Incest/Taboo When No Woman Equals Mom

Ivanka, wearing a white mini-dress, standing at the top of the stairs, said, "Bob, I just got a text from Zach, he's running late and we have a date tonight. Can you give me a hand?"

Bob put down his tablet, walked up the stairs, zipped up the back of her dress, and followed her to the bedroom she shared with their son. There were several pairs of shoes on the bed.

"What do you think he'll like best?"

Shoes stylish, heels tall and thin, he knew his wife would look fabulous in all of them, but Bob recalled Zach admiring the black open-toed pumps. Ivanka slipped them on and looked at herself in one of the mirrors that adorned the bedroom's walls.

"They do look great. Thank you dear, he'll love them."

When the front door opened Ivanka hurried downstairs and greeted her son with a, "Welcome home my darling," and a non-motherly kiss. Bob, following behind, said, "Hey son, your Mom says you're running late. I can drop you off at the restaurant, it'll save a few minutes."

"Thanks Dad, that'd be great."
​

* * * * *​

Ivanka's hand was under the table, stroking Zach's erection, when Vinceto Lombardi, the establishment's owner, approached.

"Ivanka, good of you to come."

"Very much Vincento, your food is wonderful, as always. This is my date," then, noting Vincento's quizzical look, corrected herself, "Excuse me, my son, Zach."

Zach reached for Vincento's hand. "It's good to meet you sir. Your pizza's amazing."

"Kind of you to say."

Ivanka's hand never left Zach's lap. She wanted him primed (although, to be fair, he was always primed) to fuck her.
​

* * * * *​

When, holding hands, Zach and Ivanka came through the door, Bob said, "I could have picked you guys up."

"Thanks Dad, but the moon's full; it was the perfect night to walk home."

Bob, pleased to see his wife and son so happy, said, "How was the meal?"

Ivanka, handing him a small box, said, "Great, we brought you some, your favorite, anchovy," then turned to her son and said, "Darling, I think I ate too much, I need to lie down. Come keep me company?"

Bob popped open a beer, started on the pizza. When he heard his wife's low moans he turned up the television, thinking he used to make her sound like that, well not exactly like that, but on his best days, sorta kinda.
​

* * * * *​

A group of students had gathered at the coffee shop. Cindy was explaining that she'd seen Walker being escorted to the headmaster's office. The rumor was that Jasmine Stokes, who taught psychology and sociology, had found a couple joints in Walker's back pack.

Zach's phone buzzed, it was Walker. He found a quiet corner to talk to his friend, Walker had left his bag in the classroom over the weekend. On Monday Ms. Stokes noticed it, opened it, found the pot. Zach returned to the group, reported on the conversation, then texted his mother to let her know he'd be late.

Ivanka read the text, told the maid to put dinner in the refrigerator, and texted Bob to let him know about the delay. Bob used the time to deposit a load in Trixie's ever-willing mouth; Ivanka used it to put on an Agent Provocateur Valentine Body Black And Multi, a short silk kimono and heels, then comb out her hair; at Zach's request she was letting it grow out.

When the door opened Ivanka hurried to the foyer, frowning when Bob stepped inside. Seeing the disappointment on his wife's face he said, "Sorry, only me, but I'm sure he'll be home soon."

Ivanka smiled, kissed her husband's cheek, and said, "I'm sorry dear, I want you to know how much I appreciate you. I'm doubly blessed, to have a lover like my son and a husband willing to let his son take his place."

"He's my son too, I'm as proud of him as you."

When the door opened Ivanka wrapped her arms around Zach, kissed his lips, then turned to her husband and said, "Bob, dinner's in the frig. Can you heat it up, three minutes on the microwave. Zach and I will set the table."

