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Message-ID: <37651asstr$1028369405@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 (4/4) by she_cries (MF, mF, intr, reluc, humil)
Date: Sat,  3 Aug 2002 06:10:05 -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. 4



by she-cries



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





Walking across the brightly lit store she found a far corner to zip up in so
she wouldn't have to expose herself to the clerk, a chubby, middle-aged
black man with shaving bumps all over his neck.  He was a fairly big man,
but by no means the power house that Mr. Gold was.  The resemblance ended at
his height and his tummy, which seemed to stretch from his neck to his
knees.  Regardless, Miss Caulder felt no less intimidated, again covered in
cum, naked but for a coat and soiled skirt, fully head and shoulders smaller
than the man.  The only consolation she felt was that he didn't leer at her,
but looked her straight in the eye as she set down a case of beer and asked
for three packs of Camel filters and five bucks at the gas pump.

He stared at her for a long minute.

"Are you going to pay for what you put in your jacket?"

She stared at him dumbfounded.  Unnerved by Eliot's outburst in the car she
was barely able to maintain her composure.  An act which made her look
guilty as Hell to the older man.

I saw you putting something in your jacket, missy.  When you were back in
the corner." He pointed to a circular mirror, right over the point where she
had zipped herself up.

"I didn't take anything. sir?"

"You're not gonna walk out of here with my shit by being polite, missy."

She flinched at the condescending term.

"Open the jacket."

"I. I can't" the thought of being so modest after her wanton behavior of the
day struck her as silly, but she simply didn't want to deal with one more
humiliation.  At least she'd chosen the boys in her car.  In spite of the
fact that she was there at their bidding she was damned if she was going to
let that get her into more trouble when she'd hitched up with them to get
her out of it.

"Honey," again with the belittling terms, "I don't want to call the police."
And he stepped out from behind the counter, blocking her escape form the
store.

"Mister, I can't take this jacket off. I didn't take anything."

"You'll take it off when the police get here." And he reached for a phone.

"Wait!" she cried.  He was right of course.  And the more things progressed
the more she understood that the number of men she'd abase herself before
the night was over had not yet stopped ticking.  But if she was going to
have to open her jacket anyway, she didn't see any reason to invite any more
company.

She looked at the ground, "I'll do it, but. not in front of the window like
this."

He craned his neck, looking out at her car, seeing that it was occupied,
though it was too dark to see any more. "Don't want your friends to watch?
They don't know what you're up to?"

"I didn't take anything, I just zipped up my jacket!"

"Then there's no reason not to let me take a look."

His position was certainly reasonable, and she knew the only thing stopping
him calling the police was probably pity for her being a woman.

"Come on," and he gestured her to walk down the candy aisle, where she would
be hidden, at least below the shoulders, from the street.

She walked a few feet down the aisle, then turning to face him, still
blocking the door she unzipped the jacket most of the way.  The spread of
her breasts pushed it open enough to reveal her state of undress, "That's
why I can't take my jacket off."

He put his hands on his hips and walked over to her, "Do you take me for a
fool, missy?" waving a finger, actually jabbing inside the zipper between
her cleavage he said, "I'm supposed to say, 'oh, she ain't got nothing one,
can't embarrass the poor girl.'"  Putting his hands on his hips again he
stood upright, towering over the girl, "Now show me what you got!"

She could see his eyes widen as he seemed, for the first time to realize
that she was a woman.  Perhaps the age ticker in his mind was ratcheting up
his estimation of her age as his gaze took in the healthy bosom, and the way
gravity curved them down gracefully in smooth, luscious curves.

"What are you doing walking around like that?" he said confrontationally,
but his voice was clearly trembling.

"I lost my shirt.  It tore." She said, wondering when the man would let her
close the jacket again and zip up, but he seemed content to stare.

"Girl as large as you. I mean a woman.  Normally wear a bra."

But she couldn't think up an answer for that, and shrugged, aware too late
of how they giggled and swung together when she did that.  Holding her arms
apart she couldn't prevent the motion.

He hadn't taken his eyes off her chest yet, "Right well, let's see the
jacket."

Her mouth fell open, but she complied, letting the jacket fall off her
shoulders, and swinging it up, where he could paw at its pockets, though his
eyes took the opportunity to wander over her scantily clad figure.

"Do guys your age go for that sort of thing."

She wrapped her arms over her chest, but that only seemed to invite scrutiny
of her tummy and legs, so well revealed in the skirt, "What thing?"

He was rifling through the pockets, but only seemed to turn up a lighter so
far, and some weird playing cards with pictures of monsters, "Oh, you know,
there's so many skinny women in movies, and on posters, shapely woman like
you must feel sort of left out these days."

Small talk.  She wasn't surprised, it happened all the time, especially from
middle aged men who set their sights on women they thought were attainable:
the sevens as some guys like to describe girls that were cute but not 'hot.'
She found herself clutching her boobs, however, the day's events inflating
the sheer intrusiveness and utter condescension of such comments, "I don't
have trouble getting attention, if that's what you mean."

But he suddenly wasn't looking at her, instead, holding up a little gold
colored steel pipe, "Well, what have we here?"

"Look mister," she thought about reaching for her jacket, but decided she
preferred to keep her breasts covered, "I didn't take anything.  Can I have
my jacket back?"

