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From: david@f-e-mail.com (David Shaw)
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Subject: {ASSM} HORSING AROUND (M+/F/Reluc.) By David Shaw
Date: Fri,  1 Mar 2002 00:10:05 -0500
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HORSING AROUND (M+/F/Reluc.)

David Shaw (www.f-e-mail.com)

THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR ADULT READING ONLY


After Jodi Malenger and the rest of us in his gang had had our fun
with a female school teacher we wanted to do it again. 

Not at first, to tell the truth, because we thought that Mrs Dunkley
was going to cause us trouble over what we'd done with her and that
javelin. Only Jodi was sure that the photos we'd taken would keep her
under control. And, as always happened, he was right. From then on
Christine Dunkley just about shat blue lights every time we even
looked at her. It seemed like there was nothing she wouldn't do for us
to keep those photos safely locked away, and that turned out to be
God's own truth. By the time she'd finished doing all the homework
Jodi gave her our nicely respectable teacher was ready to have an
orgasm at the sight of a banana being peeled. If there was anything
about group sex we didn't teach her it was because we didn't think of
it ourselves.

So, once we knew that Ma Dunkley was going to be no problem, our
thoughts started turning towards another likely poser for some hot
photos. A search which didn't take long at all because about then a
young teacher turned up who was just what we wanted. Her name was Miss
Sarah Bailey, 'Bristols' Bailey as all the kids called her called her
because she had a great pair of knockers and the sort of arse you
could stroke for five minutes and not cover the same area twice. She
was only twenty or so, kind of dumpy I guess but with a nice smile,
long blonde hair and all those sexy curves that car designers wish
they could copy.

The first thing was to get her on her own after school ended, so we
forged a note from the headmaster and left it on Miss Bailey's desk.
The note asked her to go to the sports storeroom after school to look
at some damage that the Head thought her class might have done. So she
came in but there was no Headmaster. Just five of us guys hiding
behind the door with a big pillowcase. As she came in Mark and I
grabbed her arms and the other guys pulled the pillowcase over her
head. 

Now, have you seen any of those wooden vaulting horses? The ones that
come in sections, and are triangular, broad at the bottom and getting
narrower towards the top, with the leather strip on the topmost
section. We'd put two of them together, side by side, so there was a V
shaped gap between them. And we pushed that struggling teacher right
up against the horses with her back to the gap. Then we grabbed at her
legs and tipped her over between the horses with her arms over her
head and her hips just clear of the edge of each vaulting horse. By
the time she couldn't slip down any further, she couldn't get up
either, not without her hands to hoist herself up with, and I was
holding them down at the other end of the horses.

She kept on trying to make a lot of noise but somebody else held his
hand over her mouth and nose until she was half choked, and then she
became quiet. Will and Jacko pulled the pillowslip up clear of her
mouth and nose and then tied all the loose folds down over her eyes
with a scarf. So there was Miss Bailey, every delightful inch of her,
on her back, jammed in as tightly as a pound in a Scotsman's wallet,
feet flat on the floor and her dark blue skirt pulled up almost to the
top of her short though nicely shaped legs. But the first thing the
lads did was to lean over the top of the horses and give her tits a
good squeezing.

Of course by then young Sarah had nutted out where we'd put her and
that she was going nowhere until we decided to let her go.  She'd also
realized we could keep her quiet very easily: easily for us, not so
much fun for her to be gasping for breath. So although she said a lot
it was more begging than ordering: in fact it was pretty much all
begging as soon as she started getting her big udders tugged at like a
cow in a dairy shed.

"No, please, no, boys, no, you mustn't . . . no, please don't do that
. don't touch me there . . Oh! No, don't undress me, you mustn't!"

Apart from everything else, Jodi had ordered us not to say a word near
Sarah, and I think the silence from her attackers worried her almost
as much as everything else. What I thought was interesting was how
she'd only had a couple of buttons on her blouse undone before she was
talking about being undressed. An even more interesting fact had her
handlers grinning. Maybe it was the pervading smell of all that male
sweat hanging around the gym equipment, maybe it was the knowledge she
was at our mercy. Whatever, the teacher certainly knew that every guy
fondling her knew she was getting turned on, and they knew it because
they could feel her tight nipples even through her shirt and bra.

So Will and Mark decided to investigate further. I guess they weren't
too gentle about it because a couple of Sarah's shirt buttons popped
off and they had to cut her bra straps with a knife to get enough
slack to finally pop her big bristols out of their cups. By God, it
was worth the effort though, once the guys had wrestled the huge fun
bags out into the open for a good pawing.

