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FAME: Light Up the Sky Like a Flame

By Uncle Mike


Exhausted from a Miss Grant's usual strenuous class, the
dancers straggled out as the bell rang. Their leg warmers
were drooping only slightly more than their sore arms and
legs.

But Miss Grant, also as usual, looked like she could keep
going for hours. Days, perhaps. Even though sweat was
glistening on her face and had soaked a deep V on her pink
leotard, plastering it to her heaving breasts, her eyes were
still afire.

Bruno got up from the piano, shaking his head and giving
her an enigmatic smile. He was always astonished by Miss
Grant's energy. Why, she must be almost 30, maybe even past
it, and she could still keep up with a class of teenagers. He
stuffed the music sheets into his folder and turned to go.

"Mr. Martelli!" Miss Grant's voice was like a knife, able to
slice through even the loudest dance music and pierce the
back of a dancer who'd gone astray. In the quiet, empty room,
it echoed sharply and stopped the young, curly haired piano
player in his tracks.

"Mr. Martelli, I have to practice my solo for the teacher's
recital next week. And I need you to play for me."

Bruno's shoulders rose and fell as he thought of the date
he'd made after school.

"That is if you don't have other plans," the slim, dark-
skinned teacher said. Her tone, it seemed to Bruno, made it
clear his other plans would have to wait. With a sigh, he
trudged back to the piano and splayed out the music she
handed him.

He began to play. It was an up tempo classical piece, full
of bold arpeggios and pounding chords. Not his style, at all,
but he could admire the way the composer used a wall of
sound to stir up the emotions. In a way, it was the easy way
out, avoiding the subtleties he liked to put into his own
compositions. But there was nothing easy about these chords,
and he had to keep his eyes on the pages for awhile before he
got into the composer's head and could anticipate what came
next.

When Bruno looked up, Miss Grant was writhing on the
floor next to the piano. Her shapely legs whipped furiously
back and forth in counterpoint to her waving torso. Slowly,
without seeming to use her hands at all, she rose to her feet.

Bruno swallowed as he looked at her in between glances at
the music. Miss Grant didn't have just the energy of a
teenager; she had the body of one, too: slim, lithe, bursting
with promise. The sweat that now soaked her entire leotard
made the already tight garment stick even closer to her body,
hugging the gentle curve of her breasts, allowing the taut
nipples to poke through.

She looked him in the eye and Bruno glanced away. He
looked off into space, trying to think of something else,
maybe to get lost in the music. It didn't work. The notes were
pounding in his brain, now, working their cheap magic on his
emotions. He looked over at Miss Grant again.

She was arcing her back, slowly falling back into an arch
with only the tips of her toes and her fingers touching the
floor. Bruno stared at her crotch. The leotard was pulled so
tight that he could see a few curly black hairs poking out
around the sides and the folds of her cunt were clearly
outlined by the material.

Trying to avoid her eyes as she bounced to her feet again,
he shifted on the piano bench, trying to give his raging hard-
on room to breathe. It was pressing against his tight jeans.
Hoping she couldn't see, Bruno quickly jerked his left hand
down to shift the cock into a more comfortable position. Miss
Grant glanced pointedly in his direction; she must have
noticed the missing chord, he thought.

Still she twirled on, flashing across the floor, making
dramatic leaps and abrupt pirouettes. Bruno began to
fantasize about her, imagining the skimpy leotard falling
away under his eager fingers.

In his daydream, Miss Grant turned in surprise as he
approached her on the practice room floor and harshly ripped
off her leotard. She quickly crossed her hands in front of her
breasts, trying to shield herself, but he would not let her.

With flashing eyes, he pushed her down to one of the
practice mats. She struggled underneath him. "Admit it," he
told her boldly. "You want me, I saw it in your eyes. You want
my hard cock in that cunt of yours, and you want it now!" Her
eyes looked up at him pleadingly and her lips moved but she
said nothing.

Holding her down with the weight of his body, Bruno
stripped off his shirt and shrugged out of his jeans. His stiff
dick wobbled above her wet cunt as he gazed at her svelte,
brown body, that perfect dancer's instrument. He brushed the
tip of his cock against her pussy and at last she spoke.

