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The School

By: LeCat



My warmest and deepest thanks to LadyM12 for her constructive comments as well as her efforts in editing this document. 

"Are you Mr Williams? I think I'm expected." Martin Williams looked up from his desk to see a rather tall, long-legged blond standing in the doorway. She was about 5 feet 11 inches tall, with long hair past her shoulders. Probably 36-24-38, but the jacket hid the true size of her waist. Her lips were painted a bright red, drawing attention to them, and giving thoughts as to what they would look like wrapped around a pencil or a thick straw. She was wearing a dark skirt and a jacket top. Normally this would be worn over a blouse, but the lady had decided that the jacket was enough. There was plenty of creamy skin on display. Her high heels were very high, which meant that she was not embarrassed about her height, and probably that she liked the idea of being rather tall, and the dominance that this afforded her.

"Yes I am, please come in," he said

"Sorry. There was no one at the reception desk and I have an appointment, so I thought that I would come in."

"My secretary must be off elsewhere. She has a wide range of duties and these often take her away from the desk. Normally she tells me, but in this case she must have forgotten."

"My name is Laura Ashton." Laura held out her hand, which Martin accepted. The grip was firm; she was obviously accustomed to shaking hands with men. Her skin was cool and dry and the handshake was an almost erotic experience. "My doctor, Dr. Hawood, said to give you this letter." Again Laura held out her hand, this time with a letter. Martin took it and placed it on the desk.

"Please sit down." Lara sat in the chair, somewhat on the front edge of the chair. Her tight skirt rode up her thighs, revealing a delicious show of creamy flesh. Her back was perfectly vertical, and her hands were clasped in her lap. She looked like a tiger defending the pack, on the alert and very watchful.

"Let's fill in this form while we talk. Most of the details are on the back of the envelope. We finally got Dr. Hawood put them on the outside and it saves so much time. It says you are a 'Ms.', which type?"

"Miss." Martin transcribed the details from the envelope onto the standard interview form.

"Okay that's all done. What seems to be the problem?" inquired Al.

"It is all in the envelope. Doctor said the notes were very complete."

"Yes they probably are. However, they were written by a doctor for a doctor and I am neither."

"Then why am I here?"

"I run a type of resort. In the past we have been able to help many patients of Dr. Hawood, and others, in areas that traditional medical practices have been unsuccessful. We have doctors at the resort, but they are for medical problems that arise while guests are staying. Occasionally there may be a 'flu case or strained muscles from the activities but nothing more serious."

"Well the doctor did send the note and perhaps it is all clear in the letter."

Martin groaned internally. She was going to be one of those! Martin did a quick estimate and decided to go with his gut instinct.

"Let me see. Your sister is younger than you." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes."

"By?"

"Three years."

"Two children?"

"Yes," replied a perplexed Laura.

"Type?"

"Both boys."

"No more planned?"

"Medical problems left her unable to conceive after the last birth."

"Live close to your mother?"

"Around the corner," Laura was getting somewhat frustrated. The purpose of the visit was to help her and instead this non-doctor was asking very personal questions about her family.

"Does your sister work?"

"No she is married to an accountant and he has a reasonable income; nothing special but enough for them."

"Your mother spends a lot time at your sister's?"

Eventually Laura's frustration became too much to bear, "Yes! What has all this to do with my being here? You haven't started to discuss my problem!"

"Haven't I? You own your own company?"

"Yes," responded Laura, rather shocked at both the change of tack and the accuracy of the question.

"This is a guess: advertising? About ten people work for you."

"Public relations. There are about twenty people, but not all are full time. Many work from home. The Internet has been great in allowing us to expand the business without people needing office space."

"The business must be very good. Only the high-income patients are referred here. There must be long hours involved in such a high-pressure business; some clients would need 24/7 care and attention."

"Yes! Some of our clients are so demanding, and most are high maintenance! As well as their own needs there is additional trouble they can get into and need some help in extracting themselves. Others are never happy and I seem to spend my entire life dealing with other people's petty problems. A ninety-hour week is nothing. But my clients pay big money and they expect a corresponding level of service. They can easily change companies and, to be truthful, there is probably not much between the various organisations. We all offer the same service, which is often damage control. And we all try and make egocentric overly demanding people happy." Laura visibly relaxed as the topic of the conversation turned professional rather than personal. "We need to convince each of our high paying clients that we are doing something more than they can get from another company, when probably any differences are very insignificant and handle problems that should never have happened. And if a ten year-old did the same things you would smack their rear, at least that is what my mother would have done. Today, who knows?" However, the next question was very disconcerting.

"When did you break-up with you last partner? Male?"

"Most definitely male! VERY male! On our holiday in January. We went to Vietnam for two weeks. We left as a couple and came home on different planes. He arrived first, and cleaned out his stuff from my apartment. The last I saw of him was him leaving the hotel screaming that the he was sick of me and sick of being on vacation alone."

"When did the problem with sleeping start?" Laura glanced at the doctor's letter to reassure herself that it was still unopened. How could he possibly know that? she wondered.

"About a month after that."

"The lack of concentration? Headaches? Lack of energy?"

"Around the same time."

Martin decided a change of topic was necessary. "How long did you dance for?"

Laura sat bolt upright in her chair. "How the hell did you know that?"

"You just told me." Laura looked less than pleased with this flippant answer. "It was the way that you walked and sat. Rather than a flop it was a very elegant sit. You have very powerful and graceful legs, someone who is concerned with appearances. We have had several people that have previously stayed with us who were dancers for some time. They all moved the same. It seems to be a once learned and never forgotten thing.