"Oh God, you dirty devils . . . don't hurt me, please don't hurt me, I
won't tell anybody about this if you let me go . . . Ooooh!" 

There was a kind of squawk there as Sarah felt her skirt get hauled
back to show off what was underneath. Would you believe silk French
knickers, purple, with white lacing around the waistline and the
thighs? Every guy around the horses laughed at the sight of her plump
bum wrapped up in that kind of gift packaging. 

All we had to do then was to take them off her, but we kept the
teacher in suspense for as long as we could. She tried to keep her
thighs clamped together when Jodi's fingers burrowed down between them
but that last line of defense soon surendered. A few quick rubs and
she admitted defeat by opening her legs for everybody to see the damp
patch right there in the gusset of those fancy knickers. Some more
hard fingering on that patch, right between her quivering legs, and
the heels of her shoes were clicking against the wooden floor as
though she was tap dancing. I could feel her fingers digging into my
hands as I kept her held down and she was still begging, but not to be
released. . . 

"You bastards . . . it's Jodi, isn't it? You little shit, I've heard
about you. Are you going to keep me down here while you gang fuck me?
Come on, at least tell me what you're going to do . . ."

She soon found out. By then every guy in the gang had a hardon he
could have poked holes in a rockface with. Will and Micky hoisted up
Miss Bailey's ankles and held them so her legs were pointing straight
up in the air. And it was then she felt those nice French knickers
being hoisted aloft for everybody to look at. Not that they were, of
course, everybody was looking at her cunt now that it was on display
and watching Jodi give it some friendly strokes even before the
knickers were lifted off over her shoes. Somebody grabbed the purple
passion panties, for a souvenir I guess, though nobody had any pockets
left at that stage. Except me, and I was stripping off as well because
the teacher was firmly under control now with her legs still being
firmly held -- only now they were being held firmly wide apart. Will
and Micky kept her in the fucking position, Jacko and me were pulling
on her tits and Jodi began humping away at the teacher's tight little
cunt like a runaway pile driver.

God, but she was a noisy bitch once she had a cock inside her. We had
to hang a whole lot of clothes over the top of the horses to muffle
the sounds Sarah was making without choking her. I guess she had
plenty of reasons to sound off though because she seemed to be coming
at least as often as her partners. So a good time was had by all, and
it was only the beginning.

After we'd all taken the edge off our appetite we lifted our well
fucked prisoner out from between the horses, still with her eyes
bandaged over but wearing nothing but her shoes. We made a pile of
clothes on the floor, knelt her down on it and began playing a game
that keeps even a teacher from talking. Lots of cock sucking, lots of
fun, she gets to swallow everything that comes her way, and we even
took the pillowslip and the scarf off her face so the teacher could
look up and see how well she was getting the lesson across to the
pupil she was working with. The first trick she had to be taught was
to do a very good job of cock sucking, but that's easily learnt when
the alternative is a broken finger. The other trick she had to master
was how to smile with a full mouth every time the camera flash went
off. 

When she'd been a good little teacher and learnt her lessons properly
we let her rest her sore jaw by dropping her face down between the
horses and giving it to her doggy style. About then every one of us
was starting to buckle at the knees. I only managed to finish off my
last fuck by trying to imagine all the things we could do with two
teachers both terrified by the photos we had of them. The idea of
sharing a bed between a nude Christine Dunkley and a naked Sarah
Bailey, both of them taking turns to suck on my cock while the rest of
the guys watched them . . . well, I came, but I was so sore I could
barely piss for a week, let along fuck any girl. 

Fortunately, we all made a fine recovery, even Sarah, though we left
her lying between the horses like a dead fish on a slab with a year's
supply of spunk leaking out of her cunt. Oddly enough she turned up
bright as a button the next day, smiling at everybody, and especially
at Jodi. It turned out that not only was she a very satisfied girl,
she was a very worried one in respect to a certain roll of film. Jodi
gave her the straight word: do as you're told, or else.

Miss Bailey fluttered her eyelids, sighed deeply enough to strain her
boobs against her dress and agreed. What she didn't know was the sort
of party tricks she was going to have to learn, or the kind of party
where she was going to show them off. The only teacher who could have
dropped a hint or two about that was Christine Dunkley, and she was
too frightened to say anything to anybody unless Jodi told her to.
Jesus, I couldn't wait for my prick to get back into full working
order again.

THE END

If you would like to read some more offbeat sex stories (many fully
illustrated) visit www.f-e-mail.com sometime.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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