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Message-ID: <38121asstr$1031073006@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 II (4/?) by she_cries (mF, reluc, exhib, humil)
Date: Tue,  3 Sep 2002 13:10:06 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


Breaking in the Teacher II part 4
(apologies for the '?' I will repost in entirety when I am done)
by she-cries

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




MOPPING UP



Though the locker rooms were supposedly closed during lunch, girls liked to
use it as a shortcut to the back alley behind the school.  Whereas the
younger kids, and the rejects hung out in the much more exposed creek area,
the older kids actually left campus, albeit only by the line of a fence, to
smoke, make-out, whatever.

It didn't take me long, rummaging through the empty locker bin, to come up
with a mismatched set of bra and panties that would fit, though the bra
would be a bit tight.  It was the wrong cup size, but it wrapped around my
chest well enough.  I wondered at the underwear girls wore, these days.  The
panties were green, see-through chiffon in the butt and front, with a satin
crotch.  There were other pairs, but they were all too small.  The bra was
flesh color, seamless and not lacy, like mine were, and was the only one
that wasn't padded in some way.

I looked around to make sure that no one had seen me pilfering what was
technically a lost and found box, and seeing no one, stuffed the objects in
my purse and made for the exit.

The locker room was strangely quiet, but then, it was the middle of first
lunch, and most students would probably have already cut through.  It was
then that I spotted the showers, and realized that I had a great chance to
scrub up.  Even if I was caught, no one could deny that I had every right to
stop in to take a quick shower, and the only people who might catch me would
be girls.

I didn't have my watch, having forgotten it in the morning's rush to get
Eliot off and get to class, but I hadn't heard second lunch bell, and that
meant that I had well over an hour to kill.

Returning to the box, I grabbed a lost towel which wasn't too stinky, and
walked over to the closest bench to the showers.

I had expected the showers to be a little more closed off, being for
teenagers, but only a low wall, about two feet high separated the pink
(gah!) painted concrete shower room.  It didn't have separate stalls, just a
series of showerheads jutting out of the concrete.  The rows of lockers ran
perpendicular to the length of the low wall, which meant anyone standing in
an aisle could see into the showers, but I figured the worst that could
happen would be that a girl might catch me.

Indeed, I had only just found an open locker to hang my clothes in and
pulled off my top when I heard voices, some girls returning from the alley.
I started to turn my shirt right side out, hoping to cover myself before
they saw me, but the proximity to the alley door had them walk right past me
in a few seconds.

It was Melanie, from my senior psyche class, one of the few girls in it.
She was a tall, lithe, slender girl, who ought to have been a cheerleader,
but for some reason hadn't made the cut.  She was certainly beautiful, with
gorgeous large brown eyes, thin lips and a button nose, and wavy blonde hair
that came down past the middle of her back.  She always looked immaculate,
and had been a constant reminder to me yesterday of my disheveled state when
I showed up to class, braless, pantyless, wearing John-two's sweat stained
PE shirt.  She was a smart girl who had been pushed forward a year, but was
struggling to keep her GPA up for college admission, coming up soon.  She
also had the reputation, from what teachers had told me, of being a monster
tease.  She had dated half the football team, but was apparently still a
virgin.  At sixteen that was an accomplishment, though going from brainy
tomboy to popular beauty had probably instilled some weird values in her.

Her companion was an equally pretty, if a little less snotty looking,
brunette, with an admirable pair.  I recognized her as a Junior, though I
didn't know her.

The pair of them stopped abruptly on seeing me, both like deer caught in the
headlights, and both shocked to find me half-naked in the locker room.

"Miss Caulder?" Melanie exclaimed.

I swallowed and tried to don a cool exterior, though I was quaking inside,
"Melanie."  I didn't really have any reason to be nervous, though with what
I had been through today it didn't take much to set me off.  At any rate, I
was standing in front of a sixteen year-old beauty, both smart and sexy,
with my sagging boobs and my waistband sinking into the rolls of tummy
flesh, and felt anything but confident.  At any rate, she smelled like
cigarette smoke, and was not supposed to be in the locker room.

Melanie was almost as nervous as me, "Oh, we, uh. I left my purse, and, uh."
she held up a miniscule purse that I knew somehow contained all her make-up,
wallet, and apparently smokes.

I held the shirt over my chest, glad that it was James' sweatshirt as it
covered a lot more than Roger's button-down.  I was both feeling modest, for
the natural flaws absent in girls as young as Melanie, and the spatterings
of dried cum all over my breasts and belly.

"You know you're not supposed to be in here, Melanie?" I decided it would be
best for me to get authoritarian.

I caught Melanie looking over her shoulder, towards the back entrance,
perhaps gauging how far it was from me.  She saw me looking in the direction
she was, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I just couldn't go back to class. Someone
might have stolen it."

Her friend was a little more tactful.  "You're the sex ed teacher?"

I tried to look patronizingly at her, "Miss Caulder."

"Oh, I'm Cassie, I'll be in your class next year." She smiled and I nodded
at her.  Then she asked, "What are you doing in here?" as if it were any of
her business.

I had prepared an answer for that, "I had an accident and need to clean up."

Both girls understood instantly, "Oh, I hate it when that happens." Melanie
said sympathetically, her eyes darting quickly to the panties on the bench
beside me.

"Miss Caulder, can I ask you a question?"

I shook my head, "Now's not a good time." I indicated the fact that I was
half-dressed, "maybe in class."

But she shrugged that off with a smile and a cocky tilt of her head, almost
rolling her eyes, "Oh, we're all girls, here."

