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Message-ID: <37636asstr$1028293802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "she-cries" <she_cries@hotmail.com>
Reply-To: "she-cries" <she_cries@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Breaking in Teacher (1/4) by she_cries (MF, mmF, nc, reluc, humil)
Date: Fri,  2 Aug 2002 09:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Breaking in the Teacher Part. 1

by she-cries

(feedback is welcome and encouraged at she_cries@hotmail.com)



            Miss Caulder could feel their eyes on her as she passed through
the halls.  Men. No, boys from 14 to 18 ogling the swell of her hips, the
way her chest swung slightly and jiggled above her bra.  She knew she had a
pretty face, thick, luscious lips and wide, brown eyes, and though she was
older than any of the high school students, at twenty-nine she barely
qualified as "old," at least in her mind.  A lot of the senior girls were
already dating guys she could have gone to high school with, and though
there were breasts and butts enough between them, it seemed that a she never
failed to find eager, male volunteers with enough time in their busy
schedules to stay after class to help clean up or check in after school for
help with homework, all the while letting their eyes run over the curve of
her hips, more pronounced for her 5'4" frame-or gaze down the line of her
cleavage, in the warmer months when she went in an open collar.

Miss Caulder didn't suffer any illusions about her beauty.  She had grown up
churning between chubby and skinny, and the effort had left its mark on her.
Much more comfortable with her broad hips and thighs she knew she was not
fat, by any definition, although she was conscious every time she bent
double that her belly scrunched up like an accordion, and that her butt didn
't seem to shrink no matter how many inches she took off her waist, which
was markedly thinner than the rest of her.

But these flaws of which she was so aware of seemed actually to attract more
bold overtures, as men in general seemed to be attracted to her voluptuous
curves, her young, prettyish face, and of course, her ample bosom, which,
though not all that big, proportionally stood out on her smaller body.

That and the fact that her round cheeks and pouting lips made her look more
like the high school students she taught.

            Only once, in her first month as a teacher had a student
actually come close to propositioning her, though there had been a lot of
subtle flirting.  A baseball player had snuck up behind her in the library,
between the bookshelves, his hands slipping up over her breasts, a warm kiss
secreted on her neck.  She could feel the bulge of his excitement rubbing
against the small of her back.  She tried to turn to face him, "can I help
you?" but he spun with her movement, taking advantage of the craned neck to
kiss her fully on the mouth, his clumsy tongue darting into her lips as his
fingers mauled at her chest.

            Pushing him away she held him at arms length, a striking young
man, just old enough to shave with an athletic build and a handsome, if
boyish face took her hands and held them apart, drawing her nearer, "I just
saw that you're new here, and I wanted to make an introduction."  With that
he tried to kiss her again.  She turned her head, but he stooped down to
kiss her neck, suckling.  She pushed his head off with some effort before he
gave her a hicky.

            "Well, what's your name then?"

            "Marcus.  I'm the pitcher on the team."  He grinned broadly-he
was really quite handsome.

            "Well, Marcus, I'm Miss Caulder, I teach Psychology here."

            It was like pouring salt on a slug.  He shriveled up so fast
that Miss Caulder could barely keep from laughing out loud.  He apologized
so many times, keeping a respectable distance that she had to promise him
that it would be their little secret just to get him to stop.  She couldn't
help but feel flattered that she still passed for 17-not to mention
delighted at the irony that a guy who wouldn't have given her the time of
day when she was seventeen was now throwing himself at her.

            But that was all in the past, for the time being.  Still a new
teacher at the school, though in her second semester she was still a novelty
to students who hadn't had her class yet, but no underage, young stud had
sought his way into her amours since--which was just as well, since she'd
had enough of clumsy pawing, sloppy tongues, rabid groping, and premature
ejaculation when she was in high school herself just trying to get guys to
pay attention to her with binge dieting and dressing up every day, a habit
that was only slowly fading into more conservative behavior.

            Spotting Marcus in the hall she gave him a courteous smile and a
nod.  He had long since stopped blushing at the sight of her in the
intervening months, and politely nodded his head to her-apparently having
forgotten what he was talking about with the skinny, leggy cheerleader with
the braces he'd been working when she saw him.  She stifled a giggle as she
saw two of Marcus' friends, also athletes-though jocks would better describe
the thuggish demeanor the two muscle bound linebackers wore.  They were
watching her with what appeared to be all the attention their limited
capacities would allow, fixated on her chest, which, loosely concealed
behind a light gray button down shirt bounced ever so slightly in her bra,
the motion visible behind the clingy fabric.  She regretted her tendency to
wear trendy clothes as these days wearing form fitting button-downs and
skirts was all the rage, but still single she didn't want to wake up one day
and realize that she had become an old maid, so she tried to look as
attractive as possible, while not seeming slutty.  Hoisting her stack of
class assignments over her chest she wasn't too astonished to see both pairs
of thick, beady eyes wander downward to the tight curves of her hips which
the stretch skirt clung to.

            In the crowded hallway she felt as vulnerable and naked as a
kitten in a hailstorm.  She could hardly help but imagine their meaty hands
pawing at her breasts, the great, heaving bulk pressing down on top of her,
pushing up inside her as she brushed passed them, too closely, as they were
too involved in their own infatuation with her to conjure up the courtesy to
move aside.  Rather than fighting the press of hallway traffic in the
opposite direction, and not wishing to hold up those walking behind her, she
pushed between the two football players.

            "Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Caulder." One of them said, the slightly
larger of the two with a sandy-blonde bowl haircut.  Before she had a chance
to ask what for she felt the stack of class assignments slipping out of her
hands and suddenly, the press of a body against hers, the second one with
the belly and the jar-head haircut.  Trying to keep hold of her papers she
felt herself stumbling into the alcove of a doorway-one of the emergency
exits-and the unmistakable impression of a hand on her butt!

            She spun around, nearly tumbling over to face the jar-headed
jock but hands came up around her, catching her, one somehow aimlessly
clutching her breast for the moment it too for her to regain her balance,
though she dropped her papers.

            The hand moving, but the arms still around her waist, Miss
Caulder could feel the rigid line of engorged pectorals covering her
shoulders, and another feeling, something almost as rigid, a bit further
down.

            "Are you okay, I didn't mean to startle you" the bowl head said
over her shoulder as she pried herself free of him.

            The jarhead, seemed a bit shy, staring at the ground as he said,
"someone bumped into me.  I didn't mean to knock you over."

            Miss Caulder felt very vulnerable alone in this alcove, even
though three feet away there were dozens of students walking past.  There
was no overhead light, and it seemed very dark huddled between the two large
teenagers who pressed her on both sides, under the auspices of staying out
of traffic's way.

            "Can I help you."

            "Uh.  John!"  The jarhead said.

            "And I'm John too." The bowl head said from behind her.