"No! No, Bruno, please, don't do this!" Her slim hands were
no match for his strength as he brushed aside her weak
protests and split her cunt lips with his shaft. It slid in
easily and he thrilled at the crushing feel of her tight tunnel.

"Yes, Lydia," he said, bending over her. "Yes, yes, you want
it! Take that cock into you. See, your cunt knows what it
wants," he said, as her hips began to buck up at him.

"Oh, yes," the teacher said, sobbing. "All right, I admit it, I
want it all! Fuck me, Bruno! Bruno!"

"Bruno!"

Miss Grant's sharp voice cut through his reverie. He looked
down and saw his hands flattened against the keys in a
massive chord that, he now realized, he could still hear
echoing against the walls. He blushed as he looked up at the
teacher, who was leaning against the piano, catching her
breath.

"That was a very vigorous interpretation," she said,
looking at him. "But I don't think that was quite the tempo the
composer had in mind." Her eyes traveled down his body and
stopped. "Oh, I see," she said with a smile. "You had your --
uh, mind -- on other things, Mr. Martelli?"

He tried to stammer out a reply but nothing came to mind.
What could he say? "Yeah, I was thinking about fucking that
tight cunt of yours, Miss Grant?" Instead, he said nothing. Let
her make her own conclusions.

"Look, Bruno," she said, "I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from
some hot date, but I really need to practice this piece, and
you're the only one who can do it justice. I..."

He broke in. "No, it's not that, it's ... uh, never mind." He
kept his eyes fastened on the keys, not daring to look at her.
"Do you want to try it again?"

"Mmmm, yes, I think so," she drawled. "But give me a
minute, first, OK? I'll be right back."

She trotted off through the front door of the practice
room. He heard an odd double click as she closed it, but didn't
give it much thought. Taking advantage of the break, Bruno
massaged his aching cock while he scanned the music.

Just a few moments later, the back door of the room
opened. He turned back, startled, as Miss Grant backed in,
fumbling at the door for a minute before she let it close
behind her. Bruno noticed that she had slid the shade down
over the door's window, probably to keep out gawking
students as she ran through the number again.

"From the top?" he asked, turning back to the music.

"Not yet," Miss Grant said. "I have to get into the mood for
this. Let me put my costume on."

Bruno looked around, confused. The room didn't have any
closets, so where ...?

As he watched, Miss Grant pulled a blackboard that was
mounted on rollers away from one corner of the room and slid
it across in front of him, positioning it to screen the corner
facing the piano. She picked up a brown paper bag and slipped
behind the board.

He could still see her legs, almost to the hips, in the open
space beneath the chalk-covered board. As he watched, the
teacher hopped from one slim leg to the other, pulling off her
leggings and tossing them over the top of the board.

He felt his cock growing even bigger as he looked.

Next he saw her pink leotard come wriggling down, down,
down, and then she kicked it up and he saw it, too, flop over
the board, swaying slightly.

It suddenly occurred to Bruno that Miss Grant must now be
naked behind the screen. Again visions of her body came to
him. As he rubbed his dick slowly, he imagined the taut skin
of her belly brushing his, the rippling muscles of her arms
and legs wrapped around him like a vise, her hungry cunt
grabbing at his cock.

"I hope you're thinking about that middle arpeggio, Mr.
Martelli!" Her voice again cut his reverie.

Bruno blinked. He answered her by rippling through the
notes.

"Sounding good," she said as he saw her hand reach down
and pick up the bag.

There was some rustling and other odd noises. Then the
bag plopped to the floor again and a silky white stocking
floated down below the board. As Bruno watched, licking his
lips, Miss Grant's right leg slid into the stocking, which clung
tightly to her well-shaped ankle. Then another stocking came
down and again a firm leg filled out its smooth curves.

When the teacher bent down to pick up the bag again, Bruno
thought he almost could see her nipples hanging down below
the board, but they were gone before he could be sure. Two
red stiletto-heeled shoes clattered to the floor and Miss
Grant stepped into them, accentuating the curves of her legs.

The empty bag, crumpled into a ball, came flying over the
board and bounced once on the piano before skidding past
Bruno's shoulder and onto the floor.

