Ms. Walker's Class Ch. 05

I know it's been months since I posted anything on this story, and some of you may have thought I was done with it, but... No, not yet.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you think, and what you want from Michael and Miranda next. I really enjoy your feedback.

If you could also vote when you're done...

Thanks for reading

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When Michael had left Sophia's bed last, with a decision forming in his mind, he had proposed again to Miranda. This time he had a time frame planned. As soon as possible.

As it turns out, 'as soon as possible' was about six months away. The date was set for their nuptials. The ceremony itself would be simple, but there was much to do before then. This whole situation was much more complicated than merely booking a wedding chapel and exchanging 'I do's. Somehow, all of these potentialities had escaped his notice when they began this little escapade.

Of course, back then, he was more interested in getting laid. First, it was Miranda, his ebony princess, so strong, firm and sexy, with tits that just didn't stop. The first woman to ever let him truly have sex with her, she had been the stuff of his fantasies. Then she had introduced him to her friends, and her friends friends, and so on, and so on, until he had more girlfriends than the rest of his class combined. His 'girlfriends' were much more. They were women, with a full knowledge of what they wanted from him, and no fear of his unique attribute.

Then there was the money. Getting to fuck all these appreciative, older women, with their fabulous, mature, curvy bodies, was incentive enough, but getting paid to do it was a powerful aphrodisiac. He felt like King Kong, ready for anything.

Anything...except falling in love with Miranda. He was living the life of his dreams, bedding several different women each week, but only one was stealing his heart. He had proposed, she had accepted, but business came first.

Finally, Michael had reached the conclusion that he didn't need all these other women anymore, which brought him to this point. He needed to cut his clients back gradually, so there wouldn't be any hard feelings, that might lead to their enterprise becoming public knowledge. He knew there were a few that were not going to take it well.

Speaking of public knowledge, it was time to come clean with his parents. That was going to be painful, as he had been far from truthful in his dealings with them. While he had matured greatly in most aspects of his life, his parents were not one of those aspects. He had lied initially about Miranda, and that lie had grown exponentially, leading to this point, where he had no choice but to admit his mistakes. He hoped they could understand, and forgive him.

He had told them he had a girlfriend, named Miranda. He had told them he had roommates his own age, and male. Now those half-truths and fabrications would come to light.

His parents would probably notice that Miranda was not 'several guys Michael's age', as he had told them, right away. Dad was sure to notice that she had lots of curves, and Mom would notice that she was older, and they'd both probably not miss the fact that she was black.

"Hi Mom," he smiled, when he called to invite them over for dinner. "How'd you like to get out of cooking tonight?" Yes, it was a feeble attempt at bribery, but it worked. They would be over at seven.

Miranda had told him she was ready to meet them, but wanted it to happen fast. No long, drawn out anticipation. They had briefly discussed meeting them out, at a public place, but she had decided to just handle the shit storm in one session, instead of avoiding a scene. She would cook them a nice dinner, smile, and try to reassure them that she loved their son, regardless of their age difference.

It was sure to be a tense evening, with heightened emotions on both sides.

Hopefully, by the time it was over, things would be resolved, and she would be part of the family.

***

7:02, and the doorbell rang. Michael leapt to his feet, and answered it, making eye contact with Miranda before he opened the door. She smiled, and nodded.

"Mom! Dad!" he smiled, as they stepped in. They hugged him, and his Mother kissed him on the cheek.

"This is a very nice house, and so clean," his Mother observed. "How many guys are living here?"

Shit...she's not in the door five seconds, and she catches the first lie, Michael thought. It's going to be a long night.

"Well, yes, that's part of what we need to talk about, and why we asked you here," he said quietly.

Mom was always the one to voice her concerns. Dad was equally perceptive, but usually kept it to himself, initially at least.

"Uh huh...and who is 'we'?" Dad asked. "You're saying there has been a change in your living arrangements?" Mom nodded, and crossed her arms, looking annoyed. They were barely ten feet inside the house, and Michael wanted them to stay, so he gestured toward the living room.

