My Senior Year Ch. 05: Elsa


Elsa and I shared a homeroom in our senior year (coincidentally, Ms O’Morin was our homeroom teacher). She was short and a bit chubby, but I found that attractive — her height only served to emphasise her huge breasts, thick thighs, and ample bottom. The school uniform did the rest.

When Elsa wore the navy blue “winter” slacks, they clung tightly to her body; when she wore the blue plaid “summer” skirt, it showed off the way her thighs pressed together. It’s difficult to say which look I preferred.

It wasn’t just her body that I lusted after; her face was pretty too with her bright blue eyes, blonde hair usually back in a ponytail, bangs covering her forehead, and thick red lips.

As we shared a homeroom each morning and had several of the same classes, I had plenty of opportunity to look at her pretty face and ogle her huge breasts.

One of the classes we shared was home economics. Because there was a senior study period immediately after the class, the teacher had devised a rota so that two students were assigned to clean the kitchens after each class.

This week, I was paired with Elsa. At the front of the kitchen was the teacher’s workstation, and along the other three walls were a total of ten workstations for students, arranged in a U shape. In the middle were desks and chairs for students to take down instructions.

“I guess if you start at that end, I’ll start at this end, and we’ll meet in the middle,” I suggested when class had been dismissed.

Elsa agreed and we got to work. By the time I had finished the third workstation, I needed a break. Cleaning was hard work. I turned around and faced out into the classroom, putting my palms on the edge of the workstation counter and resting.

Elsa was still cleaning her third workstation. Her back was to me. She was wearing her plaid skirt today, which was riding up her voluptuous thighs as she reached across to clean the far side of the counter. I watched her legs rub together, her bottom wiggling as she cleaned.

Without warning, she stood upright and started turning. I grabbed my cleaning cloth and pretended to wipe down the counter.

“I think I need a new cloth,” she called across the room.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I replied, holding up my rag. “This one’s got holes in it.”

“There should be some in the storeroom.”

Behind the teacher’s workstation was an open doorway to the room where cooking and cleaning supplies were kept. A door on the opposite side of the storeroom led to another kitchen that mirrored the layout of the one we were cleaning.

We met at the doorway.

“Ladies first,” I said, motioning toward the doorway.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile.

I followed Elsa into the narrow room. The shelves that lined the walls were full of ingredients, and in one corner were the cleaning supplies. Elsa knelt down and looked for some fresh cloths.

“Here they are,” she said at last, and stood up, turning around to face me.

The confines of the kurtköy escort storeroom brought us close together. Her breasts were barely an inch from touching me. Her long eyelashes flickered and our eyes met.

Elsa leaned in and kissed me. I wasn’t expecting it, but I quickly relaxed. She dropped the cloths and I pulled her close to me, her breasts pushing against my body. My hands found her arse and I squeezed as our tongues writhed around each other.

I brought my hands up her body, under her polo shirt, lifting as I went. Her breasts bounced as the shirt passed over them, and her arms started to rise. Our lips broke contact.

“Wait,” she said. “We can’t do this here!”

“Why not?”

“Someone will catch us!”

Elsa had a point. I looked around and spotted some brooms in the corner. I closed both storeroom doors and threaded the broomsticks through their handles. The doors could only be opened by pulling from the outside, and the broomsticks would bang against the wall, preventing them from being opened.


She looked at me with an expression of surprise and anticipation, her eyes wide and her bottom lip between her teeth. Her polo shirt was bunched above her breasts, revealing her translucent salmon-coloured bra, and beneath it her erect nipples.

“Much,” she said.

She removed her shirt completely and placed it on a shelf. I reached out and touched her nipples softly.

“Hmm …”

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, cupping my erect member gently with her hand. “Although I can see what’s going on down here.”

In truth, I was reminded of the failed titjob attempt with Ms O’Morin. I obviously couldn’t tell Elsa about that — not only would it kill the mood, but Ms O’Morin could lose her job. Nevertheless, I was keen to have another go, and Elsa’s breasts were more than large enough.

I looked around the storeroom and had an idea.

“Can I fuck your tits?” I asked nervously, giving her breasts a small squeeze.

Elsa giggled.

“Okay, but how?”

There was that question again. Fortunately, I had worked out the mechanics last time, just not the technique.

“Wait here a moment.”

I walked over to the door and removed the broomstick, opening it a crack and peering through. The kitchen was still empty.

“I won’t be long,” I assured her. She had instinctively tried to cover her huge breasts with her arms.

I walked swiftly into the classroom and picked up a plastic chair, bringing it back to the storeroom and putting it down.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I said, replacing the broomstick.

Elsa sat on the chair and leaned back slightly. She unclasped her bra, exposing her giant breasts. I took my trousers and underwear down to my ankles and stepped out of them, then removed my shirt: I didn’t want it getting in the way.

As I walked towards her, I grabbed a bottle of olive oil from the top shelf and opened it. I placed my member in the crevice of her cleavage.

“Push malatya escort them together.”

Elsa pressed her breasts around me, enveloping me in her flesh. I drizzled the olive oil over her chest, feeling it work its way down and around me. Satisfied, I put the oil back on a shelf.

