Mrs. Clemens was still gorgeous.

I ran into her at the farmers’ market. I hadn’t intended to go. I’d just wandered over during my lunch break because it was near my office building. Instead of crappy fast food, I decided some artisan bread and fresh tomatoes would work instead. And there she was.

Mrs. Clemens had been my high-school English teacher. A hot woman with big tits and the world’s most perfect ass. I’d lusted after her during my 12th grade poetry class, well before the term MILF had been invented.

“Mrs. Clemens?” I fought to keep the bass in my voice. Seeing her, my vocal chords wanted to revert to a crackling teenage melody.

She recognized me right away, which got me right in the gut (and right in the cock). I received a big hug which made it difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. I never thought I’d actually have that rack pressed against my chest. I stepped back before my cock decided it was adolescent, too, and sprung to life.

I asked all the questions you’re supposed to ask when you’re polite and run into someone from your past. How was her family? Was she still teaching? How was her husband?

Her family was great, she was teaching but only part-time, and her husband was no longer her husband. The past ten years had been kind to her. She had stunning skin and a body to die for. She was a testament to smoking hot late-40s women everywhere.

When it was her turn, she asked me all the questions. Where was I working? Where did I live? And I tried to focus on her words and not her appearance until it dawned on me to glance at my watch.

“I grabbed her hips, held her tight & thrust up into her over and over”

“Shit. I have to go back to the office. I’m sorry. I’m late.”

She gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me it was nice seeing me. I almost let her walk away, but at the last minute, I found my nerve. I lightly snagged her wrist in my hand and said, “Can I take you out for a drink? I have a confession to make…”

She studied me with cool blue eyes. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-eight.”

She appeared to be doing the math. Then: “What’s your confession?”

“I’ve lusted after you for years. You were that teacher for me.” There. I’d said it.

Her cheeks colored quickly, and she looked away. I steeled myself for a no but was surprised when she asked, “Tonight at seven?”

I gave her the name of the bar where I’d meet her, and off I went. I returned to my boring desk job but with a distinct pep in my step. The day was looking up.

I was at the bar at 6:30. I wanted a pre-drink drink to still my nerves some. I only got halfway through my scotch when she walked in. She was early, too.

“And here I thought I could get one before you arrived,” she said, tucking her purse onto her lap. I’d had a hard time not staring as she’d climbed onto the barstool. Her wrap dress was dark green and fit her like a glove. Her heels were black peep-toes. Her hair loose, hitting just at her shoulders. “You’re staring,” she said.

“Sorry. I never thought I’d be here.”

She ordered a red wine and said, “Remember when I used to give you pop quizzes right out of the gate in the morning. To get it out of the way. That stress and tension?”

I nodded. “After a while we got used to it. Took the fear right out of the experience.”

“Because a test is just a gauge — ”

“Of what you know at that moment in time. Nothing more,” I finished for her.

She smiled, pleased with me. “Exactly.” She took a few swigs of her wine and then pointed a finger at my beverage. “Drink.”

I obeyed. When the bartender came to check on us, she slid a twenty across the bar at him. “If we leave our drinks here and I leave my wrap on the stool, can you hold these seats for us? We need to pop out for a few minutes, but we’ll be back.”

“All of my teenage fantasies were right here in front of me”

He took the twenty, assured us the seats were ours, but not before casting a lingering look at the cleavage displayed by her dress. Mrs. Clemens took my hand and pulled me to standing.

“Where are we going?”

“To get the nervous-making part of this evening out of the way first.”

My mouth went dry. She squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry. We can revisit it later, too.”

I followed her willingly to her large black SUV. It was parked by the end of the lot in the shadows, far away from any street lamps.

In the backseat, she pulled me to her and kissed me. Her mouth tasted like red wine and peppermint. My cock went instantly hard, all my teenage fantasies right here in front of me. I had spent many days in high school thinking about fucking her instead of studying. I had always fantasized about what her pussy would feel like… how she would taste… what her mouth would feel like wrapped around my cock as I plunged it into her throat.

Her hand wandered across my lap, found my erection, and stroked me. She laughed. “You weren’t lying, huh?”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Let’s see what I can do about that.” She drew down my zipper, and my breath caught as her head went to my lap and her wet tongue and lips were on my cock. She sucked only my cockhead and when I gave a strangled sound, she pressed her hands to my legs. Then she was swallowing my shaft, working me with her tongue, sucking me until I thought I might expire right there.

I gently stroked her hair and said, “Please come up here, Mrs. Clemens.”

She did, working her dress up over her hips. I was shocked and thrilled to see in the gloom that she wore no panties. She straddled my lap and kissed me. The dewy heat of her pussy pressed to my dick. She rocked back and forth on me while I kissed her. I pinched her nipples through her dress and found — again surprised — no bra. She moaned, rocking harder against my cock, and when she came, I was startled. I wasn’t even in her yet. But the friction of my shaft against her clit must have been enough to do the trick.

“Older women know how to get what they want.” She laughed against my cheek. Even in the shadows I must have looked surprised.

“Put me in you,” I growled. I’d found my nerve and my voice. I leaned in and bit her above her collarbone. She shivered and sighed and responded to my demand.

Her hand around my cock was bliss. She stroked me for a minute before moving so that the tip of me kissed the molten heat of her cunt. Then she sank down, an inch at a time, until I was engulfed in the wet velvet of her wonderfully snug pussy.

She started to rock against me, dragging her teeth down the slope of my throat as she moved. She held my shoulders with her delicate hands and ground against me. I lost my shyness and my shock. I drove up from beneath her, plunging my cock as deep as I could every time.

I knew I wasn’t going to last long. I’d fantasized about this more times than I could count. She knew it, too. That’s why she was doing this.

So, I didn’t feel bad when I groaned in warning. “Jesus, Mrs. Clemens.”

I felt her pussy grip me tight, milking my cock. Her fingernails bit into my shoulders, and she said, “I should instruct you to use my first name. But somehow Mrs. Clemens makes this so much… filthier.”

Her pussy hugged me again, and that, mingled with her words, did me in. I grabbed her hips, held her tight and thrust up into her over and over, losing my manners. She cried out as she climaxed, her pussy spasming wildly around me. Her voice ricocheted around the inside of her SUV like a trapped echo. I came with my own cry — much rougher, much more of a bellow.

Mrs. Clemens rested her forehead against mine. I could feel the spasms of her cunt still working me. “Now that we’ve gotten the pop quiz out of the way, how about we go in and have those drinks.”

“And I can have a makeup test later?” I teased.

“Definitely. I think you deserve another go at the material.”

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