Liu Yan's Memories of Humiliation
Over the next few days, whenever Ma Jun tried to slip into Zhang Li's office, he'd bump into Liu Yan there. He'd mutter some lame excuse and slink away, wondering if she was doing it on purpose. Why else would she hang around chatting with Zhang Li every damn day? Was this her subtle way of warning him to back off?
In truth, Liu Yan had no such intentions. She'd always been ostracized at school, with few friends to her name. Now that she'd finally gotten close to Zhang Li, she couldn't help sharing her inner world, saving the best goodies for her first. She saw Zhang Li as an older sister.
Zhang Li knew exactly what was going on and couldn't bring herself to reject Liu Yan's kindness—or tell her not to drop by the office anymore. That would only make things look more suspicious, fueling doubts about her and Ma Jun.
That noon, Ma Jun's pent-up lust finally got the better of him. He snuck up to Zhang Li's office and saw the curtains drawn—a good sign Liu Yan wasn't there. He grinned, about to knock, but noticed the door ajar. He eased it open and stepped in, only to freeze: Zhang Li had her back to him, peeling off her T-shirt. She was unhooking her bra, her bare back creamy and smooth, her plump arms soft and pale.
Zhang Li didn't notice him. She shrugged off the bra, and her massive, snowy tits bounced free, jiggling wildly. Cupping them in the mirror, she examined herself, pinching here and there with a soft sigh. She wasn't in her twenties anymore; those once-firm, perky breasts were starting to sag.
Ma Jun's heart pounded, his cock stiffening instantly. He rushed forward, hands snaking around from behind to grab those fat, heavy tits, kneading them hard. His rock-hard dick pressed against her plump ass through his pants, grinding desperately. Days without fucking her had left him aching.
Zhang Li yelped at the sudden assault, twisting to fight back—then relaxed when she saw it was Ma Jun. She swatted his head playfully. "You sneaky little shit, trying to scare me to death? I almost screamed for help!"
Ma Jun knew he'd been reckless, chuckling as his hands kept working—one squeezing a tit, the other sliding toward her belly.
But Zhang Li grabbed his wrist. "Not today—I'm on my period."
He didn't buy it, slipping a hand down to check. Sure enough, it felt padded. But he'd waited too long for this chance; he wasn't leaving empty-handed. He nuzzled her tits, nibbling everywhere.
Sudden crisp footsteps echoed outside. Zhang Li's face paled. "Shit, it's Liu Yan! Hide!"
Ma Jun panicked, glancing around the cramped office. No good spots. Quick-thinking, Zhang Li yanked open the bedcovers. Ma Jun kicked off his shoes and dove in; she shoved them under the bed. Liu Yan's voice came from the door: "Teacher Zhang, you there?"
"Yeah, come in." Zhang Li threw on her T-shirt—no time for the bra. Her nipples poked obviously through the fabric.
Liu Yan stepped in, noting Zhang Li's disheveled clothes and messy hair, plus the rumpled bedcovers. "Oh, were you resting? I should've come back later."
Zhang Li glanced at the lumpy bed, stepping to block Liu Yan's view, heart pounding. "Yeah, I was feeling sleepy. What's up?" Just go, before she spots him, she thought.
Liu Yan missed the hint, cheeks flushing. "Teacher Zhang, I still feel a lump in my breast. Could you check again? It worries me."
"Fine." Zhang Li hesitated but couldn't refuse. She sighed inwardly.
Under the covers, Ma Jun sweated buckets, ears straining at their voices. He couldn't move. Finally, desperate for air, he peeked through a tiny gap—and froze. Liu Yan faced away, unhooking her bra.
He'd fantasized about those snowy huge tits endlessly, but never dreamed he'd see them live. Holding his breath, eyes wide, he watched her bra drop. Those massive peaks quivered into view—fuller and rounder than Zhang Li's, bouncier, with pink areolas. Her skin gleamed like porcelain, flawless. Ma Jun's cock throbbed wildly, nearly erupting.
Oblivious to her peeping tom, Liu Yan shifted for Zhang Li's exam, giving Ma Jun a perfect show of her proud, heaving breasts.
Zhang Li palpated as before, but spotted the gap. That little pervert's ogling her, she fumed silently, rushing the check. "All clear. Just massage them more if you're worried." Liu Yan, sensing impatience (blaming fatigue), dressed and left.
Ma Jun crawled out, gasping. "Fuck, I was suffocating."
"Serves you right—who skips lunch for this?" Zhang Li snapped. "Now scram."