            Miss Caulder had to think.  "You're both named John?"

            "No." the bowl-head stammered, "My jersey number is 'two,' so I'
m John-two."

            She couldn't help but grin over her shoulder at the slack-jawed
grunt, sucking in his gut and flexing his chesty and biceps so she'd have no
doubt as to what kind of man he "really" was, naming himself after his
football jersey.  It made the situation seem a little less dangerous.  "So,
how can I help you boys" she said facing back and forth.

            John (John-one, she thought) looked down.  She cringed
momentarily, thinking he was checking her out again, "Want me to pick those
up?"

            She looked down at her stack of papers.  A bit of a mess, but
not a disaster.  She hadn't stepped on them, at least.  Then she regarded
her knees, and had to ask herself if she wanted this boy on his hands and
knees at her feet while she was wearing a skirt and, worse, a sheer thong
underneath to hide her panty line from hormonal boys' wandering eyes. "No!"
She blurted, putting a hand on the boy's chest as he started to stoop in
front of her.

            She froze momentarily, greeting by the mixed sensation of rock
hard muscle, rigid, tense, the contours of hard worked definition drawing
lines in her mind, his vacuous face and pudgy tummy notwithstanding.  He
probably spent all his time doing bench presses.

            But what caught her attention was that he appeared to be
drenched in sweat, and her hand came away visibly wet as she took a step
back, putting the hand behind her to wipe it off before realizing that
John-two was behind her.

            Perhaps is was really just a blind chance, but more likely it
was John-two seeing an opportunity not to be missed, but the next thing Miss
Caulder felt must have been John-two's member, under his this shorts, a
thick, erect rod that pressed itself into her hand with a presence that she
knew she wouldn't be able to wipe off for days.

            Snatching her hand up to her chest she felt, rather than heard
the pair of then snickering, thought their expressions went blank almost as
instantly as she realized that she was wiping her hand over her nipple,
which protruded even under normal circumstances and dropped it to her side,
"I'll get them."

            Stooping down with a purpose she felt her backside make contact
with John-two's member again, though she knew there was ample room to the
wall behind him.  She tried to take a step forward, reaching for her papers,
before realizing that she was on a collision course with John(one)'s groin.
She lurched to one side to avoid him when hands grabbed her hips, she felt
fabric sliding over her and shooting straight up she felt her skirt sliding
down over her ankles and coarse hands running up between her thighs over her
bare bottom.

            "I should have worn a longer shirt today." Was her first though,
followed by an abrupt gasp of humiliation, shame, and disbelief, "Here, out
in the halls, in front of everybody?" but as if the world stopped for a
moment while she stood in a tight shirt, a sheer, nude-colored thong and
nothing else between two seventeen year old students, she saw that the hall
was empty.

            "When did the bell ring?" she thought, her hands futilely moving
to cover up the near transparency of her panties, the total exposure of her
behind, but her motions only seemed to draw their attention to her nether
regions, rubbing and fondling herself, as it appeared to the boys, was more
evocative than had she simply stood there motionless.

            She knew then that she was alone.  She could barely believe that
these two boys, muscle-bound jocks though they may be, were going to rape
her, here, like this.

            But both of them were snickering.  Heat swelling up inside her
chest warm flashes surging shame low in her belly she endured their laughter
and lurid stares for only a few moments.

            "What's so funny!?"

            The linebackers calmed down, but didn't stop smiling until she
turned from one to the other, pretending not to leer at her shapely, swollen
hips, and supple, round, jiggling behind.  In spite of the attraction many
men evidenced for her she hated her butt, considering it far too large for
her body, and having it exposed so completely, in spite of the obvious lust
in their eyes made her feel all the more embarrassed.

John-two stammered out "I thought you were going to fall."

She stared at him, astonished, "So you tore my skirt off?"

John-two never let an opportunity to stare at a woman's privates pass him
by.  Looking down, as if to regard the crumpled ball of a skirt, he mumbled,
"I was just tryin' to hold you steady, but you went takin' off."

Still half-undressed, trying to cover both back and front while huddled
between these two monsters of young men, she couldn't help but see the logic
of this-as absurd as it was.  She found strange comfort in having this
excuse that may not excuse her shame, but relieve her of a confrontation. "I
probably have Stockholm's syndrome" she couldn't help but thinking.

Aware that her shirt ended just below her bellybutton, and that her
underwear had made a bold attempt at following her skirt and hung loosely in
her crotch she bent over to pull up the skirt.  No sooner had she reached
down, when there where two of those huge hands clutching her hips, and for
all of her womanly curves, she couldn't help but mark how they seemed to
cover her from groin to cheek.  She straightened up, abruptly, aware now
that her shirt was hiking up with every attempt she made to bend over,
exposing her whole belly.  Hiking it down she spun on John-two whose hands
flew off, and was much closer than she'd thought, her chest mashing against
his as his hands reasserted themselves on her waist-very low on her waist.

"I just didn't want you to fall again."

She looked up at the much larger man, his chest looming in her vision and
his bulge pressed into her tummy.  She felt his hands wandering, and
wondered in spite of this what else was touching her behind.  Pushing off
from John-two she tried to turn around, but he kept a hold on her, and she
wound up clutching his muscular abdomen as she stared accusingly at the
jock.

"Let go!" she ordered John-two, and she went flying into John's arms as she
pushed off, feeling with the motion the crotch of the thong dangling between
her thighs as she was surrounded by the damp, chubby jocks massive arms.
Crushed against his chest she felt her hands involuntarily exploring his
muscle mass, again, even as her chest and bare (again from her jerking
around so much) belly heaved against his sopping midsection.  His hands,
even bolder than his friends, went straight down to her butt, pushing the
slipping panties right off her backside as she clamped her thighs together.

Resisting the urge to smack him she looked up, suppressing a scowl, "John,"
she smiled, unaware that she was unconsciously fondling his chest, "Thank
you for catching me.  But I need to ask you to move your hands."

John couldn't help but smiling back at the pretty, petite teacher cradled in
his arms, her fleshy bottom neither firm with adolescent muscle, nor flush
with fat as he slowly slid his hands up, careful to leave the panties
behind.  He couldn't help but notice that despite the fact that she wasn't
model perfect beautiful, she had a quality that made her something more,
perhaps simpler.  She just looked fun to fuck.

"Sorry teach, I just, I mean instinct, when you're on the field."

As he spoke Miss Caulder saw John-two from the corner of her eye, leering at
her totally bare bottom and stroking himself though his shorts-reminding her
of the other joint, grinding against her waist.  She suppressed an insane
urge to grab the thing and yank-hard!

"Let go of me John."

He let go, taking a quick step back and looking her over.

John-two was quick to step in, though he kept a bit of distance, "I'm sorry
Mrs. Caulder, I didn't mean to scare you, I was just tryin to keep you from
fallin over again."