"Please, come in and sit down," he asked, "and I'll answer all your questions. I'm sorry I haven't been honest with you, but I promise...no more lies." He walked ahead of them into the living room, wondering just how far his honesty would be tested. He took a seat, and watched them do the same.

Mom was looking around the room suspiciously. As usual she didn't miss too much.

"This room has a woman's touch," she said, staring her son down. "So I'm assuming that your 'roommate' is female...and since you said 'we', I guess that means you're either getting serious, or she's pregnant."

Well the good news is that they were figuring it out on their own, so he didn't need to tell them anything new. He simply had to confirm or deny their assumptions.

"Okay," Michael breathed. "Yes my roommate is a woman, but no, she's not pregnant. We are very serious about our relationship," he continued, "and I'm very sorry I didn't tell you the truth from the start. If you want to be mad, be mad at me, because I'm the one who kept the truth from you. I can't honestly say why I was afraid to tell you, but I ask for your forgiveness."

There was a silence in the room. Michael wondered if Miranda was listening, then realized how stupid that question was. Of course she was listening. She had a stake in this too.

"So this girlfriend you told us about...Miranda, was it? I assume she's the one you're living with?" his Dad asked.

"Yes," Michael answered. There was only one hurdle left, but it was a doozy, and two tiered. He doubted there would be much resistance to her being black. If only she wasn't nearly his mother's age.

"Well, let's meet this mysterious girlfriend, then," his Mother suggested. "Since there's nothing we can do to change the past, and there's little we can do to discipline you, as an adult, I say we meet this girl and move on. I'm not happy with you lying to us, but you've admitted your mistakes, so we need to trust you. I assume she's here?"

"Yes Mom," Michael nodded. "I'll go get her. She's making dinner."

He stood, and walked toward the kitchen, slipping in the doorway quietly. Miranda was indeed listening, and hugged him when he walked in.

"You did great, baby," she whispered, and kissed him. "I guess it's time for me to charm their pants off...metaphorically speaking," she giggled. "Wish me luck." She wiped her hands, and breezed out.

Inside, she was one big butterfly, nearly ready to throw up from the tension. She hoped it didn't show. She hoped her love for Michael did.

Walking into the living room, she extended her hand.

"Mr. Smith...Mrs. Smith...I'm Miranda," she smiled. "Miranda Walker."

They each took her hand, in turn, but said nothing, the shock clearly evident on their faces. She sat down, tucking her legs sideways demurely, with her hands folded in her lap.

She had intentionally dressed very conservatively, in an effort to keep his mother from drawing the very logical...and very correct...assumption that sex had a lot to do with their unusual relationship. Still, when you're built like she was, so amply endowed, yet lean and curvy, it's pretty much impossible to hide your light under a bushel.

They still hadn't said anything. While in the kitchen, she had played this in her head, trying to plan her moves. She could preemptively bring up the age issue, before they did, but if she did that, she might be adding to their objections. She waited, and waited some more. Finally, she had to say something.

"I understand that you have concerns. I know you love your son. I hope you know that I love him too, and that's why you need to talk to me," she said softly. "I mean no disrespect, but I'm not going anywhere, and neither are the feelings Michael and I share. Please...don't worry about hurting my feelings. Just talk to me." Michael sat beside her. "To us."

Michael's parents looked at each other, as if trying to decide who should break the silence, and where to start. A subtle nod from Mom told Dad to speak.

"Okay," he exhaled, "Let's start with how you two met."

Oh shit, Michael thought. I was so worried about age and race, I forgot about her being my teacher. He looked at Miranda, who was still smiling.

"Well," Miranda said, "we actually met twice. The first time, when I took over his class at school. He's a very good student." She smiled inside, thinking of what a good student he was, in ways beyond the classroom.

"You were his teacher?!" Mom exclaimed, suddenly involved.

"Yes, I was," Miranda replied, looking straight at her. "I was, for about five months...before he graduated. We had no... extracurricular...involvement, whatsoever."

"I'm appalled!" Mom barked. "You took advantage of my son! I'll have your job for this!"

Michael was about to rise to his fiancé's defence, when Dad did it for him.

"Honey, calm down," he said, touching her hand. She looked at him incredulously.

