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Message-ID: <37637asstr$1028293803@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 (2/4) by she_cries (MF, mmF, nc, reluc, humil)
Date: Fri,  2 Aug 2002 09:10:03 -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. 2

by she-cries

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





Making her way out of the temp building, not knowing how much the boys could
see, their faces pressed to the glass, if they recognized her, or how she
was going to get dressed, shaking like she was, with no place to hide in the
one room structure.  She had managed to pull on her skirt (backwards with
the slit up the front), and the T-shirt, but  had lacked the courage to
retrieve her bra from the floor below the boys before scampering to the door
and bursting out into the blinding sunlight.

"Don't look back" she kept repeating to herself, over and over, not wanting
to know if the kids had run around to see her leaving, to get a better look,
not wanting to lock eyes with those who had seen her humiliating debacle.

That fucking Mr. Gold, using her and running out, not even the consideration
to wait for her to get dressed before opening the door, knowing those boys
were outside.  As if he really expected her to be there, waiting for him.
Doing.  doing that, like some perverted slut so he could come in and get to
business before running off to his PE class.

"Hell with him," she thought, "I can handle those boys on my own."  But her
swinging breasts flopped around in the baggy T-shirt, and she could feel his
cum leaking out of her aching crotch, and she felt her sweat drying on her
back and running down her pits with the frantic exertion to get to the main
building in time to use the bathroom before having to go to class.

How could she have let that fat, muscle-bound, old fuck talk her into this.
Had she really thought she'd be better off letting him use her like a fuck
toy, calling him "Mr. Gold" like a little girl and catering to his
thick-brained jock urges.  She hadn't been fucked like that since she was
sixteen, and even those guys spent a little time afterwards letting the
intimacy fade instead of cutting it off abruptly with instructions for
later.

She passed a cluster of girls, cheerleaders for the Junior Varsity team, and
in spite of the embarrassment for the state she knew she must be in she had
to wonder if that was how they were treated by jocks their age, or if
teenage football players were just as whipped as the guys she'd dated.

Feeling the squelch of dribbling semen between her thighs she put on a burst
of speed, ignoring her bouncing breasts, for the nearest bathroom.  Psych
was going to be Hell, and she didn't know how she was going to be able to
make it through.



Class had been horrible.  She'd managed to cover the basics, going over the
semester's syllabus, and what the students would be required to learn.  For
an upper level class there were surprisingly few girls in the course, only
four, and a lot of boys that ran the gambit from jocks like the two Johns,
to geeks.  It didn't occur to her that a lot of guys had rushed to add her
class for second semester when word spread of the new, young psych teacher
with the great bazongas.  An attraction that, no doubt, paid off, for
braless she was able to do little to keep them from swinging freely, and
hanging low on her chest.

Combating the John's leering glares, and the stickiness between her legs
that seemed endless was the worst of her trials.  She was glad the skirt was
black, otherwise she was sure a stain would show, as she'd seen shiny spots
on her chair and where she'd sat against her desk.  Mr. Gold seemed to have
quite the reservoir.  She just hoped she had some morning after pills left
at home, because she certainly wasn't using any protection.

When the bell rang it was a wave of relief that flooded over her.  Her last
class of the day.  Students sprang from their seats, eager to get out of
what must have been a very confused and disjointed lesson, coupled with
"read chapter-1 for the rest of class."  Though she had planned a very blunt
and forthright lesson in introduction to human sexuality, she gave it a miss
today, relying on the textbook which had a very dull and mostly useless
introduction to sex ed in America.

Making way for her exiting students she settled down on a corner of the
desk, breathing relief which was only slightly diluted at the squelching
sensation between her legs as Mr. Gold's jism seemed determined not to let
her forget what she had done that afternoon.

Relief, however, soon turned to apprehension as the last of the students
left, and the two Johns approached her, unaware of the omnipresence of Mr.
Gold's sperm on Miss Caulder at the moment.

Only one sophomore girl and Max the school nerd-genius remained behind,
finishing their reading.  But the classroom was large, and John didn't have
to lower his voice much to avoid being overheard.

"That was a great lesson, Miss Caulder."

"Yeah," John two chimed in, "I learned a lot."

Miss Caulder, though uncomfortable, was feeling utterly cynical.

"Was it?" she asked, "I thought it was pretty dry and boring.  What is it
you want?"  She was much more confident, possibly because she knew she had
Mr. Gold to back her up should they try to press any issues with her
regarding that morning.

Both boys shifted around uneasily.  John began to speak, then snapped his
mouth shut as the girl got up from her desk, started to approach them, but
seeing the two beefcake jocks though better of it and with a polite nod at
Miss Caulder, made her way from the room.

Miss Caulder, getting a bird's-eye view of herself realized that she was
slouching back on the desk (the most comfortable position for the sensation
of her sticky groin), and jutting her chest out, which, in the T-shirt,
exaggerated her bosom to Mrs. Oberman's proportions.  Overall, she looked
like a reclining bimbo, gaming the two guys fawning all over her.

But the girl was gone, she figured, the damage done, she might as well stay
comfortable.

But the John's were clearly distracted by it as well.

John, glancing back at Max, involved in his reading and seemingly oblivious,
kept his voice low, "Well, I skipped ahead a bit."

He dropped his book down and opened it up to the page that always made her
immature students snicker and giggle; a picture of a naked, middle-aged
woman, spreading her legs on a gynecologist's table.

Miss Caulder scowled, but John-two seemed to have anticipated that, "Oh, it'
s not the picture!  I mean, we've seen naked ladies before," and with that
he gave her the biggest shit-eating grin she had ever seen.

"I thought we agreed not to discuss that."

But John kept John-two from saying any more, "Oh, he didn't mean that, I
mean, he means other girls."

Miss Caulder sighed, "That's right, you both are experience men."

They nodded, and John continued,

"Yeah, but, I mean, you know, like we said, we been with girls."

"Young ones," John-two added.

"But never a real woman." John emphasized.  He was very close and, glancing
back at the apparently oblivious Max, set a hand on her thigh, "Except for
you."

She gently pushed his hand away, but he only slid it down to her knee as she
said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I mean seeing." John quickly covered as John-two sat right next to her on
the desk, "We, I mean, you're the only real woman we've seen, outside of
pictures."

"What does this have to do with this class?" Miss Caulder asked, aware that
John-two's angle allowed him to see down her stretched out collar, and she
wondered if he could see her exposed breasts.

John was ready with an answer, setting his other hand behind her on the
desk, "It's just that this material looks hard, and we've got to pass this
class."

"Well, I'm sure if you study, and apply yourself."

John-two wasn't even pretending not to look down the T-shirt hole, "That's
what Mrs. Richmond said, but we had to take Summer school."

She pulled her collar up, not sure whether it was worse that this act
outlined her breasts and nipples better against the shirt.

