Busty Teacher Liu Yan Chapter 5: Liu Yan's Invitation
“Thank you, Ma Jun.” Liu Yan flashed him a grateful smile. Without his sudden stroke of genius, she wouldn't have known how to shake off Feng Kun. The guy had connections at the Education Bureau—rumor had it he was gunning for director of the Chinese Language Research Office. Unless she had no other choice, Liu Yan didn't want to burn that bridge completely; it wouldn't do her any favors.
Seeing Liu Yan smile at him like that for the first time—charming and alluring—Ma Jun felt his bones turn to jelly. He was secretly thankful to Feng Kun. Without that bastard showing up, how else would he have earned her gratitude?
“Teacher Liu, what happened here?” Ma Jun pointed at the high-heeled shoe on the ground, its heel already snapped off. “Want me to take it and get it fixed for you?”
Liu Yan hesitated. She hadn't planned on accepting more favors from him, but after he'd just chased off Feng Kun, it was hard to refuse. After a moment, she asked, “Where do you plan to get it fixed? How long will it take? I can't just wait around here forever.”
Ma Jun had no idea how long it would take, but he wasn't about to pass up a chance to get closer to her. Thinking fast, he said to Liu Yan, “Hang on a sec, Teacher Liu. I'll be right back.” Without waiting for her reply, he bolted toward the school.
At the school gate, Ma Jun spotted a junior high kid riding out on a bike. He yanked the boy off and said, “Lending me your bike for a bit. Name's Ma Jun—come find me in Class 57 tomorrow.” He hopped on and sped off, pulling up to Liu Yan in no time. “Teacher Liu, hop on. I'll take you to the shoe repair guy. Once it's fixed, you can head straight home.”
Liu Yan thought it over and nodded—no better option. She grabbed her broken heel and climbed onto the back rack, one hand clutching Ma Jun's school uniform as he pedaled them toward the repair stall.
Onlookers gawked at the high school kid biking with a sexy, glamorous young woman—curious stares, envious glances, even a few wolf whistles.
Liu Yan's cheeks burned. It was her first time riding sidesaddle on a bike with a man, and she was nervous about falling off. One hand held her shoe, so she couldn't wrap her arms around his waist—that felt too intimate. Her body swayed side to side, her full breasts brushing his back now and then for balance.
Ma Jun felt those magnificent tits pressing against him rhythmically, excitement bubbling up like he wanted to whoop out loud. His cock stirred in his pants, stiffening against the seat and making him uncomfortable. He lifted his ass slightly to adjust, which only mashed her breasts tighter against him. Pedaling hard, his rock-hard dick ground against the seat, savoring the tempting sensation from behind. He couldn't hold back—he came.
Liu Yan had no clue Ma Jun had surrendered to her voluptuous body. At first, her chest grazing his back embarrassed her; she tried keeping distance. But the more she fought it, the harder the presses got. Finally, she gave up, letting her full breasts rest fully against his broad back. It's fine, she told herself. We had that kind of contact last time anyway. Once more won't hurt—just a little reward for him. He's just a student; even if he gets ideas, I can handle it. No big deal. Little did she know, thoughts like these were drawing Ma Jun ever closer, trapping her beyond escape.
Once he'd shot his load, Ma Jun snapped back to reality. A breeze hit, and his crotch felt cool and sticky. He was stunned—normally, jerking off took him over half an hour, and even fucking Zhang Li lasted five or six minutes minimum. Yet Liu Yan's tits had made him blow in moments. Her allure was that potent.
After a bit more riding, Ma Jun spotted a shoe repair stall. Reluctantly, he stopped, helped Liu Yan down, and got her to the stool on tiptoe. He even grabbed another stool for her foot.
The repairman, a white-haired guy in his fifties, took the shoe, eyed it, and said, “Can only glue it with universal adhesive. Two bucks. Fix it up?”
“Sure thing, sir,” Liu Yan said with a smile, propping her stockinged leg on the stool and gently massaging it. She'd stood too long; it was numb, and walking later would suck.
Ma Jun couldn't tear his eyes from her leg, sheathed in sheer black stockings. Lips dry, he stared. Zhang Li never wore skirts or nylons much—her legs were too thick anyway.
But Liu Yan's were long, fair, plump yet toned—not fat, not skinny. The black stockings made them irresistibly sexy, especially those dainty feet, begging to be cradled and toyed with.
Even the old repairman lost focus, sneaking peeks at the smooth, silky black-stockinged legs right there. Ma Jun got annoyed. “Hey, old man, focus on the shoe. Stop gawking—we're in a hurry to get home.”
The repairman blushed, ducked his head, but thought, Damn, she's a stunner—legs like a movie star. If I could sleep with her once, I'd die happy. Fat chance, though—a nobody like him? Even street sweepers snubbed him, let alone a goddess like her.