The next question was even more disconcerting than the previous: it was completely different and unnervingly accurate. "Since the break-up, have you been spending a lot more on clothes and shoes?"

"Well I never! I did not come here to be insulted, or to be interrogated about things that are of no concern to you. Goodbye." She started to get out of the chair, pivoted and bent down to pick up her handbag. She was so upset that she hadn't considered her position and Al's location. Rather than bending at the knees she simply bent at the waist and this presented an excellent view of her almost perfect behind. Her tight cotton skirt was pulled tight as she bent showing a perfect circle and a smooth surface. Either she had neglected her panties today or she wasn't wearing a full brief. No panty lines for this girl.

The next question was a slap in the face. "How long do the batteries last? A month?"

"What the fuck? How dare you? How dare you! I came here for help and all you have done is to insult and degrade me, and generally treat me like dirt. Thank you. Thank you for nothing! I am so out of here!" Laura stomped past Martin to the door. 

He waited until she was almost to the door before he gently said, "This is the first part in the process. A solution requires an understanding of the problem, and we both need to understand the problem. All of these questions help us both to define the problem. People only come to me as a last resort. If you leave now, where will you go next? If you want a solution then please sit down, but sit down with an open mind. Remember that I am not a doctor, and I am looking for a solution. The other medical practitioners have not been able to help you. We have over 200 guests that came to this place with a similar problem. Some found this to be a permanent solution; others found it a workable temporary solution. In all cases the client found the initial concept hard to understand and then hard to accept. It may not work for you, and in ten minutes you may again be going to the door. In that case I will not try and stop you."

Laura returned to the chair and again sat gracefully on the edge. "The clock has started. It's your ten minutes."

"Would you like a cup of coffee? I have my own cappuccino machine. One of the perks of the job."

"A cappuccino would be nice. No sugar."

Martin left her to cool down while he made the coffee. He quickly returned and placed the coffee beside her on the table. As she was sitting and he standing, he was offered a great view down her jacket. Her low cut bra pushed her breasts upward and provided a nice curve. The deep valley between them and the shadows were intriguing. Laura caught him looking but did not look displeased. She rather looked bored. She interrupted his concentration with, "You were saying?"

"Oh yes." He picked up the letter for emphasis and moved it across his desk, near the edge. He then picked up his folder and started to read. "This is profile that I have of you, based on the questions that you have answered and the similar cases that have stayed in this resort."

Laura nodded her head and seemed to become more interested in the conversation. "You are a workaholic. Your business is the most important aspect in your life. On the last holiday you probably spent more time ringing the business each day than with your partner." Laura looked down at the floor and barely nodded her head. "Your staff are uninterested in the business and constantly make mistakes. You need to check all their work as well as you do your own. Your mother is continually nagging about your marital status and never fails to remind you that your sister is married with two gorgeous children. 

"Although you have a high income you also spend big time. Often as a reward for the alone time that you have and as a reward for the work that you do. However, there is also the need for some affection and a moving toy is a poor substitute. But, it does allow you to sleep at night.

"At the end of the day the thought of looking for someone requires too much effort and a late night bottle of wine, an application of a vibrator between those beautiful legs and the day is done." Laura's eyes grew bigger and bigger as Martin spoke. When he mentioned about being "between those legs" Laura turned a bright shade of red and started to glare and almost stood up to leave. Before she could act on the impulse Martin continued.

"The first step in the process is to recharge and rejuvenate you. This means have a holiday."

At this Laura leaned forward and said with a great deal of venom, "After being insulted, degraded, and embarrassed, this is your solution: have a holiday? That's it? Have a holiday!"

"You did not let me finish," replied Martin with some authority. "Obviously a typical holiday will have you calling the office everyday, frustrated with how they are doing things. Frustrated with all the other couples having a good time, and you will end up flat on you back, legs spread, with the first young guy that asks you the time of day. The holiday will end and you will be poorer and worse off than you are at the moment."

"So what is you solution?" the sarcasm dripping from each syllable.

"You need a holiday from," here Martin paused for emphasis, "you. Rather than a holiday where you make decisions and still do work everyday, we give you a holiday free of decisions. Every minute is planned and the only questions that you will face are what to order off the menu. Your telephone is confiscated. A receptionist will answer all calls. If they are deemed important they will be forwarded to you. Since we opened the only call that has been forwarded was about the death of a relative. You will be placed in a team of 4 and there will be group and individual activities with a team leader. Most people find that the complete change of pace and the loss of control changes them: it breaks the cycle. Sleep patterns improve and they leave here much better prepared to handle the stress of their working life." 

Laura looked at Martin with a great deal of disbelief. "I understand what you are saying, but I am really having trouble believing this is going to solve my problem."

"How about a very simple experiment in losing control and developing trust?"

"Well … Ok."

"You must trust me! Through that door is a bathroom. Go in there and remove your stockings and panties. Put them in your bag so that I can see them. Return and sit down. Do not cross your legs."

"This is getting ridiculous!"

"Trust. Anyway, it is not really a big thing. Many people never bother with these items every day."

Laura could see she was cornered. If she refused then it was proof that Martin was right. However, the idea of being exposed in such a manner before this man was very threatening. Of course, this is exactly what Martin was after. It was the change of power that would bring the change in Laura. With a grim face and she went to make the required changes. Martin made them both another cup of coffee. He also moved the chair so that it was facing him directly.

When she returned she sat down with her legs clamped together. She took a sip of coffee. Okay a do or die effort, thought Al.