With Bob in the kitchen Ivanka and Zach exchanged a sweet French kiss. Zach considered taking her upstairs, but there was business to attend to.
​

* * * * *​

After dinner they gathered in the living room, where Bob said, "I was on the employment committee when Jasmine Stokes was hired. She was smart, but didn't have the kind of experience we normally require. On the other hand, her husband had just made a substantial contribution to the school." He looked to Ivanka and said, "Didn't you interview her?"

Ivanka, absent-mindedly stroking the back of Zach's neck, said, "I did. Professional, smart, excellent educational background, but, as you said, she was just out of school. During our conversation I also sensed a stubbornness to her. I asked whether, in light of her lack of experience, she was ready for Trinity's spoiled teenagers and their sense of entitlement. She immediately got defensive, dug in her heels. She was angry I'd questioned her. I was afraid that when challenged by a student she'd do the same. I expressed my concern to the administration, but, as your father said, her husband had made that contribution."

Zach said, "You guys were right on the money. She works hard, is well prepared, but when questioned she takes it personally."

Bob handed Zach his tablet. "I found her application." There was a photograph accompanying it.
​

* * * * *​

Jasmine Stokes had the face of a model, oval with perfectly symmetrical features, but that wasn't a surprise, she'd been a model. After winning a partial scholarship to play volleyball and softball at the University of Southern California, she majored in education and modeled part-time. After her junior year she signed with IMG for the European summer shoot that turned into a full time job. Quickly known for a dishonest competitive streak, she was unpopular with the other models, but she always had work. She was, you see, unique: her mixed ancestry, African, Brazilian, and West Indian, gave her skin a light brown color that was both exotic and classic and her build -- 121 pounds spread over a 34-24-34 five feet nine inch frame, with slim shoulders and hips, flat belly, "B" breasts and small butt cheeks -- was paired with a natural athletic grace. She never reached the stratosphere, no Sports Illustrated cover, but she'd done well.

She'd dated her share of hunky male models but as she approached thirty started seeing Justin Stokes, wealthy, twenty-five years her senior, who was clear about one thing, if they married she'd have to give up modeling and take employment that kept her close to home.

"My companies keep me on the road. So did my first wife's. When we were going through our divorce I told my lawyer we'd grown apart, had little in common.

"He stared at me, thinking, I'm sure, how can such a smart man be so dumb, and said, 'Let me show you something the paralegal put together.' He turned on his computer. They'd charted my and my wife's schedules over the preceding three and a half years. We'd spent 91 nights together. I can't give up traveling, so I need you to."

Jasmine didn't love Justin, but she liked him, at thirty her work had started drying up, he had a oodles of money, and having truly loved the idea of teaching, married Justin and returned to school for her degree in education.

She was not happy when she learned Justin had sent her resume to the Trinity School and was surprised when called in for an interview. When offered a job she knew something was up. First year teachers were not offered jobs at Trinity. An angry fight led to the disclosure that he'd made a significant contribution to the school and while, although she'd never admit it, concerned she might be in over her head, accepted the position
​

* * * *​

The three of them looked up from the photograph.

"Walker left his bag in her classroom over the weekend. On Monday she went through it, found two joints. He denied they were his and she got angry, called him a liar, then went to the headmaster and demanded his suspension.

"What's Walker going to do?"

"His parents talked about hiring a lawyer, but I checked the rules. Since this is Walker's first offense he's entitled to a hearing before the Honor Board. I convinced him that's the way to go. I'll represent him."
​

* * * * *​

Zach was sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair Jasmine had placed before her desk, waiting in uncomfortable silence as she finished working on her computer before turning to face him.

"You're here about Walker?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And this is a private meeting, off the record?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I'll need to see your cell phone to ensure you're not recording it."

Not responding to the insult, Zach said, "Of course ma'am," placed his phone on her desk, and said, "Ms. Stokes, most of the kids in this school, including myself, have done what Walker's accused of. Iit doesn't warrant suspension."