"I know that.  You just need to warn me first, okay John?"

"I'm John." John said, still leering down at her.

"I'm John-two, Mrs. Caulder." John-two muttered, trying hard not to look
like he was leering down at her.

"What's your first name, Mrs. Caulder?" John asked, looking her in the eye,
a hand leaning on the wall to his side, effectively blocking any escape she
might make-though she wondered how long it would be before someone came down
that hallway, on a hall pass.

"It's Wendy, and I'm not a Mrs. I'm a miss."

"Yer not married" John-two stammered.

Miss Caulder shook her head, backing up into the wall, the Formica paneling
cold on her bare backside.

John one stepped a bit closer, "Any boyfriends?"

Miss Caulder put a hand up to John's chest again, blocking his advance, this
time finding the nipple underneath the this fabric of his T-shirt, as
drenched wet as the rest of him, "Easy, cowboy."

"Cowboy?" She thought to herself, "Christ, I've got to get out of here." In
spite of that she couldn't help tentatively stroking his chest, so
fascinated by the spectacle of his rigid bulk, as unsettling as it was.  But
the sudden sensation on her chest revealed that John was following her
example, and she dropped her hand, accidentally contacting this boy's penis
("now I've groped both of them," she thought even more disturbed)
accidentally clutching it for a moment, as she'd unconsciously groped his
chest before letting go.

"John, could you hand me my skirt-"

"So you don't have a boyfriend?" John-two had also taken a step up.

She resisted an urge to put a hand up to him, instead stepping between the
pair, stooping over to grab her skirt, but John-two held a hand up, "I'll
hold on, okay?"

Staring the young man in the eye she felt that he wasn't really asking.  She
forced a smile, and then suppressed a grimace as he plopped one hand down on
her cheek with a smack, nestling one finger down in the now exposed crack of
her ass.  Watching the other come in for a landing, smack on her boob but
she intercepted it in mid-air, and smiling up at the massive athlete, gently
placed it over her tummy, resisting the urge to grab both his hands and
thrown them off.  However innocent they were asking she knew damn well that
they could become violent at any minute.  She was counting on the thought
that they would content themselves with a few feels and suppressing a
churning feeling in her gut, guided his hand up a bit higher, nuzzled
against her breasts.

He made a weak smile that was almost a laugh, "Sorry" he grinned, and
started rubbing the cheek he'd smacked, his fingers inching down deeper.

She went down, the boy's groping fingers probing in what he must have
thought was a subtle way.  She felt a button pop on her blouse at her
ribcage, and was all too aware of her panties bunched around her crotch.
She could only hope she wasn't giving them a show as she wondered how she
could have forgotten to hike them up, but too many exploring looks in the
mirror when she was a teenager herself had taught her that her diamond was
not only visible, but pronounced in this position.

"So how come you don't have a boyfriend?" John asked stepping up, as Miss
Caulder felt another hand on her back, not exactly pushing her down, but not
exactly inviting her to stand up, either.  John-two was much more openly
fondling her buttocks, running his hand across both cheeks and treading
dangerously close with both towards her pouting sex.

Miss Calder gasped, bunching up her skirt and trying to stand, "I just haven
't met the right man." It was more like they were lifting her, and John
setting one hand neatly under her chest, on bare skin, and the other on her
back pulled her erect, one hand landing on her cheek, the other slipping up
under her shirt., sending another two buttons flying.

John-two let her slip from his grasp into his friends clutches, "He's been
hogging all the fun," Miss Caulder thought to herself, though he stayed
pressed into her side, letting her naked hip rub against his erection.

"Is that why you don't shave your bush?" John-two asked, plunging his hand
into her pubic bush, his finger probing into her labia as he and John burst
out into laughter.

Jumping, and barely containing a scream she leapt out from between the two,
her panties making the motion awkward where they bound her at the thighs
revealing her untrimmed bush of thick, black hair, not even a shapely
triangle.  She felt, rather than saw or heard, the buttons of her blouse fly
off as she tore away from John's hand, and she struggled with conflicting
desires to hike her panties up or pull her shirt together which now hung
open on her shoulders.

The two boys leered at the black lacy bra--which made no effort to conceal
Miss Caulder's wide nipples, nor the flush of red that rose up between the
shivering mounds, cradled in an underwire.

Caught in a quandary, panicking, Miss Caulder tried to do both at once, and
pulled her shirt across her chest with one hand while hiking up her panties
with the other, but the act of being rolled off her butt and being yanked up
had reduced the panties to the appearance of a thin rope, and she melvined
herself up one side of her sex, while the other hand, either out of fear of
shame or cheap fabric tore the shirt on her back down the middle, leaving
her even more exposed with two sides of her shirt falling down her arms.

Naked for all but her bra and a totally unconcealing stretch of rolled up
sheer thong, Miss Caulder clutched a hand over her sex and one up to her
chest-not so much to cover it, but to stop it giggling so evocatively.

"It's okay Mrs. Caulder," John said smiling, "It's not like we haven't seen
it before." He was openly checking her out, enjoying her shame.

John-two had a bit of advice: "You should take those off so I can straighten
them out for you." He took a step forward.

"John, please don't touch me!"

"I'm John-two."

"John-two!" she barked, then, afraid, she smiled, and said in a softer
voice, "John-two.  I'm sorry.  Please, don't!"

"I'm just trying to help." He said, innocently, grabbing the panties as Miss
Caulder froze, letting him undress her, letting her hands fall to the side
so the boys could see her and enjoy her nudity since there seemed nothing
she could do to stop them.

John reached forward as his friend managed to touch every centimeter of her
flesh on the way down her legs, "Let me help" and without any hesitation he
put his left hand in her crotch, his right behind her knee and he lifted the
leg up.  Miss Caulder thought, "I had sex like once this with a teacher's
aide after class, in the alley behind the gym in college."

John was talking, "I mean, like I said, we've both seen lots of girls, I
mean, it's not like we're virgins." Both guys sniggered.  Mrs. Caulder could
feel his fingers probing the dry skin under her labia as John-two pulled the
panties over one shoe.  John then set the leg down and switched hands.

"Do you date a lot of guys Mrs. Caulder?" John two asked.  Since John wasn't
lifting the other leg he amused himself with feeling up her Butt.

Date?  That was one way to put it.  Another way, of course, was to say that
she hadn't had a proper boyfriend since her own high school days, instead
taking home a lover whenever the sexual frustration mounted too high-every
few months.  The fact was that she was terrible in relationships.  The
closest thing she had were the occasional regular guy who came over just for
sex.  Inevitably they'd want to get involved and thing would go downhill
from there.

"I don't think that's an appropriate question, John-two."  She murmured,
submitting herself to Johns probing as he lifted her other leg.

The boys' laughter was almost infectious, but experiencing something close
to delirium, she only smiled, waiting for the inevitable to happen, "Why don
't I scream?"