"Now Laura, please take the Sharon Stone pose." Laura went white. What was he suggesting? He couldn't be really? She decided to act dumb and hope that she had misunderstood him. 

"Huh?"

"In Basic Instinct, Sharon did that famous scene. You know it of course?" Laura nodded. "In that scene she crossed he legs but left them slightly apart as she did when she re-crossed her legs. Just sit as she did with your legs not touching, just slightly apart. Your dress is so long that you will still be hidden."

Okay that's true, and he is over there, thought Laura. The change in the power relationship was becoming unsettling for Laura. She moved her legs slightly apart.

Martin left the far side of his desk and sat in front of her. "Laura, how do you feel?"

"Okay I guess."

"Now lift your dress higher, above your knees." Without comment, Laura moved the hemline just above her knees. "No, higher. Mid thigh." Laura took a breath a moved the dress even higher.

"Now you are not sure what I can see or not see. Move you legs further apart." In salience Laura did as she was commanded. "It is exciting to think that you could be on display? No one is forcing you. Now put your hands on the arms of the chair. Remember trust." Laura moved her hands, grateful that she could grip the arms of the chair. As she moved he hands Martin stood up and picked up a roll of duct tape. 

"Do not move," he commanded, for the first time putting some authority into his voice. Rather fearful of his authority, she did not move and he bound her hands to the chair.

"Now I am in control. You will not be harmed. You are safe. But you have no control, no self will." Martin kneeled down on the floor directly in front of Laura. He put his hands very gently on the inside of each knee and applied outward pressure. When Laura refused to allow her legs to be spread any further, Martin gently massaged he legs with his thumbs, in a gentle but firm pressure. Both thumbs started from the inside of her leg and moved up and over the top and then down to the inside. The left hand moved in a counter-clockwise circle while the right hand moved in a clockwise pattern. Both had gentle but firm pressure subtly pushing outwards. The continued movement, the lack of male attention for so long, combined with Al's authority reduced Laura's resistance. Gradually there was a slight movement, very slight, of her legs. 

"Laura you are now totally exposed, but I cannot see anything because your skirt is in the way. How do you feel?" 

Silence as Laura was unable to comment.

Martin asked in a softer but more commanding voice, "Is it wet?"

Laura went white as the colour drained from her face. She refused to consider the question. It was too obscene; too personal. She had never been asked such a question before. She sat there, dumb. However, Martin was not going to let her escape. Even quieter he repeated the question, this time with greater emphasis on "it".

Laura could not look him in the eye. She knew that she had to answer the question or he would simply keep repeating it. The emphasis on the pronoun somehow made the question even more threatening. With barely a hint of movement she nodded her head. Martin was pleased with the developments. Here was a true submissive. She was unable to hold his gaze and the smell in the room left no doubt as to the degree of her arousal. He moved each hand further up the leg and slightly downwards so they were now actually between her legs and continued the gentle massage in wider strokes so that each pass of his thumbs covered more area and increased the pressure to open her legs further.

"I can stop if you wish. Simply ask me to stop." Laura knew that she should and also knew that she could not. His hands continually moved. "I am in control." Her breathing became shallow. Afraid of what he would do next, and just as afraid that he would stop.

His voice dropped a tone and had both a hypnotic effect, laced with control. "Everything is mine for the taking. You are exposed and your mouth is just at waiting to be used. That red lipstick is very striking. The idea is to make someone think of using those lips. A kiss somewhere." His hands moved up and slightly rotated down on the inside of her leg. Each hand was barely under the skirt; just the fingernails on each finger. He applied pressure and gripped the warm, soft flesh. Again there was a gasp and an almost imperceptible movement of her legs further apart. They couldn't open any more because of the arms of the chair.

His hands went further up her leg, under her skirt to the second knuckle of each finger. The thumbs were almost touching between her legs. Again the massaging pressure of his hands, kneading the wonderfully soft flesh. Laura's eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as she prepared for the inevitable, almost moving her hips forward to make contact with those fingers.

"Further?" he asked.

"Yes."

He moved his hands further up her legs til they touched the outside of her pussy. Very gently he moved his fingers down the most sensitive folds of her sex. He could feel the moisture mix with her almost silky fur.

It had been so long since there had been a male this close to her. It was even more powerful because the owner of the fingers was virtually unknown, and within a few minutes of meeting him, he had his hands under her skirt, her legs apart and had taken total control of her. Yet he was denying that which she wanted most: penetration and release.

"You are very close, aren't you?" An even smaller nod of the head. 

"Move forward and sit on the edge of the chair. Open your legs as wide as you can." Laura had given up all resistance. Normally she would have been affronted by these words, now she meekly moved forward and finally exposed herself to this virtual stranger. Martin could see the sparse blonde hair each side of the widely spread puffy lips of her sex. The smell of lust filled the room and Laura bit her bottom lip.


The School Assignment



"No way! Erection?" Claire cried out as we sat in a circle on her bedroom floor, our Human Anatomy notes strewn in the centre. The three of us had grown up with overbearing parents, lived in a very conservative community and previously went to an uptight, religious school. As a result, although we were all 18 years old and going to College now, we had not had much of exposure to sex. "I've seen all my brothers' penises, and none of them has done that," added Claire.

I often thought Claire could be a model, with her high cheekbones, small sharp nose, and lush shoulder-length black hair. She had a kind of Courtney Cox look. Her body is petite, but everything seems perfectly proportioned and tightly presented.

