Free Period

It was a Friday in April; the storm windows in the classroom were open to let in the fresh spring air after a grudgingly lingering winter. I was wearing a flowing fabric top after months of sweaters and cardigans, and had let my brown dimpled knees peep out between my skirt and boots (both black faux-leather) in celebration of the first week that leggings under jeans were not strictly necessary.

The class was similarly relaxedly dressed: the hardier boys in gym shorts and basketball jerseys, the girls mostly in cute skirts and short sleeved tops; even observant hijabi Qamira, who normally dressed head to toe in a colorless gray, had arrived in a pastel green headscarf in honor of the season. Less adventurous boys wore light jackets over T-shirts and jeans, and the four-girl klatsch I always mentally referred to as "the squad," who sat in the back row and held whispered conversations all year long, were dressed in color-coordinated miniskirts and halter tops, their feet in exaggeratedly high wedges and their makeup matching their outfits: dark-haired Charley wore a fetching lilac, platinum-haired Vanessa wore canary yellow, redhead Roshelle wore shamrock green, and ringleader Danni, whose tawny brown hair fell in sculpted waves down her back, was in bubblegum pink.

All of them were white; I am Black. It was my third semester teaching at this exclusive private school tucked away in the tree-lined suburb of a major Midwestern metropolis, and I was familiar with the sensation of being scrutinized and evaluated in ways that none of my white peers were, I was currently turned to blackboard, my back to the class, stretching to write the next week's homework assignment at the top of the board, since the rest of it was filled with the discussion of this week's chapter. I was aware that as I wrote the fat of my upper arm jiggled freely, unclothed by angora, rayon or wool. I was less conscious of the fact that my large, plump posterior, gripped tight by the faux-leather skirt which failed to disguise the slightest curve, jiggled in sympathy. But I could hear the stifled giggles, the rush of whispers, and even one low, incautious "damn," before I turned and glared over my glasses frames at the class. They hushed meekly, nearly all bending their heads toward nonexistent work on their desk, but Danni's gaze met mine frankly, and she smiled with one side of her mouth and slowly licked her upper lip.

I underlined the assignment more sharply than usual, and almost threw down the chalk into its tray, dusting my hands and sucking my teeth preparatory to making an admonitory speech.

But the bell rang; and as one, the class leaped to its feet and streamed out the door. Most of them were seniors, and it was their free period: they were understandably eager to be out in the sunshine, sit in their cars and listen to music, sit on the bleachers and flirt, or walk the five blocks down to the gas station and gorge themselves on sugar, sodium, or caffeine. But the squad remained at their desks, and I narrowed my eyes at them.

"Can I help you with something, ladies?" I said in my most forbidding tone. I was well aware that the student body's general lack of intimate familiarity with black people meant that we were often interpreted as being more threatening than we actually were, and I occasionally used this to my advantage in matters of classroom discipline. So it was a little unnerving when they all slid out of their desks in unison and began to walk towards me.

"Yes, you can," said Danni, coming down the center aisle, that cocky one-sided smile still twisting her bright pink-painted lips. I backed slightly up, to the edge of my desk -- to give them room to leave, I told myself, but they had left their books and bags at their desks, and were approaching me empty-handed.

Danni reached me. She was a tall girl, but I was taller, and she had to look up slightly to maintain eye contact.

"What do you want?" I said, hoping I sounded more confident and uncowed than I felt. My heart was beginning to pound, and I wasn't sure what to expect. Anti-Black hate crime? Fatphobic bullying? Some weird prank that would end with them asking for an extension on their homework? But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charley head to the door, shut it, and lock it, and I knew to expect nothing good. I reached behind me on the desk, trying to find some object I could use to defend myself with. Danni took one step toward me.

Her eyes were flush with my mouth, but her perky young breasts thrust out over my deeply pendulous ones.

"You can help us," she said, still with that same pink smirk on her face, "by turning around and letting us see that gorgeous ass again."