"Here's your skirt."

She had to do a double take.  There was John-wo, standing up with her skirt,
holding it out to her.  John removed his hand and took a step back.  She
heard the late bell ringing, announcing detention to anyone who shows up
after it.

"We got to get to practice." John-two said, casually, as if nothing were
happening.

"Thanks" she mumbled, taking her skirt from the teenager.

John was looking her in the eye, though he kept wandering over to her
breasts and legs, "We just wanted to let you know we were adding your psyche
class."

"Oh," Miss Caulder said numbly.

"And to ask what we'll be covering."

The words choked in her throat as the boys were picking up their bags,
preparing to leave, "I need a shirt!"

John-two, who'd been unsuccessfully trying to unravel Miss Caulder's panties
suddenly balled them up in a fist and reached into his bag.

John continued, "I mean, we took it last year, but both failed the second
semester, so the counselor's letting us make it up with you."

Clutching her skirt to her crotch, which did little to cover her balled up
as it was Miss Caulder muttered another "oh."

John-two, meanwhile, produced a large T-shirt with the school logo, a PE
shirt, "You can have this, I got another in my locker"

Miss Caulder took the shirt, still numb, "thanks" John-two started
unraveling her panties again.

She glanced at the boy, he still had no idea how to do it, they were little
more than a wad of cloth at this point, "Keep them."

The boy's face lit up with amazement, and he exchanged knowing looks with
John.

"I mean," she stammered "You need to get to class, and we can't, I mean,
they won't.  Don't worry about it, I've got extras too."

"Thanks Mrs. Caulder." He grinned with some sort of triumph, stuffing them
into his bag.

The three of them stood stock still for a long moment, then John spoke up,
"Well, I guess we'd better go."

"Uhh, guys." She spoke up as the pair reluctantly made to shuffle out away
from their vulnerable, mostly naked psych teacher.

"Yes, Mrs. Caulder?" John asked.

"About." she looked the boy in the eye "It's Miss, John, not Mrs."

He sort of sheepishly grinned, an amusing gesture, considering Miss Caulder'
s predicament, "Sorry, miss Caulder."

"Why's it such a big deal?" John-two chimed, eager for an excuse to stay and
leer at Miss Caulder's nudity.  He put a hand on the wall next to her, "I
mean, you'd think you want the world to know you don't have a guy."

Miss Caulder looked him in the eye--or rather, at his large, sloping
forehead, his eyes were carefully examining the bit of nipple sticking out
of her bra (when had that strap fallen down?).  "John-two." She said,
putting her hand under his chin, making him look at her. "I don't think that
's an appropriate thing to say to anyone, much less your teacher."

She was reprimanding him, and she felt with a lurch how absurd that was at
this moment.

"Aww, Miss Caulder" John said, putting his hand on her bare shoulder,
rubbing it with a casual familiarity (causing the second strap to fall),
"You'll have to cut John-two a bit of slack, I mean this is an awkward
situation for us all." He had an absurdly insincere grin on his face.  As if
her nudity were making him 'uncomfortable.'

Regardless, she knew it was best to play along, though his hand was
'reassuringly' making its way down to her side, pulling her strap and
revealing more nipple than she cared to think about.  She snatched the
strap, and pulled it up, standing up straight, "Which is actually what I
needed to mention."  She lifted up one leg and stepped into her skirt.,
refusing to be put off again by John-two's timely 'assistance' which
amounted to another hand on her ass.

She looked at both of them, "I don't think we should mention this to
 anyone."

She bent, to step her other leg into the skirt and frowned as John two used
the excuse to grab her breast, letting his hand slide under the unstrapped
bra cup, the other prowling into her nether regions again.

John was speaking, "Oh, Miss Caulder, we wouldn't tell anyone.  I mean we're
as embarrassed as you."

Miss Caulder hiked the skirt up, forcing John-two's hand off her butt, but
not before feeling his fingers slide over both her vagina and her butt hole
with a shiver that ran up her spine which she couldn't supress.
Straightening up she realized that her motion hand uncapped the breast John
was clutching.  His hand was the only thing hiding it from view.  She knew
from long experience that because of the underwire, and the way her breasts
hung (a little sag, but a lot of fullness at the bottom) that she'd have to
unhook the back to cup it again, or uncomfortably stuff it back into the
cup.  Clutching John's hand to prevent the exposure (which was worse?  His
groping or letting them see what little she had left to be modest about?)
she looked at John-two, but spoke to them both,

"I know that we're all embarrassed here," she lied knowing that she was the
only one with reason to feel shame, "But after this is over, and we're back
with our friends, we'll probably want to."

John-two was taking her holding of his hand as some sort of invitation to
enjoy himself.  He was, again, rubbing his free hand over her now covered
bottom, and stroking her nipple with his thumb.  A gesture she found
frustratingly ticklish.  John, meanwhile, had brought his hand up to her
other bra strap and was pulling it down again,

".we'll probably want to." she tried to continue but found herself gasping,
distracted as John-two teased her swelling nipple and John started pulling
down her second cup.  She threw her hand up, preventing the teenager from
exposing any more, and tried to pull John-two's hand away fighting the
tingling sensation, the flush of arousal from taking a hold of her ("I have
to get laid." She thought, knowing weeks of sexual frustration was betraying
her).

"I'm sorry Miss Caulder," John was leaning very close now, squeezing and
plucking over the bra where it covered her nipple.  She knew he must be able
to feel how erect it too was, "I mean I've just never seen a girl your age,
I mean, like this, in the flesh."

He leaned in close, she could feel him pulling at her bra, and his free hand
was now trying to navigate the hooks of the bra in back, she felt like he
was about to kiss her, "It's just that high school girls are, y'know,
skinny, and they act like girls, I mean, they don't understand what a man
wants."

Their pawing was more insistent, eager, two erections pushing against her
sides.  She felt her skirt slipping down a second time.

"I'm sorry boys, and she burst forward between the pair of them, free
suddenly of their clutching and pawing.  With her back to them she hiked up
the straps of her bra and roughly stuffed her breast into its cup-it felt
like it was twisted sideways.  She could feel her nipples straining against
the translucent lace of the bra, the heat of red flush on her chest as she
spun on the two, "I think you had better learn a little respect if you want
the attentions of a woman.  This pawing and plucking has got to stop here,
you understand!"

The two boys were crestfallen-shocked at how abruptly she'd gone from sweet
slut to Hell-bitch.

But looking at the sudden coldness of their features she knew that that was
the wrong tactic.  She had to make sure that these boys would keep a secret.
"Look," she began, smiling again, "I'm sorry."  And with a gesture of
conciliation she put her hands on both boys muscular arms, "I know how you
feel, but out here, in the hall, I mean, I'm a teacher!" she pleaded.