Strangely shamed for my prudishness, I nodded and felt my hands reluctantly
letting the shirt fall.  Both the girls' eyes went wide momentarily at the
sight of my breasts.  What was a cause of occasional discomfort, and a lot
of rude staring and crass comments was still, obviously, a cause of envy in
girls so young, but old enough to know they would never be as big as me.

Cassie recovered first, "I wish mine were that big." But her brow was
wrinkled, and I wondered if she had spotted the telltale signs of dried cum,
and if she knew what that meant, "Really, don't be embarrassed, we do it
every day."

I smiled, and hung the shirt up, nervously reaching for the button on my
skirt and undoing it.

Cassie went on, "But you'd better hurry up-"

"Miss Caulder, it's about my grade." Interrupted Melanie and she sat down on
the bench.

Suddenly I remembered the conversation I'd had with her parents, who were
livid that their daughter had gotten a C in my class.  Being a top student
at the school they decided to blame me instead of their daughter, who had
spent half the class flirting with the jocks in class instead of paying
attention.

I shook my head, and sat down nest to her "It's water under the bridge now,
Melanie, I can't change your grade from last semester."

"But you can, you can petition the superintendent."

"No."  I interrupted.  "It's too late for that." I had forgotten my
discomfort entirely.  "If you commit yourself, and pay better attention this
year you'll have no trouble getting an A."

"But if I don't have a four point oh half the schools I'm applying for won't
even read my application!"

It was an interesting feeling, standing half naked in front of a
sixteen-year-old girl and chastising her for poor performance, but her
behavior left me very confident.  I felt like a teacher for the first time
in two days, and didn't hesitate to lord that over her,

"Melanie, this is really not the time for this conversation.  You earned
that grade, and it would be unethical for me to increase it for you.  It's a
mistake you're going to have to live with."

I stood up, and glowered at the girl, but watching her eyes crawl over my
tummy, which was at her head height left me nervous, wondering if she could
recognize the telltale signs of being used as a plaything by horny boys.

She was scowling, though not looking at me, but she said, "I'm sorry, Miss
Caulder.  I'm keeping you from your shower," and she gestured at the shower
block, Don't wait on me, go ahead."

I nodded, irritated at the girls timing, but grateful that she was
acquiescing so readily.  A that moment I was so thankful that she was a
girl.

But she just stood there, smiling up at me, and all I wanted was to be left
alone.  Nevertheless, I smiled, and unbuttoned my skirt, while she waited
patiently.

In another moment I was naked, and feeling all the more self-conscious for
the swelling of my thighs, the way my tummy pudged out, and my butt, which
was as big as both girls' butts combined, folded at the thigh.  The old
insecurities of being the fat girl in high school came back to me before
these skinny, perfect, popular girls, and though I was by no definition fat,
it had left its mark on me, and I felt for all the world that these girls
were everything I had always wanted my body to be.

I worried at what they might think upon seeing my lack of panties, but my
excuse was a perfect cover story for that.  More worrisome was what they'd
make of my nearly completely shaved pubic bush, and that the little
christenings I'd been receiving all day extended the length of my body and
showed under the harsh overhead fluorescent lights.

The worst part was how unabashedly the girls scrutinized my every flaw.

"If that's all then, girls?" and I closed the locker and took a tentative
step between the pair of them.

"Miss Caulder, you've got something on you."

I froze, not missing the silent gesture Cassie made to Melanie, telling her
to shut up.

Feeling squished between the two girls I made a show of looking for what she
had indicated.

"It's all down the front of you."  Melanie said, standing up.  Even at
sixteen she was beginning to tower over me, "Like you got splattered with
something."

Cassie snorted, and had to cover her mouth and pretend to cough.  They had
recognized it.

Well, I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging it.
"You two had better be going." I said.

"Of course," Melanie said.

Cassie turned around, going back the way they had come, but Melanie blurted
out, "Cassie.  It's this way."  Cassie stopped, and gave a long silent
communication with her friend, which I couldn't exactly fathom, but Cassie
gave me an embarrassed grin, and walked in the opposite direction, towards
the school side entrance.  I watched Melanie's eyes follow her friends, and
realized that she had forgotten that they had entered that way, and that
Melanie was trying to cover for having been in the alley by going out the
main entrance.

"That really is the most peculiar pattern." Melanie said, her eyes wandering
over my naked body, like John-two's penis had wandered, trailing cum, up to
my mouth, and Rusty had wandered, his wad splattering across me as he
spanked his tiny penis.

But I simply couldn't come up with an excuse for it.  Fortunately, Melanie
looked at her watch (for the third time since she'd sat down, it seemed) and
giving me a very knowing glance, like she knew exactly what I had been up
to, she said goodbye and left.

I didn't trust that girl, but then, I was naked, it was freezing, I was
covered in cum, and really needed a hot shower.



The shower was wonderful.  Actually it was loud, brutally forceful, and only
shot in these narrow streams, so you had to do this little dance to get it
to cover you instead of just turning around.  The first two nozzles I had
tried, ones safely at the back, barely gave a trickle, and the third, the
most secluded, back in a corner, only poured cold water, but a third, midway
between the back wall and the low dividing wall, was the one I wound up
using.  The low soap dispensers and the crud and dust built up on the shower
heads told me how seldom they were used, which surprised me, since girls had
been pretty avid about showering when I had been in high school.  At least,
ones who weren't ashamed of their bodies, like I was.  Perhaps there was
another shower stall, one less exposed than this one, somewhere else in the
gym.  I had never explored it, having no interest and nothing to do with PE.

But the shower was hot, and for all its forceful brutality, that meant it
would blast the crud off my body.  The space was big enough where I could
easily step well away from the jetstream and soap up, and I was well into my
second soaping when I heard, faintly for the shower was very loud, the
second lunch bell ring.  I wondered if I should, indeed, hurry through, lest
another group of girls pass through on their way out to the alley, but
shrugged that off as unimportant.  Besides, seniors took 1st lunch, and not
a lot of freshmen and sophomores were into smoking behind school.