"Sorry, I hope I didn't hit you," Miss Grant said. Bruno
looked up. She was coming around the side of the board. She
seemed to slink more than walk. She was tying the last knot
in the top of a bright red ... thing. It looked like something
Bruno had seen once in a Frederick's of Hollywood catalog the
boys in grade school were passing around; it had been called a
merry widow, he thought. Whatever it was called, the tight
outfit barely covered her sleek torso; her breasts bulged out
the top, looking bigger than he had imagined. The ruffles on
the bottom seemed to stop just at the bottom of her crotch.
He could see the thin white straps tugging at the tops of her
stocks, rising along her chocolate brown thighs and
disappearing under the tufts of the red ruffles. He felt drops
of pre-cum soaking into his briefs as he thought of what was
under those tantalizing ruffles.

"Y-you're going to wear that?" he managed to get out.

"There's a dress that goes with it," the lithe black woman
said, motioning to a chair along one wall, where he saw a
flouncy white gown. "But this should be enough for me to get
in the mood. Don't you think?" She wiggled her top at him
quickly and strode to the center of the floor. Her heels click-
clicked as she picked her spot and waved at Bruno to begin.

As she began to dance, her movements seemed even more
sensuous than the first time. Bruno felt the room grow hotter.
His fingers almost slipped on the keys and he looked down at
them: He was sweating. Funny, he hadn't noticed the heat
before. In between beats he wiped first one hand, then the
other on his jeans. His cock was pressing so hard against his
jeans that even the quick, slight movement as he wiped his
hands dry sent a shiver up his dick and through his entire
body. He was glancing at the music only once in awhile, glad
that he had memorized most of it the first time through. He
wanted to keep his eyes on Miss Grant and her incredibly sexy
body, writhing before him.

Again she got to the part where she bent over backwards.
Bruno's mouth opened involuntarily when he saw that only a
narrow strip of cloth stretched across her slit, and she wore
no panties. He could see the darker skin of her pussy lips,
split by the thin band of red. As she dipped back the cloth
worked its way between her labia and he could see wet, pink
folds opening up. The pounding beat of the music was tearing
at his body and only a shred of self-control kept him from
leaping off the piano bench and raping her right there and
then.

He was still staring when Miss Grant rose to her feet. Had
she seen him? He shifted his eyes back to the music sheets,
trying to concentrate on the notes and forget the luscious
body his teacher seemed to be flaunting so wildly.

She was leaping about again, her long legs flashing in the
silky stockings. It reminded him of nature films, of gazelles
on the run. Her entire body seemed to flow from one spot to
another, moving so fast her limbs were a blur. But every once
in awhile he would see her face frozen like a stop-motion
movie, her eyes open wide and staring directly into his.
Bruno's thoughts raced madly. This is crazy, he told himself.
She's practicing for a performance, not a seduction. If I don't
get myself under control I'll ... he glanced down at his crotch.
Damn! A dark spot was spreading just to one side of the
zipper. He pictured himself creeping out of the room, music
sheets clutched in front of him to hide the stain, feeling like
a fool. Just the thought of the embarrassment made his dick
subside a little.

A breeze brushed his cheek. He looked up and was startled
to see Miss Grant was now dancing just inches from his body.
He could feel intense heat pulsating from her and a heavy,
musky odor filled his nostrils. Bruno tried to stare straight
ahead at the music, but he couldn't help glancing to the sides.
She stretched out a leg and her heel almost touched his arm;
she swung an arm around and the hairs on the back of his neck
stood on end.

Desperately he tried to get his mind off her body, so close
to his. His cock was rising again; he squeezed his eyes tight
for a second and imagined a knife slicing through it like a
bologna -- that used to work when he got a hard-on while
riding the school bus and needed to get rid of it before they
got to school.

But when he opened his eyes Miss Grant's palm appeared
before him, sliding down so close he could see the whorls of
her pale fingertips. His dick immediately leaped back to its
full length.

"You're doing very well, Mr. Martelli!" Her voice came out in
between puffs, a whisper in his ear. "Just ... just keep it up."