"Well, uh." he was no longer confident, serious and mature, but seemed to
have dissembled into sort of a shambling gait, not looking her in the eye,
but at her body or the floor.  He scratched the back of his neck and said,
"Well, I don't know, ma'am.  I mean, you wandering around with this," he
shook the pipe at her, "makes me wonder where the goods are."

She shook her head, not knowing how to reply.

"I mean, I'll have to search your person."

She stared agape at him.  How she could have possibly hidden anything in her
skin tight skirt was beyond fathoming, but she was beginning to suspect that
he didn't care anymore if she had stolen anything.  Not that it mattered.
She couldn't go anywhere without the jacket, even if he wasn't blocking the
exit.

"I don't have any goods!" she snarled at the man.

"Well, we'll have to see about that.  Turn around."

And stomping a foot she complied, feeling her hair trail around after her
caressing her neck.  She heard him step up behind her, felt his breath on
her neck.

"Well, let's see her." And he crouched down, padding, grabbing actually, her
hips and thighs, giving her butt little squeezes, though she couldn't
imagine what excuse he'd come up with for searching there.

He waited until she had put her arms down, it seemed, before standing up,
and hands on shoulders he turned her to face him, standing just close enough
to jut his belly against her pouting nipples, erect against the exposure and
embarrassment which he peered at, arching his eyebrows as if 'studying'
them.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to lift up your skirt, missy."

Her mouth fell open, and she recoiled, "What are you looking for?"

But he held up the pipe again, "Contraband.  Can't have people bringin'
drugs into my store.  Won't stand for it!"  He put on a good show, but it
was so farcical that she didn't even begin to play along with his game.

"Are you aware that strip searching someone is illegal for a private
citizen!?"

This definitely make him retreat, if only for a moment, but his prize, so
clearly more of her bared skin made him digest this tidbit of information,
almost as quickly as he came up with a cover, "No you don't want me to call
the police, now do you?"

"Yes!  I do!"  she wanted to grab her coat, but he blocked the aisle and had
dropped it several feet back.

He just stammered at her for a moment. "Let's not make this any harder than
it has to be.  You just hike it up there, lady!  Unless," he laughed,
"Unless you're not wearing anything under there either?"

She cocked her head at him, "It just so happens that I gave my underwear to
one of my students this morning."

The older man simply didn't know what to make of this.  Working the night
shift he never dealt with students or teachers from the school.  Still, he
stuck to his course, holding up the pipe, "You should have thought of that
before you came in here with this!"

"Fine!" she bellowed, absolutely frustrated with the situation she'd been
put into ever since she'd stupidly given her underwear to John-two and
forgot her bra in the temp classroom.  Stomping a foot she pushed the skirt
down and stood defiantly before the shocked black man, naked but for her
shoes, "Now can I buy my things and go?"

He didn't seem to notice her attitude at all, but simply drank up her nubile
figure, one hand mindlessly stroking the thickening bulge in his left
pocket.

She snapped her fingers at the man, "Well?  What?  Do you need to do a
cavity search first?"

"I'd sure like to get to know you better, missy." He was saying, nervousness
and stumbling gone.  He seemed as cool as a cucumber.

"Uh huh, she said, hands on her hips, "What if someone comes in?"

"Oh, I locked that when I saw you zippin' up your jacket.  I could have
sworn you took something.  Guess I was wrong."

Naked before his sudden coolness, his methodic scrutiny of her bareness with
his eyes, she felt her cockiness ebb away.  She wanted to get away, but she
just didn't want to fight him any more.

"I got two guys waiting in the car for me."

"Let'em wait."

She sighed, "Fine." And sat down on the floor, laid back, hands at her side,
and spread her legs open around his feet.

Unlike the others she'd done that day, the clerk took the time to remove his
shirt, shoes, and finally his pants.  Keeping only his shorts on, though
pushing them down to his ankles, she climbed between Miss Caulder's legs,
letting her embrace him on the tile floor in the candy aisle.

She didn't expect him to genuinely make love to her, and was surprised when
he started working over her nipples with a deft tongue, running his coarse,
calloused hands up her sides and down her legs.  His bulk seemed to fill up
the space between her legs with dozens of inches of belly waiting to be
cradled by her inviting thighs.  Against her will she found herself cradling
his head with her hands, and moaning softly as the pressure of his belly on
her sex, and the art of his tongue prepared him for his shaft, an inky black
tube that curved dramatically off to the left.  An animal that could smack
down Eliot's if not with size, with sheer character.

It wasn't long before Miss Caulder couldn't help but cry out, a loud,
desperate wailing as the clerk penetrated her slowly, but with exacting
efficiency, timed to the waves of heat that passed over her.  The short
kisses they'd shared were fast and furious, scratching her chin and cheeks,
but now she was engulfed under a coarse mat of wiry chest hair and pudgy,
squishy pecs, her face sinking into the ample flesh.  She could feel the man
sagging over her sides, the slap of his flesh as he thrust forward, but the
pleasure he had risen in her found a perfect compliment with his engulfing
girth, and she allowed her fantasies of being consumed blend with the
electricity of the weight against her breasts.  The grinding of paunchy
rolls of fat against her clitoris, and the invasive pressure of his shaft
allowed her to forget the fact that a fat lecher was having her; she only
thought of being absorbed as she fought to minimize the discomfort of his
bulk and the mass between her legs.