I couldn't hide my surprise, and they all giggled as my eyes widened in shock and I actually felt myself give an involuntary start, like a Victorian heroine. But they all nodded, too, and I realized that their eyes were fixed not just (intimidatingly) on my eyes, but adoringly on my face, hungrily on my body.

"This is extremely inappropriate----" was all I managed to say before Danni put a perfectly manicured finger to my lips. Her nails were the same shade of pink that her lips, eyeshadow, and skirt were.

"We're all eighteen," she said in a purr of a voice near a whisper. "We waited. Roshelle's birthday was yesterday."

I glanced at Roshelle, who blushed and nodded, her eyes fixed on the slight hint of cleavage visible beneath my flowing golden-orange top. "I've been so horny for you for so long, Miss Johnson," she murmured, blushing more furiously at her words. "I rubbed myself looking at your ass all period."

"We all did," said Danni. They all lifted their skirts, and I saw four young shaven pussies in front of me, each quite obviously slick with desire and pink with recent friction. Each of them was fascinatingly different: Charley's was the palest, Roshelle's had long, flared, darkly pink labia, Vanessa's pearly clit peeped out more daringly from its grayish hood than any of the others', and Danni's had the deepest tan and dripped more wetly.

Their mingled scents rose to my nostrils and I tried to shake my head clear of that sweet-and-sour perfume. "Girls," I said, the words catching in my throat, "you can't expect me to----"

"It's free period," said Danni. "You don't have another class for an hour and a half." She took my hand; it was soft and plump in her hard strong athletic one, and pulled me up away from the desk. "Let us worship you like we've been dying to." I heard Roshelle whimper at that, and Vanessa moan. I glanced at her, and saw her green eyes fixed hungrily on my ass. And as if in a daze, I allowed Danni's hands to lead me, as if in a coordinated dance, to the blackboard, where she put an eraser in my hand.

"You have to get the board clean for the next class, Miss Johnson," she whispered into my ear, and then stepped back. And I began to sweep the eraser across the board, and I heard them all moan appreciatively as my ass wiggled in response to the side-to-side movement of my torso. I smiled to myself. It was nice to be appreciated. It had been a long time since I'd had a good fuck, what with having been so concentrated on my career, and before that on my academics. I was only five years older than these girls. And they were all eighteen. Weren't they? I had seen their naked pussies already....

I turned around suddenly and slammed down the eraser on the tray.

"Show me your fuckin' IDs," I blurted, the south side coming suddenly to the surface. "If we doing this, you bitches gotta be eighteen."

It was almost funny, the way they scrambled back to their desks, pawed through purses and clutches and gym bags, and then one my one came back up the aisle with fluttering, anxious faces and their IDs in their hands. I didn't laugh in the moment, managing to keep up the stern-teacher facade, but I would later, long and explosively, with gasping giggles, every time I thought about it.

I examined their cards closely. They all looked legitimate, and the dates matched the birthdays I remembered them celebrating, including Roshelle's the day before. I returned them one by one.

"Okay," I said, and let myself smile as I looked into each of their eyes. "We doing this."

I turned back to the blackboard and began erasing in big exaggerated sweeps, my ass following a half-step behind, and they whooped with joy and excitement and young teenage horniness. I knew my ass was great, which was one reason I had squeezed it into this skirt. I loved feeling sexy, even when I wasn't going to be around any sexual prospects. But the four nubile young things staring holes into my ass had never figured into my calculations.

I had noticed them from the first, of course. They stood out in any crowd, even on days when they weren't color-coordinated as they were today. Confident, athletic Danni was the captain of the volleyball team; competitive, gorgeous Vanessa was the head cheerleader; outgoing, bubbly Roshelle was the lead in the school plays; and Charley was the quietly intense girl who ran the school's newspaper, literary magazine, and yearbook. In a larger school, none of them would ever have associated with one another; here, they were a force to be reckoned with, feared by the younger students and respected even in the teachers' lounge, where Charley's grades made up for many of the others' academic shortcomings.

"God, she's hotter than Lizzo," I heard one of them whisper.