"I'm just telling you what I'm reading here," retorted Stephanie, "It says that 'an erection is a state of arousal in the male that is indicated by increased size, rigidity and blood flow in the penis. In most cases, the resting angle of the penis increases with the onset of rigidity until it points almost in line with and toward the top of the torso.'"

Stephanie is one of the few black girls in our class, and if I were picking her look-a-like, I would say that she favoured Beyoncé Knowles. She has full lips, coiffed curly hair, ample breasts and a glint in her eyes that suggests a wild side.

"All I'm saying," continued Claire in her refutation, "is that my brothers' thingees... um... penises have always looked small and limp when I've seen them. I've never seen them point anywhere." Claire had risen and gone to her closet. After opening the door, she unbuttoned her white blouse, took it off and hung it up. Then she reached back to unhook her bra.

Whoa!! That was pretty nonchalant. I wanted to stare at her undressing, but I chose to be polite and turned my head away to look over at Stephanie. She was sitting back on her arms behind her. She wore a very tight, baby blue, cotton crop top that failed to hide the outlines of her relatively large aureoles or nubby nipples. Likewise, her tight, low-rider jeans had no success in hiding her conspicuously red thong panties.

"Well, what do you think a hard-on is then?" Stephanie countered, "Haven't you noticed the bulges in the guys' pants at school?"

Claire returned to our circle. She had put on a long, red mesh, athletic jersey with large, white numbering on its front and back. Based on the prevalence of pink through the holes in the mesh, I guessed that she had not put on any underwear when she got changed. In fact, I could swear that I saw a little nubbin of a nipple peaking through one of the mesh holes as she stood in front of us, but when she dropped to her knees, it disappeared behind the jersey's protective screen.

"Yeah, I guess so," Claire finally yielded, "I just thought some guys had bigger penises."

I would like to brag that being with these two extremely hot girls was due to my equal social standing, but I have to admit that the opposite is actually true. Claire and Stephanie always chose me to be in their study groups because I was the class nerd. This meant that I would end up doing the assignments for them, resulting in high marks for all of us. But that's as far as I want to think about the reasons for my being here right now, because if I really analyzed it, I might realize that they included me also because they do not consider me to be a threat or a distraction. I would also like to refuse, at this point, to discuss the effect that this association has had on my social status. I choose to believe that others envy my opportunity to be with these two and to ignore the suggestion that others think that I must be gay.

Ordinarily, I would be fulfilling my part of our division of labour by sitting quietly in a corner of the room writing out our report while they argued about the design of the title page, but this time, I was out of my depth. Human anatomy and sexual behaviour were not topics that were readily part of my experience. In fact, I had not even done the pre-reading due, I guess, to my overriding embarrassment with the whole topic area. Luckily, the girls were more engaged in the research than usual.

"Well, what about you, Timmy?" I jolted back to reality. Claire was suddenly glaring at me intently, "Do you get erections?"

Well, if I was somewhat uncomfortable watching Claire change before, I was completely unnerved by that question. Of course I did; I sort of had one right now, but I wasn't about to talk about it. "Yeah, I guess..." I muttered weakly.

Claire looked sideways and slyly at Stephanie and then back at me. "Timmy... could you... ummm... do you mind if we... ummm... looked at your thingee?" Claire asked cautiously.

"What?!!" I turned bright red.

Claire approached me on her knees and draped both her arms over my shoulders. Then she leaned forward until the tip of her nose was lightly touching mine. "Come on, Timmy. Please!!" she pleaded softly, her breath breaking against my lips.

My eyes avoided her sudden closeness. "I... I..."

She leaned in further. Her cheek grazed my cheek as her lips approached my ear. The sweet flowery aroma of her perfume filled my nose. Her lips brushed against the opening of my ear, "Please, Tim. It's for the assignment." Her tongue touched my earlobe, and my cock went into full erection.

"Okay... I guess..." I said meekly and tried to stand on uncertain legs. I had never been naked in front of a woman before, and now I was going to strip in front of two friends.

"You don't have to do this," Stephanie consoled me, but I watched the hardening nipples underneath her top betray her true interest.

Well, there was no putting it off. I fumbled with the buttons on my polo shirt, and as I pulled it over my head, I felt a pair of hands working on my belt buckle and pants button. When the shirt cleared my field of view, I looked down to see Claire kneeling in front of me and pulling down my zipper. I got a huge twinge in my gut as I looked down at the top of her head in front of my crotch and her hands on my fly.

Claire grabbed the sides of my pants and pulled them down to the floor, where I stepped out of them. With a giggle, Claire touched her fingertip to my large bulge and shot a glance back at Stephanie, "Oh my gawd!!!" she shrieked, "I think you're right."

Claire quickly reached back up, grabbed the sides of my underpants and pulled them down in a single motion. My stiff cock sprang out from under the waistband of my briefs, and the cool air against my penis accentuated my sudden feeling of vulnerability.

Claire reached up and steadied my oscillating member. "Wow!" she exclaimed, marvelling at its size and stiffness. I couldn't believe that a woman was touching my penis.

Then, Claire took on a puzzled look. "That's odd," she mused. These were not words a guy wants to here the first time a woman sees his cock.

"What's wrong?" I asked with unconcealed concern.

Claire gently held my penis out with one hand, and with her other hand, she reached a finger to my cock head. "My brothers have more skin here," she said, running her finger lightly over the top of my head, "And you can't see this part unless you pull the skin down," at which point, she reached her fingers around my penis and pulled down the shaft, making the skin on my cock head stretch tightly. I suddenly felt a wonderful tingle travel along my penis and up my spine.