What hadn't occurred to me was that there were more students to pass by, and
it was only a moment after the bell rang that I turned from rubbing soapy
suds up over my thighs and crotch to get more soap and saw two guys standing
agape.

They were both my students, from the very 4th period class I'd just gotten
through, not athletes, or geeks, but pretty run-of-the-mill types who were
very nice, average students.

Now they were standing, watching me rubbing soap into my crotch, which in
the shock of seeing them, I had not even stopped doing.

"What's up?" a girls voice made the boys jump, and myself.  They parted and
a third girl whom I didn't know saw me, and let out an abrupt peal of
laughter before slapping her hand over her mouth.  The three suddenly took
off running towards the main entrance.  The sound of their footsteps echoing
across the locker room with great, booming thuds, and a wail of laughing
children echoed to me as they exited at the front.

Fuming I wanted to immediately blame Melanie.  Had she told them.  Had she
encouraged them?  Who did that girl think she was.

But it dawned on me, as I heard footsteps from the alley entrance (now that
I was listening for them, I could hear them through the shower sound).
Unable to hide in the open cube of a shower, I simply turned my back, hoping
that whoever it was would see me and move on.  At the very least, they
wouldn't recognize me, if I didn't look.

But it made sense.  The girls had been a sort of scouting team, to see if
things were all clear.  Having found me, a teacher in there, they were
unable to go back and warn their friends, who upon hearing the bell were
taking the shortest route back to their classes.  Either that or Melanie and
Cassie had deliberately chosen not to warn their friends, but that didn't
seem too important a distinction at the moment.

I realized that I was just standing there, doing nothing, and that to anyone
who might see me that might seem peculiar, so I started rubbing the soap in
again, for some reason soaping my breasts this time, squeezing and mauling
them to get the suds underneath the crease.  I was starting to get very
cold, in the big concrete room, and wanted to step into the shower, so I
gave a preemptory glance over my shoulder.

"Miss Caulder!?"

It was another of my students, peeking around a locker, apparently so
stunned by seeing who it was he hadn't bothered to duck and cover, nor, it
seemed, to hide the digital camera with which he was taking photos.  A face
poked out, and disappeared as quickly, footsteps heralding its departure.

I was frozen, my boobs cradled in each hand, with soap lathered all over my
body.

I was desperately trying to remember his name as I tried willing my hands to
drop.  Only about fifteen feet away from me I could see that he was equally
paralyzed, though I could see his finger press the button and another shot
was taken, an eager puptent protruding under his Bermuda shorts (who wears
shorts on a day as cold as this?).

My hands folded across my body, sliding like a skater on ice, and I was
freezing, my nipples protruding as the thin suds dribbled off of them.  I
tried to hide my sex and nipples with my feeble slipping arms, but I was
shaking, and the guy, frozen still, stood there while my hands slipped over
my nether regions

"You'll get a better picture if you use a flash."

It was Betsy Steiner, this bitch of a senior from last semester's 6th period
psyche.  Like a lot of teachers, I had serious problems getting her to
respect me and to commit to her studies.  She did the bare minimum to pass,
but her attitude was terrible, and she was constantly putting less popular,
or younger people down, loudly, which drew my intervention on a number of
occasions.  On one occasion she had been suspended for a week for calling me
a "White trash bitch" after I gave her detention for refusing to stop
talking during a test; There was actually more to the argument than that,
and I had let my temper get the better of me and put her down in front of
everybody, stinging her pride.  I was not the first teacher to rise to her
bait, but that didn't make my situation any better, though I was glad she
had dropped my class at the end of the semester, and I wouldn't have to face
her again.

"Huh?" the guy who's name I couldn't remember asked, unable to look away
from me, locking eyes with him, petrified, both of us, of the consequences
we could only imagine.

There was another girl, who looked pretty young, with Betsy; she hunkered
back by the wall that separated the alley entrance from the shower block.

"Use the flash.  You get a better picture in this light.   Isn't that right,
Miss Caulder?"

I was squeezing myself tight, trying not to panic and scream.  Betsy was a
really big girl, almost six feet, black, with a bosom and an ass comparable
to my own, but much more flattering on her athletic figure.  Betsy made
Melanie look like a little girl.  Here was a real woman, all the right
curves, healthy and lithe.  She had beautiful, lush pouting lips and eyes so
white, in contrast to her deep, dark skin, they seemed to bore into you.  I
felt the pit of my stomach seem to drop, and then a boob actually squeaked
over the top of my arm, I was squeezing myself so tight.

Suddenly the camera flash went off.  And not just once, three more times.

"That's it baby," Betsy was clapping, she gave the photographer a little
squeeze around the waist, then looking at me she cried, "Hey, sweets, why
don't you put those arms down so my buddy here can get a better view."

I heard myself utter, very softly, "please," but felt my arms sliding down
the length of my body.

She let out a wicked peal of laughter, this giantess of a woman, and gave a
playful, but stern thump on my photographer's head, "Hey, bitch!  It was a
joke.  Can't you see the woman's trying to take a shower?"

The guy broke from his shocked reverie, as if he just realized he'd been
caught.  His body did sort of a folding flinch at the waist, and he almost
fell over before straightening up.  He looked at me, "I was just." Looking
at Betsy he hysterically cried, "I was out back, you saw me, you gave me a
light.  I wasn't peeping-!"

But Betsy actually smacked him, hard, on the cheek, and the boy reeled back,
slamming into a locker, "You keep your fucking mouth shut, boy!"