"You damn right," I called out from the blackboard. "Lizzo ain't got my tits."

They only giggled nervously in response, and I felt a momentary emptiness at the lack of a "I know that's right" or "no she ain't, baby," Being desired by white girls -- white teenage girls -- would take some getting used to. I pressed the eraser against the blackboard and thrust my ass out toward them.

"If you girls are able to stop touching yourselves long enough," I said, "you can take off my skirt." There was a pause, and then I heard them scramble towards me. Their hands ran over the taut leather-clad globes of my ass while they murmured and moaned in appreciation, and finally they found the zippers on either side and began to peel the skirt off of my thick ass and thighs. They held their breaths as my lacy black panties came into view, and then the plump brown cheeks of my ass. Their fingers were hesitant at first, but as I only jiggled impatiently in response, they soon began rubbing their hands all over my ass and cooing appreciatively.

"Oh my god it's finally happening," I heard Roshelle whisper to herself.

"I want to kiss it," murmured Charley.

"Go ahead and kiss it, baby," I said. "That's what it wants." Kisses rained down on my upturned globes, down my thighs, in the small of my knees, as my skirt hung over my boots. I kicked it off and turned around.

"Now my tits need some loving," I said, and raised my hands above my head. They stared at me for a moment, then sprang to their feet and pulled my top up over my head, My big, bountiful tits bounced free immediately; I hadn't worn a bra, loving the feeling of the silky flowing top against my nipples and trusting to the density of the fabric to secure my modesty. Danni and Vanessa were the first to grab a tit, nuzzle it between their hands, and suckle on the nipple, but they traded off soon enough to kiss at my belly and to begin dancing their fingers around the waistline of my panties.

"Jesus, it's as big as my head," murmured Roshelle as she smashed her entire face into my right tit,

"That's right, baby," I said to her. "Now you suck it like a good little girl." She obeyed greedily, while Charley matched her suckle for suckle on the left side. Danni's eyes met mine between them, and I nodded to the question in them. She began to shimmy my panties down my hips.

They lay me down on my desk, my still booted legs propped up on Danni's and Vanessa's shoulders, while the two of them took turns plunging their faces into the deep brown crevasse of my pussy. Charley and Roshelle maintained their worship of my tits, and I could feel a distant orgasm beginning to approach deep within me.

Suddenly the door rattled, and we all looked up in surprise. Surprise turned to horror as we saw Qamira's eyes go wide in the window of the door as she took in the sight of me, naked except for my boots on my desk, being eaten and suckled by four seniors. She turned and started to run away, but Vanessa was after her immediately. The door shut again behind both of them, Qamira's arm held tight in Vanessa's grasp, and Vanessa locked it once more, and pulled down the privacy screen, scowling at Charley for having failed to do so earlier.

I was already sitting up on the desk, my arms uselessly over my tits, which spilled out more than any two arms could hold, and watched Qamira as Vanessa marched her in front of me.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to see," was all she kept saying over and over. "I just forgot my book." There was a book still sitting on her desk. Danni grabbed it for her and gave it to her.

"How old are you?" I asked Qamira, lifting her chin up with a finger so that she could look in my face instead of anywhere else in the room like she was trying to.

"Eighteen," she whispered.

"Do you have your ID?" She shook her head.

"Are you going to tell anyone what you saw here?" She shook her head more firmly.

"Is she eighteen?" I asked the others. Everyone but Charley shrugged. Charley ran the yearbook. "Yes," she said.

"Do you want to be a part of this?" I asked Qamira. I heard the others gasp in an affronted way, but ignored them, looking straight into her eyes. She stared at me, and I saw her gaze fall from my eyes to my plump red lips, down towards the breasts that were no longer covered since my finger was on her chin.

Unexpectedly, she nodded. "But I can't take off my hijab."