Then with a few pirouettes she was on the other end of
the piano, and then she leaped atop it. Bruno looked up at her,
stretched full-length before him. Her breasts heaved against
the red lace of her top as she kicked her legs high, then
swiveled quickly, placing her feet on his shoulders. He was
looking directly into her cunt. It was shiny with her liquor,
just inches from his face. He forced his eyes back to the


music and felt her legs lift off him.

Bruno was bobbing back and forth on the piano bench now,
his aching cock stretching to get some friction against his
soaked briefs as he continued the throbbing music. Every
nerve was on fire, his teeth were clenched tightly, his eyes
stared blankly at the pages before him as he drove on to the
finish. The crashing chords sent vibrations through his body
and he wasn't sure he could hold on; he felt as if he would
explode into a million pieces if he didn't get some relief that
instant.

And then again he saw Miss Grant's hand sliding down his
field of vision. A dry groan was forced from his throat as he
sensed her lush body almost touching his back and he knew he
could last no longer.

Just as he felt himself about to let go, cum ready to spurt
out of his cock, a deep moan welling in him ... Miss Grant's
fingertips brushed his chest, sliding down his sweat-soaked
shirt and landing, to his complete shock, directly on his fat
cock.

He came immediately. The warm goo shot out, smearing
over his crotch as his hands dropped to the keys for the final
chord.



For a second he forgot where he was. When he shook
himself back into the moment, Miss Grant was standing next
to the piano, several feet from him. God, he thought, it was
another daydream. He squirmed on the bench and felt his cum,
already cooling and beginning to cake on his skin; that was no
dream. Did Miss Grant know what had happened? Had he said
anything? Made any noise? He couldn't tell what was real and
what was just his imagination. Flustered, he blushed brightly
as he looked up at her.

"Perfect tempo, Mr. Martelli," she said in a low voice. "But
you finished too quickly."

He stammered out an apology, flipping in confusion
through the sheets of music, trying to figure out what he'd
missed. He was concentrating so hard that he didn't even feel
her touch. It was only when her voice came again that he
noticed the dark skin of her hand pressed against his arm.

"That's not what I meant, Bruno," Miss Grant said.

He turned slowly, comprehension slowly dawning on him.

She was standing before him, her legs slightly parted. Her
nostrils flared slightly and her pink tongue slid back and
forth on her thick, dark lips. Slipping her hand down his arm,
she knelt before him, unbuckled his belt and tugged off his
jeans and briefs.

"Let me see your instrument," she said with a smile. "Oh,
yes, that's what I wanted."

Bruno's cock emerged, covered with cum. Already it was
beginning to grow again.

"I can't believe this is happening," he said quietly. "This ...
this isn't a dream, is it?"

The teacher laughed softly. "Do you dream about me? Were
you thinking about me when I danced? Did you imagine me
naked? Is that what you wanted, Mr. Martelli?His cock was
fully erect again. Miss Grant's words sent shock waves

straddle him.

He thought he should say something, but he wasn't sure
what. How could he express his emotions now, his lust and
desire? He heard beautiful music rolling through his head and
decided that only the pure language of the notes could
adequately describe it.

Miss Grant found some words, though. "I want you now,"
she whispered throatily. "All that before was just rehearsal.
Now it's showtime. You want to fuck?"

Bruno nodded, still unable to speak.

"Well, fucking costs. And right here's where you start
paying. I want that cock as stiff as you can make it, Mr.
Martelli. Because it's going to sink into my hot, wet cunt, and
I don't put nothing in my cunt that isn't big, hard and ready.
Are you ready, Mr. Martelli?"

In reply, Bruno thrust his cock upward, sliding it between
his fist. The head was thick and engorged with blood, driving
up at her hovering pussy like a snake lunging at its prey.

"That looks ready," Miss Grant said, beginning to lower
herself with a dancer's sinuous intensity. "Now I'm going to
put my cunt on that cock, and let it in. But only a little bit at
a time. And no cheating, Mr. Martelli. Remember who's the
teacher here."