"That's okay Mrs. Caulder," John said, "I guess I'm used to it." But he wasn
't smiling.  Miss Caulder couldn't help but remembering all the teasing she
had done as a teenager, trying to keep guys interested in her but not
wanting to have sex.

She forced a smile, "I understand what you're feeling John," she tried his
conciliatory rub, "God knows I get frustrated too, sometimes."

John-two was shocked, "Really?  I mean, chicks do too?"

She found herself forcing a smile, and desperate as she was to cover up she
couldn't let them walk away from her blaming her for leading them on,
"John-two, I mean. Of course we do." For some reason she didn't leave it at
that, "I mean, it's been ages for me.  Sometimes I get."

But she saw the expression on their faces, arched eyebrows, renewed interest
in the unclothed teacher.

"I'm not trying to tease you boys?"  She looked from squinting face to
squinting face, hoping for some expression of comprehension while cringing
at the patronizing 'boys.'  She should be more tactful.  Shaking her head
she dropped her arms and reached to the ground where she dropped the
T-shirt. "I'm just saying I know how you feel, and I'm sorry it was me that
had to be the cause of it, but it was unintentional."  She looked up,
straight at the two boys as she pulled the shirt over her arms.  They were
nodding.  Good.

"It's a natural reaction, to want more," she went on, "It's just not always
appropriate to expect it." She pulled the T-shirt over her head, "And I
appreciate that the two of you have enough respect for me to be considerate
of that."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking anything like that." John blurted out, "I mean you're
a teacher.  I was just curious.  You're just so different from the girls we
date."

Miss Caulder smiled again, genuinely, though little of the shame had
evaporated.

John-two was nodding, "Me too.  I mean, I don't even think you're all that
hot-Uhh. Just more developed"

But Miss Caulder just smiled as she tried to navigate the enormous T-shirt,
tying it in a ball tight around her waistband, "I just want to make sure
that we don't feel the need to tell anyone about this, afterwards, when it's
something we can all laugh about with our friends."

John shook his head. "No way Mrs. Caulder, we wouldn't tell no one, no way."
He was so insistent that she just knew that he was telling the truth.  In
fact his insistence was more disturbing than his earlier disingenuineness.

Feeling remarkably more comfortable now that she was clothed again Miss
Caulder decided to press the point for John-two's sake, "I mean a lot of
people wouldn't understand, not having been there.  Your girlfriends might
take it the wrong way."

 From deep down within that thick, Cro-Magnon skull, Miss Caulder was
astonished to see a gleam of comprehension in John-two's face.

"No ma'am.  I won't tell no one.  Not even the guys."

She smiled at him, "Thank you." But the look in John's eyes still disturbed
her.  It was bordering on fanatical.  Either that or some sort of scheming,
which was just as disturbing.  Clearly he had no more subtly than his
friend.

"Well, you boys had better get back to class now."

They both nodded and shuffled out into the hall.

She stepped after them, surprised at how much brighter it was outside the
tiny alcove, "Boys."

They stopped, turning, and she walked up to John, running one hand up his
gargantuan tricep, standing very close, forcing herself to look up into his
eyes, "It's Miss.  Not Mrs., not Ma'am." Clutching him arm with her small
hand she felt his powerful bicep brushing against her nipple still
protruding through the T-shirt, "I'm a miss."

John smiled, "No boyfriends, either, eh?"

She suppressed an exasperated sigh, shaking her head, "No, john."

John-two was still in his own world, "We've gotten further with you than a
lot of guys, eh?"

John glared at him, then turned back to Miss Caulder, "Don't mind him."

"It's okay, John.  He's right, I suppose." Certainly he'd gotten further
than anyone in the past year since she'd been teaching at the school.  She
was surprised at how acutely she'd noticed the lack of sex in her life now,
after being humiliated before two boys she would never consider laying down
with.  "I just don't want you to forget that I'm your teacher."

"I won't forget," John-two said grinning. "Is psych a hard class?"

She let go of John and started back towards the alcove to get her papers,
"Not if you apply yourself."

"Hey Mrs. Caulder, is this what we'll be covering this semester?" John had
picked up one of her papers and was skimming over it.

She turned to look, then felt an abrupt chill creep up her spine.  "That's
right john." She said numbly.

He smiled up at her, "I don't think we'll have any trouble applying
ourselves.  Not one bit."  Then with a weird little salute he started
walking off, showing John-two the paper.

Watching them go, John-two glancing back with a big old grin on his face
from time to time Miss Caulder felt the sinking feeling in the pit of her
stomach return.

The paper John had picked up was titled Human Sexuality and Reproductive
Physiology.

The pair had signed up for her Sex Ed class.



Chapter 2:



            Teaching the rest of the day in a PE T-shirt wasn't nearly so
awkward as teaching knowing she didn't have any panties on.  She had been
able to claim that she'd torn her shirt (true enough) and borrowed the
T-shirt from a female student, but the lack of underwear, sheer though they
were, allowed the stretch material from the skirt to define her every
contour, riding down the cleft of her butt whenever she so much as bent at
the waist, and crafting an outline over what she was now painfully aware of
as her unshaven, overgrown pubic bush.

            Not a few of her male students failed to notice this, but the
shame was little compared to what she'd experienced in the hallway that
morning, and aside from a few lingering glances and rolled eyes from some of
the girls (which was worse, in her opinion for while boys forgot she knew
girls would hold that sort of thing against her) she figured that she's be
particularly modest for the next few weeks and it's be written off to the
shirt tearing incident.

            By fourth period, however, she had excused herself, assigning
some reading, to snip off to the ladies with a pair of scissors where she
proceeded to do a hatchet job on her pubic hair.  It didn't look much
better, but it certainly was an improvement over the pudgy outline she was
advertising before.

            In spite of the adjustment, she was relieved to run to the
teachers' lounge and hide behind a big stack of quizzes and a big cup of
coffee for lunch.  She didn't have a fifth period class, since she was still
a new teacher they didn't have a full schedule for her yet. So she had two
hours to kill before senior Psyche, with her two new students.

            After the first bell rang, and the other teachers filed from the
room, she felt the first pang of tension, and uttered a silent wish for the
John's to behave themselves, and to do well in the class, so she didn't find
herself compromised due to any resentment they might feel for getting poor
grades.

            Then again, it dawned on her, that the more time that passed,
the less likely that their stories would reflect the truth, and it'd be her
word against theirs.  Being a teacher, she'd be believed and they'd be not
only disbelieved by their peers, but reprimanded by the administration.  She
felt no guilt at considering this, because in order for her to have to lie,
they'd have to break their promise.  Besides.  She knew damn well that the
'incident' with her skirt coming off was anything but accidental.

            Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Gold, a PE teacher and the
Football coach.  He was in his forties, but still a very well built man,
with a paunch born of age and too many beers.  He had a square jaw and a
deep, natural tan emphasized by the white crows feet around his eyes and his
graying hair.  He towered over everybody around him, and must have been
quite a specimen when he was younger.  He was a classic alpha male,
dominating every room he walked into with his boisterous voice and sheer
bulk, punctuated by the gut which while huge, seemed made of the same steely
stuff that rippled down his arms and across his chest.

            "So, ready for your second semester, Wendy?" he said eyeing her
T-shirt.

            Miss Caulder smiled at him, putting away her previous thoughts,
"First day back and I'm already a mess." She proceeded to tell him her
fiction regarding her torn shirt.

            "Okay," he said laughing, "I was going to have to ask Mr.
Donovan (the principal) to talk to you about that skirt."

            She forced a grin, pulling her legs under the table a little,
"the shirt didn't show this much." She lied, knowing she had been wearing
this skirt for weeks.

            "Still," he said, looking at his own bare legs revealed over his
high cut jogging shorts, "I'm not one to talk, but boys, y'know."

            "Oh, I know, I already met a couple of your boys in the hall
this afternoon." She blurted out, wondering what she was thinking even
bringing it up with their coach.

            His expression narrowed, and she saw him running his eyes over
her swelling bosom, her supple hips, the way the skirt tried to cling to her
crotch and ass, "Any trouble?"

            "Oh, no."  She covered, "Just a few stares."

            "Well," he said nodding, reluctantly reducing his scrutinizing
of the young teacher to furtive glances, "Boys will be boys, which is why it
pays to dress modestly.  No doubt they'll be dreaming about you all year
long."

            "Mr. Gold!"

            "Oh, no reason to be bashful about it, Wendy.  Hot Dogs and
Donuts, that's all these kids think about.  They tow the line, and don't
cross over it, if you don't encourage it" he added with a brief, piercing
glare, "Who were the guys?" he continued casually.

            "Oh, uh, John and."

            "John-two."  He shook his head. "That's what I thought.  Great
on the field, though I had to bench them twice for unnecessary roughness.
But the pair of them make even football players look prudish for the way
they run after girls."

            "They see a lot of girls then?"

            "Oh no.  They still haven't figured out that girls don't go for
big and thuggish."  He grinned, "Took me thirty years to figure that one
out," he wiggled the wedding band on his finger, "No, what you got there are
the two biggest, baddest virgins on the football team."

            "You're kidding?"

            "Dense as bricks too.  They fail one class this semester, they'
re back here for a fifth year because they already filled up their Summer
school schedule last semester.  Hope that puts something on their plate to
motivate them."

            "I though football players were. You know, dated a lot."

            Mr. Gold nodded, eyeing Miss Caulder's supple frame again, "Yes,
well, some of them, but they've got to put up with natural selection just
like the rest of the guys, and they're not the two best lookers on the
 team."

            "No" Miss Caulder agreed thinking of John-two's sloping
forehead.

            "Poor boys came to me last semester to ask how to get a girl to
go to Homecoming with them."  He shook his head, "Turns out they both had
dates, not too hard for a football player, they wanted to know how to get
laid.  Turns out they went home alone, the girls ditched them.  So far as I
know, John, the dark haired fella, kissed a girl his sophomore year, so he's
the leader."  He burst into another peal of laughter, while Miss Caulder
simmered in the understanding that their frantic groping had represented
nothing less than a desire to get to first base.  She had, in fact, taken
them straight to third!

            "I'm sorry, Wendy," Mr. Gold put out his hand, covering Miss
Caulder's, "I don't mean to embarrass you." He had taken her reaction for
embarrassment, and also taken the excuse to lean over and look down John-two
's overly stretched out collar.

            Forcing herself not to pull her hand away, Miss Caulder
straightened up a bit, "I'm not embarrassed, Mr. Gold.  It's just that they'
re in my Psyche class."

            "Oh dear." He pondered that for a minute.  Then leaned forward,
"If they give you any trouble, you come straight to me!"

            "Sure."

            "Straight to me!"

            His concern reminded her in a creepy way of John's reaction
before they parted ways.  "I'll let them know that you." she met his eyes,
felt his hand clutch hers slightly, but in spite of that felt immense relief
that she had an ally that could possibly control the two Johns, "I'll let
them know that your concern for their academic success matches my own."

            He grinned at her, revealing acres of perfect teeth.

            "Y'know, I've got fifth hour free until track season starts." He
was leering openly at her, "and there's no classes in the temp building by
the creek."

            "Mr. Gold?"

            "John"

            "John, I." She looked at the hulking older man, "Your name is
John too?"

            "No, just John." They laughed together as he massaged her
fingers suddenly, looking her straight in the eye with uncomfortably
piercing blue eyes.

            "John," She began, taking his hand to stop the rubbing, "I make
it a policy not to get involved with people I work with."

            "Who said anything about involvement?" he said not batting an
eyelash, "I'm a married man.  I was just suggesting that this semester could
be a bit of fun for the two of us.  No commitments, just a much better way
to kill time than hiding in the lounge or running from students who don't
seem to understand the idea that we need time to ourselves too."

            "We could get in a lot of trouble." She was hedging, it was the
wrong thing to say-she should have flatly refused, because he took her
reluctance as interest, but she was afraid of alienating possibly the one
man who could stand in between her and the biggest and oldest virgins she
had ever met.

            "It's not as bad as having to sneak out to the old water main up
the creek." He laughed, "That's where the students go." He shook his head,
looking off into the distance, "I almost got caught with Martha-she used to
teach English here."

            He looked back at her, "No, the windows are mirrored, the doors
are locked, and if you keep quiet the kids outside won't hear a thing."

            "The kids."

            "The weirdoes, you know the kids who don't fit in, they avoid
the quad and hang out by the temps so they're out of sight.  That's where
they go when they cut classes."

            "I. I don't know. John."

            But John wasn't going to be put off.  He slipped over to the
chair next to hers, his arm around her, one hand slipping down to her knee,
"Come on, why should the kids get to have all the fun."

            Torn between her desire to run like crazy and not to alienate
the big coach she held her ground, turning to face him, his lips right next
to hers as he stooped down to her, "John," she began, hesitating only as she
felt his fingers plying at the hem of her skirt, "You are married, a
co-worker, you're twenty years older than me, and you want to do it here,
where we could get caught."

            He nodded, "That's right." She had to grab his hand to keep it
from sliding up her skirt.

            "And," she continued, "You are fucking huge.  You're one of the
biggest men I've ever met.  It's not a little bit intimidating."

            But his maturity was evident in his eyes.  She wasn't talking to
one of the Johns, he clearly knew what she was feeling and immediately
retreated, though his arm still laid on her shoulder.

            "I'm sorry, Wendy.  I forget, sometimes."  But he wasn't put off
just yet, "But I think you'll have a good time, regardless.  And if you don'
t, just say the word, and I'll back off.  I'm just asking you to give it a
try."

