“This story is mostly for your benefit, mistress Jutta. It’s something Koen already knows. Most of it, anyway. It’s a part of my life I would love to forget. Reading this again is not easy. And yet, you are entitled to know the truth.”
Date: February 28, 1999
Every teacher knows there is a sure way to never to be able to teach again, and that is getting involved with a student. Not on an academic level, but romantic, sexual involvement. We teach young adults and many times we see boys – and girls – crush on a teacher real bad. Sometimes is pure admiration, sometimes it is the structure, guidance and emotional support we are offering. And sometimes it’s just the hormonal changes in their bodies. While it is normal to experience these emotions, they diminish over time as students become more knowledgeable about relationships and their own emotional needs.
“I cannot believe you did this! Rule 1 in the teacher’s ethic handbook: Offer students structure, guidance and emotional support, but any romantic or sexual relationship between teachers and students is explicitly prohibited, regardless of the students’ age. Direct quote, thank you very much! They give us a warning at the beginning of every school year. Oh. My. Lord. It was so nice to have known you. You were a skilled teacher, really. It’s unfortunate that you have to undergo job retraining because no educational institution in the country will hire you as a teacher anymore.” Zuzanna ranted.
“I know, I know! What should I do? Go to the principal and confess the whole thing and hope he will transfer me to another location?” I asked.
I have never seen my friend so angry at me. She snapped at me. “Who is it?”
“I rather not tell.”
“Well, I’d rather have been kept in the dark. I didn’t request you to disclose this to me. So who is it, girl?”
“Damien.”
“Not that Damien in 4B, I hope.” She can see from my face that she has the right one in mind. There aren’t that many Damiens at school to begin with.
“That arrogant misogynist? Please tell me why this lowlife boy has your life in his groping hands.”
“I know the other teachers characterise him as ‘the scum of the earth’. I know he is arrogant, tich, cocky, self-centred, lazy and extremely popular. He isn’t good looking. Damien is gorgeous. If he had lived near Hollywood, he would have been in the movies. He got to me in a very vulnerable time of my life, Zuzanna. You know Koen is making long days. His business is just starting. The only thing that doesn’t cost money is his own time and effort. Human capital is about the only capital we have. I am not one of those silly bitches that complain when Koen has to be out again, or travel to a client for a few days. But I am kind of lonely. And I still feel bloated, thick, and ugly after Sandor’s birth.
“You felt vulnerable.” Zuzanna said.
So true. “So… when Damien asked one day to tutor him, I should have referred him to Jan, from the dependance. Damien was right about needing extra tutelage. His grades were well below average. But he made me nervous. As soon as I saw his face, my attention wavered, and he had to assist me in basically maintaining my focus on the subject. I started to dress more feminine on tutor days, just to lap up his attention. He was bold enough to stare at my titties and was clever enough to compliment me on the way I looked. Eagerly I ate all his compliments as if they were stroopwafels.”
“What happened?”
“We are sitting on each side of the table. He has been showering me with compliments all day, and by the time I was tutoring him, it’s late, the eighth hour. I’m explaining something and suddenly, out of nowhere, he grabs my neck and kissed me. Kissing him back was never an option, but you know how I respond when a man forcefully grabs me by the neck. I have become jelly. The raw power of him controlling and restricting my head’s movement, that he can direct my face anywhere he wants to. It’s exhilarating. I wish I am wired differently, but if this guy is taking a risk of dominating me fully and without reserve, so full of confidence, I have no choice, no free will. My mind comes to a full stop and my whole body is reacting to him. The nerves in my neck have a direct connection to my pussy. It starts to drool. My face is getting hot and my nipples instantly turn into the most delicious painful numbs, begging to be manhandled by powerful muscular hands. I shiver as if this nervous reaction is just a prelude to my orgasm. A promise, if you will. And he is calmness himself as this quivering mature woman lays in his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. So confident that he can quench my thirst to be a willing participant in his play.”
As I speak, my words stumble and triple over each other. They have to leave my throat as fast as humanly possible. If I hesitated, it would have been too late. The words would have been stuck in my throat forever.
And did he – Zuzanna air quoted – “quench your thirst?”
I buried my face in my hands.
“We are kissing, and I’m so confused, so mesmerised as he is winning our tongue-fight that I noticed too late that he took a selfie of us. I look hungry in that picture. Hungry for more, even I can see that. I try to protest, but he laughs at me.”