Jasmine knew Zach was right, she'd smoked a few joints in high school, but that wasn't important. What was important was that Walker had refused to admit his crime, that he'd stood up to her. She'd invested a lot of energy building a reputation as a fire-eating bitch. Regardless of Zach's logic or Walker's future, she couldn't be seen as giving in to a student.

"Zach, the school has a zero tolerance policy. I've no discretion in this matter, but even if I did, I'd do the same."

"Ms. Stokes, there is no way to know whether that was Walker's marijuana. We don't know how long the bag was there or who had access to it. I think that should be made clear to the administration."

Thinking how dare this kid tell her what to do, Jasmine said, "Walker will be suspended, I see no point in continuing this conversation."

Calmly Zach said. "Ma'am, this is Walker's first offense, under paragraph 3.1 of the Honor Code he's entitled to a hearing before the Honor Board. I will act on his behalf."

In a voice vaguely threatening Jasmine said, "Zach, that would be a mistake."

Non-plussed, Zach stood, said, "Thank you for your time," and extended his hand When Jasmine did not take it, he picked his phone from off her desk, where it had downloaded the information necessary to access her lap top, personal computer, and cell phone.
​

* * * * *​

Jasmine Stokes got off the phone with her husband -- he was on one of his ubiquitous business trips -- and refreshed her computer. She'd been reviewing the school's disciplinary code. Zach was right; as a first time offender Walker was entitled to a hearing before the Honor Board. She might be called as a witness. Would Zach have the gall to question her? No fucking way. Frustrated, she stared at her computer as its subliminal message seeped into her mind: "IT TURNS YOU ON WHEN ZACH STANDS UP TO YOU."
​

* * * * *​

Zach, having planted the message, turned off his computer just as Ivanka slinked in, hugged him from behind, kissed him, and said, "Hello my darling, how was your day? Mine was very stressful, why don't you come and work it out of me?"
​

* * * * *​

Jasmine, heading for her meeting with the assistant-headmaster, checked her watch. She was early, which was good, it gave her time to compose herself. During class she'd given Zach her, "I am a bitch you do not want to fuck with look," the one she'd used to rattle fellow models who might upstage her at a show, the look that always worked. Zach just looked back. Neither impolite nor rude, there'd been nothing she could complain about, but it was a look of someone who could not be intimidated, like it was she, not he, that had bitten off more than she could chew.

But that wasn't the worst part, the worst part was the stab of arousal she felt at his understated defiance.
​

* * * * *​

The assistant-headmaster said, "I'm sorry Jasmine, but Zach's correct, this is a matter for the Honor Board," then added, "Have you considered dropping this? Do you really want to be cross-examined by a student?"

Jasmine's temper flared, how dare the school not give her its full support, but she knew how to make men do what she wanted. She crossed her formidable legs, moved a few spare hairs behind her ear, touched her finger to her lips, and, eyes focused on the man across the desk, purred, "I think I can handle an eighteen year old boy, don't you?"

The assistant-headmaster, hard-on straining in his pants, said, "Of course Ms. Stokes."
​

* * * * *​

That night, as Jasmine reviewed the Honor Board's rules, looking for a way to trip up Zach, her subconscious mind absorbed the subliminal message pulsating on the screen: "IT TURNS YOU ON WHEN ZACH STANDS UP TO YOU, YOU FIND HIM DEEPLY ATTRACTIVE." Hopelessly distracted by the steady burn between her legs, she turned off her computer, found her husband, and tried pushing thoughts of Zach out of her mind as they made love.
​

* * * * *​

The next day Jasmine checked out Zach's rump as the class filed out for lunch, thinking he was a good looking young man, mature and composed. She could see why his classmates turned to him after she busted Walker.
​