            Bloody male logic!  Miss Caulder couldn't believe she, at nearly
thirty, was indulging this guy with this ridiculous attempt to convince her
to have sex even though she didn't want to and wasn't attracted to him.  She
found herself remembering the frustration of not being able to argue with
this kind of rationale, instead resorting to emotional pleas, "I don't know,
John."

            "Then let me take control."  He took her hand again, very
tenderly, "Just this once.  We'll slip away, and try things out, and if it's
not working out, well, no harm in trying, right?"

            She could only shake her head.

            "I've seen the way you watch some of the students, you know."

            She could only stare at him in shock.

"Don't worry, I do it too, some of those girls. it's hard to tell them from
women." He smiled and almost winked, "But they most definitely aren't
 women." His eyes ran over her again, "and those boys aren't men.  Believe
me it's a lot better to take your satisfaction from a peer than to."

"I don't find the students attractive." Miss Caulder insisted.

"But you don't have a boyfriend either, I heard you telling Mrs. Oberman
that."

Miss Caulder shook her head, wondering what else he'd overheard.

"I'm just saying that it's better not to indulge in little fantasies."  He
was fixing her with a piercing glare.

All she could think of was the rough pawing that morning of the two jocks,
groping at her nethers, their pokey little erections jabbing her from all
sides, the utter failure on her part to control them, to prevent the
humiliation she'd felt, and now, how powerless she felt with this man, a
feeling she didn't doubt would increase if she let him take her.  But she
couldn't deny the arousal that the Johns had triggered, and what might have
happened had they been a little more persistent.

She knew she'd never have willingly surrendered to their groping, but she
could not deny that she'd gotten aroused.

As she sat there, her heart beating, this older man staring down at her,
pantyless, in a football players' T-shirt, their dried sweat on her skin she
couldn't find a single way to rebut his persuasions, nor could she let
herself break down and plead for him to let her alone.  She realized that
she'd been emotionally raw all day, and this was something she simply wasn't
prepared to deal with.  The simplest course was to play along, and worry
about the consequences another time, but that meant letting this man take
her, this huge, muscle-bound oaf of a man.



She stood, uncomfortably by the door watching the older man peel his shirt
off his massive trunk.  His chest was broad, and well defined, if not as
impressive as John-twos, but his belly, though protruding well beyond his
chest was tight, tan, and rigid, like a round ball of muscle.  He smiled at
her, not seeming to notice that she was quivering, a scared young woman
unable to find a way out of her predicament.

Through the Mylar coated Plexiglas window she could see a few students, down
by the creek, and although she had seen very clearly that the windows were
mirrored from outside, the sight of them just a few yards from the building
made her very uneasy.  Mr. Gold had assured her that unless the lights were
on or the doors were open, the windows were only one-way.

John Gold had stripped out of his shorts and shirt, and stood before her
wearing jockeys, a wide crescent under his belly, over a comfortably small
bulge.  He looked expectant.

"Mr. Gold, I'm not sure about this."

He took a few steps up to her, "Don't worry, Wendy.  Just trust me."  He
leaned down and gave her a very tender kiss, and she felt, for the first
time, that she might be able to pull this off.

He was smiling at her still, "Maybe you'll feel more comfortable if you take
something off."

She nodded, and pulled the T-shirt over her head.  Mr. Gold leaned on the
desk, preparing, it seemed, to enjoy the show.  He let out a wide grin at
the sight of Miss Caulder's healthy chest and lace bra.  She gave a
reluctant smile back, before reaching back to unclasp the bra, when she saw,
over his shoulder, a pair of students, freshmen from the look of it, two
young boys standing right outside the window.  They weren't looking in, not
that they'd see anything but their reflections, but the sight was unnerving.
Mr. Gold had seen what made her stop, and grinned broadly.

"Go on, they can't see a thing."

But Miss Caulder's weak resolve was waning, and she clung her unclasped bra
to her falling breasts.

Mr. Gold was trying to stifle a laugh, but he smiled more broadly still, and
took her by the elbows, crossed over her chest.  "Trust me.  You're safe
from prying eyes."  But instead of trusting him she had to wonder why he was
leading her over to the wide picture window.  It went from head height, to
just below the hips, and overlooked the broad expanse of the creek where it
had been cleared to accommodate the temporary classrooms.  He led her to a
point where, had there not been a window, she'd have been standing right
next to the two freshmen, who seemed engaged in watching a group of older
girls at the edge of the clearing.  At this point Mr. Gold took Miss Caulder
's hands and guided them down, letting the bra slip off her arms.

She felt for all the world like she had just exposed herself to these two
boys, barely teens, and despite the mornings trial, she felt a surge of
excitement being so vulnerable.  All that needed to happen was for the
overhead lights to switch on, or the boy to cup his hands to the glass.

She barely flinched when Mr. Gold pulled her skirt down, and listening to
the boys muddles conversation through the Plexiglas allowed Mr. Gold to
fondle and tease her, facing outside she let him stroke her nipples, and run
his hand down the front of her, allowing him to arouse her, bringing a very
familiar habit of letting her mind go with sex, so she could endure it when
she wasn't really in the mood.

But it wasn't really that bad.  The level of excitement because of the
imagined exposure, perhaps the frustrating fondling of the jocks, and the
sheer lack of sex she'd had in the past months led her to actually enjoy Mr.
Gold's gentle ministrations.

She felt his hands wrap around her, his manhood prodding her, like the
jocks, in the small of her back.  Felt one hand slip down the crack of her
ass and tease her anus as it slid past and found her sex, slightly damp with
the beginnings of arousal.

Pulling her around he pushed her against a desk, a cold, student desk with
the attached chair.  She expected him to kiss her, but instead he gave her a
little lift, his great belly fitting snugly against hers, her chest resting
against his girth, and sat her on the edge of the desktop.  She put her arms
up, over his massive shoulders, barely able to reach around him as he pushed
her legs apart and filled the space with his hips.

"John, slow down a bit."

"I like it when you call me Mr. Gold." And instead of slowing down she felt
his member rubbing against her.  She hazarded a glance out the window, but
the two boys seemed oblivious to their teachers' activity.

"Do you have a condom. Mr. Gold."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that." He said, condescendingly.

She felt the spell slipping away, and tried to resist as he slid inside her.
It wasn't particularly big, maybe six inches, but she gasped nonetheless as
it filled her long barren sex.  The minor pleasure, however, was dwarfed by
the sheer bulk of the giant pressing down on her.

Her face knew only his broad, unpliable chest, and try as she might, she
could neither resist him nor find the voice to stop him as the pressure from
his great chest and belly threatened to topple her off the desk.  Instead
she hooked her legs around him, clutched him around the ribs (she couldn't
touch her hands together) and held on while he started pumping, trying to
derive what pleasure she got from the action in her sex from it.

