This is my first story on Lit. I have been working on some true(ish) stories for years, but never finished them. This one is a fantasy, based on an unexpected and awkward encounter with the vice-principal at my college. Nothing happened, but I have fantasized what it would be like if something had. And that is the story below. Thanks for reading!

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“Hey, Jenni. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Startled, I turned around without closing my classroom door. Teachers, like me, would be reporting back in a week, and I had decided to drop off some things ahead of time. I had not expected to see anyone. And of anyone I could have unexpectedly met dressed as I was — dark gray short shorts, flip flops, and a fairly loose sky-blue tank top under which I was braless — our vice principal, Keith, would have been the last person I wanted it to be. You see, despite being happily married and loving my husband to death, I had been plagued with fantasies about Keith since we had first met.

“Oh, hi, Keith. I didn’t expect to see anyone today. I was just dropping some things off.”

As I said those words, I was also in the process of assessing Keith’s appearance. It did not look to me like he had expected to see anyone either. Instead of his ordinary khakis with button down shirt or polo shirt, he wore black workout shorts, low cut gray socks with black athletic shoes, and a green athletic shirt. And let’s just say that while I could tell that he had a nice body underneath his ordinary work clothes, I had no idea how muscular he really was. The shirt he wore wasn’t even that tight on him, yet it showed off a broad chest, thick arms, and rounded shoulders.

“Me too,” he said, and I felt his eyes on my chest. It was then that I realized that my nipples had stiffened enough to tent even the loose fabric of my tank top, making it obvious that I was sans bra. My cheeks heating, I looked down, which was a mistake. His shorts fit much closer than his shirt, and while I did not think his cock was stiff like my nips, there was a definite bulge there.

With a suddenly fluttering stomach, I stepped away until my back was against the wall next to my still open classroom door. I did my best to ignore the tingling sensations emanating from my clit and nipples, as well as the warm wetness growing in my pussy.

I love my husband, I wondered as I forced myself to breathe regularly. I had just caught Keith’s scent, a combination of cologne and sweat, and I knew he had likely come here right from working out. The sheer maleness of his aroma made me lose my battle, and my heartbeat and breathing both quickened when he stepped closer.

“I should be going,” I managed to say, although it came out as a squeak.

His brown eyes just stared at me, boring into my soul. He had that way of looking at people. I had seen students break down and confess to whatever they had done just by him looking at them. And I knew I was on the verge of giving him whatever he wanted, should he want anything.

“Why? I think we’re the only two people here, Jenni. We could take the time to… catch up.”

He was very close now, inches away, and my desire was screaming at me to touch him. But I held back, my arms at my side as I tried to shrink into the wall. But that manly scent of his was working to reduce my legs and my resolve to quivering masses of jello. A vision of my husband, his sparkling blue eyes and boyish smile, complete with dimple, floated through my mind, strengthening me. Well, for a moment, anyway.

I put my hands up to push Keith away, but the instant they contacted his firm chest, my newly found strength faded. With no resistance at all, I let him push up against me, my hands remaining on his chest but my elbows bending so that he was able to mash his lips against mine.

I won’t kiss him back, I told myself, but in the next instant my lips parted for his thrusting tongue, and my own tongue met it. A low moan rumbled in my throat as his strong hands gripped my waist and pulled me closer, bringing his now obviously hard cock against my lower abdomen. Although he was not as tall as my husband, who is an even six feet tall, Keith was still quite a bit taller than me, as I am only hair over five foot myself. And while Hubby is in good shape, his lankier frame was nothing like the solid bulk of Keith.

“In the room,” he said when our lips parted, his voice a growl. I hesitated then nodded, the feel and smell and sound of him obliterating my resistance.

He stepped back, giving me room to slide to the open door. And just when I had turned to go through it, a hard smack landed on my bottom. I yelped and scurried into the room. The blow had not hurt, not really, and yet I felt it deep in my core. That he would do such a thing did not surprise me, but that he knew I would be accepting of it did a little. I did not think I had ever let my submissive side show around him. Indeed, we had butted heads many times since I had been teaching at the college, and I had all the time stood my ground. And yet, that one strike to my ass had revealed that he probably knew exactly what I was.