And the boy was cowed.

"What's this?" Betsy asked, looking at the guy's puptent under his shorts.
She looked at her friend, then turned to me, raising a cocked eyebrow, "I
think Johnny's got a thing for teacher, how about you?"

Paralyzed, but shivering, I could only mouth nonsensical words, no sound
came out for a moment, but I wrapped my arms tightly around my waist, hoping
I wouldn't be sick.  I suddenly had to pee, but I simply didn't know what
the Hell to do.

"Hey Johnny!" Betsy cried to the boy, "You gotta thing for Miss Caulder?"

The boy stammered, "That-that's not my nam-"

"I asked you a question, Johnny-boy!"

And "Johnny" shook his head.

"Oh, really?" she looked back at her friend, then spun on Johnny, "Then what
's this?" and she actually slapped his penis, hard where it stuck out.  The
boy collapsed, not so much in pain, but in a really overdone flinch.

"Get up!"

And Johnny scrambled to his feet.

Betsy was really quite a sight, standing there in a short skirt (again, a
thigh-length in this weather?), a really tight, pink sweater, her hair
pulled back in neat, tiny braids, towering over the shorter guy.  I might
have wished to have her strength, her force of will, but between the sinking
wave of nausea over my predicament, and the growing burning in my pee-hole,
I wasn't in a mood to do much but watch in awe, though I did regard the fact
that I wasn't having a spontaneous orgasm as a good sign.

Betsy gave Johnny a hard shove in my direction, right up to the edge of the
concrete wall, "Why don't you show Miss Caulder what you think of her?"

Johnny stood there, wavering, the puptent waning in his shorts.  He still
held his camera, but hanging at one side.  His other hand hovered
protectively over his manhood.  He didn't know what to do.

"Go on, honey.  Miss Caulder wants to see what you've got in store for her."

"Huh?" Johnny asked.

Betsy waved me over, "Come on up here honey, Mr. Ansel Adams wants to show
you something."

Though I was petrified of the girl, physically and emotionally, taking a
step forward actually relieved me of a bit of the sickening nausea, as if
playing her game would get me through this.  I just hoped it wouldn't last
too long, because I had to pee really bad, and I was freezing, lather and
soap clinging to my body as the water had dribbled off.

I made it about three steps forward, but my shivering feet conspired against
me, and by the fourth step I was beginning to shake uncontrollably.  I was
only about 5 feet from them, the water from the shower splashing on my toes,
sending heat rising up my body, which felt wonderful.  I longed to step into
it, but dared not to, though I couldn't exactly say why, except perhaps that
Betsy had not told me to.

"Can't you see you're makin' the lady nervous, Johnny?" and she slapped him
upside the head.  Lightly, but it made him jump.  "Miss Caulder wants to see
it, don't you, Wendy?"

At the utterance of my first name I was brought a pretty good ways back to
reality, out of the hypnotic daze.  She had called me by my first name last
semester, which was one of the reasons she had gotten so many detentions.
Unfortunately reality had me posing naked before three students, one of whom
had a camera, and one who had a grudge.

But then again, though I wasn't exactly getting any help from Betsy
regarding my predicament, she was giving it pretty hard to the guy who had
been snapping shots of me, which made me respect her in spite of her
problems.  Perhaps she had more animosity for his behavior, than for me.
That made us sort of allies, though it was really clear who the subordinate
was here.

I decide to play along, and my body seemed to relax a bit more, even warming
up a little inside, which didn't help the need to pee.  I looked at Johnny,
"Yeah, Betsy, I want to see what Johnny's gonna do with those pictures."

Betsy let out a surprised grin, looking back at her friend, eyes wide,
"Ya-heow, Girl." She looked back at me, "You are a naughty little bitch-!"
she stopped, and for a brief moment, there was fear in her eyes, as if
calling me bitch was worse than trapping me in a shower and having me pose
for a guy she was trying to humiliate.

It didn't last, and she turned to Johnny, putting an arm sensually around
his shoulder, one hand rubbing his chest, while her thick, luscious lips
brushed his ear, but she was talking to me, in a low, seductive voice, "Say,
baby, why don't we give Johnny some motivation." And she peered at me, "I
mean, a reward, for cooperating so well."  She ran her hand down his chest
where it tucked, just barely into the elastic waistband of his trousers.
Though his eyes darted nervously to the side he hadn't turned away from me.
Betsy put her other hand on Johnny's face, gently caressing his neck, "A man
's got his pride, don't he?"

Johnny nodded.

"Would you like Wendy to give you some motivation."

Nervously he shook his head.

Betsy looked at me with a wry, sardonic grin, "Don't take no notice of that,
baby, he wants it.  Why don't you give the man a show?"

And she took the camera from the boy, stepped away and said to Johnny, "Now,
you gonna give Wendy something to dance for?"

This time, Johnny nodded, nervous, shaking.  He was actually a handsome boy,
not much older than 16, but he had a good face, a strong jaw, and a pretty
good physique, though he had a bit of growing to do.  He certainly made a
better picture than Eliot or James, and lacked the gross musculature of the
John's, and the belly of Mr. Gold (I wasn't even going to compare him to the
freshmen).

I stood there, still waiting for something to happen, while Johnny did the
same.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Wendy, if you don't do something I'm gonna have to
suck his dick for getting him all worked up, and I don't like suckin dick,
so how's about it, okay?"

A dozen courses went through my mind.  Running for the exit, or my locker.
Ordering them all out of the locker room, even screaming at the top of my
lungs.  But what I really wanted to do was cooperate.  I was actually
enjoying watching Betsy go off on this guy, even though I was catching half
the brunt of it.  I wanted to see her utterly humiliate him, and goddamn it,
I wanted to learn how it was done.