But Ma Jun yanked down his pants, his thick cock springing up, precum glistening. "What about this? Can't walk out like that."
Zhang Li eyed the veiny monster, twitching eagerly. She knew he'd been blue-balled. Tapping the slick head, she sighed. "Wait—I'll take care of it." She locked the door, climbed onto the bed beside him (shoes off), and wrapped her soft hand around his burning shaft, stroking firmly. A handjob from his homeroom teacher.
Ma Jun had jerked off countless times, but this? Zhang Li's tender palm gliding over him was electric. Days without pussy had him primed; after a few dozen strokes, his cockhead tingled, and ropes of thick cum blasted out.
Zhang Li dodged too late—her chest and face splattered. She grabbed tissues, wiping up while he lay blissed out. "Happy now, you brat? Get dressed and go."
Ma Jun complied reluctantly. The handjob was hot, but no substitute for burying himself in her. He'd wait till she was off her period.
"What'd Liu come for anyway?" Ma Jun asked, replaying the tit show. Why let Zhang Li grope them? Kinky hobby?
Zhang Li explained briefly, spotting his scheming eyes. She turned stern. "You peeked while she undressed, didn't you? Don't even think about Liu Yan. She's not some easy lay—you'll get burned."
"Heh, no way. Got you, sis—that's plenty." Busted, he laughed it off. Women get jealous no matter the age—can't stand better competition.
"Sweet talker." Zhang Li acted girlish, pouty—maybe feeling threatened. She had no edge over Liu Yan's perfection. Still, she warned earnestly: "I'm serious. Plenty of eyes on her. Don't stir trouble."
Ma Jun sobered. She was right. Zhang Li flew under the radar—plain looks, steady vibe. No one chased her.
Liu Yan? Stunning face, killer body, slutty outfits. Half the school drooled. Power players like the principal might be circling. He was just a kid, no backing. One wrong move, he'd crash hard.
"Got it, sis. Won't be stupid." Liu Yan tempted, but untouchable. He'd stick to student mode—and savor Zhang Li.
"Back to class." Zhang Li smiled, relieved. "Soon as I'm good, I'll make it up to you. Any way you want."
"For real?" Ma Jun's eyes lit up. Porn taught him positions: missionary creampie, blowjobs, titfucks, assfucks. He'd begged before; she'd shut him down as too filthy. Now?
"Teacher's word is gold." She smiled, but sighed inside. She'd refused to keep dignity after "falling" so quick.
But Ma Jun eyeing Liu Yan changed things. No better fix for his teen hormones. She'd sacrifice—hoping he'd drop it. Liu Yan was disaster in curves; even innocently, she'd ruin him. Zhang Li knew.
Ma Jun left for class. Li Ting was heading out, spotting him. She huffed, turning away—pissed about last night's rejection.
Huang Guoxin waved from afar. Ma Jun sighed inwardly. He'd never meant to string Li Ting along; yesterday was legit impossible.
"What's up? Got plans for Li Ting's birthday?"
"Few ideas, not finalized. Come over tomorrow, help pick? Found some online gems to share." Huang winked.
Ma Jun got it. They'd hit video halls for porn flicks till bored—only the hot owner kept it fresh.
Huang's dad, sick of it, bought him a PC for games, keep him home.
Huang skipped games for porn sites—Japanese, Western, endless. They'd binged, but missed the seedy thrill.
Ma Jun wanted to bail—real pussy spoiled him for pixels. But guilt over yesterday won; he agreed.
After school, Li Ting bolted with girlfriends—dodging punks or sulking at him?
Ma Jun trudged out, mood low. Glanced at Zhang Li's dark office. Friday; she'd gone home. Period anyway—no fun.
He headed straight home. Mom griped about his late nights and skipped lunches.
Walking the road, Zhang Li's warning echoed. Jealous or not, spot-on. Liu Yan: tasty lamb amid wolves. Any "hero" claiming her? Mobbed. He couldn't play knight.
He resolved distance. Laughable—they'd barely spoken beyond that grope. She probably forgot him. Most depressing part.
Suddenly, across the street: Liu Yan by a pole, anxious, statue-still. Same tank top and short skirt—long, creamy thighs bare, black heels. Passersby ogled her voluptuous body hungrily.
Ma Jun's heart raced, Zhang Li's words forgotten. He craved her approval, her ripe body—pumping hot cum into her slutty hole.
But promises... reality... He tried leaving; legs glued. He stayed, curious who she awaited.