“Such a great ass,” he whispered from right behind me, and I shivered at his closeness, and at his strong hand rubbing my bottom right where he had spanked me. His touch, although not what I would call gentle, relieved the burning while leaving a tingling sensation behind. With a sigh, and without conscious wondered, I leaned back into him, inhaling his intoxicating scent as the hand not rubbing my ass reached around to my chest and grasped my breast.

“Oh God,” I groaned as he kissed my neck and brought the hand that had been massaging my ass around to latch onto my other breast. I shivered again, closing my eyes as those strong fingers squeezed my tender boobs. And when they found my aching nipples, I let loose a whimper of pleasure. But in the next instant, that pleasure turned to disappointment after his hands fell away from my chest and he broke contact.

“Turn around,” he said, and I obeyed the clear command, meeting his blazing brown eyes before dropping my own, acknowledging my submission to him, my body trembling in fear and self-loathing and anticipation. Without another word, he lifted my tank top over my head. I risked a glance at him, and I saw his gaze on my chest.

“They’re small,” I said, saying it before he could as a defense mechanism. But my heart — and my loins — warmed when he shook his head.

“They’re perfect, Jenni,” Keith said, his voice husky with what I knew to be lust. And then his mouth was on them, licking and kissing the entire surface of my right breast as his hand came up the left, which barely made a handful for him. I closed my eyes, giving in to the pleasure as I stroked his dark brown and surprisingly soft hair. And when he began nibbling on my right nipple even as he pinched and rolled the left between his fingers, I let out a long moan and gripped his firm, rounded shoulders to keep myself upright.

For what felt like forever and yet not enough time, he worshipped my nipples and boobs with his skilled lips and tongue and teeth. Then he was kissing his way up my neck until his lips reached mine. And while our tongues warred again, I let him guide my hand to his rock-hard cock, which I massaged through his tight shorts. His hand, the one not on mine, squirmed between my legs and pressed against my damp shorts — I had soaked through my panties when we were still out in the hall.

“You’re wet,” he grinned.

I nodded before adding a soft, “Yes, Sir,” even though it had not been a question.

“Oh, I like hearing ‘sir’ on your lips,” Keith said, so I said it again.

“Fuck,” he snarled before kissing me as forcefully and masterfully as any man ever has, even my husband. Because while my husband will play Dom for my advantage, he is not very dominant naturally. Keith clearly was, and the sub in me responded with needful surrender. And for some time, I lost myself in his kiss. Then he broke it and stepped away, like he had in the hall and when he had been pressed up against my back. A command was coming, I was sure, and he did not disappoint.

“Shorts off. Now!”

I complied immediately, sliding both my short shorts and my pink panties down my thighs and letting them fall after they made it over my knees. For a moment I stood there with them bunched around my feet, waiting to see what he ordered next. But when he did not speak, I kicked my shorts and panties, along with my flip flops, to the side.

“Gorgeous,” he finally said after his eyes had roved every inch of the front of me. “And a nice little patch of fur there. Shows off your blonde hair.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I managed, my voice throatier than I wanted. I had been going for demure, but my own arousal was proving too much for me.

“If you were mine, I would make you go back to blonde on top too,” Keish said, reaching out to run his fingers through my long, dark strawberry blonde hair.

“You don’t like the red, Sir?” I asked, meeting his eyes for just a moment.

“I do, but I prefer my sluts to be blonde.”

I bit back a moan but could not repress a shudder at his words, especially the use of ‘slut’. He knew exactly what I was. I risked another look at his face, and the small a wicked smile there. He knew that I knee that he knew what I was. A twinge deep inside my pussy accompanied the growing throb of my clit, and it was all I could do not to drop to my knees. But I wanted to wait for his command, so I managed to stay standing despite my wobbling legs.

“Put your hands behind your head,” he said in a quiet yet firm voice. I did as ordered, my body trembling with how exposed and vulnerable it was.

He ran his hands all over my boobs, his thumbs rubbing the nipple of each. Then he grabbed my waist and turned me around so I was facing away. He caressed my ass like he had caressed my chest seconds before, but he followed this up with a quick smack to each of my cheeks. I yelped with the first but moaned with the second, so he gave me a few more. By the time he finished, my ass was on fire and I could feel my juices running down my thighs.