Sure I was naked, and up till now had done nothing improper other than make
a remark that could be construed in a lot of different ways.  It was here
that I had to decide my course.  End it now, or see it through?  In this
Johnny I tried to see the numerous men who had gotten off at my expense over
the past two days, but the unusual feeling seemed to fade.  Taking another
good look at him, I say him afresh.  This Johnny, a handsome guy, pretty
nice usually, maybe a little too opportunistic with that camera, but
generally your Joe Average, OK guy, and I had the chance to see him
humiliate himself in the exact same way I had done a dozen times now.

I knew what I was supposed to do, but instead I took the chance to step to
the nearest shower nozzle, turn it on, and it flowed out in a firm, but
steady stream.  I felt my hands come up, starting to rub the soap off, but
slowly, moving the flesh with every stroke.  I let my head fall under the
force of the jet, soaking myself, all the while my legs rocked slowly back
and forth while I abandoned myself to the comparative sensual ecstasy of the
heat washing over me.

I didn't see it happen, but when I heard Betsy ask, "How's this work?" I
caught a glimpse of Johnny kneeling on the low wall, not four feet from me,
bathed in the gentle mist of water splashing off my bare skin.

""Come on, already, Johnny."  I said in a low voice to him, and he complied,
untying the top of his shorts, and pushing them down, his manhood standing
proud and erect, about seven inches long with an interesting flare in the
middle that made it wider in the middle than at the base.  He was also
uncircumsized.

"That'a boy, Johnny.  Shit, Johnny!" Betsy was hovering over him, "you got
some ammo in those drawers."  She turned to her friend, "You ever seen a
package this big, Bernice?"

Bernice, her friend who had been hovering by the door finally came out, now
that the show was in full swing. "Girl, do you date any black guys?"

"Eat me girl.  You know how to work this?  It says full."

I swung around, turning my body to face Johnny's, my hands running down the
length of my bosom, past my tummy, and artfully dodging my tuft of pubic
bush.  Our eyes were locked.

"Turn around." Johnny whispered, kneeling, stock-still on the low wall, his
member sticking out pointedly.

I felt myself smiling at him.  What the fuck was I thinking.  I was his
teacher.  This wasn't like giving in to John-two, or even Coach Gold.  I was
leading him on.  But I obeyed, actually taking a step towards him, and upon
turning another, so I was at the edge of the shower falls, facing away, my
backside within arms length of the boy.

"Wendy, you ever seen a dick that big?"

I looked over my shoulder, not turning to prevent the boy from seeing the
show.  I saw her look up from the camera she and Bernice were pondering,
eyes wide at my proximity to the boy.  I gave her a rolling glance, a
condescending stare that said "Of course I have," and even if I hadn't had
John-two, Eliot was easily this boys master.  Betsy's inexperience surprised
me, or at least her bad luck with choice of men, although I envied her never
having known the painful, forceful intrusiveness of having a man the width
of a phone, as Roger would say, pushing his way inside you.

But Betsy scowled back at me, sending a tinge of fear under my skin, and she
swaggered her hip, tilted her head and said, "Girl, you get any closer to
that boy you're gonna be fucking him, and you know it's true."

I was pretty close, but not close enough to fuck.  I looked at Roger, now
rubbing himself in earnest, eyes fixated on my ass, but he looked up to meet
my eyes.  I winked at him and he mouthed the words, "Bend over."

What an impudent little fuck.  He'd never get laid in the real world, not
without a tramp like me to dominate.  But then, it was probably better that
he was so crass.  A more mature guy, one with more experience, would have
had me on my back already.

I made a show of rinsing off once more, and running my hands down the length
of my body, took a step back, spreading my legs and bent over to "wash" my
calves.  Through the part in my legs I could see that I was much closer to
him now.  I had called her bluff.  I was indeed close enough to fuck, and
what was more, my sex was raised and ready.  I could feel the warm water
dripping off of it, the warmth pulsing through it, just underneath the
surface.  I couldn't believe that I  had been ravaged by John-two just hours
ago, much less that I had to pee, so focused was I on the proximity of my
sex to this man's pulsing, pumping shaft.

"Bernice says I need a new cartridge." Betsy's voice pierced through the
moment, she was tapping the boy on the shoulder, who took a lot of effort to
come back to her.  I watched the exchange through my legs.  Betsy was
clearly into with the guy's penis, though the fact that it was inches from
my vagina didn't seem to phase her.  She looked pretty aroused, and the guy
reacted to her putting her arm around him, and especially the fact that her
boobs, at least as big as mine, but perky and firm, instead of drooping and
pendulous.  He stopped stroking himself to pay attention to Betsy's
question, seeming to forget about me entirely.

Betsy went on, "The camera.  Bernice says it needs a new cartridge."
Clearly Betsy didn't know the first thing about the digital camera, and
Johnny compliantly took the camera, pulled a small, rectangular object from
a lot in the side of the camera, and taking them both in one hand, retrieved
a fresh one from the pocket on his T-shirt, tucking it neatly in the empty
slot and handing them both to Betsy.  She took the camera, and dropped the
used cartridge into his pocket.

I realized I was till bent over.  The moment shattered, whatever illusion
had been giving me such confidence, such ease of motion, was gone, and I
stood up, shivering again.  I had to pee again, and it was compounded by the
throbbing in my sex, still sore from John-two's abuses.

Betsy looked at me, "Don't worry, hon, we ain't done quite yet." She turned
to Johnny, "Now it's this button here?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah.  My name's Mike." He said in a weak, whipped voice.