"Here," John was pointing to a section in the book, "Where it talks about
women developing, and hormonal adjustment, and, I mean, why do girls grow
breasts but guys don't.

Miss Caulder couldn't help but smile, "John, we're covering that next
 month."

"I know," he said, leaning in to her, "But I wanted to get a head start."

She edged her way off the desk, hoping she wouldn't leave a mark, and stood
up in front of the boys, "That's great, you should read ahead."

"What about extra credit," John-two asked.

"John-two, we haven't even taken a test yet.

"I know," John stood up, towering over his teacher, "But if there's some
special project.  that might prepare us-"

"Like this morning," John-two blurted out loudly, and the boys both glanced
over at Max, still obsessed with his reading.

"John-two-"

"Wait, Miss Caulder," John interrupted, "John-two's right.  I mean we
learned more this morning about women than all the girls we been with put
together."

"Really," Miss Caulder replied looking up the boy's looming chest at his
beady eyes.

"You're so much more.  Mature."

She gazed at the two boys in astonishment, "No, absolutely not."

John gazed back at her blankly, "No, what?"

"Just: No."

John-two also stood up, "But, I mean, after this morning." but John thumped
him in the shoulder.

"We just want to know if we could get some private lessons." John said, with
sort of a triumphant look on his face.

Did these boys think she was a moron?  That she'd willingly expose herself
to them under the auspices of getting them an education?  Staring up at
their low brows and wandering eyes the thought occurred to her that yes,
perhaps they did.

"I'd be happy to arrange a tutor for you, and if you need more in-depth
information you need only consult the book-"

"But it's like the coach says, you've got to do before you understand."
John-two repeated, "And we'd much rather do you than any of the girls we
know."

She could feel herself trembling, her entire body perspiring.  She couldn't
believe that they were actually propositioning her.

"What John-two means," John quickly covered, "Is that we'd rather have you
as our teacher than another student."

"I'm flattered," she said not making any attempt to conceal the anger in her
voice, "but I have a very busy schedule, and I don't get paid to provide
private tutoring."

"We'll pay you." John-two interrupted her.

John quickly stepped in, putting his arm around her shoulder, "yeah, we both
do construction on weekends."

Her will to fight rapidly waning Miss Caulder decided to put an end to the
discussion, "I'm sorry boys, I don't think so.  Now I have to pack up and
clean the room."

"Can I have my shirt back." John-two asked.

"John-two." she stammered, "I need it."

But John was reaching in his bag, "Oh, we uh, borrowed this one from one of
the girls in PE."

She looked at the little thing.  It was a tube-top with a loop to go over
her neck.  It looked horribly small, and was clearly the kind you had to
pull up over your hips, like a dress, being too narrow for a person's
shoulders.

"Can't I give it back tomorrow?"

"John-two didn't have another shirt, like he thought, and he got detention
for not dressing down."

John looked a little sheepish, "Yeah, I got to get to it in ten minutes."

"I'm sorry, why don't I give it to you before school tomorrow,"

"We were already late to PE today, I mean if we're late two days in a row we
get Saturday school."

They were right, she knew, from the incident that morning, but she also knew
a well-rehearsed plan when she heard one.

Then again, the school day was over, and there was nothing stopping her from
leaving straight to her car, or locking herself in the class till well after
the students had gone home.

"Okay, I'll go change-"

John stepped in between her and the door, "The bathrooms are locked."

He was right, they were both down because someone had vandalized them at
lunchtime.

"I'll use the teachers' lounge."

But John-two had an excuse for that: "But I got to be in detention in ten
minutes.  Can't you change here?"

"In front of the two of you?"

John smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder, "It's not like we haven't seen
you before."

She peered up at him, pleading with his to stop using such absurd logic,
"That was an accident in a dark alcove."

He shook his head, as if he couldn't comprehend the difference.

Desperate for an excuse she gestured at Max, but she hadn't counted on the
rationale behind meatheads like John-two, who abruptly made his way across
the classroom, bagged the book Max was reading and hoisted him up by an arm.

Miss Caulder, in shock could only stare while the boy, pleading for help
from her with his eyes, was dragged brutally from the room.

Shoving him out the door, John-two shut the door and locked its deadbolt,
turning to look at his voluptuous, trembling teacher.

John was doing that 'reassuring' thing on her back again, "Now we're alone."

"Why don't you two wait outside?"

"It's just a shirt, Miss Caulder."

"John," she said fondling the top with disgust, "I can't just put this on, I
have to pull it up. it's too small to fit over my shoulders."

"I can help," John-two volunteered.

"Aren't you going to be late?" she asked.

John was standing very close, "If you'd just change we'd be gone by now."

He seemed to know how badly she wanted to be left alone, but John-two kept
the same course, "And like John said, we already seen you in a bra."

She wheeled out of him, putting herself out of John's reach, "No, I can't
just pull this over the skirt, it'll ride up, and I'm not wearing a bra."

She felt John's fingers exploring her back, "You had one on this morning, we
saw it."

"I. I took it off."

John-two seemed delighted, "I thought I could see a lot more this time."
She looked up at him, furious, but he only went on, "And you're not wearing
any underwear either 'cause I got those in my pocket," he produced her
wrinkled up panties.

John was still unabashedly feeling her back and sides where the bra would
have been, "How come you took your bra off, Miss Caulder, you knew me and
John-two would be back this period?"

"I don't know, John, now would you please."

"That's hardly me'n John-two's fault, I mean we didn't even tear your
 shirt."

John-two was walking up to her, "Yeah, you did that."

John put both hands on her shoulders, "Seems kind of unfair that we're doing
you all these favors, I mean John-two didn't have to borrow a girls shirt
for you, and you're giving us all these conditions just to get his shirt
back."

She was now nearly pressed between the two giants.  She felt herself gasping
for air, "You're right, it's not fair."

But John was working at the knot she'd tied in the T-shirt's side to contain
its bulk, "and here John-two's got detention because he stayed to help you
get dressed and you won't even give us private lessons."  John-two's hands
were reaching out for her midsection.

"Okay!" she spun around to stop the boy before he started to undress her. "I
'll tutor you.  I'm sorry John-two." Anything to keep control of the
situation.  The boys were repressing her, and although they had probably
planned it, she was the weak-willed teacher who let things get so
embarrassingly out of control that morning.  In a way she was responsible
for John-two's detention, and the way she'd played it up to them that
morning there was no way she could throw the blame back at them.

She was also the one at fault for losing control and tearing her shirt, for
letting Mr. Gold have his way with her and forgetting her bra.  She was also
the one who let John-two keep her panties.  It all boiled down to the fact
that she was the one who had let herself get into a position where
undressing completely, if full light, willingly, in front of these lusting
boys was the inevitable consequence of her failure to be more assertive.
Had she refused to let them touch her she'd have her panties, had she
rebuffed Mr. Gold she'd have her bra, and had she not panicked she'd have
her shirt and her modesty.