“Bend over,” he whispered in my ear before pushing on my back. I did so, my torso at a ninety degree angle to my legs, on which I supported myself with my arms.

“Spread your legs,” came next, and I did so, knowing my sodden pussy was on full display in that position. And despite anticipating his touch, I still jumped when his fingers probed my slit, exploring my swollen labia before slipping inside me.

“Tight,” he said, and what must have been two fingers full penetrated my gripping tunnel. “I didn’t expect you’d be so tight. You have a kid.”

“I had a C-section,” I said, wondering whether he had seen my scar but not known what it was. Then I remembered to add “Sir.”

“Oh, of course. Did you do it so you’d still have a tight cunt for your husband?”

I shivered at the question, then said, “Yes, Sir.” It was at least part of the truth, and that he had guessed it only increased my already raging lust for him.

“You’re soaked,” he commented next, his fingers pumping in and out. “Good thing too, given how tight you are.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Keith chuckled before withdrawing his fingers. I groaned in frustration, but it was short lived. His probing fingers slid up to my clitoris and rubbed it in a circular motion. I grunted and moaned and shook. There are times I get so worked up — usually when I am sucking my husband’s cock or he has just fucked my face — that I climax almost immediately if I touch my clit or my husband does. And this was like that. The feeling of pressure that had been building behind my tender little nub exploded into ecstasy, and had it not been for Keith’s strong hold on my waist with his free hand, I think I would have fallen forward as my muscles tightened and I rode the wave of an intense orgasm.

“You came,” he said when I had relaxed, and like before when he said I was wet, I knew it was a opinion not a question. But I had to respond.

“Yes, Sir. This little slut came on your fingers… Sir.”

“Yes she did,” he laughed, and then his presence was gone from behind me. I turned and saw him walking toward my desk, which was on the other side of the room. He did not look back at me until he sat in my desk chair.

“Crawl to me, slut,” he commanded. Without hesitation, I dropped to my hands and knees and did as he wished. A wave of guilt and shame washed over me as I wondered of my husband, but in some perverse way that made me loathe myself, those feeling rekindled my arousal, which had tapered off after my climax. By the time I reached my desk, I was again wet enough that moisture was running down my thighs.

I expected him to stay seated, but Keith surprised me by standing up. In the next instant, he pushed his shorts down, freeing a thick, veiny. circumcised cock with a mushroom head. I licked my lips without realizing what I was doing, which brought a chuckle from him.

“Like what you see, slut?”

“Oh, yes, Sir,” I breathed, looking up at his shining eyes before dropping my attention back to his hard shaft.

“Thicker than your husband’s?” he asked. I wondered about lying and saying yes, but I decided not to.

“No, Sir. His is nice and thick too. And I do like thick.” I did not add that my Husband was almost an inch longer, not that length mattered much to me. I’m a small girl, and too long can hurt. But I loved a girthy cock, and I knew Keith’s would fill my mouth, and my pussy and ass too if it came to that, every bit as well as my husband’s did.

“That’s a good girl for being honest with your vice-principal,” he said, patting my head. “Now be an even better girl and suck.”

Without hesitation, I sucked the spongey mushroom head of his dick into my mouth. A sour taste mixed with an earthy, manly smell, and the combination almost made me gag. My husband was almost all the time clean, and I knew he took pains to make sure he was when he wondered I might be going down on him, but Keith clearly had not done so since he last urinated. So, I slobbered and worked the liquid around with my lips and tongue, diluting the sour taste. And once it was gone, I no longer minded his aroma. In fact, I rather liked it. It was the scent of a man who had worked out hard.

“Take more of it,” he said, and I did as I was told, engulfing a little over half his length until the head hit the back of my throat. For a moment, I reveled in the sensation of a mouth full of cock, and a cock I had never sucked before. I had willingly accepted that my husband’s cock would be the only one I would suck for as long as we were married, but I knew I had missed the thrill of taking a man into my mouth for the first time. I just did not know how much I had missed it.