Bruno's vision narrowed to encompass only the head of his
cock, a bead of pre-cum glistening at its tip, and her
approaching slit. The few seconds seemed to stretch into
minutes, even hours. His breathing grew short and shallow,
his heart raced. In his focused sight, the head of his cock
looked as big as a baseball bat; her pussy as cushiony as a
down comforter.

And then the soft flesh of her slit made contact, and a
surge of electricity sparkled throughout his body. This was
the moment he had imagined, the moment he had never
thought would really happen. All his senses were
concentrated in his cock as Miss Grant's hot pussy lips slid
around the tip and engulfed the helmet.

Bruno felt as if he were watching a movie; what was
happening before his eyes couldn't be real. As he looked on,
his cock leaped involuntarily, pressing into the teacher's
cunt. But she pulled up slightly, still keeping the head inside
her.

"I told you I was in control," Miss Grant said, in the stern-
but-gentle tone he was so used to from classes. Only now this
wasn't a lesson in tap or music theory, it was all about his
fat cock in her wet cunt. Bruno still had difficulty making it
all seem real.

And Miss Grant went on. "I'm in charge here," she said, "and
I'm going to take it nice and easy. Feel that cockhead, Bruno?
Can you feel my pussy lips squeezing it? I have a very
talented pussy. It's going to do amazing things to your cock.
Do you want to know what?"

Bruno knew no reply was necessary.

"First let's get more comfortable," the teacher said.
"That's better. Your cock is sliding into me, Mr. Martelli. It's
halfway in already -- feel it? Is it as good as you dreamed
about, whacking yourself off at the piano bench?

"It's good for me, Bruno. I like the feel of a hard, young
cock inside me. All the way inside me," she groaned as she
lowered herself all the way. Bruno groaned, too, as Miss
Grant's hips sank to meet his crotch, burying his dick in her
velvet folds to the hilt.

"Yes, that's what I needed," she said, grinding her cunt
around the boy's cock. "Fill my pussy up, Mr. Martelli. Fill that
cunt with your stiff cock and let me feel it all the way to my
toes. Yes!" She writhed above him as she began to rise and
fall, gripping his shaft in her cunt muscles.

"Don't just lay back and enjoy it," Miss Grant instructed.
"My tits want a little fun, too. Come on, boy, give me a hand
here." Bruno did as he was told, grabbing her chest with both
hands and kneading her breasts like he kneaded the dough
when he made pizzas with his uncle, rubbing his thumbs over
the sensitive nipples.

"Good work," the teacher sighed, holding his hands over her
tits as she continued to squat over his cock, working it in and
out of her sloppy wet hole. "Now start humping back. That's it!
Drive that cock into me! Harder! Harder! Yes, Mr. Martelli! Yes!"

Bruno watched Miss Grant's dark-skinned body ripple, her
well-toned muscles jerking spasmodically as she gave
herself up to the moment. Suddenly she grew stiff and
unmoving, and he was afraid something had gone wrong. But
just as suddenly she flew out of the paralysis into a wild,
bucking frenzy.

"I'm coming!" she shouted. "Damn, boy, you are good. I can
feel this one all over. Keep fucking me, Mr. Martelli! Don't
stop! Slam that cock into me! I want you to fill me up."

Bruno increased his speed, lunging his hips up at his
teacher's gyrating pussy. For several minutes she kept up her
orgasm in steadily decreasing waves of excitement before
finally it subsided and she dropped down, pressing her sweaty
breasts against his hairless chest.

"Good work, Mr. Martelli," she gasped. "But ... my God, you
haven't finished, have you? Child, you are gonna be the death
of me yet. Well, we'll see what we can do, but this time
you're going to have to do the work."

With that, Miss Grant slid off him and lay flat on her back,
spreading her legs. Bruno crawled between them. He could see
that she was breathing heavily, her chest heaving with the
effort. Their fucking had exhausted her.

But the desire bursting inside Bruno demanded release.
With fire in his eyes, he advanced on her, holding his cock like
a dagger pointed straight at her slit.

When he entered her it was a stabbing, driving thrust,
forcing a grunt from Miss Grant's chest. And he continued to
thrust deeply into her, driving his cock into her cunt with a
wild passion. The teacher raised her legs, giving him full
access. Her heels dug into his thighs, and then his ass, urging
him into her.