John-two, unaware of the train of thought going through her head was now
behind her, "I'd like my first lesson now, Miss Caulder."

She felt herself leaning against him he was so close, and she looked at John
as she said, "But you have detention."

John looked back at her, "So make it a quick lesson."

She simply nodded, "Please take your desks."

John-two seemed like he was going to refuse, but John reached out and pulled
him into the front row of chairs.

With a heavy sign, Miss Caulder pulled the T-shirt off.  Both boys' faces
lit up, and John-two couldn't help groaning, "Oh, yeah."

Miss Caulder's breasts while not too large, nor too firm, were supple,
flush, and feminine.  To boys who may have only ever seen the tight, budding
breast of the teenager, Miss Caulder's breasts, hanging just low enough to
cover her hand (but not one of theirs, she'd have thought), yet full enough
not to sag too much, with bold, round nipples just a little darker than her
skin, the exact shade of her un-made-up lips.  More than one of her lovers
had described them as breasts made for sucking, and this, despite her petite
frame and slightly fleshy bottom, made her sought after by many a man
looking for a one-night-stand, or a quickie, like Mr. Gold.

"Are those real?" John-two asked.

She tilted her head in exasperation, but John interrupted him, "Is this
supposed to be a lesson, Miss Caulder."

She could only swallow her frustration and pride, and nod, "Yes, John-two,
fake breasts don't. sag like mine." And after a moment of hesitation she
hefted her pair, to show them how low they actually hung.

"What makes nipples get hard?" John asked, timing his question well as she
had both thumb and index finger on them.

"Blood, John." She signed, "Blood rushes to them when they are cold, or.
stimulated."

"What kind of stimulation?"

Shutting her eyes tight she began gently running her thumb and finger around
them in gentle circles, relishing the pleasurable distraction from the
humiliation, but willing them as well not to erect.

But the tingles down her spine, and the stiffness between her fingers
revealed to her that she had succeeded in arousing them.  A wash of cold air
settled past her from the vent overhead and she felt the goose pimples
rising all over her body.  How ever had she gotten herself into this
position?  The only thing the boys hadn't seen that morning was her bare
chest, and here she was fondling her nipples for them.

"Uhh, Miss Caulder, aren't you going to put the shirt on?"

Startled to awareness she opened her eyes and saw the two horny seniors
staring at her agape.  She realized she had gotten distracted with her
nipple-play, sort of a mental retreat from the searing shame that bore down
so hard upon her.  She hadn't heard who said it, and could hardly bring
herself to look up at them.  Looking nervously at their feet she mumbles,
"Yes boys," and pushed her skirt down.

"Dude, you trimmed your bush!"

She glanced up at John-two's astonished gaze, but John was standing up as
her skirt was falling to the floor, "What's going on here, Miss Caulder.
Wendy?"

She froze, meeting his eyes for a moment, hands instinctively covering her
sex, which she realized was coated with glistening semen, dripping down her
thighs.

"I'm just. John.  The lesson." She could barely stay standing under his
fierce, penetrating stare.  John reached out and took her chin in one hand,
grappling her breast with the other, fondling it as she had just shown him
how.  The tingles of electricity born of the caress and excitement of fear
tore through her body with each none-to-gentle turn of his thumb.

He pulled her face close, "First you let John and me touch you all over in
the hall, an you don't complain like the other girls, Hell you even gave him
your underwear.  Then you make a big old point of lettin' us know you haven'
t got a husband, 'It's Miss.'" He mocked in falsetto.

The stroking was filling her body with surges of heat, while her skin felt
like ice was scraping over it.  She couldn't tear her eyes from John's,
though they relentlessly prowled her totally nude body, "Then you show up to
class all sweaty and smelly, showing off your butt in that super tight
skirt, without a bra on." Suddenly he kicked the skirt across the room, and
slid his hand down to her crotch, rubbing hard, forcing her to sob with a
mixture of shock and elation as the pounding in her body seemed to reach a
crescendo with each tugging stroke he made, rubbing around in his coach's
sperm.

"Shut up, Wendy!"

She stifled her sobs, aware of tears of pleasure and pain running past her
cheeks.  He had called her Wendy again; provoking a sensation not unlike the
coach making her call him Mr. Gold.

"Then, when we think you're gonna talk about tits and stuff, you just strip
off and start playing with yourself."

She looked at him, horror overcoming her, and their conversation rolling
through her like an echo in a house of horrors.  Was he shitting her?
Nothing came back to her directly that explicitly explained what she was
doing.  She had assumed their innuendo.  Had she drawn the worst possible
conclusions and caved into her greatest fears, giving them what she feared
they'd take most, rather than what they really expected which was probably
another shuffling, embarrassed peepshow.  Instead she had given them the
full nine-yards.  She had willingly exposed herself for them and there was
no way she could think of that would convince them otherwise.

"Shit, I thought I was just gonna get to see that bra again," John-two had
gotten up and regardless of the 'lesson' grabbed both of Miss Caulder's
breasts and mauled them eagerly, "Miss Caulder, you sure do have one hot
bod."

"And look," John held up his hand, right under Miss Caulder's nose,
glistening with a combination of Mr. Gold's semen and her own juices, though
John certainly would never have guessed the bulk of it was his coach's, "She
's juicing like crazy, I ain't too dumb to know what it means when a girl's
this wet!"

"Please." Miss Caulder cried, but John-two grappled her roughly and planted
a kiss square on her mouth.  She struggled, but the gesture was purely in
vain for she couldn't so much as budge the great behemoth that so crudely
shoved his tongue into her mouth.  He grabbed one of her knees, hoisted it
up, and in the process lifted Miss Caulder to his hips as if she were a
feather, and leaning her against the hard edge of the desk started
dry-humping her through his pants.

If Mr. Gold's weight had been suffocating, this was bone-crushing, and there
was nothing resembling the omnipresence of manhood, nor the sweet sensation
of sex between her legs.  And though the grinding of his hip into her
swollen, excited sex drove pleasure deep into her, the rest of him seemed to
be crushing her into dust, masking any pleasure under omnipresent male
muscle mass.

As quickly as he had begun he came off of her, John's forceful arms
separated the rutting couple, standing John-two upright, and pinning Miss
Caulder backwards on the desk, leaving her legs hanging off the edge, which
she slammed together, trying to curl up, but couldn't roll on her side for
John's mighty grip.

Desperate to stave them off she cried, "John!  John-two, it's all a
misunderstanding!  That's all it is!"

They were hardly listening, John-two was bouncing for joy, "Ha ha! I got to
kiss a girl.  Now we're even, John." He took Miss Caulder's ankle and ran
his hand up her thigh, "Hey honey, how about another."

John smacked his hand away, "You aren't gonna lose your cherry before me,
though."

"Why not, I kissed her first."

