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My name is Jack Langley, aged twenty-two, and I was amazed that I had managed my first month of teaching experience without succumbing to the temptations that surrounded me and threatened my probationary year in Collington Academy.

Four years of the educational and lustful university experience and the latter part had contained just as much learning as the former. I had ‘kissed the girls and made them moist’, and, satisfying that moistening, over four years had demanded increasing expertise.

Leaving university with a first -class degree was pleasing. No solid awards for the lustful section, but plenty of gratifying girlish commendations, to make me really cock-proud. Entering the staid world of education, seemed to be an unavoidable loss of sexual freedom.

Collington Academy was my first interview. The building, built in 1880, showed a dismal grey exterior which, apart from the enlarged windows, appeared to confirm all my fears. However, inside, I found such a luxurious ambiance, and scrupulous cleanliness, that any fees charged had to be substantial.

I’d imagined Mrs. Plumpton, the principal, as an aging, mighty bosomed lady with grey hair in a bun and a constantly forbidding look. The lady I found waiting in her office, had fair hair, cut in a surprisingly modern style. And she greeted me with an open smile which, along with bright blue eyes, lit up an attractive, delicately made-up face. Five feet, seven inches tall, I estimated, and maybe early to mid-forties, slender in a dark skirt, and white blouse, which emphasized, a 36B bosom, (I had learned much about bust size during my university love-life).

But the academy principal was only my first surprise. Once seated, there followed an unexpectedly relaxed interview, with Mrs. Plumpton telling me how impressed she had been with my CV. After many questions, she told me some facts about the academy. Firstly, until this year, it had always been an all-girls’ establishment. From the coming year, boys would be gradually introduced.

My next surprise came when she told me, “For a time, you will be the only male teacher on the staff, apart from Mr. Angus, who is almost sixty and approaching retirement. Some of the ladies are quite nubile if you get my drift?” If she hadn’t laughed at that point, I might not have been sure of my response. “No problem,” I told her.

“You wouldn’t feel overwhelmed?”

I wouldn’t mind being overwhelmed by a roomful of nubile women. But I didn’t tell her that. Was I, after my riotous times in university, here with the chance to be dropped into a pot of honey?

My teaching commitments included, she warned me, a few older girls who might be highly provocative. With an enigmatic smile, she asked, “You know how adolescents can be, Mr. Langley?

I returned her smile and just nodded. Oh, yes, I knew exactly how adolescent girls could be. I’d just had four-year’s experience of that. “If they thought you were only two or three years older than them—well, they might give you an embarrassing time.”

She told me that, staff who lived more than twenty miles from the academy were expected to remain on the premises throughout the term, and I would be allocated a room at the rear of the building. I was agreeable with that, wondering how many of these “nubile” teachers had rooms at the rear. I could see that being interesting.

But as she offered me the post, I learned that it was one year on probation, which, Mrs. Plumpton was keen to stress involved, “The absence of any intimate activity on site.” A bit of a blow, and I hoped the temptations would not be too strong. My resistance had never been high.

On the day before the school term officially started, I was introduced to the staff, and I discovered how difficult it was going to be. I felt I was being stripped by a dozen pairs of female eyes. Or is that what I wished?

Dave Angus, a bald-headed amiable character, his smile creasing his lined face even further, shook my hand firmly, and whispered, “Watch yourself with some of these ladies’”

That didn’t seem too much of a threat. Although the staff was relatively young, there was a couple who were grey-haired, and in their fifties. From her immediate action of pursing her generous lips as I entered the room, and nudging her companion, who could have been her clone, I spotted I would come to know as Sheena. An obvious joy or, a threat? She had a truly curvaceous shape, emphasized by a tight dress. With her wide eyes and tawny hair to her shoulders, she oozed sensuality.

After a brief pep talk, the principal told me she’d leave me to get to know my ‘work colleagues’ better. And they certainly wanted to get to know me. They knew my name, my age, and that was about all.

“You married. Jack?” That from a small group of more mature ladies

I replied, which brought the next question, “A girlfriend?”

The one called Sheena spoke, “Gay?”

“No.”

Sheena again, “Oh, that’s good news, isn’t it, Melanie. A virgin?”