She patted him on the shoulder, "That's nice, Johnny." And with her free
hand she reached down, running one finger along the length of Mike's shaft,
"You have a beautiful tool, boy, but we don't want to disappoint Wendy, do
we?"

Mike looked at me, as if noticing me for the first time.  He was clearly
conflicted, and seemed to be torn between the beautiful black amazon, and
the forbidden fruit of his teacher.

"Come on, Wendy," Betsy said, leering at me, "Johnny's losing focus."

And she held the camera up, looking at me through the LCD on the back, and
snapped a picture, the flash blinding me.

A second later my eyesight returned, and Mike was looking between the two of
us while Betsy took a step back, putting Mike into the frame.

"You just go back to where you were." Betsy smiled at me, and fighting the
burning sensation in my vulva I stooped over, though without the numbness
and sensual arousal that had led me there in the first place.

Another flash, and I could hear Mike stroking himself again.

"That's it baby," came Betsy's deep African voice.

At a loss for what to do next I ran my hands over my behind, then drew them
around front, and pushed them between my legs.  I felt the flash firing
again, and again, but the pressure made the sensation burn, and I felt a
squirt as I lost control for a split second.  I stood up quickly, and felt
Mike's shaft graze my buttock.

He let out a low groan, and I turned around, retreating into the shower's
mist, grateful for the heat, trying not to look at the camera, while forcing
myself to do the little sway that had come so easily to me only moments
before, running my hands clumsily over my body.

Betsy flashed a couple more pictures, "Don't be nervous, child, come on
back, where Johnny can get a good, close look."

But I was dancing now, and not the way Mike would have like, "Betsy, I have
to go."

She put her hands at her hips, the camera jutting out where her wrist bent
backward as she cocked her whole body at me, "Now Wendy, don't go getting
cold feet.  You're not gonna leave Mike like this, are you?"

Mike was looking at Betsy, still absently stroking his dick, "Maybe we
should go somewhere more-"

"Come on girl," Betsy interrupted him, pretending to not even notice him.
"You started this, let's at least finish it."

But I shook my head, resigned, "No, Betsy, I have to pee."

A blank expression hit Betsy in the face, and suddenly she and Bernice burst
out laughing while I felt myself shrink, retreating into the stream of the
shower's warmth, pummeled by their mocking laughter.

But it died down shortly, and Betsy, wiping tears of joy from her eyes said,
"Well, go ahead then."

I couldn't possibly pee in front of the three of them.  There was no way,
"Please, Betsy," I pleaded, knowing that just by asking I was putting myself
further and further into her power.

"Sweets, you ain't got nothin' left to hide from us." And she and Bernice
broke out into another round of laughter. "'Sides," and she stepped
alongside Mike once more, putting her hand on his back, "Mike ain't never
seen a girl pee, have you?"

Mike didn't look like he wanted to either.  He wasn't stroking himself,
though he remained hard, "Uh, that's okay."

"Nonsense!" Betsy exclaimed, and I saw her hand slip down to couple with
Mike's bare behind. "Wendy's only to happy to oblige." And she moved her
hand down even further, provoking a shudder from the boy.  "Come on, dear,
up close, where the boy can see you."

And obediently I strode forward, wondering if I could do this.  I had peed
in the shower before, but I had never peed for an audience, even for
boyfriends.

Stepping out of the water, and back in front of Mike and Betsy I parted my
legs, just slightly, enough for the pee to fall free.  Betsy took a step
back and started focusing the camera on me, putting Mike in the foreground
it seemed.

It wasn't as hard as I thought.  Standing alone, I felt the hot piss
streaming out in the thick gush, splattering my thighs and splashing up on
the ground were it sprayed over my feet.  Mike wasn't nearly as apprehensive
as he had been at first, and in spite of Betsy having removed her hand, he
was stroking himself in earnest.

Betsy was snapping shot after shot, and I wondered how many damn pictures a
cartridge allowed.  She must have taken thirty.

The stream seemed to stretch on and on, and though I had deliberately not
done it, I found my hand moving unconsciously to pull my vulva forward, my
legs parting a bit wider, to accommodate the flow, and also serving to
accommodate Mike's and the camera's view, in turn, also putting a finger
right on my clitoris, which I thought about rubbing/

I was waiting for something to happen.  Some numbness, some shot of erotic
passion that had accompanied my prior humiliations, but even as relief
flooded through me with every draining drop, I remained perfectly myself.  A
teacher, naked, soaked to the skin, baring herself before a masturbating
boy, and two girls who were snapping pictures of the degradation.  No
blissful escape from being naked in the library, or from giving myself to
two boys.  Just the bone-rattling awareness of what I was doing, and how I
would never be able to live this down, having been caught in a situation,
and acting like I had with the Johns, or with Eliot and James, or Mr. Gold,
or even the kids.  Only then it had been under duress, or at least, a
forceful pressure for me to behave.  I needed the escape Eliot and James had
given me, and the three freshmen needed some compensation for the secret
they were keeping, and managed to corner me.  I was pretty much powerless
over John-two, and I had stood up to Mr. Gold, though I had let him use

But here I was, pissing on my feet before my students, my fingers parted
over my sex, another hand cupping my breast (when had I done that?).  I had
had every chance to put a stop to this. I had even felt the control at my
fingertips, but some malicious instinct had driven me to see this play out

"That's it, baby." Betsy was hooting and hollering, her friend evincing
distaste, but, like her partner in my humiliation, she couldn't look away,
"What'chou squeezing those titties for?"  My hand shot down to my side, "You
think he can't do that for you?" Betsy called out before her and her friend
broke up into hysterical laughter.

