Rita of Cascia Catholic School
Chapter K: Miss Walsh

Author’s Note: All the people doing sexy things are well over 18. All the action is between teachers and staff.

It was a fresh start.

The suburbs were new to me. At least for anything more than a brief visit. I had previously lived downtown and worked at a small managed services firm. I was a senior engineer managing infrastructure for some big clients. Servers, switches, routers, and that sort of thing. What was nice was that I was paid handsomely. What was less nice was that I was always on the clock. Always working, always something that needed to be changed or fixed or updated, always stressed. We had what, at the time, I thought was a great benefit: unlimited paid time off. The reality was that I was so busy that I never used that time. Years working up the ranks, climbing the stupid ladder, and all for a bit more money that I couldn’t even use because I never stopped working.

So I quit.

Shortly after, I bought my first car (city life and all that) and moved out to the burbs. My small apartment became a small house, and my mornings started with a nice jog I never could have taken before. There was a small part of me that sometimes missed the busy city life, but the rest of me was happy to be free of the absolute, soul-crushing burnout.

I was still in need of a job, so I searched for something a little quieter. That search landed me at Rita of Cascia Catholic School. It was one of a dozen schools running under the local diocese, which my heathen self learned was a term for a district of the Catholic Church. All of my responsibilities were local to the school and the attached church (that they all called a parish), and the school wasn’t even that big. It only went from kindergarten to 8th grade, and each grade only had one class. I was their IT guy (and occasional maintenance assistant), and I was excited to start my new stress-free life!

Except, I would never have predicted what was to come next…

It was me. I was going to cum next. That’s why you’re here, shambling through this exposition.

A couple of weeks in, and I was already quite popular. The previous IT guy wasn’t really an IT guy. He was just a member of the parish who volunteered his time. So having someone who actually knew the job made for plenty of happy teachers.

The first two or three months were to be dedicated to auditing and documenting everything. It took a lot of doing and a lot of digging. The firewall was a couple of major versions behind the current. There was no paperwork on support contracts. The phone system was installed by some IT company and then abandoned. Plus, there were two separate door control systems. They weren’t even split between the school and the parish. One secured three doors in the parish and five doors in the school, and the other secured the remaining school doors. I have no clue how or why that happened.

So I had a lot of work ahead of me, and it was slow-going. Moreover, I also needed to keep the teachers and staff functioning smoothly while I shored things up. Most of them knew absolutely nothing about technology.

And yet, this work was exponentially more relaxing than my last job.

Spring was creeping into summer, and days were getting warmer. School was just about out for the year, which would give me more time to focus on getting their situation figured out.

On one of those days, I was beckoned for help by the Kindergarten teacher, Miss Walsh. “Hey, Paul? Could you come take a look at this smart board? I can’t seem to get my screen to show up on it.”

“Sure. No problem, Miss Walsh.”

“Pleeease, just call me Amanda,” she said, and she waved her hand dismissively as we walked to her room.

Miss Walsh was a few years younger than me and a few inches shorter. She wasn’t a big woman. Clearly petite from what I could see, which wasn’t much because of the dresses she always wore. Even as the weather got hotter, she was always in long sleeves. Her face was adorable, a bit mouse-y with a great big smile that shined like the sun. She was fantastic with the kids, too.

Her room was like kindergarten rooms everywhere. Plenty of colors. Numbers, letters, and pictures plastered on every wall. The room smelled a bit like crayon and paste. I sat down and started to punch away at the settings. “When did it stop working,” I inquired.

“It’s been kinda flaky all month. When it would quit working, I would just turn it off and on, and it would come back. But then it stopped doing that and just stayed off.”

I tried a few settings on her computer and then a few on the smart board. They both looked like they were working, but they just couldn’t see each other. I checked the HDMI cable on the back of the board, and that looked secure. So I climbed under the desk to check the cable there. Then I heard her say something. I couldn’t prove she had said anything, but I swear I heard something like, “… I’d be getting a show too.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“What was what?” she immediately responded.

“I thought I heard you say something.”

“Nope,” she said flatly, “didn’t say a thing.”

Huh, I thought to myself as I continued to dig around. “Here you go,” I said as I crawled out from underneath. “I think this cable is bad. It looks like it’s wearing away at the end. Lemme run back to my office, and I’ll get a fresh one for you.”

“Oh, perfect!” she exclaimed, her smile beaming.

A few minutes to my office and a few minutes back, and I was back under her desk plugging in the new cable. Again, I could have sworn I heard things. This time it was almost like someone was humming, or maybe… moaning. In a school, though?

Either way, I crawled back out and gave it a test. Everything came on just as expected. Miss Walsh was overjoyed, and she exclaimed, “Fantastic! Thank you, Paul. You’re such a big help!”

“Ah, it’s no problem, Mi– Amanda. Just a simple cable swap.”

“Sure, but I would have never figured that out.”

“Well,” I started on my way out the door, “feel free to holler if you need anything else.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she beamed. And maybe she winked at me? I was pretty sure that’s what I saw, but I brushed it off as my imagination.

A couple of days later, I was in my office taking apart a Chromebook. One of the students “accidentally” slammed it closed with a pen inside. I was pulling out the screen when a call came in on my desk phone. “IT,” I answered.

Miss Walsh’s voice came through: “Paul? Could you come take a look at something? I think one of the kids knocked something loose.”

“Sure. Do you know what it was that was knocked?” I replied.

“Um… A router. I think,” she sounded unsure, “Or maybe a smoke detector. I’m calling because I’m not sure.”

“Ah. No problem,” I said reassuringly, “I’ll swing by with a ladder and take care of it either way.”

“Wonderful!” I heard her smile over the phone. “I don’t know what we’d do without you!”

I got over to the classroom with a ladder and a small toolkit I use to run cables and mount devices. On the device dangling from the ceiling, I could see the affixed label that told me this was “AP-7”, a device called an access point that gave this room Wi-Fi. It was hanging on by the network cable, and it looked like the ceiling mount was torn out. It also looked like the person who installed it was lazy and only used one poorly placed screw to do it.

I sighed to myself, frustrated at others’ refusal to do things right, and got the ladder stood up to do the work. “This shouldn’t take long,” I told her, “It looks fine. It just needs to be remounted.”

“Okay. I’ll hold the ladder… for safety,” she said reassuringly as I started up the steps. The ceilings weren’t very high. Maybe eight to ten feet. I just assumed she took safety very seriously.

At the top of the ladder, I inspected the AP carefully. Indeed, it didn’t look damaged at all. The lights were even still blinking, like it was working. I unhooked the mounting bracket and pulled out the now useless screw. Using the bracket as a template, I marked a few spots with a pencil and drilled a few pilot holes. I then grabbed some fresh screws and my driver, and re-mounted the bracket to the ceiling. About ten or so minutes later, I was done, and the AP looked good as new. It would probably also better withstand rogue toys in the future.

“Well, Amanda, you should be good as new,” I said while turning around.

Her face was flushed. The bottom of her dress was swaying… suspiciously. I didn’t suspect she walked away, but I wasn’t sure what she’d have been doing. Her face was getting redder as she said, “That looks wonderful!”

“It should also do a better job of surviving the kids, too,” I told her on my way down.

“Oh, that’s great. What would I do without you, Paul?”

I dragged the ladder back to the maintenance office, and made my way back to my office to finish the Chromebook.

The next day around lunchtime, I was in my office working through a sandwich, when I heard a knock on the door. Amanda’s mess of blonde hair poked into the doorway and asked, “Hey, Paul, got a second?”

“Sure. What can I do for you?”

“Well,” she answered, dragging the word out, “it’s not really school-related, but I’m having a problem with my cell phone.”

I set down my sandwich, waved her over, and said, “Yeah. No problem. What’s going on?”

She came up to my desk while explaining, “I can’t seem to send anyone any pictures. I add it to the text, and then it just sits there, and the other person never gets it. I’ve tried restarting it a few times. And, I think someone told me to toggle the internet, but I’m not sure if I was doing that right or not.”

“Can anyone send you pictures,” I asked.

“No. Those don’t work either. I don’t even see if they tried. It’s like they never sent anything.”

“Hrm…,” I thought to myself, “Let’s check some settings then. May I?”

“Sure,” she replied, and she circled my desk just behind my chair before handing me her unlocked phone. I went ahead and perused the settings.

I flitted through a few screens to make sure permissions were correct, and she was actually connected to the network. I then pulled up her connection settings and saw that some of them were empty when they definitely shouldn’t be. “Ah. Here we go,” I told her, “Your MMS settings are missing.”

“MMS?,” she asked.

“It’s the thing that lets you send pictures and be in group texts,” I explained.

In a few minutes, I had the correct settings pulled up in a browser, and I started to enter them into her phone. As I was working, she must have started to lean further or put her weight on my chair or something. Quickly, I went from sitting normally to falling backwards in a hurry. Panicking, I reached for something to keep me upright, and I ended up grabbing the front of her dress and pulling her down with me. We both came down in a big heap, with her landing on top of me. My head knocked against the floor, sending stars into my vision momentarily.

When my vision cleared, I was greeted by a dainty, black thong wrapped around a huge, firm ass. It was a landscape of curves attached to a pair of thick, strong legs. I never would have guessed she was hiding something so magnificent under that dress. My dick was in agreement, and immediately started to swell within my pants.

Amanda scrambled to her feet while saying, “Oh my god! I’m so sorry.” She brushed her dress and tried to act like we only bumped into each other in the hallway. Her face was pink with embarrassment.

I was rubbing the lump on the back of my head when I saw her eyes locked onto the rising tent in my pants, where my semi-erect dick was pushing through. Her face went from pink to red. I also scrambled to my feet then, and got my chair upright to stand behind it. I cleared my throat, and told her, “No harm done. Let’s get these settings fixed, and you should be good to go.”

On Monday, I arrived to find a plate of cookies on my desk, and a note that read “A big plate of cookies for my BIG helper – Amanda”. I gave one a taste, and it was stupidly delicious. It was good enough that I considered asking for her hand in marriage right then and there.

For the next few days, Amanda didn’t ask for any help. I did catch her walking by my office a lot. A few times she stopped, like she was going to come in, but would turn and continue on her way.

On Wednesday, I think, we were both in the office getting some printing done. When her papers were finished, she backed up a bit and bent over to grab them. As she did that, she bumped her butt into the front of my pants. She stood up, stack in hand, and said, almost playfully, “Oops!” I saw her eyes quickly glance down, and then meet mine. “Pardon me. I can be a bit clumsy.” She winked, and then walked away.

Later that afternoon, I was walking down the hall when I spotted her in her room while the kids were at recess. She had her lunch out and was eating it. It is not an exciting thing to note in a story most times, but in this case, it got me to put together more clearly how intentional her actions had been. You see, she had pulled out a sizable pickle, and started kissing the tip of it.

Weird way to eat a pickle, sure, but it kept going. She placed the whole tip in her mouth, and, instead of biting a piece off, she just slid in more and started sucking it. She brought it out and started licking it up and down, and then proceeded to try and deep throat it. She gagged loudly almost immediately, and I chose to continue on my way in case she looked around to see if anyone saw her.

I had to be careful to hide my erection on the way to my office.

That Friday afternoon, I received an email from her. She had asked if I could meet with her after school to help figure out a new bit of math software she wanted to use in class. I replied absolutely and said that I’d see her then, and I went about my day as usual.

After I finished my work for the day, I packed up my things and made my way to Amanda’s classroom. I knocked lightly on the door and stepped in, saying, “Hey, Amanda. You ready to get cracking on that software?”

She wasn’t ready for the software.

She was leaning against her desk. Her dress was draped on the back of her chair. All she was wearing were teal panties, white ankle socks, and a blushing pink face.

I looked her up and down. She had thick legs that looked both soft and capable of crushing someone’s head. She was widest at her thighs, and the inward curve to her waist was a very subtle one. Her midsection was a bit soft, with small, but very shapely, perky breasts. Her arms completed the picture, going from soft-looking shoulders to delicate wrists.

The thing that surprised me, though, were the tattoos. There were a shocking number of them: a band of alternating crosses around an upper arm, a rosary wrapped around a forearm interspersed with flower petals, a cross-shaped tree on her stomach just below her breasts, some roman numerals on one wrist, an illustration of Jesus and the Virgin Mary on each thigh, and a few symbols that I did not recognize, but assumed were Catholic-themed.

It explained why she always wore a dress. There’s a good chance the school didn’t approve of the tattoos, even though they were thematically appropriate.

Her voice melted me like chocolate as she said, “Hey there, Paul. Ready to give me a little help? Or…,” she hesitantly sauntered over to me, grabbed my dick through my pants, and continued, “Should I help you this time?”

Her face got redder as she waited for my response. I closed the door behind me, and, attempting to be cheeky, asked, “What if it wasn’t me who walked through that door?”

“Well,” she replied, “then I guess Ol’ Frank would have gotten the best show of his life.” Frank was the maintenance guy. An old man who’s been with the school since before anyone could remember.

Now, you’re probably thinking to yourself. “Hey! You’re really new to this school. This woman is definitely super Jesus-y, and you’re a godless heathen! That seems like a bad mix!” And, you’re probably right. I’m not even sure if there are rules for Catholic folks about having casual sex with non-Catholics. Or even just casual sex in general, for that matter. Is this normal? Is it wrong? Am I overthinking it? Fuck if I know, but the only head making decisions was in my pants.

And he was saying, “Let’s fucking go!”

So I was standing in front of this small, soft, and yet strong-looking woman. A woman who had my dick in her hand, and whom I’m sure could feel it throb and swell in reaction to her. She smiled a little wider, and said, “My my… It seems you are indeed my big helper.”

I tried being clever again (I don’t know why) by saying, “I told you, you just need to holler if you need anything.”

“Oh,” she got really close to my face, and said in a breathy voice, “I’ll be hollering alright.” She pulled my collar down for a kiss, and I leaned right into it. I wasn’t going to say no to a beautiful, naked woman standing right in front of me.

Releasing me from her grip, she crouched down and tore open my pants like a parched woman who had found an oasis. She stared into my eyes and slowly pulled down my boxer briefs. Once she got the waistband partway down my thighs, my dick, which had snaked its way down one leg, was released and snapped upwards to attention. It brushed against her cheek, and she commented, “Oh, hitting teachers now, are we?” Without breaking eye contact, Amanda grabbed my dick at the base and started licking from the bottom up.

It swelled my ego to see how big it was compared to her face. Yes, she’s a short woman, so of course it looked big, but let me have this.

After a few passes, she pressed her lips against me. It started out with a kiss, with her eyes on mine. I felt her tongue rubbing up against my tip in little circles. Slowly, her head lowered, and her mouth took me in. She was enveloping the head of my cock, swirling her tongue against it as she went. Spit was falling on her chest and the floor, but she didn’t seem to mind.

She sped up. I started breathing heavier. Her hand kept squeezing hard, which made the veins in my cock throb. She was working more of me in and out, and she got maybe an inch or two past my head. I heard her moaning in little bursts. It felt fantastic, and I wanted more of my cock in her. As if reading my mind, she obliged and dipped her head lower on my cock.

“Gakh!” She gagged, and immediately pulled my cock out. She gasped a bit for air, and cleared her throat before saying, “Shit! I thought I was getting the hang of it.” She cleared her throat again, and continued, “Give me just a second. I can do this. I want you to cum all over me.”

I told her, “Well, you don’t have to kill yourself trying. There are plenty of other ways to make me cum.”

Her face gave a little pout, and she said, “Fine. But I want you to cover me when you do.”

“Of course,” I replied, “How about I return the favor for a bit”, I helped her up and guided her to one of the desks. I gripped the sides of her panties, and slowly peeled them off. She wasn’t shaved completely. It was trimmed very neatly into a small patch of blonde hair. It smelled intoxicating.

I crouched down, and started with her thighs. My tongue pressed into them while my hands massaged from the other side. Her legs were indeed firm. I assume she runs, cycles, or something. Maybe a lot of squats. I moved from leg to leg. Licking. Kissing. I kissed the little crease on her hips. I had kissed my way up to her belly when she unceremoniously grabbed my hair and pushed my head into her vulva.

Something I learned later about teachers was that they really like being the boss, and Amanda was no exception. And for my part, if it meant being plunged into the depths of pussy, who was I to argue.

I rubbed my face into her, and pushed my tongue out against her clit. My nose was pressed into her mound. My tongue was deep in her folds. I pressed from side to side, sometimes swirling my tongue in circles. Her hands were running through my hair. She would occasionally grab a handful and thrust it into me. In a low growl, I heard, “Oh shit. Right there, big boy. Oh, yeah. Oooooo…” That last part had a bit of a shudder to it.

Her legs were wrapped around my head, and she pressed her clit into my nose while my tongue continued to explore. “Shit. I’m almost there”, she breathed, “shit, shit, shit.” Her hips ground into my face. Suddenly, she let out a big, breathy moan, and curled her body around my head as she tensed and shuddered. A flood of wetness burst onto me. I felt it run down my neck and chest. My shirt was surely dampening.

She held herself in place for a few shuddering moments to come down from her orgasm. I felt her breath in my hair.

Her thighs released me from their grip, and she shot her tongue into my mouth. We kissed furiously. We were pulling my clothes off when she said, “There’s a play mat over there. It’s easy to clean up.” We made our way over to where she indicated, touching and groping along the way.

She landed on the mat on her knees, and shook her ass enticingly. It was wide enough to be double my waist, and it shook in glorious waves. I gave it a good squeeze and could feel the firm muscle underneath. I came up behind her, and sandwiched my length between her cheeks, sliding it up and down. Her ass just about enveloped my girth. She cooed and moaned, “Don’t tease me. I’m so wet. Stick it in.”

I spread open her glistening slit, and pushed. She was tight. Despite her wetness, I took it slowly, pushing in inch by inch. Her breathing got heavier as I went, until finally, my hips pushed up against her ass. I pulled out a few inches, and then pushed again hard enough to make her ass ripple in a wave. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a moan. Then, breathy, I heard, “Holy hell. I think that one hit my stomach”. She paused a moment, and said, “Do it again”.

I grabbed her waist and started pounding away at her. Her big, beautiful ass shook in waves with each hit. Her fingertips dug into the mat. Every so often, the tip of my dick would hit some part of her, and she’d let out a breathy moan. She arched her back, pushing her ass harder against me and squeezing me as tight as she could with her pussy. I switched to shorter thrusts that kept knocking against some deep part of her. Her body was tensing, her breath was ragged, and her hands were covering her mouth to keep herself quiet. Suddenly, her whole body started to shake, and a muffled scream escaped her clamped hands. My legs felt the warm rush as her pussy gushed hard all over us and the mat.

“Wow,” I commented, “you squirt hard… and a lot.”

She looked back at me with her face flushed, or maybe she was blushing. I’m not entirely sure, but she replied, “Sorry. I can’t really help it.”

“Don’t apologize. I love it.”

She smiled, and then said, “Lay down. I’m going to ride you like a pony.”

I complied.It had been years at that point since I had sex. My cock was vein-y and throbbing, and I’m honestly surprised I lasted as long as I did. She swung a leg over me, grabbing my cock to guide it in. Her hips came down hard, taking all of me in one thrust. “Oh hell”, she spouted, “I should have gone slower. I wasn’t expecting it that deep.”

“You okay? We can pause for a minute.”

“Nah. I’m fine. You’re just a big pony.”

She pressed her hands into my chest, and started bouncing hard into my lap. She was squatting with her feet on the floor, so she was taking it up almost to the tip and back down. Her hair was draped over her face. Her tits and belly were shaking slightly with each landing.

I wish I had had a video of what her ass looked like from behind. I bet it was so beautiful.

It was my turn for noises now, “Oh fuck. You look so hot, and your pussy…. Shit that’s good.”

This got her pounding harder and faster. Small squeaks escaped between breaths. I noticed that she was starting to tense and shake again. I hugged her in close, lifted us up with my legs, and pounded into her faster and harder than she could by just squatting. She was moaning into my ears, “Shit. That’s good. I’m almost there. I’m gonna cum all over you.”

A deep, throaty moan came from her as she pressed into me, and warmth gushed between us. I kept pounding and breathed, “Fuck. That feels good. I’m gonna cum too.”

“Let me up. I want you to cum all over me.”

She sat up, pulled out my cock, and started pumping it. “Do it for me. Cum. Cum for me.”

I moaned, “Oh fuck”, and started shooting ropes of jizz. The first hit her face. The second, her neck. Two of them covered her chest, and two more covered her belly. The remainder of it dribbled over her hands. She looked at me with a blank face and said, “You talk about me and my mess? Look at all this. Is this normal?”

“Sorry. It might be a bit more than normal. It’s been a while for me.”

“A bit?”

“A bit.”

“I’m a little worried about what normal looks like.” She looked down at my dick in her hands and retorted, “Look at that. You reach my belly button.” My dick swelled a bit in her hand at that comment. “Easy tiger,” she said, “save some of that for later.”

Amanda had come prepared for that afternoon. She brought towels from home along with cleaning supplies for the mat and desk. We spent the next hour or so cleaning and chatting. When we were done, she told me, “That was the best time I’ve had in a while. Keep that up, and I might just have to keep you.”

I shot back, “Keep bringing me those cookies, and it won’t take much to convince me.”

“Oh? Are good cookies and good sex not enough?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”