Liu Yan missed him. Post-shop, a bump snapped her heel. No cobbler nearby. She waited for an acquaintance; none came. Back to store for new shoes? Crowds daunted—recent gropers in the throng had pawed her thighs through stockings. Chills. Home: scrub 'em.
Not her first sleaze. Last weekend, packed bus to city: low-cut slip dress, half her huge tits out, micro-skirt barely covering, sheer black stockings on killer legs. Driver gawked.
Unexpected crowd. No escape. She squeezed in, bodies rubbing—regretting the skimpy fit.
Bus lurched; a guy pressed behind, grinding his crotch on her perky ass with bumps.
Pervert, she thought. Trapped; endured, eyeing the station.
He unzipped, freed his hard cock, hiked her skirt, probing her asscrack through thin stockings—like fucking for real.
Outraged, she glared. Thirties, stubbly beard, scarred face—gangster vibe. Feared escalation; swallowed it. Public—he can't do worse. Dog bite.
Her height and ass let his slim-long dick nudge her pussy lips. Stockings saved penetration.
Jackpot: sexy MILF, crowd cover. Her silky ass gripped like a tight cunt—bliss. He slowed, prolonging, nearly popping.
Deep breaths. Teased her hole through fabric—denied entry. Fucking stockings.
Pulled out, tugged at them—super-elastic, no rip. Bold: yanked toward her waist.
Liu Yan panicked, clutching. Outmuscled in tight space; they peeled down, baring plump cheeks, black thong wedged deep.
Thong slut—enjoying it, he leered, groping her firm globes. Cock revived.
Hot shaft back in her crack. Liu Yan shut eyes, tears welling. Stranger-raped on bus; his tip neared her slit. No escape—passengers locals; scandal would kill her rep.
No stockings: deep thrust, skin-on-skin heaven. He nudged the thong aside, exposing her plump pink pussy.
Shame burned; she squirmed—hardening him more. Tip inches from entry.
Brakes screeched—station. He stumbled, cock slipping free, spurting cum wildly.
Liu Yan hiked up, glared disgustedly, fled in the crowd. Relief... shudders.
Home: scrubbed pussy raw, tossed stockings and thong. Memories of that dick sliding her crack? Pure shame.
Today: same filth. School guys tofu-pinched safely; outside? Predators. Recent rape nearby—women terrified.
Legs ached; no help. Her fault—aloof, friendless. Wait more, or store?
Ma Jun clocked it: one heel on, other atop broken one.
Golden chance. School: no approach without suspicion. Now? Natural help.
Zhang Li nagged... Temptation won. Road clear; he jogged over, stammering: "Teacher Liu, hi—Ma Jun. Need help?"
She blinked, recognized him from Zhang Li's office. Shook head coldly: "I'm fine. Go home."
Rejected flat. Awkward silence killed his buzz.
No grudge—just wary of strangers, especially guys. And that weird Zhang Li-Ma Jun vibe? Distance.
Ma Jun deflated. Normal teacher-student chill. Zhang Li spoiled him; without her buy-in, zero shot.
A car pulled up. Skinny guy, mid-20s, gold glasses, grinned at Liu Yan: "Teacher Liu? Where to? I'll drive ya."
Feng Kun—San Zhong Chinese teacher, unmarried sleaze. Ex-deputy principal at town school; caught fucking married colleague, beaten by hubby, demoted. Bureau uncle bailed him to San Zhong.
Still predatory: harassed hot teachers, bragged conquests. Stalked Liu Yan post-arrival. Hubby gone? He pestered her office. She snitched to principal; he cooled—but schemed.
Liu Yan's face iced. "No thanks. Waiting for someone."
"Who?" Feng sidled close, ogling her heaving tits. "Hubby's gone months—you horny already? I can help."
"Don't slander me!" Liu Yan flushed furious. "None of your business. Move!"
Her jiggling tits fired him up. Others paled; daily tease of her vital curves tormented him. Craved railing her, mauling those udders.
Town days: summoned to office, coerced via power. They yielded for perks.
Here? Peon. She wasn't needy. But research director bid: boss her legit.
Ma Jun boiled at the pest. Stepped up: "Teacher Feng, she's waiting for me. Beat it."
"Which class?" Feng sneered at the uniform. "Skipping home? Bullshit. Teacher Liu, let me drive."
"Why not?" Ma Jun ad-libbed. "She's my cousin, right, sis?"
Liu Yan caught the wink, nodded. "Yeah, Ma Jun's my cousin. Waiting for him. Go, Feng Kun."
"For real?" Feng eyed doubtfully. No proof; her word firm. He slunk off.