Liu Yan didn't mind. She dressed flashy and sexy to be looked at—as long as no one got handsy. No touching, and it was fine.
Being ogled by this old guy, about her dad's age, thrilled her more than usual—like her father peeking for real. Conflicted, she felt silly for the thought... yet enjoyed it.
“No rush, sir. Take your time,” Liu Yan said softly, smiling as she shifted, casually extending one plump, shapely leg toward him.
Now the old man could ogle without lifting his head. His eyes traced from her dainty foot up her calf to thigh—and froze. Lips dry, he stared. With one leg up, her thighs gaped wide. From his angle, he glimpsed the dark patch at her crotch, even the outline of plump pussy lips bulging through the stockings.
No panties? Times have changed—women back in my day would've been shamed for that. Wish I'd been born later.
He leaned in for a better look, but dusk dimmed things. He'd need his head between her thighs to confirm. Vision blurring, he gave up and fixed the shoe.
Liu Yan was wearing panties—a skimpy black lace thong, tiny and sheer. It just looked like nothing at first glance. She loved that hazy tease. At school, she wasn't this bold with male teachers—but today? Exception. Wouldn't see the old guy again anyway; time to cut loose.
Ma Jun, oblivious to her schemes, stood by, inhaling her alluring scent, mind racing. Shoe fixed, no excuse to linger. He had to make an impression fast. But facing his dream girl, words failed. He knew she'd been married three years, no kids—beyond that, zilch. No hobbies? Time ticked; he racked his brain for chat starters.
Liu Yan broke the silence, probably tired of the awkward quiet. “Do you bike to school usually?”
“Nah, I walk. Live over on West Street—not far.” Ma Jun answered quick, heart leaping. She was initiating!
She asked a few casual questions, then: “You and Teacher Zhang seem close. What do you think of her?”
Ma Jun blinked. Why ask that? “Teacher Zhang's great. Explains stuff super well, covers everything. Tons of essay experience—our class snagged several spots in the school contest last time.”
“Oh, really?” Liu Yan eyed him with interest. “She says you're good at Chinese. What place did you get?”
“Second.” Ma Jun puffed up—that rare brag-worthy moment.
“No kidding? Impressive.” Liu Yan looked at him anew. Her class had entrants too; best was ninth. She remembered first-place Deng Hai, not second.
Still, second was solid. Zhang Li's praise seemed fair. No wonder she favored him—teachers loved kids who made them shine. As long as it stayed innocent.
Ma Jun latched onto the topic, asking essay tips. It bridged their gap naturally. Seeing her engaged, he pushed: “Teacher Liu, if I have Chinese questions later, can I come to your office?”
Surprised, she said, “Why not ask Teacher Zhang? She's got years on me—way more experience. Plus, she might get mad.”
“Well...” Ma Jun scrambled. “She's awesome, but strict sometimes. Kinda scares me to ask. You're way more patient.”
Liu Yan laughed. “That's 'cause you're not my student—no obligation. If you were, you'd see. But sure, come by—just don't let Teacher Zhang know.”
Ma Jun beamed—first step conquered! He could visit openly now. Well, sneakily, past Zhang Li. Can't let her find out.
Liu Yan had motives too. First, Ma Jun showed promise; she'd help any eager kid. Second, divert his Zhang Li fixation. She'd noticed his sneaky visits—probably bad intentions. Zhang Li was a rare school friend; no scandals on her watch.
Too bad she didn't know they'd already hooked up. And Ma Jun's next target? Her. She'd handed him the perfect in—self-sabotage.
Shoe done quick. Liu Yan paid two bucks. The old man grinned: “Fresh glue—not sturdy yet. Wait a few hours before wearing. Next time, discount fifty cents.”
Ma Jun shot him a look. Dream on, perv. You got an eyeful already.
Liu Yan wavered. Home wasn't far, but another break? Waiting hours here? No.
“Teacher Liu, ride with me anyway,” Ma Jun urged. “Safer if it snaps again.” First time easy; second smoother. She hopped on, arms around his waist boldly, soft curves molding to his back. Without the uniform, they'd pass for a young couple heading home.
Liu Yan lived in South Gate—short but bumpy ride. Her ass ached from jolts, but Ma Jun savored her tits mashing him again. More roads like this, please.
Up a slope, her alley. Four houses; hers deepest. No streetlight—pitch black, spooky.
“No light?” Ma Jun frowned. Thugs lurking?
“Had one—kids smashed it. Never fixed.” Liu Yan sighed. Always spooked her.
“I'll walk you in, Teacher Liu.” Couldn't see shit, so she stayed seated; he pushed the bike to her door.
She dismounted, moonlight showing his sweat-drenched face. Hesitating, “You're soaked. Come in, rest up.” Alone since hubby left, she never let strangers in—avoid trouble or gossip.