* * * * *​

Zach was arguing before the Honor Board, seeking disclosure of school's week-end activities and a copy of Friday evening's surveillance tapes. Suzie Bell, who was prosecuting the matter for the Board, took her turn, urging the Board to deny the request. Jasmine admired Suzie's effort, but realized she'd put her in an impossible position by insisting she resist the request. Zach was cleary entitled to the information. She flashed back to the meeting in which Zach had asked for the information and Jasmine had impulsively decided to take a hard line. There was something about the way Zach stood up to her, his gaze steady, his voice measured, his arguments devoid of bombast or hysterics, that infuriated her; it was like he thought he was her equal. But the decision had back-fired for now she was watching Zach show he wasn't her equal, he was her superior. There was something else bothering her. When Zach had stood up to her she'd become aroused. Now, as he demonstrated his mastery over her in public, the feeling returned, even stronger this time.
​

* * * * *​

Jasmine was in her classroom, grading tests, as her unconscious mind drank in the computer's subliminal message: "IT TURNS YOU ON WHEN ZACH STANDS UP TO YOU. YOU FIND HIM DEEPLY ATTRACTIVE. HE IS STRONGER THAN YOU, SUBMIT TO HIM." She turned off her computer, called her husband, suggested he hurry home, where he found his beautiful young wife ready to do. By 8:00 P.M. he was asleep and Jasmine lay next to him, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Zach.

She went to her office, masturbated, turned on her computer to prepare tomorrow's lesson plan. The subliminal message on the screen had changed: "IT TURNS YOU ON WHEN ZACH STANDS UP TO YOU. YOU FIND HIM DEEPLY ATTRACTIVE. HE IS STRONGER THAN YOU, HE'LL BEAT YOU, ESTABLISH HIS DOMINANCE; SUBMIT TO HIM."
​

* * * * *​

With the hearing approaching the administration suggested Jasmine drop the matter, but she refused. Her years walking runways had taught her how to project any appearance she chose, and she calmly explained this was about Walker and the principle of the thing, but she knew it wasn't; she needed to beat Zach, to prove to him, and herself, that she was stronger.

During the day Jasmine psyched herself up. She knew that while her looks were important, she'd never made it as a model without stepping on more than a few equally beautiful but weaker girls. She'd show Zach, show the entire school, show herself, who was tougher. But at night, as she thought about the way Zach looked at her, completely confident, her resolve would fray. She'd imagine the hearing, see Zach humiliate her, bend her over her desk, take her before the entire school. Then she'd hurry to bed, her fingers would find her clit, a thundering orgasm would follow.
​

* * * * *​

Two days before the hearing Zach's computer pinged. Jasmine was accessing his school records. He watched her rummage around, down-load a few things, then sign off.

Satisfied that Jasmine's entire focus was on him, Zach changed the subliminal message: "THIS IS A BATTLE FOR YOUR SOUL. ZACH IS STRONGER, HE WILL WIN, YOU WILL LOSE. HIS DOMINANCE TURNS YOU ON, AROUSES YOU. SUBMIT TO HIM."
​

* * * * *​

Jasmine, always professional in public, started nterrupting and snapping at her students. When she tried to meet Zach's gaze in class her sex would burn and her eyes would drop. She imagined the students were gossiping about her, talking about her upcoming clash with Zach, savoring her inevitable humiliation. She thought about going to the administration, seeing if she could extricate herself from the mess she'd created, but no, that would be an admission of r weakness. She'd see this thing through and if she lost, well that was the way it was, the weak deserved to be dominated by the strong.
​

* * * * *​

At the hearing Zach's presentation was simple, and effective. When Jasmine went through Walker's bag it hadn't been in his possession for days. No one could say who stashed the marijuana in it.

Zach laid out the events held at he school the weekend before the drug was discovered: a Beethoven concert by the school's chamber music ensemble, a public lecture on the Tammany Hall organization, a debate by the candidates for borough president. More than a thousand visitors had wandered the school's halls. Any of them could have ducked into an empty classroom, smoked a joint, and hearing foot steps in the hallway, afraid he or she might be caught, stuff a couple of joints in an available bag and disappear.