"I read about that," Stephanie jumped in, flipping through her textbook. "Your brothers have 'foreskins,' and Paul has... (flip, flip, flip) been 'circumcised.'"

Claire let her fingertip glide over my head, exploring all its sides and over the hole in the tip. I let out a slight exhale, which prompted her to quietly ask, "Does that hurt?"

"No," I responded softly, "That actually feels really good."

"Really?!!" Claire looked up at me with a huge grin and a glint in her eye. Then she increased the speed and range of her fingertip petting. I exhaled again and realized that I was starting to get very... worked up down below – I don't know how else to describe it.

Claire stopped what she was doing, reached around to cup one of my butt cheeks and gave me a little push toward Stephanie. "Here, Steph," she offered, "Have a look."

The momentum of her push caused me to step awkwardly over the books on the floor. I found some footing in front of Stephanie and stopped, but in compensating for my forward movement, I unintentionally thrust my hips forward. My swollen member just missed her lips, and its head skipped across her cheek.

Stephanie lurched backward in surprise, but then she leaned forward again. She reached up and placed her fingers under my balls, bouncing them lightly up and down as if checking their weight. Then, she let one of her fingers trace gingerly along the side of my pole and up the underside to the tip.

"I've got it!!" cried Claire, leaping to her feet and rushing to her dresser. "We'll take pictures," she added, holding up her digital camera.

"What?!!" I exclaimed in great surprise.

Claire hooked her hand under my armpit and practically dragged me to her bed. "Don't worry, Tim," Claire explained hurriedly, "It's all clinical or professional or whatever. We've left it too late to write this report up properly, so we'll do a photo essay."

When we reached the bed, my shins hit the frame, undercutting my support, and I flopped onto the mattress. I probably could have sprained or dislocated the focus of our study with my fall, but the announcement of the photo session had dampened its enthusiasm considerably, causing it to lose its stiffness.

Claire raced around the bed to set up her shot, and I rolled onto my back to get into what I thought she would want for a position. After bringing the camera to her eye, she stopped and brought it down again. "What happened?" she asked, taken aback by my sudden deflation.

Stephanie had risen and was now sitting on the other side of the bed beside me. "I think he just lost his erection or something."

"That happens? Well, how do we get it back?" Claire asked with concern.

Stephanie had already picked up her textbook and was scanning one of the pages. "It says that 'an erection is instantiated, sustained and increased by erotic visualization, indirect physical stimulation of a sexual nature and various forms of direct, penile manipulation.'"

There was a long pause in the room.

"Steph," Claire said slowly, "Get undressed."

Stephanie's head snapped over to look at Claire in surprise. Then she looked back into my nervous-looking eyes and limp penis. She smiled as she stood up and removed her top. Her full breasts flopped back onto her chest and settled into position. Her nipples had risen to extend a surprising height above her aureoles.

She quickly wriggled out of her tight jeans and slipped her thong down to the floor. Nervously, she glanced over at Claire and smiled. She went to sit down again, but as she knelt on the bed, she unexpectedly leaned forward and positioned her breasts to hang heavily over my face. Then, leaning forward, she swayed her torso back and forth so that her tits started bumping against my face. I felt some flesh hit my nose, a nipple graze my lips and two mounds push into my closed eyelids. Giggling, she returned to her seated position. "Visualizing anything now?" she asked me impishly.

It had the desired effect. My erection was returning. Stephanie touched it tentatively at first.

"Is he larger or harder or anything?" Claire asked.

"Sort of, but not like before," Stephanie replied as she moved her hands slowly over my hard-on, twisting it slightly to test its resilience.

"Okay, well let me get a picture of that anyways," Claire said as she snapped a quick photo.

"Claire!!!" objected Stephanie.

"Don't worry, Steph. I'm not going to show your face.... Umm... Well, let's try the direct, physical stimulation thing," Claire suggested.

"How do I do that?"

"Well, I don't know.... Try rubbing it with your hand."

Stephanie slowly moved her hand up and down my shaft. At first, she just used her thumb and a finger, but as she stroked, she wrapped her whole hand around it.

Up and down she went in a slow, steady rhythm. It felt so wonderful, and I squirmed under her motion. "Hmmm," purred Claire noticing my engrossment, "I think he likes that." Stephanie smiled at the effect she was having and bit her lower lip.

"So is it bigger?" Claire asked.

"I think so," Stephanie replied, continuing her stroke, "But it's also getting sticky.... Give me something to make my hand slippery. How about that hand lotion on the end table?"

Claire leaned across and squirted some lotion into Stephanie's hand, and Stephanie set to work coating my cock with the lotion and then rubbing it in. Her labour produced an exquisite slurpy-squishy sound.

My condition changed immediately. I had never felt so near to heaven in my life. My prick got rock hard instantly, and something roiled in my balls. I had no idea what was taking place.

"Whoa!!!" exclaimed Stephanie, "That worked!!" As she took her hand away, my shaft stood vertically without support and throbbed noticeably. "Is that the picture you want?" Stephanie asked, leaning back wide-eyed.

Claire stared through the viewfinder. "Yeah, except it's got lotion all over it," Claire said, crouching in, "Just wipe it off, and I'll take one."

Stephanie reached in and grasped the top of my shaft with her whole hand. She wiped down its length firmly and then repeated the squeegee-ing two more times.... It was a miscalculation. It was just enough to put me over the top.

