Sex On My Teacher's Grave

What I did happened in the 80s. Although it was very childish and mean, I don't regret it even after all these years.


My seventh grade English teacher back in the late seventies was a prick. He paddled hard and seemed to enjoy it, especially the girls. It didn't take much. Being five minutes late, or even simply asking a question in a not cheerful enough tone. Some were paddled 4 or 5 times a week. It was a nervewracking class, but nobody did anything because the town was so small and homogenous. Those few who considered it wrong never spoke up.


The paddling was nothing, however, compared to his subtle racism. Our school was 95% white, but there were a few people of color bussed in from a nearby black hamlet that had no school building at all. He never said anything outright, but he'd hint around about how race mixing would destroy everything good and pure about Caucasians, and other races too, although he obviously considered them inferior.


I entered puberty early and my body looked womanly already. I was blonde, and I think in his mind, one of the "pure" whites. I noticed that if he saw me talking with a black guy before class, he was particularly nasty toward me during class. Again, he never said anything that could get him fired, but he took it to the line. The only thing I learned in his class was to hate him.


A few years later he died suddenly of a heart attack. I went through high school in that town, then left and went to college. I met a man there who happened to be black, fell in love, and became engaged to him.


I never forgot that teacher, and I held a grudge. My fiance and I dared each other to do crazy things a lot, and he was up for this particular thing once I explained it to him. On a visit back to my parents during spring break, we out to the cemetery one night about 1 am. It was way out of town. We had a small penlight so we could see.


My old teacher was interred in one of those above ground crypts that hold one casket. It was about 2 or so feet high, with a concrete flat top. I walked hand in hand with my fiance up to my teacher's grave. I said, "Hello, Mr. D----. Remember me? I'm Amy. This is my fiance, Chris. He's a virile black man as you can see. We make love a lot. In fact, we're going to make love right now, right above you sir."


Chris and I stripped below the waist and got on top of the crypt. It was a warm night so the concrete wasn't super cold, but it was hard on my back. It was narrow too so we had to be careful not to fall off. I knew I was going to be vocal but of course I couldn't be too loud. I had rehearsed a lot of what I was going to say. I knew the creepy element would be high, so I made it humorous.


I said in a blonde bimbo voice, "Oh, god, you're so big Chris, bigger than any white boy. Although you busted my cherry and plowed me a hundred times already, I'm still scared whenever you try to fuck me. But I need your black cock so bad."


Chris was supposed to say some things, but he couldn't keep from laughing. He entered me and got going and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I whined, "Oh, honey, you can't go any deeper, you're cock has hit bottom, it's hit black man territory, so please be careful."


I moaned and grunted, and when Chris was about to come I said, "Darling, please give me a baby, please. I want a mixed baby so bad, and I can't wait till we're married. And I know Mr D---- would be so happy for us."


We finished and got dressed, and I thanked Mr. D---- for hosting our lovemaking.


I don't believe in an afterlife so I don't think Mr D---- knew a thing about it, but it made me feel better.