She forced herself to hold her legs up as high as possible, only just able
to hook them around his sides, in order to allow herself as little pressure
as possible to uncomfortably resist his penetration, but this only allowed
his to plumb deeper, and after several stabbing feints he was ramming into
her cervix, and her body was spasming uncontrollably with waves of pain,
pleasure, and bone-crushing weight.  Nothing since her uncontrollable orgasm
at the provocation of Mr. Gold had given her so much escape, and not since
he had owned her in the temp class had she been so blissfully removed from
any sense of self.  Just a vacuum to be filled by raging hormones, the
slamming impact of meat and flab on her tiny, voluptuous body, engulfing her
from the outside and within, no sense of anything but being a vessel for a
man's pleasure.

She could settle for being a vessel for a man's needs, like Eliot's desire
to lose his virginity, but nothing took her away like the sheer abandoned
intrusion that robbed her of sense of self, space, even the ability to do
naught but cling tight and wait for the ride to be over.

And over it was, though she couldn't begin to guess how long it had taken.
His great, surging member had pulsed inside her, its odd shape pushing
sideways into places she'd never known could give any pleasure.  Lifting his
weight just a fraction the clerk allowed Miss Caulder to jiggle and thrust
just enough to bring herself to the climax she'd been riding at the edge of
since he'd impaled her, and she felt like steam was rising from her body,
like she'd explode with electric fury.  She couldn't stop screaming, louder
and louder, gasping for more air to pant some more, clutching as his wide
flanks as he let his seed fly into her and she let go her furies into the
wall of flesh that consumed her so utterly.



Watching those fat, dimpled buttocks quiver and shake brought home the
horror of what she was doing.  As fast as the pleasure had taken her over,
that it was born of the need to be crushed, physically and emotionally left
little to enjoy about the afterglow.  The cold, hard tile seemed to stick to
her and she lacked the willpower to get up until the clerk, pulling up his
circus tent underpants turned back to regard her, spread eagled, feeling
very stretched out before him,

"Aww, missy, that was a nice break, but I need to get back to work now." He
was smiling at her, looking at her no so much with the lecherous lust from
before so much as appreciation, but she was pretty sure he wasn't
appreciating her.  She wasn't the kind of girl that guys would brag about,
and indeed, few of her lovers had sought her out a second time for more than
sex.  Short and pudgy, she had enough curves that a man in a mood would
settle, knowing he'd have a good time in the sack, but she was really
nothing to write home to mother about, not with the way her tummy folded
into rolls when she bunched up, or the stretch marks around the edge of her
breasts, and on her hips from the weight she'd lost a few years back.  She
was pretty enough to take home for a toss, but unless you were a guy who
could look past a few normal human defects, like a small bit of cellulose on
the thighs, you'd set your sites higher for someone you wanted to hang off
your arm.

For some reason this seemed to include just about every guy she'd had sex
with, and in spite of his flabby rolls and stomach that virtually sagged
over his inky, distorted dick, the clerk seemed to be thinking along these
lines as well.

Repulsed as she was by the man, creeping shame crawling over her at knowing
that she had just surrendered to a little pressure from the ugliest man she
had ever been with, she could not help but stare in horror at the rounded
contours of his flesh.  Not a single muscle could be discerned.  Each joint
seemed to indent, rather than show the sharp angle of bone.  From neck to
knee he jiggled.  He had more fat lines standing perfectly upright than she
had bending over to touch her feet.

But he was laughing, "None of that, honey.  Maybe you can come over after
work, but you can't go sayin' that I didn't let you have your turn."

Abruptly she slammed her legs shut, scrambling for her coat and skirt.
Conscious of his eyes on her flopping breasts and her own ample buttocks
(for her size), though she was scarcely half his size.  His eyes seemed
curiously interested in her sex, and crawling hands and knees she could
guess why as his jism dripped on to the back of her calf.  He was admiring
his work.

"Hang on, just a second, honey." He said striding to the end of the aisle,
pulling something off the shelf, "I got's to get this for posterity."

He was unwrapping a disposable camera.

"No way." She barked, clutching the leather to her chest.

But he was already advancing the film, and before she had gotten her hands
on her skirt he had snapped a picture, "I won't show no one.  Honest."

"Bullshit!" she was seriously panicked now, knowing how easy it was to
distribute amateur pictures on the internet from her friends.  She refused
to look at him, grimacing her teeth as he advanced and snapped, advanced and
snapped.  Where the Hell was her skirt.

"Aww, I'm just messin' with ya, honey." He leered, "I just want one
 picture."

"Well, you got it." She cowered before the little plastic camera.

"That wasn't it.  I don't even need to see your face."

It dawned on her what he was talking about, and immediately the sensation of
cum dripping into her labial folds seemed to creep up over her body.

"One picture?"

"Well, a couple-but of the same shot!" he quickly covered.

It wasn't as if she had any identifying tattoos, but she had to snarl at him
as he snapped off two more pictures the moment she set down the coat and
started to spin around.

"Just teasing."

Whatever happened it was already too late.  He already had a number of
pictures of her, but really, it hardly mattered to her at this stage.  A few
snapshots of her mostly naked on the floor.  A scandal, maybe, but nothing
to reveal the depths of her degradation that day.  Now a shot of her
spreading her legs deliberately for the camera was different, particularly
considering the condition of her sex, coated in semen of two men.

Nevertheless, she kept one hand up in front of her face as she laid back
again, and spread her legs, an act significantly harder this time around, so
disgusted she was that she had surrendered to him once, now that her need
was abated.

"Do me a favor and spread'em a bit for me, please."