On her third stroke, I arched my back. "Ohhhh!!!" I gasped, as sperm shot in long spurts out the top of my fountainhead. Everyone was taken by surprise. After the first eruption, Stephanie shrieked and twisted her hand away from herself, causing my second spurt to hit Claire's jersey. Claire lurched back defensively and raised the camera over her head to protect it. I kept squirting uncontrollably, not knowing what the hell was going on.

When the commotion stopped, we all looked at each other in disbelief. Suddenly, Stephanie started giggling, followed by Claire. I just tried to catch my breath.

Between laughs, Stephanie managed to point to some goo that was dripping off Claire's sleeve. "Oh, shit!" exclaimed Claire, as she hurriedly whipped the jersey off and onto the floor. As I suspected, Claire was delightfully naked underneath, and her small, pale frame suddenly looked very vulnerable beside me.

Claire's little buttocks winked back and forth as she padded quickly out of the room to get some wet towels for clean-up. "What the hell was that?" she asked on her return.

"He ejaculated," Stephanie explained.

"Huh?"

"You know, when the guys talk about 'cumming'."

"Wow! It didn't even occur to me that that would happen. So that was his sperm?"

"Yeah. His semen, actually, but it contains his sperm."

Claire looked down at me as she ran the damp cloth over my impact zone. Her small breasts jiggled slightly back and forth as she rubbed. "I didn't even know that you were loaded," she quipped at me, but being still out of breath, I couldn't respond.

"Did you at least get the picture?" Stephanie asked as she cleaned the few spots on her side of the bed.

"No," Claire exclaimed, "It all happened too fast."

"Well, then, what are we going to do now?"

Claire grabbed both of the towels, looked down at me pensively for a moment, and then let the towels drop to the floor. "Go again," she finally answered.

"What?" returned Stephanie sceptically, "Is that even possible?"

Claire looked back at Stephanie. "What choice do we have?... I think Timmy's up for it, aren't you Tim?" she asked, apparently rhetorically. I furrowed my brow but still lay speechlessly.

Stephanie shrugged her shoulders and reached her hand in. She caressed my limp member and slowly coaxed it up and down. It felt really good, but I couldn't see how it was ever going to rise again.

After a while, Claire asked, "How's it going?"

Stephanie just shook her head.

"Do need more lotion?"

"No, there's enough from last time."

Claire looked at me thoughtfully. Then she put the camera on the end table and sat on the side of the bed. Leaning in toward my face, she whispered to me, "What's wrong, Tim? Are we not stimulating you anymore?" Then she dropped her head and started nibbling on my neck.

I could feel her tongue and lips as she kissed her way toward my chin and then back toward my ear. At the ear, she took my lobe between her teeth and started sucking on it.

"Oh!" cried Stephanie from the other end of the bed, "I think we're getting something here. Keep doing whatever you're doing." She continued to stroke slowly up and down.

Claire exhaled warmly into my ear. I could hear her respiration increase noticeably. She kissed my cheek repeatedly, and when she got to my mouth, she seemed to lose control. When she raised her head to get a breath, I pressed a kiss forward and caught her on her neck. She inhaled sharply.

She presented different parts of her neck to me, and as I kissed them, she began to whimper. Soon, she raised her body up and lowered her nipples into my mouth. The whimpering increased. She caused me to suck on one nipple for a while and then replaced it with the other one. Her movements became frantic, and Stephanie stopped her activity to see what the cause of the commotion was.

Finally, Claire leaned back with a large inhale, looking incredulously at Stephanie, who was now kneeling at the head of the bed. "I am so wet down there," Claire exclaimed in disbelief as she reached down to feel herself.

I reached over to check it out for myself, but Claire blocked me. I decided to try again, managed to avoid her guard and slipped a finger along her private area. It was hairless, and I felt like I was sliding my finger across two lips.

She wasn't kidding about being wet. As I probed, Claire exhaled forcefully and grabbed the headboard for stability. Seeing the effect that I was having, I slid my finger up and down a few more times.

"Ohhhh!!! Unghhhh!!!" Claire cried, prompting her to leap up and straddle my face with her knees. Her private area hovered over my nose and then lowered onto my lips. "Timmy, do that thing you were doing with my neck," Claire breathed with obvious anticipation.

She reached down and spread her "lips" apart and then manoeuvred herself against the motion of my tongue. Then suddenly, something special must have happened, because she began to yell, "Ohhhh gawwdddd!!!" Her thighs quivered and twitched, and her private area ground into my mouth. "Unghhh!!!" she ended, pulling on my hair. Her torso pulsed visibly.

Stephanie looked at her in complete amazement, "What happened?" But Claire just slid down my body until her crotch was stopped by my pole, which bent back slightly. Hugging my head, she pressed her lips against mine and kissed me repeatedly, tasting the residue of her wetness on my lips. Then she rolled off me and lay exhausted on her back at my side.

"Are you okay?" Stephanie repeated.

"Hmmm? Yeah.... Where were we?" Claire responded dreamily.

"We were trying to get the shot, and he was getting hard until everything got out of control up here," replied Stephanie accusingly.

"Hmmm," Claire said, still wistfully, as she sat up and reviewed the situation. "Okay then, give me the book, and let's try something else." Claire flipped through the pages, as Stephanie reached down to feel her own private area tentatively. She felt something nice, but then withdrew her hand in embarrassment.

"Okay. Here we go. Steph," directed Claire, "Put his penis in your mouth."

"What?!!" Stephanie started.

"Here, look." Claire raised the book and pointed to the illustration.

