My Former Teacher

Reagan Foxx shows up for her massage and spots Lucas Frost with his back turned. 'You must be my masseur,' she says. He spins around. Her eyes go wide—damn, this guy is hot. He's wiping down the table and almost freezes when he sees her too. 'Yes I am, Miss Foxx,' he answers, dropping the cloth like it burned him. Reagan pauses. 'Hold up, how'd you know my name?' He chuckles and says it came straight off her file. Then he's hustling her into the room, pointing at the table, telling her to strip and lie face-down. She makes him turn around, but he sneaks a glance while she gets naked. She chats while she settles in—her boyfriend got her the massage because her back's been killing her since she got the twins. Lucas asks if she has kids. She laughs, cups her huge tits and says, 'These twins.' He smirks, tells her the work looks first-class. Rubbing her back, he asks what she does. High-school teacher, she says. He acts surprised, but there's something behind his eyes—like maybe he already knew. She suddenly realizes why he looks familiar: she taught him. He plays it cool for a second, then 'remembers.' Reagan grins; he was the stud back then, a new girl every week. Lucas shrugs it off like no big deal. She flips onto her back. He hands her a towel, but it barely covers those massive tits and slips right off. Their eyes lock. Tension spikes, then they shake it off. Hands sliding up her thighs, Lucas admits she wasn't just his favorite teacher—he had a serious crush. Reagan blushes, says he had all those pretty young things to choose from. He grins. Sometimes a guy wants experience. He asks if she ever crushed on a student. She swears no—until Lucas reminds her he was eighteen. She admits there was one guy, years ago. Lucas works closer to her pussy, fishing for a name. Turns out it was him. 'It was you,' she finally blurts. She grabs him, kisses hard, yanks his pants down and stuffs his cock into her mouth. Miss Foxx might've been the favorite teacher, but right now Lucas is the one giving the lesson—in every filthy way he knows.