“Do you mind, slut, if I will post this picture tonight on all my social media accounts? I’m sure my followers will love a picture of a needy cunt like yours.” He said. I know he would. It will ruin my career. Koen will find out. There are people who revel in the suffering of others. I feel hopeless. Literally bereft of hope. This bastard is sitting there completely at ease in his school chair like the schoolboy he is, without a care in the world. His gaze triumphed over my despair. He bent over to me.
“Take off your dress, and I will let you remove the picture from my phone. I will even give you my phone so you can make sure it is really gone.”
“Oh, no! You didn’t fall for that one, I hope?” Zuzanna said.
“I just wanted to get that photo from his damned phone. It was all I could think about. My brain had stopped for some time now, and it sure wasn’t giving me warning signs now. He is so strong, Zuzanna! And he wants so see my body. My fat, postpartum body. A secret part of my brain – the one I don’t have access to – is flattered that he wants to see me and tells me to show him what I’ve got. To see if I can detect hunger in those eyes. His beautiful eyes. So I did. Take off my dress.”
“Does it turn you on not to wear a bra? Those tits of yours are bigger than last year, I think. They are still tiny, of course, but you don’t look like a boy now.” I just stand there. My hands dangle there uselessly at my sides, as useless as I feel. I don’t hide my breasts from his view like any other woman would have done. I simply allow him to stare at me. At that moment, just feeling pride that they had not yet sagged.
“ I’m so busy with myself I haven’t noticed he came from behind his table. When he grabs me by the throat, I panic. He lifts me with one hand and pushes me against the icy wall of my classroom. I have trouble breathing. I am so afraid he is going to strangle me right then and there. He still has his hand wrapped around my throat when he kissed me. The kiss was forceful, almost predatory, as if he meant to consume me completely, leaving me feeling utterly drained and lifeless in his arms. I think I’m just trying to save my life by kissing him back. He lets go of my throat and rips my lacy panties with one vigorous move. Koen’s gift slid to the ground as a shredded symbol of my wedding vow. I can’t protest. His mouth is on mine, doing things there that feel so wrong. And at the same time, so fulfilling. One of his fingers slips into my pussy. Meeting no resistance there.
“You are so wet! This turns you on, doesn’t it, slut?” A second finger joins in and all I can do was moan. I feel so helpless in that classroom. Why can’t I run out of there? The door is unlocked. I could have run to the hallway screaming, rape! Instead, my pussy rewards his raping fingers with more and more lubrication. And my stupid brain can only think: I will come if you add a third finger and fuck me as fast and hard as you can. Why am I not scared to death someone could come in at any time? Why is my pussy not dry as the desert instead of betraying me as well as my loving husband? How can a boy – granted a very attractive one – have that same effect on my pussy as the one I have vowed to have exclusive rights?”
Zuzanna’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open as she took in the unexpected news. She stood there, momentarily frozen, processing what she’d just heard. A mix of disbelief and excitement lit up her face, showing how thoroughly unprepared she had been for my words.
“I’m ashamed to say I did come. I came so hard he had to silence me with his mouth. The mouth that seemed to devour me and is the trigger to my next orgasm. Or perhaps it was just one prolonged one. I can’t move, I can’t run, I can’t get my mind working. All I can do is feel. And it was a long time ago I felt so alive. Naughty. Wild. He hits me hard on my right cheek. Instead of being outraged or scared by this token of violence, I only worry that his handprint is visible when I leave my classroom.”
“He lifts me up and carries me effortlessly to the old school board. He gives me a crayon and tells me I have to write fifteen times Miss De Groen is a slut. What else can I do but write, like the naughty girl that I am. With a dripping pussy that leave visible proof of my horniness on the floor, I wrote in my neat handwriting the truth: Miss De Groen is a slut. Again and again. Using the old board we seldom use anymore, my hand doesn’t tremble when I write this confession. The fifteenth time was just as neatly written, legible as the first one: I am a cheating slut. Of course, the bastard took pictures of my naked body from behind, writing those punishment lines. He displayed them to me with a sense of victory, presenting one after the other. When I get to the last of the fifteenth line, I have to lean forward to write it neatly. My pussy, in all its wetness, is clearly visible when he enlarged that section on his phone.”
