked her nipple, sucked it, nibbled it while I kept fucking her.

I turned her over on the bed, lifted her skirt above her waist, and put her on all fours. I pushed her head down so her tits were against the mattress and her ass was up. I spread her cheeks with both hands and shoved it back in from behind, all the way to the base, in one stroke. Renata screamed into the pillow. I started fucking her hard, holding her at the hip with one hand and by the neck with the other, pulling out to the tip and driving back in all the way. The plaid skirt slapped my groin with every thrust. The cheeks of her ass rippled in waves every time I hit her. I spat into her asshole and rubbed my thumb over it, circling, not pushing all the way in, just pressing, and she let out a sharper moan.

—Not there, not yet —I said—. I’m saving that for later.

—Any time you want, prof. All yours.

Renata was laughing and moaning at the same time. Every so often she turned her head to look at me with that expression that was already becoming ours: half triumph, half plea. I let her go for a moment, yanked her hair back, and made her arch her spine. I slapped one cheek with my open hand and a red mark stayed there against the white of her skin. She gave a cry and tightened her cunt around my cock, sucking me in from the inside. I slapped the other cheek. She squeezed again.

—Again —she begged.

I slapped her three more times in a row until both butt cheeks were blazing. Then I grabbed her by the waist with both hands and drove into her to the hilt, pounding her without mercy. I could feel the trembling building inside her. When she came, she came screaming, biting the sheet, her cunt squeezing me so hard it almost dragged me along with it.

I held back. I pulled out in time, turned her over onto her back again, took myself in hand, and finished on her breasts, her neck, her chin, her open mouth. Thick, white, in four long ropes that stuck to her unbuttoned white blouse and her wrinkled sweater. She ran two fingers over her chest, gathered it up, put them in her mouth and sucked them while looking at me.

—Delicious, prof —she said—. That’s exactly how I imagined it tasted.

When I finished the first time, she lay there on her back, still in her wrinkled white blouse, stained, and her skirt bunched up like a belt around her waist, her cunt swollen and red between her open legs. She was breathing with her mouth open, smiling up at the ceiling.

—Can we do it again in a little while? —she asked.

—Whenever you want.

—And tomorrow too.

—And tomorrow too —I repeated, because by then there was no point pretending I was going to back out.

***

We ordered food to the room, watched television without really watching it, and started all over again two more times before the sun came up. The second time I sat her on top of me, with her skirt still shoved up at the waist, and made her ride me while looking me in the eye, my hands on her tits and her hands in mine. She moved on her own, back and forth, learning the rhythm she liked, moaning softly every time the tip touched her inside where it was supposed to. She licked the sweat from my neck and whispered things in my ear that at her age she shouldn’t even have known.

The third time I put her up on the room’s table, face down, with her tits crushed against the cold wood, and ate her ass first, with my tongue shoved all the way in, until I left it open and shining. I put on lubricant and slipped in one finger, then two, until she stopped complaining. When I fucked her in the ass, it went in with difficulty the first few seconds, and then it opened around me like a glove. I grabbed her by the hair and drove it in slowly, all the way, taking care not to break her, while she slid two fingers into her cunt to touch her clit. When I came inside, I felt her ass tighten around me, milking me down to the last drop. She lay on the table, my semen running down her thighs, laughing without strength.

At some point in the early morning she fell asleep with her head on my chest and her fingers tangled in my hand, as if afraid I’d leave. I took a while to close my eyes. I was thinking about Monday’s class, the hallways, how I was going to hold her gaze in front of thirty classmates without it showing on my face. I was thinking this couldn’t happen again, and at the same time I knew it would happen again.

In the morning I drove her in silence to the bus stop, two neighborhoods before her house. Before getting out of the car, she leaned in, kissed me at the corner of the mouth, and told me in a very low voice what I already knew:

—See you Monday, prof. And I’m wearing the uniform underneath, just in case.

She closed the door and I watched her walk away with the pink backpack over her shoulder, like any other teenager coming back from a friend’s place. I started the engine and drove slowly to the first traffic light, where I sat staring at the red light without seeing it, knowing there was no going back now and that this was exactly the part I liked most.