She sighed, knowing the position he was talking about, and removing her hand
from where it was blocking her face she reached between her legs and gave
him the money shot.

She could just imagine the close-up being duplicated millions of times on
the internet titled my-wife.jpg.

Three or four snaps later he told her she could get up.

"Do you have a bathroom I could use?"

"Oh, uh, bathrooms are for customers only, actually."

She got to her feet, and stared at him, her breasts swinging slightly with
the movement.  She put her hands on her hips.

He gave an embarrassed smile, "Oh, just teasin.  It's through that door." He
pointed at a door behind the counter, and putting the coat on (feeling
strangely erotic wearing nothing but a leather jacket) and hanging the skirt
so as to cover the side of her that faced the windows she crossed the open
space to the counter.

"You want me to fill up your tank for you?"

She froze, trying to figure out how to get behind the counter, "Uhh." she
had completely forgotten about the kids in her car.

But then comfort seemed to rein her in.  In spite of the shame of
surrendering to the clerk's coercion he had delivered her from exactly the
frustration she had been hanging on to them for.  Thoughts of them left her
feeling nothing but sadness for how she had ruined a potentially pleasant
relationship with students she could really relate too by becoming their
slut.  She actually cringed at the thought of James riding her like a bronco
in the backseat of her car, and she positively seethed with Eliot's
domination of her in her driver's seat, but that was overshadowed by the
fact that she knew she had played the part to get them to act that way.  She
couldn't imagine craving Eliot's dick the way she had only a short while
ago, but she knew she really couldn't blame them for the way she acted.

Still, it wouldn't do any harm for them to face the music where their new
slut was concerned.  James had had her twice, and Eliot's antics, she felt,
absolved her of any obligation to take his virginity.

She turned to the clerk, "Yeah, would you tell my nephew that I. tell him I
got sick.  I mean, act embarrassed about it, like I said I needed to go and
you hear me throwing up."

He looked confused by the instructions and she remembered what a bad liar he
'd been when he was trying to get her clothes off.

"I just don't think they'd understand, they're so young."

That seemed to mollify his concerns, and he walked to the counter to
activate the gas pump.



In a proper bathroom with actual soap and warm water was like a heaven-sent
blessing to Miss Caulder.  Even the scratchy paper towels felt like downy
silk lathering off the filth and funk of the men who had used her.  Looking
at herself naked in the mirror, all the little flaws that normally she'd
obsess over in the mornings she thought of Eliot, the little, pimple faced
geek actually spurning her for being too trashy.  She was no model ten, but
standing up she certainly had curves in all the right places.  All she had
to do was walk into a club and she'd walk out with a man, so long as she
made it clear she was willing to go home with him.  That spindly geek had no
right to reject her when guys all over school leered at her tight fitting
blouses and students mistook her for one of their own.

Pulling on her skirt she thought about seeing if there were any hose out in
the store, but like she felt after a shower, the thought of binding herself
up after finally getting the boys' crap off of herself, not to mention the
clerk's briney smelling semen she didn't think she'd be comfortable in them.

Besides, she thought maliciously, even though she found James to be about as
attractive as a hostess twinkie, she actually relished the thought of doing
him again in the backseat while Eliot drove them around in circles,
frustrated at his stupid pride.

Yes, she thought.  She may not be a man-killer, but she could make a man
want to fuck like nobodies business.  Unzipping the leather down to the
waist and hiking the skirt (which she had futily tried to wash off the cum
stains) down to just below her hips she walked out of the bathroom, parting
the top to reveal her most alluring feature all the way out to the edge of
her nipples.

She hadn't exactly counted on there having been a line formed outside the
store while she and the clerk went at it, and certainly hadn't noticed them
with all the lights on in the store and few street lights to light up the
parking lot as she crossed the store barely covered from the waist down with
the skirt which only trailed behind her with the motion and hid nothing.

It was a middle-aged man who's scowl turned to shock as he caught an eyeful
of her bosom, and two, sleazy looking white-trash suburbanites with mullot
hairdos and little, hickish mustaches, both her age, both smiling at her
knowingly as she crossed in front of the counter to where they waited by the
doors.  The clerk was behind the counter, perhaps puffed up a bit more than
before when he'd been able to show off his conquest.

Perhaps the only thing worse than having been had by the clerk was having
three complete strangers know that she'd just done it, moments before, who
could get their fill because she'd decided to go out the tramp she'd come
in.

Aiming straight for the door, inbetween the two hicks, she made a sudden
detour to the counter, raching past the middle-aged man in the overcoat to
snatch up the bag in which the clerk had put her beer and cigarettes into.
More importantly she grabbed the camera.

"Hey, lady!" the clerk shouted.

But she was leaving, "I'll give you a copy of your shot tomorrow." She was
surprised to find herself grinning, but felt it fade from her face as once
though the door the two hicks had stumbled though and were blocking her.

"Hey missy, you gonna give us the show you gave the nigger in there?"

One of them grabbed her ass, giving it a mighty pinch.  She struggled to
move away, feeling her coat spread wide open and she bent her body.

Now they could both see her exposed chest, and they took a good long moment
appreciating it.

"Oh, lady, you have got to fuck me now. I was gonna let you go with a hand
job for doing a darkie, but you gots to put out!"

She tried covering herself with the bag, but the other grabbed her arms,
pinning them to her sides, "Now now, bitch, don't tell me you're gonna give
me any trouble after givin it up for a nigger."