“Good girl,” he said. “How do all those bastards know those demeaning words have such a profound effect on me? He looks at me like the cocky bastard he was and said, ‘I wished I could stay, but I have a date with Debby tonight. If you promise not to erase the punishment lines from the board the moment I leave the room, I will promise not to tell Debby tonight, whose nectar she will taste as I stick my fingers deep into her mouth.’ Then he grabbed my torn panties from the floor, smelled them, and smiled. Without looking back, he turned around and left.”
Zuzanna just sat there. Open mouth. Big eyes full of disbelief. She knows every word is the truth. There is a reason for being friends for so long. She knew me so well. “But that’s not all, is it?”
I sigh, unable to look in her grey eyes directly. “No. Are you sure you want to hear the rest of it?”
She does not respond right away. Waiting until I make eye contact.
“Look at the relationship between our friends, Carla and Stephanie.” Zuzanna said, “Carla is blunt, very career oriented, and favours logic over emotion. Stephanie is more sensitive, often unsure about her choices. Yet they complement each other as well. Stephanie’s emotional intelligence helps Carla connect with her emotional side, and Carla’s no-nonsense attitude makes Stephanie more decisive. Our friendship is alike. I have a rather dull life, a husband whose only ambition is seeing Ajax Amsterdam every week. We have no kids, nor do I want them. Throughout your life, my friend, you have definitely gone through some bizarre situations. All the things I can only dream of are happening to you. It is because of you I can lead a life filled with excitement and adventure. So, for purely selfish reasons and genuine concern for you, please go on.”
What I have to tell her next is the hardest part of all, the path steep and thorny, yet I must push forward. With bare feet, that blood already, I walk this path of humiliation.
“The next morning, I’m one of the first teachers in school. And, of course, the first thing I did was to rush to my classroom and wipe out my slutty past. I would sign right away on the dotted line if I could erase my inner slut as easily. The third hour of the day is class 4B. Damien is one of the first entering my class, finding only a bit of chalk dust in memory of yesterday’s events. He looks pissed. I shrug mentally. I obeyed his wish not to wipe it out yesterday. He seriously doesn’t expect for me to advertise my debauchment, does he? Upon observing Debby, it becomes clear that she remains disinterested in class and content in her own demeanour, alleviating any concerns I may have had about her. I’m seeing no signs of laughing behind my back or other disturbing sounds that showed that Damien had posted his photos on social media. So far, so good. Damien’s eyes follow my every moment, just like any other day.”
“At the end of class, he comes to my desk and just says, ‘You will give me a ride home today.’ Not a question, more an announcement. He was gone before I could answer. I consider going home early. Perhaps I can call in sick. That would raise a few cheers among the students: a whole free hour. I only started a few weeks ago after my maternity leave after Sandor’s birth. Calling in sick was perhaps not a good option. Besides, it was only postponing the inevitable. So at 16:15 hours, I am a nervous wreck. Walking to my car, a Datsun, I’m relieved that Damien was nowhere to be seen. Just before I start the car, I hear a knock on my window. My heart sinks into my boots and beats so fast, my face turned red as the top layer of our national flag. Damien walks around the front of my car, opens the door, and flops down in the passenger seat. I do not know why Americans call this ‘riding shotgun,’ for if I had one, he would surely be dead by now.”
“He gives me instructions. It soon becomes clear to me we are not heading anywhere near his house. We end up next to a house somewhere. The collapsed roof shows it has been a while since people lived here. I park behind the house, hidden from the road. The corn has grown so tall in the back that it effectively hides my car from sight, making it completely concealed. I am sure I was not at all prepared for what is going to happen in this secluded place, but I know I would like none of it. He takes off the belt of his pants and unzips his fly. Perhaps because he looks so gorgeous, I expect his cock to be big and thick as well. It wasn’t. Not long and not thick. The ideal cock for anal fucking was my first impression. I hoped we never came to that.”
“Instead of looking at my face, he just has eyes for the for the intersection between my legs. His eyes travel upwards towards my tits and dive again, faster than the speed limit, toward my crotch. ‘Take off your clothes. All of them.’ I did. Shoes, skirt, panties, T-shirt, bra. In that order. I try to make it as businesslike as I can. Like I’m undressing for going to bed. I never protested. I know that would be useless.”
“He still is much too mature for a boy his age. ‘Get on your knees at my side.’ Obediently, I walk around the car, open his door, and fall on my knees in the mud before him.”
“Suck my dick,” is his redundant command.