Jasmine, sitting with Suzie, looked at the Board, their eyes were riveted on Zach. She was being taken down in front of the entire school. She tried to fire up her anger, but all she could think about was the burning need in her sex.

Zach said, "Our next witness will be Jasmine Stokes."

Jasmine approached the witness chair, tried to recall the hours she and Suzie had spent preparing, but the fire between her legs had incinerated those memories. She glanced at Zach's crotch.

"No," she had no idea how long the bag had been there.

"No," she didn't know who put the joints in the bag.

"No," she had no reason to believe drugs were in the bag.

"No," she had no reason to believe anything improper was inside the bag.

"Yes," the bag had Walker's initials on it, there'd been no need to open it to identify its owner.

Zach had her recite the number of students in each of her classes. "Yes, they all had access to the bag."

Did she lock the classroom door when she went to the bathroom: "No." So anyone in the school had access to the bag: "Yes."

And then Zach asked whether she recalled locking her classroom door Friday night.

The school's surveillance tape showed Jasmine lingering at the door, but it was unclear whether she was locking it. Susie had prepared Jasmine to say she locked the door, that she always double-checked the lock, but now, Zach's eyes boring into her, his gaze confident and steady, Jasmine, in a voice weak and submissive, said, "I don't remember."

Zach returned to his table, looked at his tablet, looked at her. "No more questions Ms. Stokes. Thank you for your time."

While imagining taking Zach's cock in her mouth, Jasmine stumbled through Suzie's questions.

The Board adjourned, returned, dismissed the charges. Jasmine hugged Suzie, praised her hard work, thanked each Board member, shook Walker's hand, then approached Zach, who was standing with his mother.

Jasmine, thinking they made an attractive couple, said, "It's good to see you again Ivanka. Zach, you were superb today, you took me down, in front of everyone, they all saw it."

"Thank you Jasmine, but why don't we put this behind us. I see you and I becoming special friends."

"I'd like that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pack a few things in my classroom, it'll take a few minutes. My husband is out of town." When she headed for the door, she put a little extra roll in her walk and glanced back at him.

Ivanka said, "She's in heat."

"Yes, she is. She'll be waiting for me in her classroom. I'll be home late."

"I'll wait up, I want to hear every detail."
​

* * * * *​

The halls were deserted and lights turned off, but Zach saw a faint glow coming from Jasmine's classroom and, as he approached, heard a fan turning inside, then a low moan.

The door was cracked open and through it Zach saw Jasmine leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, mouth open, one foot on the ground, pink panties around the ankle. Her other leg was bent at the knee, her foot planted on the edge of her desk. Her skirt was bunched up and pulled underneath her, her hand pressed to her sex, her hips moving in small hard circles, the muscles of her arm tightening and twisting. Her blouse was unbuttoned and her lacy bra pushed aside as she kneaded the exposed flessh. She moaned, louder this time.

Zach, stroking himself through his pants, watched Jasmine pull the bra off the other breast and roll the nipple between thumb and forefinger. Her hips bucking in barely controlled frenzy she pulled her fingers from her sex, brought them to her mouth, sucked them clean, returned them to her vagina.

Zach draped his coat over the back of a chair, undid his tie, lay it with his jacket, unzipped his pants. At the sound Jasmine opened her eyes. Her hands, one on her breast, the other between her legs, froze and her eyes flicked to his dick; it was as big and beautiful and hard as she'd imagined.

Without taking her dark eyes off his, she put both feet on the ground, stood, said, "I was praying you'd come," and, dress around her waist, walked around her desk and kissed him. His lips were strong and masculine, hers molded themselves to them like wet satin. She wrapped her arms around his neck, curled a leg around the back of his calf, and her tongue went inside his mouth. He tasted like a man. She kissed his neck, small wet hurried kisses, trying to make up for weeks of longing in just a few moments.

As they kissed he walked her backwards. When she bumped into her desk she sat on its edge, leaned back on her arms. Her shirt and bra were open, revealing naked breasts; her skirt was crumpled around her waist and her legs spread, the swollen lips of her pussy glistened in the dim light.