Panic began rising up in her at the thought of being genuinely raped and she
felt a hand plunge into her skirt, clutching and pawing at the dry, clean
skin.

But suddenly a loud rapping noise came from the window.  The clerk, standing
behind the counter was rapping the glass with a policeman's baton.  She held
up a phone, face out so the hicks could see him dialing 9-1-1.

Stammering to make an insult, one of the hicks tried to grab her bag while
he made away, but finding resolve so humiliatingly lacking over the entire
day, Miss Caulder socked him square in the nose, sending the fellows
running.

Miss Caulder figured it had taken a few moments for the clerk to catch on
due to the glare from the store lights on the window.  She smiled at him,
covering her breasts against the cold, and he nodded back as he told the
dispatcher on the phone that the emergency was over.

She made a promise to herself to deliver the picture as she said she would.
She didn't even want to think about it as she walked across the lot to her
car where the boys had apparently not even noticed that she was about to get
raped.

Walking into the glare of the sodium vapor street light that lit up the
pumps made her feel very vulnerable, particularly due to the two hicks she
could see lurking in a parking lot a couple stores down.  She could only see
their outlines, but she felt in her gut that they were watching everything
she did.  If they only knew who was waiting for her in the car.  A couple of
teenagers who she'd give herself to a hundred times before willingly going
along with their Miller Genuine Draft coupling.

She opened the passenger side door, looking in and seeing Eliot, looking
very sheepish.

He couldn't look up at her, "Are you okay?"

Unsettled as Miss Caulder was by the abortive attack she couldn't help but
be distracted by his behavior.  She had walked out the store fully resolved
to give them their beer and smokes and to send them on their way.
Satisfied, however briefly by the clerk, and more than a little defeated by
the quest provoked against her will by Mr. Gold, et all, she wasn't willing
to find herself in the power of any man should the urge to blind the
maddening sense of shame with sexual submission.  Her anger and resentment
at the arrogant boy had led her down here prepared to send him off and damn
the consequences.  Who would believe the lads anyway?  It's not as if they
would ever corroborate their stories with the Johns.

But Eliot's mood disarmed her.  She looked at James, who looked at the back
of Eliot's seat, "What's wrong?"

He shrugged, "The guy who filled our tank said you were sick."

She remembered her instructions to the clerk, but hadn't imagined the
reactions they would provoke.

But then, she recalled, she hadn't picked two insensitive misogynists, like
John-two or Mr. Gold, on the quad that evening.  These guys were a little
more sensitive than the rest, which was precisely why Eliot was reacting so
strongly to her wanton behavior from before.

"I'm fine." She said, simply.

But Eliot, still staring at the steering wheel barked, "I was mad.  I didn't
mean to."

"To what?" Miss Caulder pressed.

"I was mad because." but he choked up, clutching the steering wheel hard.

James filled in "He was mad because he came on you."

She understood, the humiliation at his premature ejaculation stood in stark
contrast to every boy's self-image of themselves as some sort of sexual
powerhouse.

She still couldn't find it in herself to feel sorry for him, "That doesn't
excuse what you did."

"I'm not asking for forgiveness." He snarled out the windshield.

She was definitely not in the mood for this.  She slammed the door, opened
up the back door and climbed in, dumping the bag on James' lap.

"Take me home."



During the drive James had tried to move on her again, but she wasn't
remotely interested in his insatiable fifteen-year old passions, feeling
particularly selfish and still, somehow, basking in the halo of the crushing
numbness brought on by the clerk and her tremendous orgasm.  She wasn't
eager to provoke the feelings of humiliation that had dominated so much of
her day, and only after refusing to let the boys open the beer case in her
car had she allowed James to lay her down, again, in her back seat.

This time, however, she took control.  No longer acting the slut, she made
him service her, showing him how to couple with a woman slowly, building her
pleasures by gently stroking her, and taking his time.  She taught him how
to kiss, taught him the technique the clerk had shown in fondling her
nipples.  She helped him to find her g-spot, showing him how to stroke it.
He was an avid learner, and by the time they pulled into the maze of her
apartment complex she was convinced of his infatuation for her.

Following Miss Caulder's instructions, Eliot guided the car into her covered
parking spot, and she lay in the back seat amazed at how in spite of her
defiance when they had left the store, that she was once again naked, under
the pawing hands of a child, and she couldn't bring herself to send them
away.

This time she was very apprehensive about getting out of the car to undress.
The security guards that patrolled the lot were a crude, unsavory pair of
Mexican illegals.  They did a great job of keeping the complex secure, two
beefy Latinos with attitudes to match their jobs, but they never hesitated
to let her know they were "keeping an eye on her."  Aside from having caught
them skulking below her windows they had both, on separate occasions tried
to entice her to take them home with her, and one actually grabbed her butt,
shamelessly, though that seemed a petty thing now after the treatment she'd
been through.

Getting uncomfortably out of the car, she sunk low to avoid prying eye while
James did his best to block her from view, and the sulking Eliot looked
away.  She was in such a hurry to get to her apartment that she only snapped
the bottom button on the leather, clutching her arms together to hold the
jacket since she hated navigating the cheap zipper on the thing, besides, it
was too small and pinched a lot when zipped up.

It wasn't until she'd gotten to her apartment, up a flight of concrete steps
into a landing that opened into four apartments that she saw Julio, one of
the guards down below.  He was smiling up at her.

"Getting home late, Wendy?"