“So I pull my hair to one side to give him a better view of the action. I lick my lips to get them nice and moist. I hold his cock at the base with one hand and gently pull his foreskin back and forth. Every time my hand comes up, I make contact with the tip of my tongue. I lick his balls while I’m painfully slowly jerking him off.”
“My knees sink deeper in the mud as I put more effort into my blowjob to make him feel better. ‘No teeth, you slut, you will regret it if you bite me.’ Tough talk, straight out of a porn book. I don’t tell him I have no desire to bite anything, but I do open my mouth and make sure that my jaw is nice and relaxed. My lips tighten around his cock and I slide down toward his pubes. I have to gag of course, when his cock reaches the end of my throat. I pause, and he breathes in deeply. Slowly, I start sliding my mouth back and forth on his penis. This is so much easier with a cock that is not so thick. I grab his hand and lay it on top of my head. He doesn’t need more encouragement and start fucking my face with little technique, but lots of enthusiasm. Within minutes, I feel him swell. I pull back and until I’m only holding his crown in my mouth. He spurts a lot, and I have trouble swallowing it all. I don’t stop sucking, though. His rapidly flaccid member is still in my mouth as I nurture it. Somehow, his little dick and this premature ejaculation made him almost human. I felt I’m back in charge for a moment.”
“He puts his dick away and zipped up his pants. When the guy is fully clothed and I am completely naked, that’s a big turn on for me. I’m getting embarrassingly wet again. He grabs a couple of rubber bands from his bag. Not the flimsy ones, but the bands one centimetre in width and flexible enough to fit over a bundle of post. ‘Pull your arms forward and make a fist.’ As he pulls the band over my hand, I feel a sudden snap as it released halfway up my upper arm. He puts several rubber bands on my arms and legs as well. To finish up, with some difficulty, he winds the elastic twice around my breasts. They become instantly red as ripe watermelons and look twice their size. Perhaps they are twice their size. A week ago or so, I stopped breastfeeding Sandor, because I had to work again. Under intense pressure, my breasts leak milk yet again. Within seconds his mouth latched on to my nipple and he sucked like a little boy all the remaining milk from my breasts. It reminded me so much of the first date with Koen at the military shooting range in the woods when he put the rope tightly around my tits and made a clothing line out of the rest of the rope.”
“Now the bastard had me hooked on him as well. Hurting my arms and legs so good by snapping the rubber bands over and over again was a bonus. He reeled me in when he bound my poor titties. I had three small orgasms without Damien even noticing. One thing I will say for Koen, he is totally fixated on my body, so I can’t get away with a small orgasm without him calling me out on it. Damien was more busy with his own pleasure. He came again, but now spurting all over my face. Like in the porn movies he watched, he ordered me not to remove it. Cum itches when it is drying. It requires almost superhuman strength to not scratch.”
I wake up from my daydream and ask Zuzanna abrupt “Do you have some of that brandy stuff for me?”
“Girl! You hardly ever drink”, Zuzanna says, walking to her drink cabinet.
“I know. I need some liquid courage.”
“Wait, let me find the proper glass. This is the proper stuff, Ararat.”, Zuzanna says.
“Don’t bother,” I say, screw the cap off, put the bottle to my mouth and take a healthy swig from the 40 Per cent drink. And coughed. The warmth spread slowly down through my body.
“I need a favour from you, Zuzanna. Not a small favour. A huge one that could end our friendship if you’ll refuse and become mad at me for asking.” I say.
“Don’t beat around the bush, girl. Spit it out.”
“I need a place for Damien and me. A safe place. We are taking risks now that are not responsible anymore. So we need a safe hideaway. Johan built this extension to your house with its own front door. If and when your mother’s dementia should get worse, she will have her own little house here, but also with a front door so you can keep an eye on her. I know it’s empty now. It would be ideal for Damien and me.”
I continued hastily: “I know it is incredibly selfish of me to ask, but I don’t have the money to pay for a hotel room and frankly, that is way too risky. If someone sees us, it would mean the end of everything. My job, my relationship, and my relationship with Damien.”
“That IS a big favour you are asking.” Zuzanna is almost angry at me. I can see that.
“I know, I know, forget it. You know, sorry I asked, I shouldn’t have.” I know if I have not been that horny, I would never muster the courage to ask her that.
“You cannot put the genie back into the bottle, Syl. We have to talk about it.” So she pours us a drink. In a glass. And another. With the genie now free, we think it only fitting to consume the rest of the strong drink.
I close the last page of the book. The rest of it is in my third diary, I said shyly.