"Do it, Mr. Martelli," she said, whispering in his ear. "Fuck
your teacher's cunt like a savage. Pound it into me. That's it.
Rape me. Rape my cunt, fill it up with that hard cock. Split me


open!"

Her words throbbed in Bruno's brain, echoing back and
forth as he thrust into her. The lustful talk was driving him
crazy. At last he silenced her by covering her mouth with his,
plunging his tongue into her. They kissed deeply, hungrily, as
if it was the very kiss of life. And through it all Bruno kept
up his attack and Miss Grant matched him thrust for thrust.

It seemed to Bruno as if they were melting together,
becoming one flesh everywhere but at the crucial junction
where his raging cock was driving in and out of her hot cunt.

And then he felt a sharp, burning sensation in his loins,
and a pounding in his head.

"I ... I think ... I ...," he stuttered.

"Yes, you are," Miss Grant told him. "I can feel your cock
getting bigger. This is it, Mr. Martelli. I want your cum. I want
it all in me. Explode in me. Fill that hungry pussy with your
cum, child!"

"Yes," he began to shout. "Yes, yes, I'm cummmiiinnnggg!"
The explosion started deep within him and rocketed through
his entire body as he felt the cum welling out of his, pulsing
through his shaft, blasting into his teacher's body. Wave after
wave of cum surged from him. Bruno, so used to the single,
dulling spurts when he whacked off, was shocked at the
duration and violence of this orgasm. Miss Grant kept humping
back at him, milking the last drops from his cock, until at
last he was drained and the head of his cock became almost
painfully sensitive to her gyrations.

He felt weak and spent, sagging down on top of Miss
Grant's lithe body. After a minute or two, he started to roll
off her. But she lifted her legs, trapping him.

"Not so fast, Mr. Martelli," she said teasingly.

"No, no more," he said, but even as he spoke she began to
slowly, gently buck up at him, and he was stunned to feel his
cock growing thick again.

Now she did roll him over, but stayed with him, holding his
cock within her as she rolled atop. This time she fucked him
slowly, tantalizingly, squeezing his cock while barely moving
up and down, pressing him into him so hard their pubic bones
crushed together. And in a few minutes Miss Grant again
began to screech as another orgasm drove through her.

When she had been sated, the teacher lifted her sopping
wet cunt from Bruno's cock. He was still hard, though, and
now it was he who wanted more.

Miss Grant slid away from him, laughing, keeping just out
of his reach as he crawled toward her. Then he got to his feet
and she scrambled to hers, leading him on a chase around the
classroom until he cornered her against a wall.

"Mr. Martelli, I think you've had enough," she said, with a
smile.

"Not yet," he said, her lips pressed to her ear. "Not until
I've split you open, right, Miss Grant?" Without waiting for a
reply, Bruno pressed his hand between her legs, burying his
fingers in her cunt. The teacher's dark body sagged against
the wall as her legs opened to him.

Greedily he kissed and sucked her lips, her neck, her
breasts, all the while humping away at her with his fingers.
Finally she raised her legs completely off the floor, leaving
her supported in a sandwich between Bruno and the wall. His
cock pressed against her slick pussy lips and slid in easily.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Martelli," she murmured into his neck. "Fuck
me again. Split me open. Fuck that pussy, child!"

Bruno did as he was told, humping madly into her wide
open cunt. Their writhing left a smeared outline of sweat on
the dusty wall as they rutted like animals, lost in their
passion and oblivious to everything else.

"Now you're doing it," Miss Grant cried. "You're splitting
me open! Yes, yes, yesyesyesyes!" Yet another orgasm
whipsawed through her.

Bruno could feel every twitch of her body and the motions
pulled his own orgasm out, a crashing blast of cum jetting
into her already full cunt, splashing and squishing out,
dripping down their legs and puddling on the floor.

"Thank you, Miss Grant," Bruno whispered to her as they
held each other close, letting the last flush of their orgasms
subside.

"You're very welcome, Mr. Martelli," she whispered back.
"You're a very good student. In fact, I think you're ready for
some advanced classes."

Bruno's mind whirled.

    

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