She hated when they called her by her first name, "That's what it looks
like, Julio."

The boys were clearly nervous, aware as Miss Caulder was of the illegality
of what they were doing, but mostly because of the large, imposing man.

"Bringing home company, I see.  Not planning on having party, are you?"

She pushed her keys into her lock, "No, Julio."

"Your friends look a little young, Wendy.  I hope you not up to something."
he was grinning mischievously.

She pushed her front door open, gesturing the boys to go in, then peering
down at the bulky security guard, thinking of the state of things had she
come home without having met the clerk first, under the gaze of this bulky
Mexican, "If I was up to something, Julio, it'd be with you." And setting
her hands on the cold iron railing she felt the leather fall open, even as
she stood shocked at her own innuendo.  Julio, while by no means
unattractive of face, was a crude bastard, and his bulky physique and
clich�, unintelligent speech was something that made her cringe.  In spite
of all the bulk she had suffered that day, she knew she hadn't grown a taste
for it.  It was more like medicine.  Something to be had when needed.

But Julio had no such reservations about her.  He and his partner clearly
savored the voluptuous short teacher.  His eyes fell open at the copious
amounts of bosom revealed in between the open jagged steel zipper of the
leather, spreading out, Miss Caulder's breasts swinging forward, straining
with gravity as she leaned forward, as if pulled down to the lusty Mexican
with the will of his lust.

But he regained his composure long before Miss Caulder gained hers, "Wendy,
you one sexy woman.  A woman like you could have a lot of fun with a guy
like me."

"In your dreams, Julio," she said, pushing the jacket closed.

"Come on, senorita.  Don't be shy."

But she was definitely feeling shy.  What had compelled her to grab the damn
railing like that, and leaning over to talk to him?

He had taken a few steps, and his head was just below the level her feet
were at.  "Come on, Wendy.  You already give me a show, why not finish it?"

She peered into her open door, but the boys had disappeared into her living
room, probably hiding from the intimidating security guard.

"Why should I?" she backed a step away from the railing, but Julio only too
another step up, getting a much closer view than the one he'd had before.

"I just want to see, senorita.  You are such a beautiful woman."

"It was an accident, Julio.  I didn't mean to show you."

Julio interrupted her, "But can you blame me for how I feel?"

She looked around, but they were alone, "If I show you, it doesn't mean I'm
gonna do anything with you."

"Of course not," he was almost at the top of the stairs, already looking her
straight in the eye.

"You'll behave?"

His expression was comical.  As if she had any reason to trust this man
other than that his job security depended on not getting any more complaints
(she had raised a few herself), she couldn't bring herself to wonder why she
was about to flash this creep who so obviously wasn't going to behave
because he had never behaved himself around her in the two years he'd been
working the complex.  Nevertheless, she let him approach her.

He said, "Wendy, I do nothing you don't tell me to do." He spread his arms,
and she felt like the innocent gesture might turn into an embrace,

"Then back up."

The big man froze.  Then smiling, he took two steps back and stopped.

Still glaring at him she sighed, and unsnapping the coat felt the chill
night air grab hold of her, sending goose pimpled up her chest, contracting
her nipples for the entertainment of this creepy Latino who deserved nothing
but her contempt for his past behavior.  The only rationalization she could
find in her mind was that after the day's indignities, this seemed a little
favor to ask.  What shame she had woken up with that morning had taken on an
entirely new dimension in her life.  One that had to be cultivated and fed.
Clearly it controlled her judgment, for in spite of the fact that she felt
nothing but humiliation under Julio's lecherous gaze she reached down,
unbidden, and pushed the cum-stained skirt off of her hips.

She could tell that although he was enticed by her breasts that the rest of
her had little sway over him.  Regardless, it seemed only natural to cut to
the quick, to slate whatever urge drove her to humiliate herself so she
could move on.  She felt, deep inside her that if Julio asked, she'd be on
her knees for him without hesitation.

But Julio only stood, nodding, "Well, Wendy, you certainly got a beautiful
pair of coronas." He smiled, "I bet you'd be lots of fun to fuck, eh?" he
took a small step forward.

Against whatever drive had led her to stand naked before the security guard
she felt herself wrapping her hands around her nudity.

The guard stopped, "You like to fuck, no?"

She suddenly couldn't look at him, paralyzing fear shooting through her
while burning, tingling sensations rose up out of her center, like when she
was touching her sex.  She nodded, perhaps a little too frantically, her
body beginning to shake.

"You're a real punta, ain't you, Wendy?"

She didn't know what a punta was, but she nodded, forcing herself to look up
at him.

"Well, let's see.  Turn around."

Much like the clerk, and Mr. Gold, he wasn't as awestruck by her nudity as
the younger boys.  He was clearly playing with her, though he let out a
whistle as she turned her back to him.

She shuddered as he slapped her ass, "You got to lose a few pounds, eh?"

She froze, and he grabbed her around the waist, one hand fondling her
uncovered breast, whispering into her ear, "But any time you want to fuck,
you call Julio, no?"

She forced a quick nod, and he let go of her, laughing.

"You're one saucy bitch, Wendy."

She could only force herself to imitate his lighthearted smile as he walked
to the steps.

"But I give my word, I behave, and you no ask me to cross that line."

Going down the steps she shivered with mixed relief and frustration at what
she had just put herself through as she watched the guard go.