The other ladies frowned at her and ‘tutted’ and one hissed, “Typical Sheena.”

Sheena ignored them and asked, “Much experience?”

“Sheena! Stop it.” A voice from the back of the room. I didn’t mind the grilling as I told her, “Some.” But I was thinking, ‘Too much for you, blue eyes.’

Eventually, the session began to disperse to head for afternoon tea. One grey-haired lady, smartly dressed, apologized for Sheena, “She loves playing the trollop.” And I was thinking, I wouldn’t mind testing those trollop qualities.

So, there was my challenge to protect my probationary year. I was soon to learn that it wasn’t the only challenge.

I had to admit just a little trepidation, as I stepped into the world of education. The sports sessions with newly arrived boys were no problem. Of course, being sports, most were keen anyway.

But, those eighteen-year-old girls and twentieth-century literature, were something else. My first session with them left me in no doubt where the more vibrant girls were. The threat of a fit of giggling had me uttering a gentle, “Please.” This appeared to settle the situation, and I was able to proceed with that first lesson without more disruption.

But this little ‘flirty group’, as I came to think of them, subtly altered how they wore the regulation school uniform of white blouse, v-neck maroon sweater, and navy skirt. Those skirts magically rode up over the knee, while blouse buttons unfastened, often as low as the first suggestion of cleavage.

The prime leader in this bravado was a dark-haired, busty young lady whose name was, Thelma Turton. To be fair, whenever I stalled a session in order to issue a reprimand, the offending thigh or cleavage would be quickly covered. Though not as quickly as when Mrs. Plumpton made one of her occasional appearances on the corridor.

Walking the corridor, I would occasionally get a provocative call. followed by giggles and mumblings from an assembled group. One occasion Thelma Turton stepped from a waiting group and said, with a sly glance at her friends, “Mr. Langley, Sally thinks you look like Tom Cruise.”

At least I got a warm laugh from them when I said, “I wish I had his money.”

So, after a month, I was pleased with myself, in avoiding any of the pitfalls that I might have fallen into.

If I happened to meet Sheena alone, she whispered things like, “It must be hard for you here, Jack. But is it hard enough for me?” How I wished I could test the promise of her offers,

In the dining hall, I usually sat with Dave Angus. Never missing the sexy grins and winks of Sheena and her closest colleagues. Teachers or pupils, there didn’t seem much difference.

Dave was a useful source of trivial information. Like, the fact that Mrs. Plumpton’s husband had left her nearly three years earlier.

“Seemed like a nice guy, but—” he shrugged, and scratched the side of his head. “For the following year, she was best avoided.” He shook his head and sighed, “Women! Have you seen that side of the building? Where her office is?”

When I shook my head, he went on, “She sold her house and had a private apartment built. adjoining her office. Buried in the academy, she is.”

Then things really moved towards the precipice that I feared could be waiting for me. It was the fourth Wednesday of the term. I’d had a reasonable day in class, Thelma and her cronies had kept their heads down. Since Mrs. Plumpton had made one of her occasional observation, that may have accounted for the unprovocative behavior. But, as she left, the principal had commented. “You seem to have captured the hearts and minds of the pupils, Mr. Langley.”

I entered the evening feeling pretty good about things. Having prepared lessons for the following day, just before eleven o’clock, I prepared for a good night’s sleep.

Having just pulled on my pajama pants, I jumped to answer an imperious knock on my door. I had never had anyone knocking at my room door, and thinking it might be something urgent, I hurried, bare-chested, to open it.

Something urgent? Well, yes and no. Sheena stood there with that seductive look in her blue eyes. Her hair was loose around her face and she really looked stunning.

“Oh, you’re ready for me. That’s good.” And she stepped close as though to squeeze past me. I held up a half desperate hand, noticing that she was wearing a thin summer dress, incongruous for the time of year.

“No one has seen me,” she said throatily, as she glanced meaningfully up and down the corridor.

She knew she had me, as she stepped inside. Trouble was I’d borne the ache of celibacy for too long. Nothing since the university’s orgy of sexual activity. So, even though I knew the risks, I had to take this chance with the superb body on offer.