"I was the one who said she was up to something!"

"It was my shirt!"

They were now tugging at her, john-two trying to tug her off the desk, John,
literally grappling a breast, trying to slide her across towards him.

Miss Caulder was openly sobbing now, unable to control herself she was
experiencing a mixture of the sexual tension she'd been flayed with all day
and now the brutality of the two teenagers fighting over her, "Please!" she
cried over and over, "Please stop it!"

Eventually she realized that they had.  Letting the shuddering sobs subside
she found herself in a fetal position atop her desk.  A coldness settled
over her, locking out every sensation except, oddly, the titillation of the
room's ventilation across her damp labia, exposed as she was curled up with
her knees against her chest.  It felt almost good against the numb bruising
she'd just been given by John-two's frantic humping.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Caulder." John-two uttered from somewhere behind her.

A warm hand touched her gently on the shoulder, "Are you all right, Wendy?
We didn't mean to fight over you."  John was trying to calm her, and it sort
of worked.

"I'll be a textbook case for Stockholm if I have to put up with much more of
this" she thought, pulling herself upright, watching the two boys look for
all the world like kids waiting to be spanked.  She looked around for
something to cover herself with, but could see nothing.  In her brief survey
of the room, however, she realized that there was nothing preventing anyone
from walking up to the door, locked though it was, and looking in the small
window set head high in its frame.  She imagined she could see the two boys
from lunch, imagined the sensation of stroking herself, the waves of
humiliation as she scrunched up under their astonished gaze, unable or
unwilling to stop herself from driving herself to orgasmic ecstasy.

"Miss Caulder?" John-two asked, striking into her thoughts abruptly,
bringing herself back into the fact that she was sitting naked, her breasts
hanging freely, her sex stained with her own recent arousal and Mr. Gold's
residue.

"What is it John-two?" she simply couldn't fathom any of these boys'
behavior.

"Which one of us do you want?"

She let her legs fall over the edge.  Whatever humiliation she'd felt at her
nudity seemed to escape her now, as she sat utterly defeated by these two
kids, as defeated as she'd been by Mr. Gold as he fucked her over the desk.
It was only a matter of how long it would take.

"Whichever.  It doesn't matter."

But he persisted, "But who do you want?"

Then she looked up at him, "What are you talking about?"

John stepped up, "What he means is, I mean," he stepped aside so as to block
John-two from her view, "You wanna do it with me, right?"

She looked up at him, unbelievingly, then saw John-two peering around his
friend.  She shook her head.

Immediately John-two shoved John aside, "Yes!  I told you so!" and spreading
Miss Caulder's legs he pulled her right up against him with one hand,
pulling his rigid member out of his shorts with the other and jabbing it at
her."

"Stop it John-two!" she barked at him, and he froze.

She tried to sit up, but with her legs suspended in John-two's iron grasp
she could only lean on an elbow.

"I don't want to have sex with either of you!"

Though frozen, she could feel John-two, perhaps unconsciously probing around
for her opening by twisting his hips.  She reached down thinking to grab his
hand, but grabbed his shaft instead, trying not to react as John-two let out
a soft, cooing moan.

He looked at her dumbfounded, trying to both pay attention and enjoy the
feeling, "But John said."

"He was mistaken. I was mistaken." She said, more tenderly this time, trying
to ignore the fact that she was having to goalie John-two's penis away from
her vagina as he slid it over her moistened sex.  She found herself
surprised at its girth.  She'd always thought guys like John-two were so
built up so as to compensate for lack of manhood, but John-two was clearly
much bigger than Mr. Gold or any lover she'd known, and she was only
grabbing the tip, trying, and failing, to not stroke him, but moistened as
he was by her present state her hand kept slipping over the head.

John was trying to contain himself at one end of the desk, "How can you say
that, after the way you carried on!?"

She'd have rolled her eyes under more innocent circumstances, but instead
she felt John-two's penis brush against her opening, and felt it lodge there
as she struggled to push it aside, unable to budge him for the bulk of his
weight, and obvious desire not to be moved, "I can't explain it like this,
John."

Waves of pleasure and stabbing of soreness compounded in her sex as she
struggled to retain her sense of self, and not succumb to the easy road of
simply surrendering.  Through the haze of her conflict she heard John-two,

"Does that mean we're not going to fuck?" perhaps because she was struggling
to hold her head up he leaned in a little bit, pushing himself against her
sex, none too gently, and gasping she cried out, "Please, it's too big!"

But motor control had taken over John-two, and as the head of his thick
shaft pushed past then entrance to Miss Caulder's sex his shaft began
surging and his body spasmed with impending orgasm.  Both the realization
that he was actually fucking a woman and the pressure of Miss Caulder's
narrow sheath on John-two's engorged member put him well beyond anyone's
control.  Miss Caulder could only writhe with the all-consuming sensation of
being stuffed utterly, the mixture of pain and stabbings of sexual energy
while John-two began pumping franticly, burying his massive trunk,
millimeter by millimeter inside her before erupting with a huge, ghastly
groan.

For the first time in her life, Miss Caulder actually felt a man cum inside
her, felt the flooding gush of heat penetrating her as she bucked and
rocked, throwing her legs up high in a vain effort to relieve the pressure,
but instead taking more of him inside her, unconsciously letting her fill
her up with the same domination that Mr. Gold had imposed, a massive,
all-consuming presence that made her forget herself, and her failure to deny
him utter domination of her body and her spirit.  She cried out in squealing
gasps, indistinguishable from the cries of ecstasy she had bellowed out
under the scrutiny of the two boys through the window, bucking and rocking,
climbing his pole as it seared through her, grinding herself against him
that this carnal atrocity might also bring about the throes of passion she
had only just discovered in the face of exposure and utter submission.

But nothing she did, nothing she could have done, would change the fact that
 John-two, with all his clumsy mauling and na�ve stumbling had owned his sex
ed teacher, in her classroom, on her desk, because she'd stripped off her
clothes for him and stood still while he laid her out, spread her legs and
drove himself into her.  Her only effort at resistance serving to ease his
chance of penetration.

Letting Mr. Gold have his way with her, use her like he did, was shameful
and embarrassing, but only to her.  No one could fault a grown man and woman
for sharing their bodies with one another.  But nothing could have prepared
her for the humiliation she felt now, with this massive cock lodged inside
her, pumping its satisfaction into her loins, this boy letting go of all his
animal instincts upon her.  How could she ever assert herself now?  She hadn
't even been bullied into this submission, but had let her fears lead her
into his clutches, and now she was his.  She was the one who had taken his
virginity, and nothing would ever change that.  He had taken her, filled her
up, stretched her beyond any limits she had known, and had her ride him,
take him deeper, felt her desperate clutches and watched as she furiously
gasped for more like she had done with no man before.  He had infused her
with a desperate need and been immersed in her unabashed expression of it: a
furious, passionate fucking, legs locked tight around his waist, hips
grinding down upon his manhood, a ferocious longing for him to possess her.
And possess her he did.  John-two, like no other man, had experienced this
woman as his willing, desperate whore, and ever more, she would live with
the impression of her utter surrender to his lust.  Ever more he would see
her as the slut who had ridden him to perdition and back, crying out with
every sense of her being for more, more, more.