Stephanie grabbed the book out of Claire's hands and read for a while. Picking up my semi-firm member in her hand, she sucked it into her mouth and then let it pull out. Then she read some more, and this time, she sucked on my cock a bit until it became firmer, and she then bobbed up and down on it. It felt even better than previously with the hand lotion. This time is was wonderfully warm and wet.




The School Assignment



Stephanie raised her head and brushed her hair back. Looking at me with my cock still in her hand, she asked, "How does that feel?"

I was barely able to nod my head and purr an "Ummm."

"Okay, but don't ejaculate when you're in my mouth. Understand?"

I nodded again.

Stephanie went back to her bobbing, and I could feel things progressing nicely. She shifted her body to get a better position on the bed and finally knelt so that her ass was pointed more toward the head of the bed.

Claire, who was waiting on the side with the camera for the shot, sneaked around the bed and, taking my hand, placed it against Stephanie's elevated private area. I didn't know what to do, so Claire extended my middle finger and rubbed it between Stephanie's lips.

Stephanie pulled my cock out of her mouth and moaned appreciatively. In apparent gratitude, she became more creative with what she was doing. She licked along the side of my cock, flicked the head with her tongue, and kissed up and down the shaft. As I increased the frequency of my rubbing, she did the same with her sucking.

With my fingertip, I tried to find the little nub that, for Claire, seemed to be a place of worthwhile attention, but Stephanie pre-empted me by grabbing my hand and inserting my finger deep inside her.

As I moved my finger in and out, Stephanie became distracted. She stopped sucking and began to whimper with each of my strokes. She tried to return to her work but, each time, had to break away.

Her hips began to rock against my hand. "More," she pleaded. What did she mean – more speed? I tried to go faster, but I couldn't work against her hip action. More width? I was about to insert a second finger when she looked down at my swollen cock and then back at me. With a quick scramble, she moved her hips around and straddled my stomach with her legs. Then with a slow push, she fed my rigid snake into her. "Ohhh... Fuuuccckkk!!!" she exhaled.

I was shocked and on a sensory high. My penis was completely surrounded by a wonderful warmth and wetness. Then she began to rock forward and back. I just lay there. With each lunge, she picked up momentum. Her breasts swayed deliciously in compensation to her movement. She continued to accelerate. I was not going to last much longer.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Oh my gawd!!!" she exclaimed as she stared off at the headboard above me. Her bumping went into a higher gear, and she inhaled forcefully. "Unghhh!!!" she gasped, finally righting herself on my vertical dick. "Ahhh!!!" Her arms shook in front of her, and her stomach quivered noticeably.

This was all too much for me. I shot and shot and shot inside her. Waves of pleasure rolled up and down my entire body. My calf muscles seized, followed by my thighs. I could feel myself getting light-headed.

When everything finally went still, Stephanie turned to Claire, and they shared a look of disbelief. "Jeez!" exclaimed Claire, and then the two of them began laughing uncontrollably.

I continued to lie perfectly still. I was going to mention the fact that I had ejaculated inside Stephanie, but I thought that she surely must know that already.

As the laughing subsided, Stephanie dismounted from me and flopped onto the bed beside me. "Now what?" she queried, looking up at Claire.

"Start again," announced Claire, who glanced at me, in time to see the eyes pop out of my head.



The School Ch. 02



Although this story stands alone, it is strongly recommended that you read the first chapter to fully appreciate the challenges facing Laura.

Laura has been experiencing problems in her personal and business life that other forms of therapy had been unable to remedy. As a last resort she has visited a school where Martin is the owner.

A very special thanks to my editor, WhiteWave48, for proof reading and for her very constructive comments.

*

"What exactly is the problem?" Laura almost screamed. "I have the money and you have a service that I am willing to pay for. How can there be a problem? I'll pay double."

The look on Martin's face infuriated Laura. It wasn't arrogance, but it was his insufferable confidence and that she seemed so predictable. The infuriation was aggravated by his ability to make her feel her behaviour and reaction were always wrong. She felt like a mouse in a maze and that he knew all the short cuts. She was being led around the maze like a small child until she found the route that he already knew. But it was the enigma of the control that made her hot with anger and frustration, and hot with pure lust, wanting him to pound her like a rag doll.

"It is not a matter of money. Your views and attitudes are from your generation, just as mine are from mine. However, for the purposes of this school, the differences in our attitudes and expectations may be irreconcilable. 

"What you will accept as a normal standard of behaviour -- and so would many of your generation -- I will not. You will have many challenges in this school if you decide to enroll. The added challenge of meeting my expectations may be beyond you, and may limit the degree to which you attain the peace you seek. In the exceptionally short time that you have been here -- a mere few hours -- you probably believe already that you have experienced a change in your perception of the world. It is, however, very small compared to the change that I would require if I were to take control of you and your group.

"Many coming to this school do not seek the fullness and the richness that can be achieved; most people today seek a much shallower level of reward." 

At this Martin could feel Laura bristle and stand more erect, as though she was seeking to attain some dominance herself. Martin simply smiled as he continued. 

"I know that is a big generalization, but I believe it to be true. Looks, physical appearance, and a hard body are taken as being much more important than other factors. Our clients -- or students -- are generally much happier with younger, fitter, and less demanding leaders compared to old taskmasters who only seek perfection."

At this Laura really did show her displeasure. She had rarely been so thoroughly challenged in one sentence by anyone. It was made even worse because Laura didn't believe that Martin could possibly understand or appreciate her values or attitudes, and that she really would be in control when he finally did. After all, one didn't become successful in a modern competitive business world without determination. Laura knew that she wasn't the shallow, self-centered bitch for which she'd been taken.