I made my weak protest and grunted, “I’m on probation, Sheena. You’re a very attractive lady, but—”

Her hands moved over my chest, as she held her face up to mine, offering her full lips. An offer which I immediately accepted and our mouths were glued wildly together, tongues immediately searching. She gave a low moan as I pressed her back against the door, knowing she must feel my immediate hardness through my thin pajama pants.

My hands pulled at the buttons of her dress, and they parted as though trained to do that. I was right, under the dress, she was naked.

“Ooh, is that your cock threatening me?” Her eyes held mine, already clouded with passion. “You must know this was inevitable. We should get comfortable.”

As she backed towards the bed, her hands stroking my chest, moving downwards. I unfastened the rest of her buttons and tore her dress to one side, at the same moment as she toppled back on the bed, her legs spread wide. Seeing her tawny pussy open before my eyes were maddening. I quickly pulled down my pajama pants and heard her gasp.

“Jeez, I’ve never seen—" Sheena fixed her eyes on my rock-solid cock. “Oh, please, I can’t wait.”

Seeing her lying there, like the mother of all harlots, large breasts begging to be stroked, a pussy gaping with moisture already sparkling there, I was thinking the same thing. Waiting needed patience. But I intended to be as cool and deliberate as might be possible in my deprived state.

I lay alongside her, keeping the lower half of my body well away for her groping fingers. My own fingers stroked over her generous breasts. I could have performed longer in that area, but the rapid advance was called for, and I stroked up the infinite smoothness of her inner length.

She gave a low grunt as I said, “Have to check if you’re ready.”

“I’m ready. I’m fucking ready, for God’s sake.”

Even as she spoke, my fingers found her enlarged clit and moved on to poke into her desperate entry. Her body heaved and squirmed, as strange vocal noises, a mix of pure desire and frustration escaped her lips.

needed release just as much as she did, but I was determined that she knew that she was experiencing something different. Slowly, trying to be nonchalant, I rolled my body between her trembling thighs, aiming my cock towards her gaping entry, and pushing her own desperate hands away from it.

As soon as the purple plum of my cockhead touched those wet lips, her anxious hip thrust took it inside. Then one gentle early push carried my eager rod to glide slowly through the clawing of her inner muscles.

She orgasmed instantly. And, despite my own needs, I enjoyed watching her eyes roll into the top of her sockets as her head twisted from side to side to side, leaving her hair plastered over her face. Weird gasping and grunting, mixed with wild yelps, issued from her lips, any louder and I would need to gag her in some way.

My cock continued its slow journey up into the depths of her, until like some wayward train, it struck against the buffer of her cervix. Her eyes widened as I drew it back and then made a swift, harder thrust, and she gave a squeal which I assumed was of delight. I slipped into that smooth familiar rhythm that was filled with my hunger for her femininity. I had been starved of this wondrous motion, this rapture of possession, that I forgot my own rules for taking a woman.

Always think of her pleasure first. That was gone from my considerations as I knew I was simply using this superb body. Although somehow, I knew also, that she had orgasmed at least twice more. I was humping into her, deeper and deeper it seemed. Her internal muscles continued to pinch at my cockhead for a while as she tried to match my thrust with her own hip movement.

Very soon she gave a mighty heave to take me to her very core, and I heard her groan, “Oh, Jack. Jack. Oh, fuck.” Her whole body shuddered.

Still sheathed deep inside her, I paused for just a few seconds to see what her face would tell me. Her hips had stopped pushing, and she was lying perfectly still, apart from the heaving of her ribcage, as she caught her breath. Her eyes were wide open, showing sheer amazement.

“How many orgasms have I had? That’s never happened before,” her strained voice revealed her bewildered state of mind. Her brow furrowed as she looked up at me and asked, “Did you enjoy it?”

“I’ll won’t know until I’ve finished,” I told her, deliberately picking up the rhythm again, pumping my aching rod into her again and again.

Sheena looked utterly stunned as I continued, and she was clearly becoming aware of her insides responding again. All she could muster was a low moaning sound.

I was very close myself, as she responded to my deeper, faster plunges up her. My cock began to swell under the pressure of what my balls were releasing, and within seconds, my hardest stroke was pushing her up the bed as, spurt after spurt of cum fired into her womb, and along her cunt walls.