But the more she clung to the hope of oblivion the further she seemed to see
it slipping away.  Every time she felt like she only needed another inch, it
would come, yet she would be further away, only aware of the stench of stale
sweat, no matter how hard she tried to force the issue.  She simply couldn't
fake it.  The moment, her chance had passed, and she was left painfully
aware of her situation.  It slowly dawned on her that he was done, in hardly
a minute he had gotten in and gotten off, and now she was left with the
aftermath: the acute awareness of what had just happened, and how she had
carried on.

And to make matters worse, she was no more protected against his seed than
she had been against Mr. Gold.  If the freak chance that had led her to this
position got her pregnant she didn't know if she'd be able to live with
herself.

Refusing to look up at the bear of a man who had just taken her she found
herself locking eyes with John, staring in astonishment, perhaps as much as
hers, at what had just happened.  But as she watched lines of anger creased
his face.  "Jealousy" she thought.  "He's the one who understood what I was
trying to tell them.  And he knows that John-two took me anyway.  He knows I
won't let him have me.  Or will I be able to refuse?"

Unable to bear that thought she looked up at John-two's blotchy face and
bloodshot eyes.  His bottom lip was glistening and a line of drool was
leaking onto her chest, tracing a line across her nipple and pooling at her
sternum.  His manhood softening, the sensation no longer overwhelmed her,
but that he was present inside her, however shallow he might be, was
something that she would never be able to erase from their relationship-no
longer teacher and student, but stud and conquest.

"Oh shit," He said with the same astonished expression on his face, "I
fucked a teacher."  He couldn't stop staring at her breasts, and
particularly, down where his thick shaft protruded from between her legs, "I
can't believe I just fucked Miss Caulder."  As if she wasn't there he turned
to John, "Dude, I just fucked a teacher." Looking down at her for another
moment he looked to his friend again, "I'm still fucking a teacher." But his
flaccid shaft combined with Miss Caulder's firm, narrow sex gave truth to
the lie, as he was slowly sliding out, like a python crawling out of a
gopher's hole after it has finished its prey off.

"John-two, get off me."

His face revealed shock, and maybe a little hurt, but he obeyed, a bit, and
straightened up, letting the head of his shaft flop out of her, and quickly
stuffing it back into his shorts.  She couldn't close her legs, as he still
hadn't moved away, but she hardly thought it would make a difference, having
him inside her or across the room, now that the damage was done, "Why,
John-two?  After I told you no?"

"I. I." But John-two could only stammer.  Finally he shook his head, "I
gotta get to detention." And unable to look at his friend or his whore he
grabbed up his backpack and tore from the room, pausing only to fumble at
the deadbolt.

Miss Caulder sat up on her desk, clutching herself with her arms.  The
soreness between her legs was only surpassed by the wetness, the dribbling
heat that lubricated her inside and out.  She could feel John's eyes upon
her, and was too scared to look at him for what his expression might be, but
also that he might take anything as a provocation to have her next.

"You were going to explain something." he said, his voice hard.  Clearly he
had no interest in allowing herself to find more comfortable circumstances.

But that was how she had tricked herself into believing that she had no
choice but to strip, or to let them fondle her while she was trapped in the
alcove with her.  The fact that they were barely able to believe their eyes
when she undressed showed her that it had all been in her mind.  Perhaps
this thick, violent ogre who intimidated her so much was really only a
figment of her imagination.  Hazarding a glance in his lust filled eyes and
hate-contorted face she wondered if that ogre was a creation born of her own
irrational behavior that she would now have to find a way to tame, or
surrender to.

"Could you." her voice choked up, "Could you give me my skirt?"

John didn't move, "You're not going to do me too?"

She shook her head, staring at the ground past her swinging breasts and
clutched them "You saw what happened.  You saw I tried to stop him--"

"Don't you dare blame this on John-two!"

"I'm not."

"You laid down for him, you took off your clothes!  I saw you put his thing
inside you!"

She couldn't help but stare at him in shock, "You know that's not true."

For the first time he looked away.

"I was so scared of you, John, I thought you. I felt so trapped."

"That's not what happened." The boy murmured.

"I could only think of what you'd do to me if I didn't play along."

John lurched over to her, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her, "I'd never
hurt you. Never!"

Miss Caulder looked into the boy's eyes (what little she could see under his
thick eyebrows and squinting lids), "I was so confused."

"You didn't want to fuck John-two?" he asked, his voice light.

She shook her head, "It was all a misunderstanding, John."

He looked at her for a long time, holding her head, staring down at her, not
realizing the growing pool of jizz she was now wallowing in, nor the
magnitude of her shame, "Don't worry Wendy.  I'll take care of it?"

She looked up at him uncomfortably aware that the bulge in his pants had
shown no sign of subsiding, "Take care of what?"

He was now squeezing, perhaps unconsciously, and Miss Caulder thought her
head would burst as he said, "If John-two ever comes near you again, I'll
kill him!" that, realizing what he was doing he let one hand fall, then
turning her head up towards his leaned down for a kiss.

She turned her head away, and slipped off the desk, barely noticing that her
entire buttocks were glistening with semen.  John made no move to stop her
"Get out of here, John?"

He stood still, watching her, seeing for the first time the red mark down
her back, the bruises on her buttock, the tangled mess of her hair and her
blotchy eyes, and running mascara, "I'm really confused, here." He said
almost sounding like a normal boy not infused with steroid driven mass.

"What does it matter, John?" she was looking for something, anything to wipe
herself with, "Get out."

"I could have taken you, you know. Wendy." He said.

She turned to look at him, but saw there was no anger in his eyes, "You can
have me any time you want, John."

But he shook his head, "But that's not what you want.  Is it?"

She turned to him, tears welling up in her eyes.  She made a futile gesture
to wipe the ruined mascara and to neaten her hair, "Just do it, John.  Just
get it over with."

In spite of the mess that she was, John still could not help but feel the
urge to respond rising in him.  Her succulent breasts, her soft, supple
lips, those plush, pliable thighs, even the poochie stomach ribbed with red
scrunch lines;  The woman who had exposed herself utterly to him:  a
dim-witted, paunchy, ape-faced jock who couldn't even score with the school
sluts who put out for booky nerds.

"I'm a virgin."

"I know you are."

"I don't want you this way."

"It's the only way you can have me."

He shook his head, feeling an unwilling smile come over him, "That's not
good enough."

Miss Caulder ran a hand over her body, the aches and pains seemed to fade
away and she found herself stroking her nipple the way she had shown the
boys before, "I can't make it any easier for you, John."