"But one day, Wendy," he said from the bottom of the stairs. "I'm gonna fuck
you in all three holes and you gonna know what it's like to love a real
 man!"

She tugged on her clothes as the guard walked away laughing.  Cringing with
the thought of what she had done, virtually throwing herself at him, a creep
who'd been after her for years, knowing that he could have taken her in all
three holes, flooded her with nervous anxiety.  But that was nothing
compared to the frustration she felt at the fact that he hadn't.  That he
had been so casual about the encounter that her debasing spectacle of
undressing, in public, before one of her security guards was something he
could take or leave.  Struggling with conflicting emotions of hurt pride and
deep-seated shame of the wanton slut she had become she walked into her
apartment and slammed the door behind her.



It was only 4am when Miss Caulder woke up, not knowing why.  She could still
smell the soap and shampoo on her skin and hair.  She wondered for a moment
why she was undressed, then she felt the bony shoulder of James, the boy
wonder who had managed to arouse himself twice again before passing out a
little after one o'clock.

Her body felt only dim aches, thanks to all the Midol she'd taken after her
bath, but her sex was distinctly sore.  Perhaps not sore, but it felt
horribly distended, although finger examinations revealed little physical
difference.  She knew it must be the memory of the number of men who had
been inside her in the previous day.  Her previous record had been two men
in one month, seconded by three in a year.  Miss Caulder didn't even want to
count the number of men she'd been with the day before, much less the times
her sex had been used repeatedly.  James alone accounted for four assaults
on her unprotected womb.

Sliding out of the covers she regarded the gangly youth bound up in her
sheets in the dim light of the street light.  Her heart sunk as she realized
that she had somehow been stooped so low by Mr. Gold and the John's that she
had taken a fifteen year-old boy home with her to use as he saw fit.

Actually, she had enjoyed it a bit, though she hadn't cum with the boy.  His
attentions were much more selfless, as he eagerly threw himself into
learning the art of the lover.  "You're going to make some girl a Hell of a
boyfriend, James." She whispered, hoping ironically that it wouldn't turn
out to be her.

She went out into the hall of her small, one-bedroom apartment, and peered
into the living room.  She didn't have much furniture, but the place was
clean except for a few empty beer cans where Eliot and James had drunk and
smoked while she bathed.  Earlier she had decided that she didn't want Eliot
touching her, not in exchange for James' panting affections.  She was in the
mood to be fawned over, and didn't have any patience for Eliot's brooding
insecurity over the fact that he'd come prematurely, and consequently still
had his virginity.

"You can keep it." She whispered to the prone figure of the boy on her
couch.

She grinned at the thought of how much trouble he'd be in when he got home
to his parents.  She felt a moment's lamentation for James, but she
seriously doubted that James would regret for a moment any punishment that
his all-nighter might provoke.  She felt a twinge of guilt for not at least
giving Eliot the satisfaction of losing his virginity, but something about
the perverted way in which he mingled pride and lust, the way she seemed to
disgust him for having been the vessel for other men's lusts, yet he'd have
willingly used her thusly otherwise.

"Keep what?" she heard Eliot whisper.

Shocked out of her reverie she peered into the gloom, seeing a hand dart up
to his crotch.  Her eyes now adjusted to the dimmer living room she realized
that he had been masturbating on the couch when she walked in.  She grinned
at the shame that must drive into him, knowing that he has to jerk off like
a boy while his younger friend has complete access to the woman he'd come so
close to having.

The grin faded as she realized that she was naked, and he wasn't, but for
his member sticking out of his pants.  Regardless of their previous
encounters, she knew that only doctors and married couples treated nudity
with familiar nonchalance, and though he had seen her submitting to James
twice before they had repaired to her bedroom, she wasn't about to give him
the pleasure of having her to himself.

Retreating to her bedroom, and afraid to turn the light on for fear of
waking James up and having to service him again she could only find one of
her short robes in the closet (the more modest ones were in the bathroom,
across the living room).  Pulling it on she felt its silky hem caressing her
buttocks.  She grinned again, knowing that seeing her in this would be more
frustrating than in her fluffy terrycloth bathrobe, even if it showed a bit
of leg.

Still, she found herself tugging it down in the front as she returned to the
living room where Eliot had had a chance to tuck himself away.  She clicked
on the light, and they both squinted and peered around until their eyes
adjusted.

The boy was a mess, his clothes rumpled, his hair tousled, his zits shining
brightly on his face.  She put a hand on her hip, "Don't stop on my account,
Eliot."

"Stop what?" he couldn't look at her.

She smiled at the boy, "I saw what you were doing."

He couldn't look up from his feet, "You want to. watch me?"

Startled from her little game at the thought of living up to his perverted
expectations of her she crossed the bar into the open kitchen, feeling his
eyes upon her as she turned away, "Not really, I'm just letting you know
that it doesn't bother me."  Reaching the refrigerator she opened the door,
leaning in she felt the cold air tumble over her as if she was wearing
nothing.  She decided to mock the boy further, "But I'd prefer you go in the
bathroom so you don't stain the couch."

Standing up with a can of diet 7-up she saw that Eliot was now standing over
the bar looking down at her body with a wistful look in his eyes.

 "I'd rather." he looked away, then right in the eye, "I mean if you still
want to."

She caught his meaning, cracking open the 7[up, "I don't think so, Eliot."

He was frowning, looking away again, "Then why'd you come out in that.
thing?"

Taking a moment to connect the dots she realized he was talking about the
shift.