Our gasps were a duet of delight, and my long-term ache was relieved. Now, my mind began dwelling on the risk I had just taken. My whole future could be in doubt if I failed my probationary year. But in this situation, my will-power was virtually nil.

“You must not tell anyone about this.”

She gave me a wide, but sly smile, “No, I want this to be my secret. I can come back, can’t I?”

“Only if you want to.”

“After what I’ve just had?” she raised her head. “Jack, I’ve had a few cocks, but, and don’t get big-headed, none have reached my depths as yours has. So mighty. I thought I knew what an orgasm was, until tonight.”

When she had dressed, and stolen away, I lay down and wondered what kind of fool I’d been.

“Admit it,” a voice declared inside my head, “whatever else university did for you, it turned you into a cock-proud sex addict. Risking all in giving way to your baser instincts.” Eventually, I slept.

Every other evening, for three weeks, I was able to astound Sheena further with my staying power while she had multiple orgasms. One of which would be given with my tongue dallying around her erect clit and trailing the length of her musky cream filled pussy.

On the fourth night, she insisted on giving me a complete blowjob. It was great just relaxing and giving in to the push and pull of her lips, the slither of her tongue and the ravishing pull of her sucking. And that is exactly how it was, “Oh, the feel of your creamy juices pouring down my throat,” she gargled on the last drops.

I was still able to recover sufficiently to give her the fucking she demanded afterwards.

I was convinced that Sheena had told no one. But, as I would find out. there was more than one person knew of my activity. They say that pride comes before a fall, and my boastful display of my ejaculatory control was soon to catch me out.

Normal teaching went on. My sporting time with the boys was just sheer enjoyment. With my literature class, despite a few studious girls, the flirty group became more and more provocative. Little doubt that Thelma Turton was the main tormentor. Not an unattractive girl, and no dullard when it came to academics. But she wore her sexuality like a badge. I sensed that unless I was cautious, real trouble might evolve.

Then, at the end of that third week of servicing Sheena, stark reality set in. Wearing a shirt and pants, I moved quickly when I heard the expected heavy knock at the door. Opening it wide for Sheena, I wasn’t expecting the two sensuous ladies, who marched boldly into my room. Sheena, yes, but the other was her companion, a most voluptuous, Melanie.

Melanie eyed me boldly, and I could tell that she was dressed in the standard summer dress over nothing, which Sheena always favored. A very attractive lady, with a lovely shaped body, but I recovered my composure as I closed the door, and turned to Sheena, who was grinning and already unbuttoning her dress.

“Sheena, you promised,” I said accusatively.

“Don’t blame her, Jack,” Melanie broke in. “We’re roommates. So, she couldn’t hide her trips out of the room.” Already she was unbuttoning her dress, and her eyes rolled, “She told me how exciting you’ve been”

When I glanced at Sheena, I found her already naked, and posing provocatively, a sultry expression on her face. There was no sign of apology and my rebellious cock, despite my uncertainties, was rising to half-mast.

With my eyes fixed on Sheena, I heard, to my right, the rustle as Melanie discarded her dress. Oh, yes, the great lover, me, standing there with two naked ladies, one of them, Sheena, beginning to unfasten my belt. Just when I should be reveling in the prospect of fucking two willing ladies, I was frozen with the worry of what this might do to my career. Did I dare take the risk?

Melanie, her dark eyes glowing expectantly, her full, brown-tipped breasts pointing at me, moved towards us, as Sheena pulled my pants down. The moment my fully charged erection, bounced into view, Melanie stopped in her tracks.

“Jeez, Sheena, you weren’t exaggerating. That is one hell of a prong.”

As she stared, I noticed her bare mound and the first hint of her hairless slit. Oh, yes, that was so promising. And my mind was circling madly around the prospect of, despite my multi-experiences, encountering my first hairless pussy, and a first threesome. Could I really by-pass such prospects?

Sheena turned my face towards her, and planted a kiss on my lips, before uttering her first words since entering, “It was impossible to keep our meetings from Melanie. And it can be so frustrating having to live in here. I had to let her in on it. You all right with this?”

