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“Here. Like that. You’ll make me cum.” She withdrew her hand and began to paw at my belt buckle. She opened my pants roughly and plunged her hands through the waistband of my underwear, grasping my ball sack with one hand, wrapping the fingers of her other hand around my shaft, stroking me hard. If I hadn’t already jacked off twice that day, I would have cum right there. Mrs. B. was staring me in the face, looking stern, but her face was reddening and her breathing more rapid with her oncoming orgasm.

“Let me give you a ride, Jim. You don’t even need to change.” I said thanks and grabbed my stuff. I climbed into the passenger side. Mrs. B. was driving one of the massive cars of the day, a Delta 88 or something. She turned out of the school parking lot, turning away from the the way to my house. “I want to pick up something at my house first. Give you a chance to see where I live.”

“Oh, just a little something to help you relax, so I could bring you here,” she smiled impishly, slowly stalking closer until she was even with my hip, her sexy, four-inch heels clicking on the floor. She was seductively licking her full, pouty lips, and began to trail her pointed, lacquered red fingernails up and down the back of my thigh. “And another little something, to make sure you'd be in the proper mood for what I have planned. But I'm not talking about when we met tonight, at the party. You and I have met before. Don't you remember, Brian?”