But Ma Jun? Decent kid, helpful, walked her home. Ungrateful to refuse. Just a teen—no rumors.
Ma Jun jumped at it—bonus! Followed her in, thrilled. First approach, and he was inside. Where there's a will...
Three rooms: living middle, bedroom left, kitchen/storage right.
In the living room, she sat him on the sofa, poured water—“Rest up”—then slipped to the bedroom to change.
Double bed with Simmons mattress. Wedding photo on headboard: her and hubby. Wardrobe, vanity. She swapped to slippers, lined up heels by door. Grabbed pajamas from closet, about to strip—froze. Ma Jun outside.
She always changed right away. Today, supermarket grope left her feeling grimy—needed to ditch stockings, wash 'em for tomorrow.
But with him here? Risky if he peeked.
Overthinking, she decided. Kid, invited by her—paranoid much?
Change anyway; few minutes. He'd be rested; send him off.
Door ajar—no bolt since hubby broke it. Rarely guests.
At mirror, off went the blouse—snowy, voluptuous torso. Lace bra strained over quivering giants. Unhooked: proud, perky melons freed. She twisted, watching them jiggle, rosy nipples stark.
No audience for such splendor—hubby only. Midday, Ma Jun's closet peek was partial, back view through a crack.
Recalling Zhang Li's flustered breast check—distracted? Thorough?
She leaned in, hands probing snowy orbs, kneading shapes, oblivious to the wait.
Finally done. Breasts: woman's core—not just nursing, but allure's pinnacle. Pale skin, firm fullness, perky ass: her weapons.
Who'd guess puberty's burden became her pride? No sagging early like others—charm intact.
Ma Jun crossed her mind—that hung kid. Puberty hell now; later, girls' delight.
Hubby's average; Ma Jun's dwarfed it. High schooler still growing—mind-blowing potential. What'd that monster feel like? Blackout bliss?
Shit—Ma Jun waiting! To bed, bent to peel stockings. Thong damp too—wash both.
Ma Jun sipped water, clock nearing nine. Mom'd nag if late.
Minutes dragged; he paced to her door. Ajar. Done changing. Pushed open—and gaped.
Liu Yan back-on, nude from waist up at bed, peeling stockings/panties to calves. Round, snowy asscheeks wiggled meatily toward him. Firestorm: thigh roots bared her secret slit. Plump, rosy labia puffed, glossy curls matted wet. Hole winked, drooling a glistening thread, swaying.
Ma Jun's cock throbbed steel-hard, ready.
Noise spun her—seductive smile. Ass swaying, hands cupping melon tits: “Ma Jun, you've always wanted Teacher's big tits? Come on, I'm waiting.”
Her slutty vibe, sultry plea—Ma Jun lunged, flattening her on the bed. Grabbed snowy orbs, kneading fierce. Unlike Zhang Li's sag, these bounced back elastic—prime mature perfection.
Obsessed, he mauled her lewd jugs. Dream real: San Zhong's sexiest teacher's udders his to ravage.
Firm titflesh massaged his palms like dough. Face-buried, he nipped hardening nipples, suckling.
Liu Yan moaned under his skill, writhing snowily. Pouty: “Just tits? Pussy's soaked—fuck me, Teacher wants it.”
Reluctant release; pants off, monster out. Tonight, claim every inch of this bombshell.
Liu Yan gawked at the beast, gripped it hot. Spread thighs, guided to virgin-for-others slit—juices galore, gaping.
“Do it, Ma Jun—ram me hard.” Coquettish smile, bed-ready.
Cockhead teased tender lips, slicking in nectar. Deep breath—thrust. Massive rod sank into the beauty's cunt. Hers now; second man.
So tight! Innumerable mouths sucked him, ecstasy edging him already.
Gasping, he hilted deep. Union complete. Liu Yan mouth agape, flirtatious eyes infinite spring.
Her moans spurred faster pumps, deeper strokes. Climax: her quiver, hot gush on glans. He roared, flooding her depths. First fuck done.
Something off—Liu Yan sluttier than Zhang Li? Dreamlike. “Ma Jun! Get out—or I call the cops!”
Shock woke him. Liu Yan clutched pajamas over curves, glaring furious. Fantasy crushed—he slammed door, fled.
Liu Yan dressed hasty, peeked out. Him panicked on sofa—relief. Never dreamed he'd barge in. Good she stopped him.
All an act? To get close? Rage built. Invited him, door ajar from trust—no filth in a kid. But like those teachers—after her.
Won't let slide. Tomorrow, tell Zhang Li about the peeping—warn him hard. Today clothes; tomorrow worse?
Alone now, better not rile him. Dog might snap. Talk first, calm him.
Deep breath, door open. Calmly: “Ma Jun, can we talk?”