I stroked one hand over her left breast, enjoying her sharp intake of breath, before I said, “You know the risk I’m taking?” Before she could even reply, she had pressed her warm body against me, as Melanie moved in from the other side, and her cosy breasts nuzzled against my upper arm. Her fingers played along with my metal hard cock as she whispered, “I haven’t had it for a month.” Her eyes were clouded as she added, “I’m not sure if I’ve ever had one as hefty as yours.” And her squeezing fingers were a delight.

Sheena now added, “She’s so desperate for it, I’ve told her you could fuck her before we do anything else.”

“How very generous you are with my body,” I laughed, and I was thinking it was going to be best to just relax into this and forget anything else.

Together, Sheena and I set Melanie on the bed with her thighs parted and a pillow under her lower back to raise her hips. I kneeled at the foot of the bed looking into the hairless pinkness of Melanie. Already I could hear her breath quickening, but nevertheless, I said, “I should really test your readiness.” What I really wanted was my first testing of a bare pussy.

Melanie gave a breathless chuckle and hissed, “I think you’ll find—" Her words ended in a wild yelp as my fingers probed over her clit and along her drenched slit to linger, all too briefly, at her leaking entry.

“Point taken,” I said, moving between her thighs, and pushing my cock, directly up into her already heaving passage, ensuring there was no hesitation. A straight, hard, solid thrust, through the soaking, grasping muscles of her cunt.

Her orgasm was instant and undoubted. Eyes rolling, mouth gaping, this was an orgasm which just couldn’t be faked. Her hips heaved up at me, and wild animal squeals echoed around the room. Would anyone hear?

Sheena had climbed up onto the bed alongside me, and she whispered, “Oh, good you’ve really got to her. Make me ready for that.” And she placed my hand between her spread thighs, where I discovered that she wouldn’t need much preparing. My fingers relished exploring her wetness, teasing around her clit until her knees shook and trembled on the bed alongside Melanie, who I was continuing to pound into.

My fingers continued to pass back along Sheena’s pussy until I poked one finger into her entry, and she leaned over trying to find my lips with hers. But I had my face down and was sucking on Melanie’s enlarged brown nipples, listening to her breathing as my cock struck deep.

“Don’t you ever rest?” Melanie gasped, still trying to match the rhythm of my thrusts.

“Want me to stop?” I asked, faking a limp withdrawal.

“No, no. Oh, God, no. I think I’m—”

I made sure of what she thought was going to happen, by slamming my hardness deep into her once more, and watched as her face contorted, her head swung from side to side, and a string of obscenities issued from her dribbling lips as she was driven into another orgasm.

Meanwhile, I had withdrawn my single finger out of the panting Sheena and, middle over the index, I pushed crossed fingers back into her, making her moan loudly, “God, what are you doing to me? Can’t I have that cock now.” Her eyebrows lowered as she looked at me, and I eased my cock, still hugely erect, slowly out of Melanie, who hardly moved.

While my cock hung in front of me, moist with Melanie’s juices, Sheena lay back alongside Melanie, spread her thighs while she tucked a pillow under her lower back. “I’m all ready for you.” As though I wasn’t aware of that fact. “Come on, mix my juices with Melanie’s on your lovely pole.” And she reached out to rub over Melanie’s belly, causing her to sit up just as I guided my ever- eager cock into the delicious wetness of Sheena.

This was familiar territory and, as with other occasions together, Sheena went into immediate orgasm. Watching closely, the crouched Melanie said, “But you haven’t gone. Is she going to get all of your cum?”

Humping easily into Sheena I could only reply, “Some other time.” Little did I know that ‘some other time’ might never arrive. I did cum almost in tune with Sheens’s next orgasm. I watched as Sheena cleaned herself up and was shaken when Melanie leaned over me and began licking all the collected juice off my diminishing rod.

We showered, but only two could get into the cubicle at once. Consequently, we made a hell of a mess on the bathroom floor. For the next hour, we were on the bed, touching, sucking, licking so that there was no part of our bodies that fingers or tongues hadn’t explored. I lay back and allowed the pair of them to lick my hardness, convincing me of how pleasurable a threesome could be. Then they made mind-blowing comments about how glorious my cock was. And there lay my problem. I would later condemn myself for being so cocksure. Sheena had once said I shouldn’t be big-headed about it.

As their oral ministrations brought my cum spurting they lapped at it eagerly and Sheena groaned, “You’ve turned two respectable teachers into sluts.”

Melanie licked her lips and laughed, “Come off it, Sheena, you were already half qualified before Jack.

Me? I’ve been a slut for years.

When they left I slept the sleep of the just, or the just after!

Then, my mindless addiction to cock fulfilment was about to cost me. Two days after my first threesome, there came a classroom incident which, at the time, I feared might endanger my probation. Not knowing those irons were already in the fire.

However, that morning the class were extra high, some girls were very animated. The quieter, more studious girls looked most uneasy. Thelma Turton constantly turned to her friends, head nodding, a wide smirk on her face. I reprimanded her, by saying quietly, “I would appreciate your close attention, Thelma.”

Lips pursed, and eyes blinking exaggeratedly, she said, “Oh, yes, Mr. Langley, I’ll give you that.” Other girls, with hands to mouths, giggled, but the rest of the session went satisfactorily. I dismissed the class and began clearing up.

I was in the large stock cupboard at the back of the room, putting books away, when I became aware of movement behind me. The cupboard door slammed shut. Shaken, I spun around to face a greater shock. Thelma Turton was standing with her back against the door. Her fingers were unbuttoning her blouse all the way down, as she leered at me.

“Is this the kind of close attention you meant, Mr. Langley?” she growled, in an attempted seductive voice. Then, she flicked open her blouse to reveal a pink laced bra, from which her breasts appeared to be attempting escape.

“Thelma!” I gasped, stepping forward to pull her away from the door, but that would have meant laying hands on her. I felt ridiculously vulnerable. Womaniser laid low.

“You’d like to touch them, wouldn’t you, Mr. Langley?”

I was near speechless with my own helplessness, “Stop this, Thelma. You could be in trouble.”

“Or you could, eh?” Her smile widened, and she swayed her body provocatively and took a step towards me. “But I won’t tell if you won’t,” she chuckled, as she pulled her bra down to reveal two well-rounded brown-tipped breasts

I had never regarded female breasts so coldly as desperate and annoyed at my own ineptitude, I took a step back and sought my sternest voice, “Thelma, you are being very foolish.”

“Oh, come on. I’m nearly nineteen, and I’m ready. Feel me—” And she had started to raise her skirt, when the door behind her burst open, striking her off balance, and there stood Mrs. Plumpton, her face red with anger.

Oh, hell, I was in deep trouble. But Mrs. Plumpton grabbed Thelma by the shoulders, “You wicked, disrespectful girl. How dare you act in this disgusting manner? Button yourself up and go to my room.”

Feeling quite shaken, I watched Thelma feverishly buttoning up as she trudged, away, blank-faced. Mrs. Plumpton turned towards me.

“Mrs. Plumpton, I had no idea that—”

She held up a hand, “Please, Mr. Langley, it’s as I feared, your age, and the provocative nature of some of the older girls. Connie had the sense to come and tell me.”

Regaining my equanimity, I said humbly, “I’ll be wary in future.”

Her attractive face suddenly became shadowed, as she said, rather coldly, “Oh, yes, Mr. Langley, the future. About that. I was on my way to see you. Something has been brought to my attention.”

A chill started in my belly and crept up through my whole system. She knew. What else could it be?

“Something?” I mumbled dumbly

Her frown, the darkness around her eyes as she spoke, had my legs feeling unsteady,

Her eyes held mine for a moment, before she said, “Not here. Come to my office. After your evening meal, say,”

No request this. A command. Numbed, I suggested, “Six thirty?”

“Fine,” she said curtly and walked away.

Such a long day followed. An axe was poised over my head, and the urges of my rogue cock were about to ruin my career.

At six thirty I arrived, tense and uncertain, at her office door. An imperious, “Enter,” had me opening the door. Mrs. Plumpton was standing, looking out of her window. She was dressed, exactly as she had been for my interview, in a white blouse and black skirt.

“Anything you should be telling me, Mr. Langley?” She did not turn around.

What could I say? Defensively I asked her, “I’m not sure.”

“You do recall your probationary details?”

Here it comes, I knew for certain, I was dead in the water. I mumbled an assent.

“No intercourse with staff on site. Correct?”

Intercourse? Wow, there was a formal approach. I couldn’t avoid a heavy sigh of near despair, before asking, “May I know who told you?”

She had not left the window since I arrived. “No, you may not. My initial informant remains anonymous.” Mrs. Plumpton half turned, her face stern, while her eyes traveled up and down my uncomfortable body. “But what I heard from Melanie Sharp, this morning was intriguing.”

Was that the Melanie that I’d pronged? With what looked like a smirk on her face, Mrs. Plumpton turned back to the window and told me, “To protect her employment status she was eager to give me an extremely graphic account of your activities recently.”

Mrs. Plumpton turned suddenly away from the window and strode purposefully towards me. Her blue eyes were fixed firmly on mine as she came up close enough for me to smell her perfume. Lavender, was it? “Do you believe you have any way to protect your employment?

I wasn’t sure of what to say and just shook my head, wondering where I would end up.

“I tell you what,” Mrs. Plumpton said flatly, “You see that door on the left of the far window?”

Puzzled, I nodded my head, and she added, “Go through there and consider your future.”

Still not grasping any intention, I opened the door. Why didn’t she just sack me?

Once inside, I found myself in what was like an elongated house porch, well decorated, with flowering plants along the frosted windows. At the end was a similar door, and now it began to dawn on me. I was in the entry to her private apartment. What was this all about? I hadn’t long to wait.

The door opened, and Mrs. Plumpton came in, closed the door, and did I hear a key click? She turned to me, and I saw that the coldness had gone from those blue eyes, as she moved in very close. Too close.

“You’re a very bright young man,” she whispered, “And I’m sure you can work out what might protect your future.”

Her eyes showed it, her slightly parted lips suggested it, the heat from the nearness of her body gave an extra hint. But what if I was misreading all of this? Did she really want me inside her?

No woman had ever made me tremble with doubt. Next second, as I looked into her, now fired up eyes, her lips came up to capture mine, and her tongue searched inside my cheeks until it was tangling with my own tongue. The heaving pressure of her mouth allied to the small grunts that came from her throat told me that I had misread nothing. I had briefly clutched at her shoulders, but my hands needed to squeeze the wonder of her breasts.

As I identified a very brief bra under her blouse, she broke the kiss to gasp, “You can take me right here, but comfort would be good.”

I nodded, and she led me into an elegant living room, that was a fleeting feature as we hastened into a large, heavily scented bedroom. We stood close, stripping off our clothes, and briefly stood to admire each other. Her body was as near perfect as any woman the other side of forty could have. Only a slight droop to the bold breasts and strong looking thighs led over tawny pussy to amazing flat belly. “God, you are beautiful—”

Her eyes were on my erection, as she sighed, “And that is magnificent.”

We stood there, not two feet apart, both realizing the sudden development that had overtaken us. Then we lay together on the bed, and, looking up at me she whispered, “I know it’s trite, Jack, but be gentle with me. It’s been three years.”

Eager to stroke over her skin, I touched her inner thigh, felt the moisture, as she croaked, “Yes, oh yes, I’m ready. Do it now.”

Half smiling, I poised over her as I said, “I have to. I’m your slave now, aren’t I?”

“If you’re good enough, and you don’t even know my name.” And she giggled, which was a pleasing sound, “It’s Carol. Come on, fuck me.”

So, no ‘intercourse’ and my rock-hard cock pressed into her very core. She gasped and groaned, but there was no instant orgasm. Been a long time, eh? Just three deep hard thrusts had her squealing and yelping as her hips heaved up with surprising strength.

We held that hearty rhythm until she cried out that she was cumming, and within seconds I was pumping my seed into her wildly flexing interior. I was amazed that we were so close to a mutual orgasm. I looked hopefully into her reddened face. “You need a slave?”

“I’ve wanted you ever since you walked in to the Academy. But I‘d like a second trial.” Her grin was wicked, and my hopes raised massively. Inside an hour I was ready to caress every part of her body, as she was with me. Entry this time brought on an instant orgasm, and a second quickly followed.

Lying close together, recovering, I asked the question again. She kissed me, as she said, “Definitely, but remember, you are my slave exclusively.” Her eyes looked deeply into mine. “Got that? Me only.”

I lay thinking, ‘Goodbye Sheena. Farewell Melanie.’ C’est la vie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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