He took two steps right up to her and peeled off his shirt, "Tell me you
want me."

He could hardly hear the words as she uttered, "I want you."

"More."

"I want you." she murmured again, then, louder, "I want you to fuck me
 John."

Her face barely came up to his massive chest, but she was struck by the
similarity of his swollen stomach to Mr. Gold's, without the burnished skin
and time-worn wrinkles.  His sinews strained against his bulk, and she saw
herself buried under them.  She let go of her breast, and put her hands on
his pecs, leaning in and smashing her chest into his belly.  She kissed his
nipple gently, and though the skin barely stretched under her lips she
suckled on him like a baby, running her hands down his sides, pushing them
into his shorts, fondling his backside, admiring the rigid flanks as she
ground her hips against his thigh.

"Fuck me, John.  Fuck me, please." Every essence within her cried out for
the submission she had found underneath Mr. Gold's massive frame.  Her cunt
ached with the need for the all-consuming suppression of all she was.  This
was the only answer.  To surrender utterly.  Nothing would matter after
that.  If she fought it she would live forever with the soul-burning
knowledge of her failure.  Surrender and she could live out her days in meek
submission to the men who would use her.

She found his shaft.  Nothing like the massive girth of his friend, John was
actually rather modest.  A thought that pleased her in no little measure as
she thought of her abused cunt. "I want you inside me." She began stroking
him.

"Wendy."

"Take me, John.  I'm yours."

She was grinding her sex against his thigh with increasing vigor, trying to
build up enough passion to block out any feeling she had ever had.  His
shorts fell to his ankles and she clasped his shaft to her belly, stroking
it with her vigorous pumping.

But still he failed to respond.  He stood, paralyzed, transfixed by what had
happened to his teacher.  Utterly unable to respond to her fevered demands.
Unable to shake the awareness of what she was really asking for.

And like a sudden scream in the night, she stopped.  An emotional contact, a
bond forged for an instant and she saw herself through her eyes and realized
what she was doing.  What she was asking for.  Why she was so desperate for
it.

She let him go like a spark, shuffling backwards.

"Miss Caulder, I."

She shook her head, silencing him.

"Thank you, John. I don't know."

But John held up a hand, "You don't have to tell me. Miss Caulder."

Miss Caulder stepped behind her desk and pulled a roll of paper towels from
a drawer, one arm covering her nudity, but John was already looking the
other way.

She wiped herself off, and pulled the slinky top on.  It was definitely too
small, and as she pulled on her skirt she realized that a sudden move could
send her chest flying from the top, which felt like it barely covered the
span of her nipples, and let the bottoms of her breasts peek out underneath.

She opened a cabinet, and began wiping off her make-up using the mirror that
she kept there, combing her fingers through her hair, trying to feel normal.
She saw John watching her again, but his eyes were resolutely on her face in
the reflection.  "I know this was my fault, John."

He shook his head, "It wasn't. I mean, the circumstances."

But she shook hers back, "No, John.  I was weak.  John-two was weak.  You
were strong.  You did the right thing."

She turned to face him, "Oh John, I didn't mean to sound patronizing."

He looked sheepishly at the ground, "I don't know what that means."

She smiled, surprising herself; "I'm just saying I shouldn't treat you like
a kid."

"Thanks, Miss Caulder."

She closed the cabinet, and crossed to her desk, putting her belongings in
her purse, barely noticing the way her breasts jogged around in the
confining tube top, and threatened to slip out the bottom at any minute.
She smiled up at him, again surprised to find that the smile was genuine,
"What's your last name, John?"

He looked confused, "Uhh. Keller."

He was surprised to find that without any make-up, her smile was even more
succulent, with thick, plush lips, perfectly shaped.  Against his will he
found himself imagining them sliding over his cock as she said, "Call me
Wendy, Mr. Keller."

She hoisted her purse to her shoulder and crossed the room to the door.

"Miss Caulder-Wendy?"

She turned to him, "Yes Mr. Keller."

"I never been with a girl."

She nodded, still smiling, "You told me that.  It's okay."

He shook his head, "No, I mean. I never even kissed a girl."

She raised her eyebrows, "But you."

Still shaking his head he said, "I told John-two I did, cause he never did
either, and I lie to all the guys, but. I mean."  He couldn't look her in
the eye, "I just wanted you to know."

She took a step towards him, "That's not right.  A handsome man like you."
And she reached her free arm around his neck, and pulling herself up, him
leaning down, she kissed him, slowly at first, then with more vigor, licking
his lips and letting hers slide over his mouth, his chin, his neck, and
finally a long, slow, passionate draw on the lips again.  Letting him go
only after she was sure he was in no doubt that he had just been given the
best kiss of his life.

"Walk me to my car, Mr. Keller."

He smiled, a feeling of pride unlike any he had known in all his days.  He
put an arm over her shoulder, "Sure, Wendy."





Walking out the door arm in arm with John, Miss Caulder tried to let herself
ignore the ooze from two men between her legs, her absolute submission her
erotic urges in front of the two freshmen, the rapture she'd found wrapped
around Mr. Gold's belly, and the sensation John-two had left inside her that
told her no matter how much time passed she would always feel his girth
pressing at her insides and filling her up with his seed.  But the warm
comfort she had discovered in this strange relationship with John only
served to absolve her of mistakes she had made in letting the men use her so
wantonly.  She could not ignore the truth she had discovered, that the utter
submission she had experienced had driven her to beg for more from John, and
regret his refusal; That in doing so he had left her unable to avoid
imagining the two men ravaging her again and again.  How could she possibly
confront Mr. Gold again, knowing that as much as she loathed him she could
not stop thinking about fucking the man.  How could she face herself again
knowing that the next time she saw John-two she would be able to think of
nothing but his massive, penetrating girth filling her up again and the
oblivion she had so desperately sought and lost.

John let go of her at the first sign of another person, a couple students
passing down the hall.  A poignant reminder that thought they now shared
something significant, the stigma of a known relationship between them was
enough to overcome John's lust for his teacher.  Not that Miss Caulder was
any more willing to let on that she had succumbed to his masculine
domination in such a self-serving, debasing way, but she couldn't help but
resent his preference for his reputation over the truth of things.

The school being mostly empty, few students got to see her crossing campus
in her chest clutching tube top.  Her whole outfit, in fact, conspired to
paint a vivid portrait of her nude body, with her skirt clinging to the
contours of her hips and ass, and the top clutching her breasts, forcing
them out the underside, exposing her from the smooth, hanging curve of her
breasts to the subtle crease below her belly, reddened from the
ministrations of John-two and Mr. Gold as they bent her in two to satisfy
their lusts.

Nevertheless, a number of boys stopped dead in their tracks.  Girl students
let their mouths fall open at this wanton behavior by their slut a teacher,
mostly perhaps in envy at the developed breasts, the shapely curves, and the
apparent immodesty that they didn't contain.