"Calm down? CALM DOWN?!" she gasped. "Have you lost your mind? I'll not stand by while this...this...this...COUGAR, defiles our son!"

"Honey, she said they didn't have a relationship while he was at school," Dad reminded her.

"And you believe them?" Mom shook her head. "They lied to us already."

"Didn't you just say something about 'admitting mistakes and trusting them'?" Dad reminded her.

"Mom, we invited you here. If we wanted to lie, it would have been easy...just keep you out of it. And, I'm the one who wasn't honest. Don't blame Miranda," Michael stepped in. "We're being honest. Miranda did nothing wrong, and I don't like you insulting her."

Mom seemed a bit taken aback by her son's words, but she nodded, and sat back, letting her husband continue.

"School aside, you met how?"

"It's kind of funny," Miranda replied. "I was on a ride, about twenty miles from home, when Michael and a few of his friends passed me in their car. I thought it would be nice to talk to him, and see how his summer was going, so we agreed to meet for pizza, after I got home, and washed the sweat off."

Michael's Father was married, but not blind. He had noticed Miranda's abundant chest, and long, firm legs. He could picture that ass on a bike, clad in tight spandex. He tried not to think about her naked in the shower, at least while his wife was nearby. Apparently, Michael had done pretty well for himself.

"But Michael," Mom injected, "Why? Why did you pick someone so... Um... I'm sorry. Michael, she's almost my age, right? Couldn't you find a girlfriend your own age?"

Hmmm, Miranda thought. I wonder how she'd react to the truth about that little question. How he can't find a girl his age, because they're all afraid of his massive penis? How I'm never letting him go, because that giant piece of man-meat fills me so perfectly? How he's spent the last year fucking so many mature women that he's now the best lover any woman could possibly ask for? No...probably shouldn't be quite that honest.

"Mom, I'm just not that interested in girls my age," Michael responded. "I love Miranda, and that's all that matters, now."

Mom sat back, still upset, but defeated by the one word that trumps all. Love. You can't quantify it, reason with it, deny it, and you certainly can't argue with it. He was an adult, and as such, they couldn't do much, if anything to stop him. Pushing the issue would only push him away. While Miranda was not the perfect choice for her son, she could probably get used to the idea. Eventually.

"I should check on dinner," Miranda said, as she headed for the kitchen.

"I'll come with you," Michael's Mother added, falling in behind.

That left Michael alone with his Father. Guy talk time.

"So how's your job going?" Dad asked. He knew Michael had been doing some lawn maintenance and garden work for some people in town. Odd jobs and errands, that sort of thing. Supposedly saving money for college.

"Oh, just great. Busy almost every day," Michael answered, trying not to smile too widely. "I have over twenty clients, and almost no overhead, so it's going well."

"So your clients have the equipment, just no one to do the job?" Dad queried, completely oblivious to his innuendo.

"Yeah, pretty much," Michael laughed. "I cut the grass, water the flowers..." lick their pussies, fuck their brains out, "... stuff like that."

"Good. Now, about Miranda," Dad said, looking around, and lowering his voice, "Holy shit son! Nice job! You're making me jealous, my boy. When I was your age, I would have killed for a woman like that."

"Mom seems less impressed," Michael answered.

"Aww, don't worry about her. She'll be pissy about it for a while, but it will pass," Dad replied. "The important thing is that you're happy."

"I am Dad. Very happy."

**

Meanwhile, Miranda was in the kitchen with Michael's Mother, trying not to turn her back on the woman wielding a knife to cut the salad greens. They were making progress, getting to know each other a bit, but there was still tension. 'Mrs. Smith' had given way to Sandra, making conversation less cumbersome.

"Do you take such an interest in all your students," Sandra asked, "or was my son a special case?" There was a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

Miranda tried to ignore it, knowing that there was nothing to be gained by letting this escalate into a cat fight.

"Honestly, he is special, but in this case, I had helped him through a tough spot earlier, and just wanted to know if he was doing alright," she smiled.

"Oh really? What tough spot is that? He never mentioned anything to us," Sandra probed.

No, I don't suppose he did. 'Mom, I got into a fight, because the other guys were teasing me about my huge cock, and how all the highschool girls are too afraid to let me fuck them.' Funny he didn't bring that up.