When Zach stepped forward she lay atop her desk, her hips on its edge, and stretched out her legs, ready to wrap them around his waist.

"From now on, no more bitch-teacher."

No Zach, no more bitch-teacher. Even if I wanted to, after tonight, no one would take it seriously."

"You'll be the students' friend, always ready to help."

"Yes my darling."

"Good. I see no reason to upset your present life. You'll become a dear friend of the family, available to me whenever I want."

"Yes Zach."

Then, to Jasmine's surprise -- she'd expected him to fuck her -- Zach leaned over and licked her sex, from bottom to top, feasting on her sweet warm cream. He did it again, then again. Babbling her joy, Jasmine folded her ankles on Zach's back and pulled him to her.

Zach sucked her clit into his mouth, slapped it with his tongue. Jasmine squealed and like the relentless piston of a prized race car, his mouth drove her forward fast and hard, the pressure in her belly going from balloon to pressure cooker to geyser to volcano. She dug her nails into his scalp.

Jasmine brayed her joy. here was no question about what would happen, it was inevitable, no controlling it, no stopping it. She knew she needed the phenomenal moment growing within her, but still wanted it to last forever, but it kept building and soon she knew she couldn't take any more. Without this release she'd shatter. And then the release was here and it was the best release she'd ever known. She went supernova, free of gravity, free of all constraints. She came, came again, then again. Her mind spun, her heart ached, her legs shook. She was numb, she was on fire, she was alive, she was weightless. She smiled and laughed and screamed and cried. This was heaven.

And finally her spent frame sank onto the desk.

Zach looked at her, the portrait of post-orgasmic bliss: eyes closed, breaths deep and long, covered in sweat, mascara smeared, dark hair matted to flushed cheeks, pussy swollen and wet, fingers involuntarily contracting as the tiny aftershocks flowed through her.

"Turn over."

Opening her eyes Jasmine smiled in happy contentment and said, "Yes my darling," then, holding Zach's hand for support, rolled onto her stomach, knocking several things over in the process. She pushed the hair from her face and said, "Take me."

Zach flipped her dress up and ran a hand over her bare ass cheeks. She shivered, spread her legs; Zach slipped a finger into her sex, dragged the wet digit along the crack of her ass, stopped at her asshole, rubbed it; her pussy convulsing at the unexpected contact. She'd oft imagined the first time Zach took her, but she'd never imagined anything this depraved, this degrading, this perfect. Reaching back, she spread herself open, her asshole crinkled and expanded, and said, "Fuck my virgin ass."

In a sing-song voice Zach said, "Yes Ms. Stokes," fingered the opening, drew a low moan, then tickled her asshole with his tongue. Jasmine sighed, "Oh YES," let go of her ass cheeks, and grabbed the edge of the desk as Zach licked her butthole, savoring its dark taste, feeling it quiver and wink. When he pushed his tongue inside er asshole it tightened, shuddering at the forbidden sensation.

Zach reached between her legs, found her clit.

Jasmine imagined the room was full of students: the boys taking out hot hard cocks; the girls' hands dipping inside shirts to play with firm fat titties, dipping inside skirts to fondle tight teenage twat.

"OH Zach honey, baby-child, yes, yess, ohhh yyeeessssss."

She imagined the boys' cocks erupting, spewing cum; she imagined the girls squealing, juice cascading down their thighs.

"OH Zach my darling, my sweet honey-child, yes, yess, yesss, oh yesssss."

She imagined the headmaster wandering in, nodding his head in approval of her new student-friendly attitude.

Jasmine arched her back, rasped, "OH Zach. oh Zach, oh yes, yes, yess, yessss, I'm coming," and, a hooked fish flopping on the floor of a boat, wiggled and shook until, with a final jerk, taking long breaths, eyes shut, mind drifting, she was still. She mumbled something.