Mr. Sharpe, a gangly math teacher with a long nose and greasy, thinning hair
was arrested at the sight of her walking out of the main building, "Miss
Cauler?"

"Hello Mr. Sharpe." She said, forcing an air of casual dignity.  She felt
John bristle at her side.

"Uhh. Going out tonight?"

She shook her head, aware of this skinny wreck of a man pouring his eyes
over her buxom curves, "No, just going home."

"ahh, well," he glanced at the massive boy at her shoulder, hesitating to
make eye contact with the giant, "Well, Miss Caulder you're looking lovely
today, I just.  wanted to say goodbye."

And in his shambling, duck-footed gait he moved away, but only far enough
for the couple to pass, so he could gaze after her, admiring the clutching
skirt with illustrated the curves of her ass.  If only he knew, Miss Caulder
thought, that the boy at her side had been fondling and groping them all
day.

But then, he had failed to act when she was the most vulnerable.  She had a
hard time painting John, who had respected her dignity in refusing to take
her against her conscious will, while she was desperate for escape, in a
different light as the distorted waste of a teacher who so unashamedly
lusted after her.  Glancing back over her shoulder, stopping, pretending to
glance in her purse she wondered if Mr. Sharpe was endowed with the same
kind of mind-enveloping manhood that John-two had invoked to steal her soul.

She shook her head.  She was growing obsessed.

Yet she reached down to adjust a strap on her shoe, bending over in what she
full well knew to be a glaring act of sluttish teasing, allowing Mr. Sharpe
to watch the skirt slip a few inches as it stretched over her backside, and
in her new top, he could see under it the contours of her peculiarly bound
bosom.

Stiffening, she asked John, "Have you ever heard of Stockholm syndrome?"

He shook his head.

"We covered it in the first semester." She started walking again, "It
involves a victim." she glanced at him, meeting his eyes, "of a kidnapping,
or a hostage, falling in love with her attackers."

"Why would she do that?"

Miss Caulder knew the answer, but she couldn't seem to articulate it in her
head.  Instead she nodded, continuing as if he hadn't said anything, "One
symptom is an obsession with her tormentor, now her lover.  A man who
kidnapped her she'd never leave.  A man who'd raped her she'd do anything
for."

"I dunno. Wendy.  That sounds sort of cool, though."

Cool?  Still she hadn't expected understanding from a seventeen year of
jock.

In fact.  The only thing she did expect was that he would take her at any
given moment.  That he had so far failed to was something with left her
uneasy, on edge.  Looking for the next way he might hurt her.  But in the
classroom things had been so comfortable, so reassuring, like she had gotten
over everything.

Now she was fantasizing about slipping off with Mr. Sharpe who would
doubtlessly fuck her like a mindless rabbit, avoiding stupid games,
unconcerned with things like John's ridiculous pride.

"John!  Wendy!"

It was Mr. Gold, crossing the open quad outside of the main building to them
in the gym shorts and T-shirt he always wore, exaggerating his chest and
belly, making him look like a Volkswagen on stilts in the sunlight.

The couple stopped, not far from where Mr. Sharpe still peered on as Mr.
Gold approached, "So how was your first day of Psyche, John?"

"Great coach!" perhaps unconsciously he put his arm around Miss Caulder,
then abruptly shook it off, as if he'd just been stretching, but Mr. Gold
seemed oblivious,

"Did you guys talk about tutoring?"

"What?" Miss Caulder blurted, eyeing the coach, her lover, suspiciously.

"Well, if the boys don't pass your class they don't graduate."

John was smiling proudly, "Miss Caulder's going to give us private lessons
after school."

"Really?" he eyed his linebacker suspiciously, then let his eye wander over
Miss Caulder's scantily covered breasts, "I don't suppose this has anything
to do with this slinky little getup that Wendy's wearing today?"

Miss Caulder felt like the wind had been kicked out of her, "Mr. Gold!"

But Mr. Gold grabbed her at the waist and gave her a little squeeze, "Don't
mind me, Wendy, I'm just teasing the boy." He looked up at his student,
pulling Miss Caulder next to him and behind their backs he let his hand fall
to Miss Caulder's rounded buttocks, giving a firm squeeze, his large hands
grappling half her cheek, and pulling her skirt down another couple inches.
Miss Caulder was certain that she was showing cleft above the waistline, and
nervously aware that Mr. Sharpe could see the entire incident, as well as
her complacence.  She might have objected, but she couldn't bear the thought
of sparking an incident in front of John that might let on the fact that he'
d had her that afternoon before class.  He jabbed John with his free hand,
"Not that I blame the boy.  I'd sign up for a years worth of detentions if I
knew you were going to be leaning over my desk, checking up on me," with
that he leered at her openly, and to Miss Caulder's shock, lifted the hand
that was groping her and reaching around from behind gave her breast a
little squeeze.

"Mr. Gold!" she gasped, squirming, but held tight in his grasp.  Completely
unsure of herself she couldn't decide whether to push his hand away or
pretend to ignore it, so she did nothing but smile weakly at John, who shook
his head at his coach,

"No Mr. Gold, John-two and I are serious.  I don't want to have to repeat a
year."

"Great," Mr. Gold intoned, his hand visibly squeezing the breast, "Just don'
t let these guys go to your head."

Her nipples were now hard again, and she felt the sheen of perspiration
bubbling up on her chest.  She craved to push his fondling hand away, and to
hike up her skirt, which was hovering dangerously at her pubic line, but
could only force herself to smile with politeness and pleading at the men,

"I assure you, Mr. Gold, that I don't dress like this every day."

At that Mr. Gold held her out at arms length, as if appraising her, where
both men could continue their unabashed lechery.  She couldn't believe that
a teacher was doing this in public, much less encouraging his student to go
along.

"Maybe you ought to, Wendy." He grinned at John, "I mean, if it encourages
my boys to study and get into a good college, who am I to tell you to dress
like a respectable woman? Right John."

John seemed just as embarrassed by Mr. Gold's behavior, and just nodded.

"Though," Mr. Gold went on, sticking a finger to Miss Caulder's horror in
her waistband where she saw her pubic hair sprouting over the edge, "You
really ought to shave this if you're going to wear your skirt this low," and
he pulled the elastic waistband, exposing the matted, trimmed pubic bush for
anyone passing by to see, "Do you usually go without underwear, Wendy?" he
asked as if he hadn't already known she was unclad from that afternoon.

She looked at John, who shook his head not really knowing why.  Turning to
Mr. Gold, enduring his mock probing, "Not really." She lied.

"Well," he let the waistband snap back into place, inches below where it had
been.  The lightest of tugs could have exposed her, and as it were her
unshaved bush and lack of underwear were left plainly visible to the two men
next to her and the leering teacher skulking in the doorways to the main
building. He slapped John on the shoulder, "What do you think of that,
 John?"