I looked at Mike, hoping for some kind of help, as the last few drops
drizzled out, thoroughly drenching my thighs, which now glistened with
golden droplets.  I could smell the faint, acrid scent of my urine, puddled
at my feet, and Betsy could see it, golden against the pale, pink floor, and
snapped another shot.  The pee hadn't run off due to a depression in the
floor, though some runoff from the shower was mixing with it.  I took a half
step towards the shower,

"Hold on, honey!" and Betsy came over, not close enough to stand in the pee,
but close enough to reach me and Mike from her position, "And you hold on
too, Johnny." She patted the hand stroking his cock.

"Johnny," Betsy asked, striking a sexy pose, even as she snapped a picture
of him, alone, with his hand on his stiff member. "I think Wendy's done her
part pretty fair," she looked at me, "Don't you think so?"

I shook my head, "Betsy, I think this has gone-"

But she squeezed my arm, though she kept her distance, "Baby, you've gone
too far to back out now." Her expression had a mixture of kindness and
malice.  She towered over me, and looking up at her meant looking over her
swollen bosom.  I instinctively looked down, and was surprised to see that
she wasn't wearing any shoes or socks.

"I need to wash up."  I said, and tried to pull free, but Betsy clung to me,
pulling me back and I overstepped and fell into her.

Strong arms enveloped me.  Not as mighty as John-two's, but certainly strong
enough to hold me, cradled there, my head in her bosom, squished into her
breasts while she clutched my nudity close.

"Let go."

"Calm down, baby, I ain't no lesbian." She said sternly, but then she
actually cupped my breast, hefting it up, "But if I were I'd sure like to
get my lips around one of these."

I looked up at her, her lips supple and lush, I imagined one of them going
to work on me, and felt a broad tingle running up my spine, her thick, soft
lips suckling on my nipple, actually able to engulf it.  But I shuddered at
the thought of coupling with a woman, and found my hand on hers, trying to
extract it, but as she glared down at me I only held her hand there, as if
tacitly consenting.

She smiled at me, "Now, you wanted to see what Johnny's gonna do with those
pictures he's been takin' of you, and I think we're about to find out, eh
Johnny."

"What are you-"

The hand dropped my breast and my lips were suddenly pinched between finger
and thumb.  Gently, but the meaning was clear, as was the control she
exerted over me.

"Why don't you get down and take a closer look, honey?"

I glared at her, shaking my head to remove her hand, "I'm not your honey!"

And though I tried to pull my arm away she held fast, the action shaking me
violently, my breasts swung out and slammed into her as she pulled me back
into her grasp, clutching my body to hers.  I could feel the camera digging
into my back where she pinned me with her other arm, "Miss Caulder, I don't
mean any disrespect," she said in a low tone, "But I think you owe me one
for dealin' with Mr. Photographer here."

I looked over at Mike, still clutching his member but nervously looking from
Betsy to me, not sure at all what Betsy's statement meant, and perhaps, not
comfortable with the pressure Betsy was putting on me, but clearly, he was
not so put out that he was willing to forego his reward.

Betsy leaned closer, whispering in my ear, "Now you play along, and we'll
have him by the balls." She let go of my arm, and loosened her hold on me,
but I didn't pull away.  She continued, "You don't, and this whole show you
been puttin' on becomes a little party for the boy, you follow me?" and I
felt her fondling my boob again.  Was this girl a lesbian? She smiled and
said aloud, "I can't believe these are real, honey, but proof is in the
pudding." She turned to Johnny,

"Hey boy.  You wanna little piece of Mrs. C.?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but found myself slamming shut, playing along.
Just a little longer, to see what Betsy had in mind.  She was right, after
all.  If I quit now, I'd have dance, nude in the shower, teasing this boy
and debasing myself before the girls for nothing.

I swallowed hard, and took a step towards Mike, trying to ignore the fact
that I was sloshing in my own pee "Michael, is looking all you want to do."
And I was suddenly right next to the boy, so close his hand clutching his
cock was touching me, right at the groin.  His hand pulled back, and the
head was pushing me, straight on, nestling itself into my loins, parting my
soapy, wet sex (I think he forgot it was piss-soaked).  His face, kneeling
as he was, was right at mine, and though he gave a brief glance at Betsy (I
didn't see her reaction), he let his hands come up, running over my body
sending delicious curls of heat up my sides, to where he cupped my breasts,
groping and squeezing them roughly, his inexperience obvious.

Then, him looking me in the eye for an instant I kissed him, hard, pushing
my tongue past his teeth, his member pushing past the squeeze of my thighs
to part my lips down below and grind against my clit, punching at my sex
which positively oozed with anticipation, though I had been ready to flee
moments before.  I could feel the flash going off as Betsy documented my
wantonness.  I imagined it capturing his steely member penetrating me, and
despite my ravages from the morning, I felt no pain, only an eagerness to
please, to let this boy paw roughly at my bosom, to accommodate his pumping
and stabbing in this impossible position, wishing he was inside me, so I
could let him take me utterly.

I don't know when I lifted my leg up, but I know the exact moment he got the
right angle, because I didn't wait, but put my hand down and guided him
inside me, while he guided me down to lay back, both of us oblivious to the
fact that our loving was taking place in a pool of piss.  All I felt was the
tingling sensation of lukewarm water and the spray from the ever running
shower, while flashes pulsed over me, and Mike found his stride and starting
riding me in earnest.

There was one more flash, and Mike seized up, his member pulsing inside of
my sensitive nethers, though it was barely a quarter the girth John-two had
speared me with, and I felt the faintest of orgasms build up inside me and I
gasped, wrapping my legs around him while he seized up tight, letting go of
the last of his wad.

"I'm sorry," he moaned.

The flighty orgasm fluttered through me, and all I could do was look my
student in the eye, clenching my teeth as he watched me cumming under him
while the last dredges of his orgasm emptied into me.