In a moment of cringing stupidity she realized that the robe she had on was
perfectly sheer, black chiffon.  Rather than hiding her body she had made it
all the more enticing for the boy, cradling her free swinging breasts in
gauzy chiffon the robe did nothing to conceal, only exaggerate her already
ample curvature.

She resisted the temptation to rip the robe off, realizing with a flash that
she had bought it years ago and now was the first time she had ever worn it
for a man.  She might as well have been in a teddy and a g-string with
fishnet stockings.  She also resisted the temptation to admit that she'd
grabbed the wrong robe.

"Look, Eliot, I'm sorry things didn't work out with us-"

"I'm sorry."

"I don't care!" she snapped, anger flooding over her, "You had me on the
ground, begging for it and you spit on me!"

He turned away, but Miss Caulder crossed the bar and stood in front of him,
forgetting her nudity again,

"You had me on my knees, Eliot," she grabbed his chin and turned his face up
to look at her, "You had your cock in my mouth."

Frustrated beyond words she tore the robe off of her shoulders, careless of
anything the boy might think, and stomped across the living room into the
bathroom, reappearing a moment later strapping her pink, fluffy bathrobe
around her waist.  Staring at the boy she went on, "You owned me, little
man."

That got his attention.

"You owned me, at school, in my car, I spread my legs for you-not James,
you!  But that wasn't good enough for you, was it?"

He shook his head, surprising her.  She expected him to either deny it or
stay stubbornly quiet, but he seemed to agree.

"Wendy, I."  he started pacing, "I wanted my first time to be something
special."

Again, he paused, making lines back and forth across the living room while
Miss Caulder waited, her arms crossed.

"But when you. offered, it was like my whole body betrayed me."

He wheeled on her,

"A lot of guys do it with Sally, I mean she'll sleep with anyone!  I didn't
want that.  I thought I was better than them." He looked away again, "But
you came on to me and I just gave in."

Miss Caulder was fighting the urge to sympathize with the boy, "What was
wrong with that, Eliot?"

He threw up his arms, "What was wrong?  You.  I mean, you're a.  What you
told us-"

"I'm a slut."

He was obviously forcing himself not to nod.

"I didn't mean it to happen like that, Eliot." She took a few steps up to
the boy, "Things got out of hand and I."

She waited until the boy was looking up at her to see if she'd continue,
"Eliot, the same thing that you felt about me.  In spite of all your
feelings and reservations, I let myself get drawn in."

She looked away from the boy, "You were stronger than me."

She heard the boy shrug, "Not at first."

But she suddenly barked at him, "That doesn't forgive the shit you pulled in
the parking lot."

But he didn't look away.  "No, it doesn't."

She went to the bar, grabbed her seven-up and crossed to the couch, plopping
down.

Eliot sat at the other end of the couch, "There are some guys at school." he
looked away from her again, "Who did that to me."

She couldn't believe her ears, but then she remembered hearing third hand
about the way some boys treated each other.  Eliot went on,

"I mean they didn't put their dick in my.  But they tried to make me take
it.  Kept calling me a fag."

"Who?" Miss Caulder asked, putting a hesitant hand on the boy's knee.

He looked at her, "John and John-two."

And it all fell into place.

"Mr. Gold just told me to laugh it off.  Grow a backbone."

He was obviously choking back tears.

"It didn't occur to me until right now that that's probably what happened to
you."

She nodded, knowing how much Eliot hated himself for what he had done.  But
she didn't want to lie to him,

"I think I was easier than that, Eliot.  I should have been stronger."

He turned to her, "Well, you will be.  I mean next time." He was actually
smiling, sharing this horrible moment with someone, perhaps for the first
time ever, as tears welled up in his eyes.

She smiled at him, but couldn't quite bring herself to lie to him.  She
honestly didn't know what she would do the next time Mr. Gold decided he
needed a whore.  She didn't have any idea how she'd be able to act in front
of the John's, having surrendered so utterly to John-two and thrown herself
at John.  She simply couldn't bring herself to face any of that, much less
fight it, like Eliot had done.

Instead she found herself gently pulling the strap on her bathrobe.  The
hurtling shame descending upon her, and before she knew it she was naked
again, spreading her legs for him.  Eliot didn't hesitate this time.  She
had clearly won him over.  Or had given in to him, she couldn't be sure as
she held him off, fingering herself so he wouldn't come too soon, as a
favor, her mind flooded with visions of Mr. Gold, the clerk, and the
sensation of John-two's painful girth.

Before she knew it she was panting with the mind-numbing escape, and Eliot
descended upon her, his healthy member pressing against her moistened sex,
and letting Miss Caulder guide him in he groaned with the loss of his
cherry, grunting and panting with the ecstasy of penetration.  Miss Caulder
too was not immune to the pleasures of being had, to the shame of letting a
sixteen year-old boy take her on her couch, in her home, and though it was
over in a few short thrusts she felt enormous contentment at having sated
one cause of shame even at the expense of another, that she hadn't been able
to seduce the boy.

As the two lay panting Miss Caulder looked up at her ceiling, not a little
confused over whether she should be content of further shamed, but Eliot's
warm embrace, bony and gangly though he was, hardly any weight on her body,
seemed to bring its own form of solace, and she felt herself once again able
to ignore all these questions and conflicting emotions; just a body, just a
void that had been filled.  And she savored that feeling for as long as she
could while the boy panted and gasped over her.



Fin.

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