"A few of his classmates were giving him a hard time, and I stepped in to stop the fight that was about to happen. He was upset, and just needed to vent," Miranda continued. And after that conversation, I needed to masturbate, she thought. I wanted that big dick so bad, but he was my student, and I would never cross that line.

"When we met during the summer, I just wanted to see how things had worked out for him, and if my advice had worked. That's what led to dinner, and we just clicked," she smiled. "He's a very nice young man. We didn't plan to fall in love, but we did, and now we're hoping you can understand that. Would you really prefer not to know? Or if our relationship was purely physical?"

Sandra winced. She didn't like to think of her little boy being sexually active, because that would mean he wasn't her little boy, anymore. No mother likes the idea of her children no longer needing her. Still, that brought a question to her mind. A question a mother would never ask, but a woman might ask another. A deeply personal one.

"Miranda, may I ask you something very personal?"

I suppose this is a positive sign, Miranda thought. Confiding in each other.

"Okay Sandra, go ahead."

"Well, this is kind of embarrassing to ask, but...um...well, Michael's father is pretty...um...big, down there," she giggled, gesturing lower. She paused, hoping Miranda could fill in the blanks, and save her from asking if her son's cock was as exceptional as her husband's.

Miranda smiled, then laughed, and nodded.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yes!" she gasped. "Wonderful, isn't it?"

**

Michael heard the laughter coming from the kitchen, and relaxed. It would appear things were working out fine.

The ladies walked in with food in both hands, and called the men to the table.

Dinner was quite pleasant, and the earlier tension melted away with each passing second. There was really only one more thing to say.

"So, Mom, Dad...I know this has already been a night of surprises, but we have one more," Michael said evenly. "We want you to come to our wedding, which we're hoping to get done in about six months."

He was surprised at how easily that bit of information was absorbed, and dinner continued. It was quite late before his parents finally left, as they all sat around talking for nearly two hours after finishing dessert.

Once they were gone, Miranda flopped back on the bed, and closed her eyes. Michael was in the bathroom, and when he came out, he saw her smiling face.

"I think that went better than we could possibly have hoped," she whispered, as he leaned over her body.

"That's for sure," he laughed, gently fondling her breasts. "My father thinks you're hot. He's jealous that I get to have you."

She pulled him to her lips for a passionate kiss.

"Your mother asked me a few personal questions, too," she smiled.

"Like what?" Michael asked, beginning to shed his clothes.

"I'm afraid that's between your mother and me," she giggled, watching him strip. He dropped his underwear, and her eyes caressed the huge member dangling between his legs. "Mmmmm hmmm. It's a secret."

Less than five minutes later, Michael's monster was stretching her pussy open again, fucking her vigorously while she shrieked in glee. She was glad Sandra had experienced this joy as well, with her husband. She wondered how many generations of Smith men had been hung like this.

***

The next morning, it was back to work. Heigh ho, heigh ho...it's off to fuck I go.

Miranda and Michael had broken his clients into four lists:

Category One - Non regulars. These were women who had been with Michael once or twice, but didn't have the need or financial resources to use his services often.

Category Two - Semi Regulars. Women who were regular customers, but only every couple of weeks, or even once a month.

Category Three - Detached Regulars. In this case, detached didn't really apply to their marital status. Rather, it was their emotional state regarding Michael. In other words, they liked to fuck, but weren't exclusively fucking Michael.

Category Four - Attached Regulars. These were the most dangerous ones. Some were single, some were married, but all were totally hooked on that big thing between his legs. This was also the biggest list, a tribute to Michael's skills in the bedroom.

Miranda expected no difficulties with the first three lists. Michael could just pay them a final visit, tell them he was retiring from the business, and leave them fucked senseless in their beds, one last time.

The fourth category was another matter. These were his longest standing clients, and had developed feelings for him that might make things a bit harder to separate from them. At least the married ones should go relatively quietly. Miranda felt a bit of remorse for women like Esmi, Natalya, Mary, and Mirella, among others. They had developed a taste for Michael, and now would have to make due with husbands who didn't meet their needs.