Moaning around Keith’s girth, I started slurping up and down it, sucking and licking the warm, soft, veined flesh that covered the solid, unyielding core of his rampant manhood. I brought one hand up and wrapped it around his shaft, intending to stroke the lower half while I sucked the upper, but Keit firmly moved my hand away. And I understood what he wanted.

Closing my eyes, which had been glancing up at him every few seconds to see if he liked what I was doing, I pushed my lips as far down his length as I could easily do. But this time when the tip hit the back of my throat, I repositioned my head so that his dick slid into the tight opening. Like all the time, I had to repress a gag before I could try to swallow. But once that was done, I was able to take it easily, sliding my lips to the root of his penis in one fluid motion.

“Fuck, Jenni. You’re such a small little thing. I didn’t think you’d be able to deepthroat.”

I held his stare for several seconds, my nose in his dark pubes and my tongue wiggling against the underside of his hard shaft. I was set on showing I could go beyond merely swallowing his length — I could hold it too. Also, I was basking in his using my name. I like being called a slut, and worse names, but there was something very hot about such a dominant man forgetting our roles in the moment and using my name.

“I bet I could even fuck that throat, couldn’t I?” He said, and I nodded even though I figured the question was rhetorical. When he grinned that wicked grin of his down at me, I whimpered and squeezed my thighs together, trying for any stimulation to my needful clit. I did not dare try to finger myself under his masterful gaze.

Taking a fistful of my ponytail in his hand, Keith pulled my head back until just the head of his thick cock remained between my lips. I stared up at him, waiting, anticipating. And then, just when I wondered he was not gonna fuck my face, he changed his grip from my ponytail to both hands cradling my scalp. I sucked in a deep breath just in time. Because in the next instant, he rammed his cock down my throat until my nose smashed against into his groin. I was prepared for him to hold me there, at least a first, because a lot of guys seem to enjoy making a woman keep their cock down their throats as long as the can. But he did not conform to that. Instead, he began pumping in and out, faster and faster, his dick forcing its way down my throat over and over and over. Closing my eyes, I gripped my thighs tightly with my hands so I would not raise them and try to keep Keith from fucking my throat.

“Open your fucking eyes, slut, and look at me!”

The words came in a low, menacing growl, and I complied immediately, meeting his stare, my mind withering under it as I excepted his mastery of my mouth and throat. Within a few seconds, tears formed rivers running down my cheeks and it was all I could do to keep my eyelids up and my gaze locked on his.

When I felt his cock twitch deep in my throat, I readied myself for him to shoot his load down my throat. But again, he surprised me. Yanking on my ponytail hard enough to make me cry out, he levered my head back until his glistening length bobbed in front of my face. I knew what was coming, pun intended, but did not close my eyes. I was quite sure he would want to see me looking up at him as he painted my face or my boobs or whatever he wanted with his jizz.

Keith took his cock in one of his strong hands and pumped it several times. A guttural sound radiated from his throat right before the first spurt of warm, thick semen splashed across my face, landing in a line starting from my forehead above my right eyes, crossing my nose, and ending just under my left eye. The next spurt hit lower on my left cheek, and the two after that hit my open mouth and chin. And just when I wondered he had missed my eyes and my hair, he must have repositioned because the next shot hit my hair and forehead dead center, and the following one splattered over my right eye, which I reflexively closed, but not in time.

“I told you to keep looking at me,” he said, again in that low growl. I wondered about replying he has said to look at him, not to keep looking at him, but I wondered better and tried to do as he asked, despite the stinging in my right eye. But the best I could do was make sure my left stayed open while my right blinked continuously.

But that seemed enough for Keith, who patted the top of my head and said, “That’s a good little bitch.”

I thought whey I had been downgraded from slut to bitch, but I did not really care that much. Either was fine with me, as were worse names.

“Lick off your lips and swallow, then make sure I stay hard. I want to fuck that tight cunt of yours.”

So, I licked his cum off my lips. I already knew from the little that had gone in my mouth that he was strong tasting and on the bitter side — I knew he drank a lot of coffee — but it was not bad at all. In fact, upon tasing a little more, I discovered it had a musky undertone that matched his manly smell, and although I would not have said it was my favorite flavor, I liked it.