Miss Greenhill was one of my English teachers when I was a senior in high school. She had red hair and thick, fat arms. When she wore a sleeveless outfit, there protruded a stereo set of Irish Moby Dicks, obese and bleached with leukemia. I'm sure her thighs rippled with seismographic sensitivity, but underneath their dacron sheath, they hibernated in vericose obscurity.
She had big tits, too. They bulged in a giant heap on her chest and stomach. I always wondered what it would be like to unbutton the front of her blouse, and flop one of those babies out in the sunlight. Probably covered with freckles, and tipped with a large diameter, hair covered nipple.
One day, while shopping in the grocery store, I saw Miss Greenhill in the meat department. She had poked holes in the wrappers of liver packages, and was squeezing the liver, and breathing heavily. I snuck up behind her, and called her by name.
"Hello, Miss Greenhill."
"Oh!...oh, Joe Ed! You startled me."
"Sorry, Miss Greenhill, what'cha doin' ?"
"Er, uh, t...testing the viscosity of these liver packages...uh, for my party tonight!"
"Oh, its somebody's birthday tonight, huh?"
"...No,...just a party. Say would you like to come?"
My mind did a mobius triple-gainer at the implications of what she said. She grossed me out, but she did say "come".
"Oh, sure! Love to!"
"See you at 6, number 220, at The Sealife Arms Apartments. Bye, now."
I wondered if maybe I had bit off more than she could chew, so, I went to her place doubtful, but still eager. She answered the door in a robe with a towel on her head.
"Oh, my, you're early...no, I'm late, so sorry, come in, come in."
"I can come back later if..."
"No. No. We can have a party until everyone else gets here."
We sat down with a deck of cards and began a blackjack marathon. Soon, all the poker chip toothpicks were in my pile and Miss Greenhill folded once again.
"Oh, my, I'm out of toothpicks. Well, I never let a debt go unsettled."
She knelt before me and unzipped the fly of my dungarees. My organ jumped at the notion and was hard and swollen by the time she got it in her mouth.
"Gosh, Miss Greenhill, I never knew you were such a slut."
"Oh, Joe Ed, I've sucked high school dick for 30 years. Come on, baby, shoot a big wad in teacher's mouth."
In my scrotum, I could feel my testicles writhing and somersaulting, as they whimpered, gasped, yearning to come... but then I had a brainstorm.
"Uh, Miss Greenhill?"
"Mmmmm, hmmmm, (vip, vop, vip ,vop)"
"Are we having any pop quizzes this week?"
"Yes, Monday, there's a test on Macbeth... mmmm... mmmm.... (vip, vop, vip, vop, vippeda, voppeda, dwoe, dwoe, dwoe.....)"
"Well, I gotta go!" I reeled in my cock, zipped it up, hightailed for home, and spent the rest of the night diligently studying the Shakespearean classic.
She was the best English teacher I ever had.
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Monde Thraam sez:
"My English Teacher". Oh, words cannot express how grateful I am for this one. When I first started reading it I thought, oh man, yet another asshole who's going to write a whole piece on how a fat woman is the pinnacle of unfuckability, how a fat woman is an abomination to the eye and how there Oughta Be A Law that requires all of them to cover up their fat selves with big heavy coats even in summer so that guys will only see young and thin girls with scanty clothes on. THEN I read further...Major turn-around there...Fat english teacher turns out to give groovy blow job instead...Yippee! If I had a medal I would give it to you for writing this. Don't even care if it was intended as a joke. It's showing a fat older woman being sexy and THAT is something we fat older women need to see more of.
Dr. Popeye X replies: