Stephen Curry And klay Thompson Dirty Imagines

My Teacher.~klay

Sorry I've done a teacher dirty imagine
I feel like I do these better with Klay next will be different.

"Please, y/n, I need you." Mr. Thompson groaned as I sank to my knees before him. I stroked his hard, straining cock through his black slacks. I wasted no time in unfastening his button and dragging his pants down with his boxers, revealing his raging hard on. The head of his shaft was tinged a light pink and it stood at full attention. Leaning, I wrapped my lips around him and slid back and forth on him enjoying the sounds he made.

"Shit, baby.."

Spurred on by his pleasure, I increased the pace and cupped his sensitive balls, feeling them draw up slightly at the contact. He inhaled sharply and one of his hands buried deep in my hair, holding me to him. I moaned at the way he felt in my mouth. He was hot and throbbing. I whimpered as he pulled me up and pressed a rough kiss on my mouth. He chanted my name.

"y/n..y/n...y/n! Y/n!"

My eyes snapped open and soon my daydream had disappeared. I was sadly disappointed to see I was in fact still in English class and Mr. Thompson was not panting, hot and sexy underneath me but towering over me, arms crossed and beautiful dark brown eyes narrowed. "y/n this is ridiculous. You can stay after school with me in detention. I will not tolerate wandering minds in my classroom, am I clear?"

I blinked and hardly noticed the many "ooooh's" echoing from behind me. I nodded slowly and pressed my lips together, my legs closed even tighter, hoping he wouldn't get a glimpse of soaked panties from underneath my pastel orange skirt. The rest of the period went passed in a blur, and I was jerked forward at the loud blaring of the bell. As the students piled out of the classroom, I huffed and sat back in my chair.

I never got detention and I prayed to every God that Mr. Thompson wouldn't call my mom. She'd kill me.

I watched him carefully as he proceeded with vigorously writing something from his seat at his desk, not looking up once or even acknowledging that someone was still in the room with him. His dress shirt sleeves were rolled up and showed off the most strongest looking forearms I'd ever seen. They flexed as he pressed down with his pen. His hair was a shade of brown and as always, laid in complete still over his scalp His lips were pouty and full. I imagined, almost too many times, those lips moving all over my body and I imagined that sexy head of his between my legs on countless occasions.

He was the coach of the basketball team, so of course he was in shape. Pretty impressive for a 26 year old. Overall, he was way too hot to be a teacher. Especially an English teacher at that.

It was silent between us as he continued writing and I sat there awkwardly, listening to the soft ticking of the clock above the door. I took the time to fantasize again considering I had no other thing to keep my mind busy. I leaned my chin against the palm of my hand and closed my eyes.

Mr. Thompson moved his hands up my skirt slowly. His hands gripped under my thighs and sat me on his dark wood desk. He nipped at my bottom lip and whispered, "Maybe this will keep your attention." He kissed down my neck slowly causing my head to lull backwards. He fell to his knees and shoved my skirt up higher revealing my pastel pink lace underwear. He groaned and leaned forward, placing a soft yet demanding kiss against my overheated center. I whimpered as he pulled the flimsy fabric from my body and pulled me closer. He brought his face closer and closer and suddenly-

"y/n come here."

I opened my eyes and parted my lips slightly, feeling my heart beat thudding against my ribcage to the same beat as my pulsating clit. I stood up slowly and uncomfortable, making my way to Mr. Thompsons desk. He pulled one of the desks beside him and motioned for me to sit down. I happily did, not wanting my arousal to leak down my legs or something while I stood next to him.