I arched my pelvis back, sliding part way out of the flesh cocoon. This was much easier than last time, I thought, and thrust into her chest carefully. Finding that it wasn’t painful, my confidence was mounting, and I thrust faster and faster, my cock gliding through her breasts. Elsa varied the pressure by alternating between pushing her breasts together and easing them off.

Don’t get carried away, I told myself. I didn’t want to cum too soon, and definitely not before fucking Elsa properly. My thrusts slowed down and I slid out from between her breasts.

I pulled her to her feet.

“Let’s get you out of those clothes,” I said, taking her seat.

She grinned and removed her skirt. Her panties matched her bra, and she playfully teased the translucent salmon-coloured material down her thighs to the floor.

I could see a faint wet shimmer at the top of her thighs. They were pressed together, right up to her muff. A thin strip of light pubic hair ran down her mound, almost pointing to her entrance.

I leaned back on the chair as she walked toward me. She parted her thick thighs, straddled me, and lowered herself onto my erect member. I easily slid inside her.

Elsa began bouncing up and down on my cock. Her huge oiled breasts bounced up and down in time with her humping. I grabbed hold of them as her thighs gripped me in a tight, hot embrace.

The heat from her body was burning my cock. She grunted and moaned as she humped me. Her cunt plunged down onto my cock over and over, and our thighs slapped together. My hands felt for the soft, ample flesh of her buttocks and I squeezed them, feeling them rise and fall in my grip.

Elsa slowed and collapsed onto my chest, panting. I stroked her face as she caught her breath.

“What now?” she asked, my cock still inside her.

I hesitated.

“Well,” I began, “there’s still plenty of olive oil …”

Elsa lifted her head and we locked eyes.

“Okay, but go slow. Carefully.”

She let my cock slide out of her and stood up, waddling back off me. I followed suit and reached for the oil.

“How about you kneel on the chair, and lean your arms on the back rest?” I suggested.

She positioned herself on the chair so that her knees and waist were bent at right angles, her back straight as she leaned forward.

I poured plenty of olive oil onto my member and spread it all over, making sure it was well greased.

I approached Elsa from behind and nuzzled my glans against the crack of her flabby arse cheeks. I pushed forward slowly, parting her cheeks further, until my tip bumped against her anus. She reached back and pulled her right buttock aside, her hand brushing against my shaft. I poured more kayseri escort oil down her crack.

“Relax,” I said.

“Easy for you to say.”

I leaned into her carefully, my tip penetrating her arsehole. She groaned, seemingly from a mix of pleasure and discomfort.

I leaned further in, my glans now completely inside her. She gasped. Millimetre by millimetre I slid my shaft into Elsa’s arse. Eventually it was in as far as it could go (I’m not one of those guys who boast about improbably-sized penises), and her arse cheeks pressed against my stomach.

I slid out a little, then back in, gradually building speed. I put my hands on her hips. Elsa’s arsehole was tight around my cock, and she clenched occasionally, tightening the seal around me.

My cock was sliding in and out, and she was gasping. My scrotum brushed against something, and I realised she had one of her hands between her legs.

“I feel … so … full,” she moaned.

I pumped hard and moved my hands from her hips to her breasts.

I felt like I was going to cum and slowed down. I didn’t want it to end so soon. With a squelch and a pop, I gently pulled out of her arse. She stopped pleasuring herself and turned her head.

“Time for a break?”

I nodded.

“How about you take over for a bit?”

I sat on the floor and laid back. Elsa stood over me, a cucumber in her right hand.

She squatted, then leaned back to support herself on her left palm. I gripped my cock and she lowered her arsehole onto it. The muscles around her rectum hadn’t contracted yet, and I slid fairly easily back into her.

With her right hand, she inserted the cucumber into her wet cunt. I could feel it through the wall of her anus.

As fast as the positioned allowed, she slid along my cock and toyed herself with the cucumber. It was slow but erotic going. My cock pulsated inside her. I watched her arse rise and fall, my slippery cock begging for relief.

“Faster, Elsa! Faster!”

Elsa’s hand left the cucumber so she could give herself extra support, and it rolled away. She raised her abdomen toward the ceiling, then pushed down, repeatedly, faster and faster.

I could feel myself about to cum. I braced myself and ejaculated as she plunged downward onto me, my semen spraying deep into her arsehole. She felt it too and stopped humping in surprise. I was still literally balls deep inside her.

Elsa raised herself up so that my limp member could fall out of her. I watched as my semen dripped down from her gaping anus and onto the floor between my thighs. I managed to crawl out from under her and get to my feet.

“Wait there,” I said. “It’s still dripping.”

I opened a packet of new cloths and wiped myself down, then knelt before Elsa and used another cloth to wipe her anus, inserting a finger to clean around her rim. I mopped up the pool of semen beneath her, then helped her to her feet.

We dressed quickly, remembering that the kitchens still needed to be cleaned.

“I feel so stretched,” Elsa said as we left the storeroom. “I think I’ll be shitting your cum for days.”

“Never done that before?” I asked.


“Me either.”

We laughed and resumed our cleaning duties.

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