"What did you say?"

Jasmine picked up her head and, with a wild fire in her eyes, said, "Do it."

"Do what?"

"Fuck me in the ass."

"I'm having trouble hearing you."

Reaching back to spread her ass cheeks, in a voice loud and clear, she said, "Fuck me in the ass, fuck me with your big cock. I want to feel it in me. Fuck me like a bitch, it's what I deserve, it's what I need."

Zach dipped two fingers into her sex, coated his cock with her cream, applied a healthy dollop to her asshole, which popped open at his touch, then let a mouthful of spit ooze onto her ass crack. He ran his cock-head up and down the well-lubed crevice.

Jasmine said, "Do it, please do it."

Zach pressed his dick to her rectum. The head of his cock spread her sphincter. Jasmine, groaning in delight, pushed against it, forced the cock-head inside her. The jolt reverberated through her body.

"Uuuunnngggggghhhhhh, fuck yes, give me more."

Zach moved an inch more inside.

"You going to be a good girl from now on?"

"Yes."

Zach slid another inch inside, Jasmine whimpered, "Uunnuuuuhh," and her ass clamped down, instinctively trying to drive the invader out. Zach bit his lip at the mind-boggling sensation and Jasmine, noting his reaction, squeezed her ass on him, clamp/release, clamp/release, and whispered, "Give me more. You're so big, so fricking big, give me more."

Holding her by the hips, Zach closed his eyes, wanting to remember the moment, and pushed deeper. Jasmine rolled her hips in tiny circles and flexed her rectal muscles on him. When he paused Jasmine looked over her shoulder and said, "Don't stop, I need this," gripped the sides of her desk and, knuckles white with the exertion, thrust her hips back, yelling, "FUCK YES," while driving him into her rump.

It hurt, but Jasmine loved the pain. It was sinful, it was unnatural, she was splitting in two. This kid had stood up to her, showed her who was boss, now he was taking her; she'd never been so aroused.

Then, without warning, Zach stepped back and pulled his dick from her ass. Jasmine looked over her shoulder, her black hair whipping about, and said, "Nooooooo, please...."

Zach said, "On your back."

She rolled onto her back.

Zach shoved a chair cushion under her butt, stepped forward, placed her legs atop his shoulders.

She reached for his dick, her slim fingers exploring its hard hot surface, then lifted her hips and fit him to her sphincter. Zach buried it in her in a single powerful thrust. As he did a grunt exploded from her core.

Her ass flush on his hips, she reached up, touched his cheek, a wicked smile on her face, hooked her ankles behind his neck, driving him deeper into her ass, and said, "I've been a bitch, now I'm your bitch, fuck me like a bitch."

As Zach did Jasmine focused on the ungodly pressure. She was being violated by a student in her classroom in the most wicked way possible. It was wonderful.

Her eyes drifted shut and she saw a firestorm of colors, brilliant fierce reds that burned through her. Then the red receded, supplanted by sheets of green, oceans of blue, bright yellow waves, surging fireworks of teal and purple and orange.

Zach grunted, deep and hard, and she opened her eyes, saw her and Zach's bodies reflected in a window. When she gestured to it Zach thought of the mirrors he'd added to his bedroom walls.

"You're going to enjoy your new life. Ready for more?"

Jasmine drove her body into him, forced him deeper inside, and said, "I'll always be ready."

Zach took hold of her hips and Jasmine's hands went to her breasts, squeezed the warm flesh, twisted the areolas, pinched the nipples, moaned, "Oh God FUCKING YESSSS." Drops of sweat formed on her skin, merged with each other, drizzled down her body, pooled on her desk. He fucked her hard; Jasmine, flexing the taut muscles of her thighs and ass, worked her rectum on him. When Zach's eyes rolled back into his head Jasmine said, "Do you like this my darling?"

"Oh yes."

