Teaching Mrs. ATM - Sex Stories

Teaching Mrs. ATM

&#034So what does it taste like?&#034 I've always asked that whenever I stuff her mouth with my cock immediately after I rammed her asshole. I've never gotten an actual answer, just a snide stare looking up as my dick stretched her lips. &#034So what does it taste like, you whore?&#034 Again, no response. I didn't need one. I simply asked so I can remind her that my cock had just been in her ass before I shoved it in her mouth. I wanted to remind her that despite her being a clean cut elementary school teacher by day, she was an absolute fucktoy by night; my fucktoy. No, she wasn't my wife. And I wasn't her husband. Mrs. Palomini and I hailed from the same picturesque, affluent suburban town straight out of a 1960s sitcom, filled with manicured lawns, white picket fences and gas-guzzling minivans. We had the best school districts, the biggest houses and the most exclusive country clubs. My wife was a classic domestic housewife, Mrs. Palomini's husband was the cliched suit and breadwinner. And they were both dreadfully boring. I had always known Mrs. Palomini from school functions and volunteer community service, but she struck me as just another boring clean-cut citizen of this town. Our affair began as pure happenstance with the two of us yearning for more taboo desires. It wasn't love. It wasn't even casual courting. It was plain hardcore anal fucking like we were doing right now. Technically, I was sent out to pick up the usual groceries this evening. Milk. Eggs. Loaf ...

... of bread. And my wife's prescription allergy medication. However, I used any and every excuse to meet with Mrs. Palomini. After chucking the brown paper grocery bags into the back of our SUV, I simply pulled into the long corridor behind the shopping center where the large truck trailers delivered food. That was where I summoned Mrs. Palomini for a quick romp before we both had to return to our own homes... ...and our own spouses. It took her only 4 minutes, but with my heightened anticipation, it felt like 40. Her car pulled up next to mine before she and I exited our vehicles only to climb into the backseat of her compact sedan. The two of us were alone this late behind the food mart, nothing but the crickets that roared in the summer heat and the moths that gathered by the lone lit lamppost. That still did nothing to deter my haste as I didn't even bother to properly undress Mrs. Palomini, simply pulling up the hem of her floral summer dress and yanking down the elastic waist band of her white panties. She was still wearing the same outfit she wore in front of class today. No foreplay. No sensual sweet talk. We've never even kissed. Ever. I came here specifically for one thing: ass-to-mouth. Even in tight quarters, I maintained my aggression and impatience, bending Mrs. Palomini over the backseat as I squatted behind her. I rushed to unbuckle my belt and pull down my trousers, my already stiff and ready rod slinging out of my pants like a spring loaded catapult. Again, no ...