"That's okay. You won't do anything you don't want to. Roshelle, Charley, help Qamira get comfortable. Vanessa, I think it was your turn." I lay back down on the desk, and spread my legs. Vanessa shook her head smiling in amazement at my confidence and bent down between them. I turned my head and watched Roshelle and Charley help Qamira out of her gray abaya, leaving the sea-green hijab securely in place on and around her head. Her light brown body was only slightly darker than Danni's, the nipples on small buds of breasts were large and dark, and there was a thick black patch of hair between her legs. She accepted a kiss from Charley, and leaned back into her arms while Roshelle knelt between her legs, using her fingers to find the pussy buried deep within the thicket.

I reached out my arm to Danni, who was still standing with a little bit of a frown watching Vanessa eat me and Roshelle finger Qamira.

"Give me a kiss, Danni," I said. She obeyed, and I put my hand to the back of her head, pushing her into a deeper kiss than she was expecting. I knew I had taken her breath away, and when I let her go I said,

"You wanna try to fuck a Black woman, you're gonna get everything that comes with it. Any bitch of legal age who wants in on this can have it, no matter race, class or creed. You understand me?"

Danni nodded. "You're so fucking hot," she said.

"I know I am, baby. Now take over for Vanessa. I want you to taste me cum."

She practically ran to shove Vanessa out of the way, but in consolation I told Vanessa she could sit on my face, and once my face was between her thighs I went straight for that prominent pearly clit. The fact that I made the head cheerleader squirt all over my face was the exact degree of hotness I needed to trigger my own volcanic orgasm, and to her credit Danni stayed licking hard even as my thighs squeezed tight around her head.

When I finally released her, her glazed staring eyes and dripping mouth and chin made me smile. "Sit on my face," I grunted. Vanessa was already underneath Roshelle, who was finger-fucking Qamira into a second or third orgasm while Charley fed her her tits. Danni clambered quickly over to me, and I took my time savoring her juices.

It wasn't long before Charley's mouth was on my pussy, while Qamira explored Roshelle's pussy under Vanessa's tutelage. Then they swapped again, and Qamira knelt at my pussy while Charley, Vanessa and Roshelle played with each other and watched. But I was still taking my time with Danni.

"Please Miss Johnson," I heard her moan, as her sweat dripped down on and around my face and she bucked her hips against my tantalizing mouth. "Free period's almost over. I need to cum."

"You wanna cum?" I said. She nodded. "Qamira," I called. Qamira came out from between Charley's legs and stood next to me obediently. "Take your finger," I said, "and put it as deep into yourself as you can."

She obeyed, and then showed me the finger, slick with moisture and trembling a little with nervous excitement and tiredness. "Lovely," I said. "Now I want you to stick it in Danni's ass."

Danni made a noise, but I caught her eye and closed my mouth, and she whimpered, and nodded, and spread her cheeks for Qamira, who gingerly and with some coaching from me worked her pussy-wet finger into the asshole of the school's queen bitch.

"Now keep it there," I said, and attacked Danni's pussy with everything I had. She came, screaming, just as the ten-minute bell rang, and the next few minutes were a delirious scramble to reclothe ourselves, wipe ourselves down from sweat and pussy juices, reapply smeared makeup, and rearrange mussed hair. One by one the girls gathered their things and left, with a shy grateful smile, with a daring wink, with beet-red bliss, with a saucy promise to do it again next week, until only Danni was left.

I was shuffling the papers on my desk, which had been strewn about the room, back into order. I looked up at her as she lingered.

"What is it, Danni?" I asked. "You'll be late for your next class."

"I know," she said. "I just wanted to say. It was weird to compare you to Lizzo. I know. Just because you're both Black----"

"Girl, you don't think that was a compliment? Shit, Lizzo's hot, I'm hot. I'm just sorry none of you are built like us. Give me something to work for when I'm between those thighs."

Her troubled face relaxed into a grin.

"Some of us will be," she said, and headed toward the door. "You haven't seen my mom."

I licked my lips pensively. But by then the next class was starting to trickle in, and I had to get attendance ready.

I was glad the windows were open; the smell of pussy in the air was rapidly dissipating into the fresh spring afternoon.