But he didn't linger long, and as soon as my legs relaxed he pulled himself
off of me, looking over my complacent, willing body and legs spread wide.
He pulled up his shorts, fastened the top, and stepped off of the ledge he
had just fucked me on.

"It's okay," I said, belatedly realizing that he was apologizing for cumming
so quick.  "You can try again."

But Betsy was behind him, "Okay, Wendy, Mike here has to get to class." And
though she was pushing him away from me she snapped a picture of me, on my
back, laying on the ledge, legs spread and, no doubt, Mike's semen dribbling
out of my sex.

She handed Mike the camera, "Souvenir for ya." He took the camera and she
said, looking me over, "I can't believe you wasted it on that tramp."

Mike stammered, "I thought.  I mean, you said."

But the "tramp" comment had gotten under my skin, and I threw my legs over
the wall, refusing to let my legs buckle with the renewed flashes of
weakness, as after when John-two had had me.  I took a couple steps to the
shower when my legs started to shake.  I couldn't believe that I'd done it
again.  Just thrown myself at a student, and at only the slightest goading.
I felt like the world's trashiest whore, and, with the waning sense of
numbness, the passing of my orgasm, I felt sore, like I'd let a dozen guys
take me, owning my ass, one after the other, while I spread my legs asking
for another.

My knees buckled, and I let myself fall to my hands and knees, crawling into
the shower where the ablution of the water running over me could wash away
the piss and semen.  But it couldn't wash away the shame.  It couldn't wash
away the knowledge that I'd thrown myself at this boy in front of two other
students, one of whom had every reason to hate my guts.

Suddenly the water turned off.   Betsy was standing over me.

"You know, Miss Caulder, you are about the dumbest bitch I ever met in my
life."

I could only look up at her, stammering with humiliation.  I felt about an
inch tall before the tall, black, amazon bitch.

That boy was snappin pictures of you in the shower, and I shovel out the
sweetest revenge you could come up with and you go and spread your legs for
him like some whore, rewardin him for being a sonofabotch peeping tom!"

"But you said." I stammered, hoping she couldn't see the tears in my eyes
for the water dripping down my face, "You said to finish it."

"I meant to let him cum, dummy!  I was gonna snap a few pictures with just
him in the shot, get Bernice to mail them around school."

She kicked her foot, splashing water in my face.

Stepping closer to tower over me she growled, "But don't seem much point
when you just give it up.  I mean, who just lays back and spreads'em 'cause
some chick says to?"

"I thought he. I thought you."

"Oh, yeah, like he's gonna get all embarrassed for fucking the sex ed
teacher.  Guys like him'd pay to  brag about that shit.  Hell, guys already
do that 'bout you."

"They do?" I looked up, horrified.

"Shit.  Get up." And she actually leaned down, helping me to my feet.  "It
ain't no thing, just guys braggin."

"Who said they'd been with me?"

"Just some guy talking in the locker room.  Hell, I heard a couple guys
sayin the same thing last semester while you were writing on the
 blackboard."

I turned to her, "In class?"

She nodded, "Shit, they do it about all the teachers, no one believes them."

"You think they won't believe Mike?"

She picked up my towel off the ledge, handing it to me, "When they see the
pictures they will."

I clutched the towel close, "Oh my god."

She rolled her eyes at me, "You were the one who walked over and fucked
 him." Then she looked over my shoulder, "Can I help you with something!?"

I spun around in time to see two boys turn and bolt for the front entrance
to the locker room.  Two more!  How many people had seen me naked in here?
How much had they seen? "You don't think they saw."

"Honey, I don't know." And the pity in her eyes was worse than her anger.
"Go on, Hon, you'd better get dressed and get out of here."

I nodded, and started to turn, then stopped, "You gave Mike the camera."

She got indignant, "You gave him your ass!"

I bowed my head, shamed.

"What'd you expect me to do?  Steal his shit after you'd shown him you
wanted it?"

I shook my head, shamefaced.

"Betsy?" I murmured.

"Yeah, baby, what is it?"

My voice was barely a pathetic squeak, "Why.  I mean.  Why are you helping
me?"

An arm went over my shoulder as the big woman came up behind me, another one
gently kneading my shoulders, "Miss Caulder, a lot of teachers took a lot of
shit from me over the years."  I felt both hands take my shoulders, turning
me around.  Betsy looked down at me, running her hands down my arms, "You
stood up to me, told me what it was about." She smiled broadly, her gleaming
white teeth sparkling, "I'm not sayin I liked it, but I respected it, you
know?"

I nodded, "yeah."

"Which is why I expected you to play along.  I dunno, I mean, you layin down
for that boy, kinda disappointing, you know?"

I felt my ego crumbling under her disapproval.  I nodded.

Betsy pulled the towel away from me.  I didn't resist, letting her uncover
my body, "You are a beautiful woman, Wendy."

I looked up to see her appraising my curvy body.

"Maybe a little full in the hips." Her hands had moved to my sides and she
ran them down the length of me, forcing me to shiver as she caressed my
buttocks.  "But I seen bigger butts."

She let go of me, abruptly, and I was shocked to realize that she'd been
feeling me up.  She stepped away, still looking me over, "So let's try to
take a little better care, okay?"

I nodded.

Betsy turned and walked to the entrance.  Bernice gave sort of a reluctant
wave, shrugging her shoulders before turning to follow her friend.  Were
they lovers?  Or was this some black thing I didn't know anything about?

I turned on my heels, and walked back to the locker, hoping I'd be able to
find it.

Instead, turning the first locker, I found Mr. Gold, coming down the walkway
with a student.





Continued in Part 5

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