They increased their pace, hot skin slapping against hot skin in urgent delirious rhythm; the shockwave of each impact recoiling down along her spine. Sweat rolled off her flanks. Enthralled by the staccato bursts of pain-pleasure, she dug her fingers into her breasts, whimpered like a rabid bitch. The pleasure was pleasure, the pain was pleasure, and her cries, that began in English, "Harder, please harder, give me what I deserve, fuck me like a bitch. Flood my asshole. Oh god, ohh, ohhh, big, so big, big," devolved into a vulgar babble whose meaning was nonetheless unmistakable: "Uuunnnhhhh, unnnrrhhhhh, eeennnnyyyyyhhhhhhhh."

Zach, watching Jasmine through lust-filled eyes, smiled and hammered away; his balls were on fire, but he held back, waiting. Jasmine gulped in air; her muscles contracted; her jaw locked; her dark skin flushed. He slid a hand up her body, felt her heart thunder, slid it down to her vagina, swollen and soaking wet. He covered her clitoris with a thumb and rolled it on her body.

Jasmine came, screeching, "AAAAIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE OHHHH GRRRRAAAG."

The explosion started in Zach's groin, then rampaged through his body. He shouted, "Oh fuck, oh fuck yes, I'm commiiiinnnngggg, take my cum you sweet sweet bitch," and unloaded inside her.

While his cum soothed her ravaged asshole Jasmine came again. The orgasm recoiled through her, reducing any lingering remnants of resistance to ash. Fom now on life would be simple: be a good girl, take care of Zach.
​

* * * * *​

Ivanka put aside the reports she'd been reviewing and said, "Was she waiting for you?"

"Yes."

"Will you have her divorce?"

"No, she's happy in her marriage, there is no reason to change that. Instead you two will become best friends. With her husband constantly on the road, she'll spend a lot of time here. Would you like to know what she tastes like?"

"Of course."

He dropped his pants. "I brought some dried cunt juice."
​

* * * *​

Ivanka got home and found Zach was sitting in the dining room, Jasmine next to him, running her fingers up his back, computer open before them.

Ivanka said, "Hello my darling," slid her hands down the front of Zach's body, pressed her breasts to his back, kissed his cheek, and turned to Jasmine. "I thought there was a rule about meeting with students without supervision."

"I've become less rule-bound. My job is to nurture, provide for the needs of my students, so when Zach asked for help with a college application, of course I said yes. And you're here, keeping an eye on me; I can only be as bad as you let me."

Jasmine leaned forward, tilted her head, kissed his mouth.

"So you're like a mother, ensuring your boys become vigorous men."

"Well yes, but a girl can spread herself only so far. Some students, like Zach, require special attention. I've also learned he's already a vigorous man. I'm told you don't mind sharing."

"Not at all. I see you and I becoming close friends. Do you need to be anywhere tonight? Please join us for dinner."

"I'd love to, my husband is out of town. I'll let him know I'll be your guest tonight."

As Jasmine walked off and called her husband, Ivanka texted Bob: "Jasmine will join us for dinner. Be a dear and stop at Chou's on the way home. See you about," she checked the time, "8:00."

Bob pressed the intercom to let know Trixie know she needed to work late.
​

* * * * *​

Bob set the food on the dining room table and yelled, "I'm home."

Zach, head appearing around the corner of the upstairs hallway, said, "Hey Dad. Mom and Jasmine are getting out of the shower. We'll be down in a few minutes."

"Sure son, I'll get everything ready."

Zach, wearing a silk robe, and Jasmine and Ivanka, in short white terrycloth robes, wet hair wrapped in towels, came downstairs ten minutes later. By then Bob had transferred the Chinese food to serving bowls and laid out place settings.

"It's good to see you Jasmine. I'm glad you and Zach have put that recent unpleasantness behind you."

Jasmine took Zach's hand, looked at him with adoring eyes. "I learned a valuable lesson from your son, to focus on helping and rewarding students, not punishing them."​