John just shrugged innocently, as if he had no opinion on the matter, and
the three stood silent for a while.  Mr. Gold broke the silence, "You going
home, John?"

"Yeah, coach."

"Well, see you tomorrow, then."

John looked at Miss Caulder, then his coach, but didn't make any effort to
fight the dismissal, "See you in class Miss Caulder."

But as he turned to leave his coach corrected, "You mean, after class."

John forced a laugh and walked away.

Miss Caulder punched the man hard in the chest, "What the Hell are you
thinking!?"

Mr. Gold's joviality faded and he jabbed his whore in the chest, "Just
letting that boy know who's boss.  What the Hell are you thinking wearing
that slinky thing in your class?"

"I told you."

"Those boys are only thinking of one thing, you know."

She peered at the coach, thinking that if only he had seen her riding
John-two's pole on her desk just a few minutes ago.

"I hope you realize that you're going to have to dress this way all the
time, now?"

She shook her head at Mr. Gold.

"I mean, what kind of a teacher doesn't wear underwear?" he was still
ranting, "What kind of teacher shows that off to her whole class?"

"Mr. Gold, I swear I'll wear something decent tomorrow."

"What?" he interrupted her, "and let those boys fail?"

"What are you telling me, Mr. Gold" she cried out desperately trying to make
sense of the man's anger.

"That those boys are taking your class for one reason:  because they like to
look at you.  And now that they've seen you half-naked they're going to
expect it."

She shook her head, stepping back, "I told you, I spilled coffee."

"You should have kept the T-shirt.  You think those boys are going to keep
coming back to watch you in a jacket or something after they've seen your
tits hanging out?"

"That's not my problem." She set her fists on her hips, and as an
afterthought hiked her skirt up.

"You promised those boys after school lessons in that outfit.  You made the
promise that if they came in and worked hard after school they'd be able to
feast their horny, unfucked eyes on you, and all they have to do is study a
bit.  Now you're going to let them fail-"

"That doesn't make any sense-"

"You don't understand boys, Wendy!"  He walked up to her, towering over her
and dominating her, "To them you're just a piece of meat now.  Chattel, a
whore.  If you'd kept your clothes on you might have been able to bear some
influence as an adult, but now the only way you're going to get them to
learn is to keep their dicks hard in their pants."

"No." she whimpered under his overbearing personality.

"The only chance of getting the boys to pass your class is to keep them
interested, and the only thing they're interested in is fucking you!"

"I know that."

"Good!" she barked, then, stepping away he paced back and forth for a few
moments.

He wheeled on her again, "Obviously you can't dress this way all day, you'll
make parents mad, and probably get fired.  We can't have that."

"No." she said meekly, submitting to his judgment.

"But you'll have to bring a change of clothes.  The sluttier the better.
Keep them thinking that at any minute you'll burst out of your clothes."

"I can't do that, Mr. Gold."

He growled, in a low voice, "You can, and you will.  If those boys fail
senior year I'll hold you personally responsible, understand."

She looked up at him, cowering under the determination and anger in his
eyes, "Yes, Mr. Gold."

Suddenly he smiled, putting out a hand and rubbing her shoulder, oddly
reminiscent of the way John liked to reassure her, "That's better.  I hope
this won't impinge on our little arrangement."

Confused for a moment she realized he was talking about their lunchtime
tryst, "I don't know, I thought we were just-"

"Come now, Wendy.  You can't tell me you didn't enjoy yourself."

She shook her head, "I just, I mean, you were so."

"You don't have to play the modest girl with me, Wendy.  Not after I've seen
you walking around dressed like this.  Not after the way you carried on in
the classroom."

She looked up at him in horror.  How did he know?

"I could hear you across the grass after I left, screaming and shouting."

She let out a breath, realizing he was talking about the time in the temp
classroom.

"I've been with quite a few ladies, but I've never heard anyone lose control
like that."

She shook her head.

"And the way you took me in the classroom, that was something special too.
I had to work on Mrs. Richmond for two years before she let me have her, but
you took hardly any persuasion at all."

She frowned up at him, resenting the implication.

"Now, now, Wendy.  None of that.  There's no reason to be ashamed.  I'm just
as bad as you when it comes to pretty women.  I mean, I've never exposed
myself like this in front of a student, before." he put a hand on her
shoulder, "But there's no reason to be ashamed of being a slut."

"Mr. Gold!"

"What, I'm just speaking the truth.  Call it whatever you like.  Just so
long as you're down in the temp class tomorrow, like we discussed."

She hesitated just long enough for him to take it as acceptance.

"Good.  You can bring your slut outfit and change into it while we're there.
Don't forget that those boys are depending on you."

"No." she said, though she didn't know if she was denying him, or promising
not to forget.  It was clear how Mr. Gold took it.

"That's my girl." And glancing around he gestured with a shake of his head
at a cluster of bushes that grew alongside the main building, "Why don't we
slip over here, for a minute?"



In spite of her desire to stand up and resist the man, Miss Caulder allowed
him to lead her into the bushes, and reacquainted with the older man's
stamina she thought longingly of John-two's immature prematurity, as she
took the coach's shaft into her mouth, kneeling on the mulching of redwood
bark, giving him head while he clutched her by the neck, forcing her to
learn the hard way how to work a man who required long, forceful thrusts to
enjoy himself as she impaled her mouth on his modest shaft.

After several, long minutes, the coach seemed to grow restless, or bored,
and he held her at arms length while he stroked himself, finally coming, in
long, runny streaks that pelted her on the forehead and the mouth before he
managed to pull her close enough and drive his surging rod into her mouth,
where she swallowed the rest of his load and he groaned.

"Well, Wendy, for a slut you sure don't know how to give head."

She shook her head, refusing to respond, trying to wipe the semen off her
face, but with only her hands she only spread it around.

"You know, you ought to tutor some of my Juniors."

"What?" she looked up at him, her cum-smeared face forgotten for the moment.

"If you're any good with math.  You might be the best thing for the team
since they made the cheerleaders wear leotards instead of shorts."

"I'm not a math teacher."

"Who cares, you're a college graduate, they just need the basics." Wiping
the head of his penis on his T-shirt he replaced it in his shorts, "Besides,
they just need some good motivation to study."

Miss Caulder climbed to her feet, aware of the cum that was now all over her
face and hands, as well as running down her thighs and squelching between
her legs, "I'm already doing John and John-two."

But looking at his watch, Mr. Gold was already climbing out from behind the
bushes, "We'll talk more about this tomorrow over lunch.  In the meantime
you should brush up on your math." And with that he was gone, and she was
left alone, in the bushes, on school campus, with cum on her face, in a
slinky outfit devoid of bra or panties, and she still had to cross campus to
get to her car.



Continued in Part 3

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