Mr. Gold was nothing if not a man of constitution, and what began as a small
jet of fire of pleasure quickly paled into a repetitive, redundant drive.
She tried kissing his chest, sucking on his nipples, trying to learn to
enjoy the rigid steel wall of muscle and belly that bore down upon her, but
more often found herself clutching rolls of skin that, taut around his belly
when erect, crunched up and he bent over her clutching the seat back of the
desk to hold himself up.

She realized, with surprising humor, that it was as if she was being fucked
by a stomach.  It didn't suck, and it sort of felt good, but there wasn't
much more to recommend it.

But even that was getting tired, as the rhythmic punting at her sex was just
going on and on, and his belly ground into her.  She found herself
distracted by the fact that her nipples were getting more pleasure from
rubbing against his belly than the sex itself was giving her, that is, of
course, when they weren't being crushed flat by the sheer weight.

But the fucking continued, and she, in her distraction saw that she was down
to a mere fifteen minutes to get to her sixth period class.  Not the best of
situations to be in when you're pressed for time.

But now she noticed that Mr. Gold was getting a bit more frantic, pressing
harder, rocking her a bit more violently, and in spite of the omnipresence
of the great, round belly, she found herself pushing against, him, enjoying
the sensation both in her sex and on her body, sort of a wall of flesh
wiping out all sense of self but the little pleasure she could derive.

This wasn't sex like she'd ever had before, neither as pleasant, nor as ego
crushing.  She found herself drowning in this man's drive, and the tiny
stabs of pleasure at the center of it were enough to get her through-even
more, though, there was a certain satisfaction in letting this beast do it
to her, crushing her sense of self from her.  Exactly what she'd been
needing all day.

So in spite of the pounding force of the belly she found herself gasping and
groaning, contorting herself to gain what pleasure she could before he'd had
his satisfaction.

And then, feeling him seizing up, he grappled her violently with one arm and
she knew he was shooting his load inside her.  She was gasping and yelping
as he let out a great shuddering groan that seemed to shake the earth, but
she felt secure in his arms, bound as she was against the broad girth of his
belly.

And then, totally tapped, though not exactly satisfied she felt him let her
go, but all she wanted was to cling to him, to let the heat of his great
belly continue to consume her.  But the pressure relented as he drew himself
out of her,  stood up, looking with great pleasure and satisfaction at her
comparatively tiny body over the expanse of his chest and belly.  Oddly he
didn't seem so much the stomach anymore, so filled out he was with
impressive arms and such height.

Reluctant to let him go she tried to hang up, but as she drew herself up to
kiss him he plucked her arms from his dense shoulders and pushed her away,
pausing to fondle her breasts, then setting his hands on her thighs he took
a good, long look at her sex, swollen and damp with his semen, but mostly
her arousal.

"Thank you," she uttered, with genuine gratitude, though not for the reason
he probably thought.

"Any time.  It wasn't so bad after all, now was it, missy?"

She wondered at the nickname, but simply said, "No, Mr. Gold."

He put a hand under her chin, "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Yes, Mr. Gold."

But the more this ridiculous conversation went on the less she felt like she
meant it.  The further removed from sex with him she got, the less warmth
she felt from his bohemian embrace.  The lingering pleasures of being
subsumed by this man waned under the light of the soreness and ache from the
relentless pounding she'd taken over the past hour.  And this game he seemed
to be playing, treating her like a little girl, like some chattel.

"Yes, I think you'll do quite nicely." Mr. Gold said, interrupting her
thoughts as he pulled on his underwear.

"Nicely?" she asked sliding off the desk.

"No, stay there."  She froze, then slipped back into the position he'd had
her in, "Yes, like that, so I can watch you."

She realized that this position defaulted to such that she was facing the
boys through the window, who were still chatting, looking at cards of some
sort.  It also meant that she was spreading her legs to them, her breasts
hanging freely, sweat trickling down her sides and back. Something seemed to
lock in place as one of the boys turned to the window.  The thrill of
exposure, the excitement that if only he could see seemed to trap the fading
excitement inside, and fuel her unsatisfied lust with renewed vigor.

She realized that she was still panting, that she'd never quite caught her
breath after Mr. Gold had finished with her.

"I take it that you don't have any plans for lunch tomorrow?" Mr. Gold
asked.

She shook her head, unable to turn her head as the other boy turned towards
the window, looking at himself, it seemed, in the reflection.  She could see
both pubescent faces now, skinny boys kind of dorky, fawning over playing
cards.  The kind of kids that didn't even think about girls, much less ever
get to go out with them.

"Yes," Mr. Gold was dressed now as he scrutinized Miss Caulder, "You like
that, don't you."

She mouthed in protest, and moved to get up, but firm hands reached out and
held her in place.

"It's okay, I get off on it too.  That's why I like this room.  Sometimes a
pair of kids come down here to make out." He stared off, out the window
where the group of girls was walking up from the creek.  Then, walking
behind her, he pulled her legs apart, lifting them so she was perched on the
desk, spread eagled, semen glistening on her labia, and her own juices
moistening her.

"Why don't you come down here tomorrow?" he said, moving towards the door.

Miss Caulder was transfixed on the boys who seemed to be staring straight at
her simply nodded.

"Be here at lunch, you can get yourself ready for me."

She glanced back, letting her legs fall closed, "I don't understand."

His hand on the doorknob, he smiled at her, "From the look of it you could
satisfy yourself for hours alone in her, Wendy.  Isn't that right?"

"I don't know about that, Mr. Gold." She said ashamed, but unwilling to
compromise the feeling sweeping over her.

"Well, why don't you come down tomorrow and find out?" he wasn't smiling,
all of a sudden.

"And you'll be here?"

He smiled again, and gestured for Miss Caulder to turn around again.

She complied, lifting her legs.

"Of course I will," he said behind her back.  "Why don't you try it out
 now."

So she did, touching herself, gently, but startled to feel the electricity
rising up from her center, all provoked by Mr. Gold's game.

"But don't take too long," he chided her as she seemed to drift off in her
pleasure, "Your next class starts in five minutes.  Say hello to the Johns."

And then the door flew open, flooding the room with sunlight that lit up the
windows and sent a cool breeze flying through the room.

Swinging closed, Miss Caulder met the very bewildered gaze of the two boys
as they gawked at the window for the few moments where they could see one
another, the boys stock still, Miss Caulder slowly stroking her clitoris as
heaving gasps flooded over her wracking her body with pleasure, sought
after, but arriving at a very inconvenient time as the door shut and the
boys, now sun blind behind the Mylar window both cupped their hand to the
glass to watch Miss Caulder fingering her sex while the most intense orgasm
she'd had in years came washing over her.  Gasping and moaning, her breasts
swinging and bouncing, she locked eyes with the boy voyeurs to her ecstasy
and shame.



Continued in Part 2

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