"Consider all those singing competitions for made-up groups. Once they've been selected, what happens? They get dragged off to a gym so they lose weight and tighten up so they look good on the screen. Forget how they sound when they sing. Appearance outweighs substance. Sinatra spent many hours with his head underwater, learning to control his breathing. Today, it's who has the best video. Besides, there are other issues that suggest that another leader would be the best choice."

"Who is Sinatra?" asked a bewildered Laura, somewhat confused over the direction the conversation had taken. Martin snorted and ignored the question.

"Before you commit to our program here, I think that it may be wise for you to fully examine the commitment that you are making. Perhaps when you better understand the program you may appreciate that there are better people more suited to helping you." Martin paused for effect and then continued. "Let me show you through the facility and you'll get a better idea what we offer. Please follow me."

With that, he turned on his heel and Laura could do little but follow him out of his office. 

As they passed his secretary's desk, Laura noted, in a somewhat disapproving tone, "I see that your secretary is still missing." 

Martin took a right turn down the corridor.

"We run a very flexible operation. I trust my staff and allow them to do their job in a manner that best suits them. If Nicole wants to sit by the pool all day, that's okay by me as long as everything runs smoothly. If it doesn't, then I expect her or them to fix it -- and minimize the possibility of it happening again. Often, blame and control are energy-draining activities and not cost effective. She has only been here for six months, but already she has made me feel almost redundant, and if that means she is not tied to her desk, then so be it. I employ independent, creative people, not children who require a wet nurse and are too scared and intimidated to make a decision." 

The unattractive tone of disgust in his voice at her implied criticism was almost frightening. 

Now her management style was being challenged. 

"Why is 'redundant' good?" she asked, totally baffled at the logic of this statement.

They continued at a rather brisk pace that challenged Laura, and stopped at a lift door. It opened and they went in. Martin pushed the 'P' button and continued talking as the lift descended. 

"Simple. If I'm not tied down with the boring details of the daily operation then I can focus on matters that are more interesting and challenging -- and more important to the quality and future of this business. Before Nicole arrived I seemed to be endlessly tied down in complex issues such as the color of the toilet paper that should be used in the guests' rooms. She decided that Housekeeping could investigate such matters, leaving more free time for me. She has been able to do that with so many issues that I now believe she is more important to the business than I am." He turned and looked Laura straight in the eye. 

"Ever see a company become lost and so drowned in trivia that they can't see the forest for the trees? They are so busy surviving on a daily basis that they can't plan long-term. Unseen and undetected competitors suddenly appear and all is lost. Now that I can focus, I'm enjoying the role more, and I am happier. I come to the job each day with more energy, focus, and enthusiasm." 

Again he paused and looked directly at Laura. "Perhaps there is a lesson in that for all of us." And again his voice was in that same unattractive tone.

The lift came to a stop and they took another right hand turn. Laura was faced with a massive swimming pool set in rather spectacular landscaping. Around the pool were some of the most attractive people that Laura had ever seen. It was almost like a Coke-a-Cola commercial with perfect bodies everywhere. The females were in various stages of undress, and, interestingly enough, some wearing nothing but bikini tops, their nakedness shaved bare below. 

"Why the bottomless look?" asked the intrigued Laura.

"Many of the activities in the pool can be strenuous, and unsupported boobs can be very uncomfortable when they're being slapped around. The bra is logical. They are shaved because that is a requirement of their leader. They may also be bare by choice or because they've been forbidden by their leader to cover themselves." 

Laura's jaw dropped and she looked at Martin in pure disbelief. 

"What happens if they refuse?"

"They are asked to leave the school and no money is refunded. This is all part of the contract that each signs when they enroll in the school -- adults have made a conscious choice to experience a new lifestyle. For some it is the novelty, or because of problems they face at home. For others it is the desire to experience something naughty and exciting, and there are those who genuinely love the lifestyle compared to other types of holiday. 

"We have a resort in Russia where people sleep on straw beds with thin, coarse woollen blankets and are fed gruel and water. There are even mock killings of the hired help. For a large extra payment they are allowed to sleep on a 'bed of nails'. Some people feel there is a need to understand the change and be taught to appreciate the advantages of a different lifestyle. That is why this is a school and not a resort. 

"Look at the brunette on your left. Her name is Katrina. She is sitting with her legs open and she is completely exposed. To be able to do that in a group or men and women takes great confidence and courage. In fact, she is one of our great success stories. When she initially came here she was introverted and almost scared of the other sex. Now she has learned to appreciate her sexuality, and her naturally submissive nature and has embraced her new lifestyle. She couldn't be happier. She was grossly in debt before she started here, trying to buy happiness with money. She sold most of her possessions to get out of debt and now she very few of them, but she does have a feeling of complete comfort with her own body and her sexuality."

Laura looked in the direction that Martin indicated. Katrina sat on a wooden outdoor lounge, slightly reclined, with each foot on the opposite corner of the horizontal section. In the heat of the sun, herer body was covered in a thin layer of sweat. Her position relative to Laura meant that Laura was afforded a view directly between the brunette's legs and was presented with a perfect picture of the magic triangle between them. The skin was completely bald and the dark crevice where the two folds met was highly visible. The sight was even more erotic as Katrina was wearing a bikini top, and this seemed to make the exposure of the lower section even more forbidden and exciting. She sat with her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open, as though she was ready for a lover's kiss.

Again Martin produced a question that was both unexpected, frightening and challenging. He dropped his voice. 

"How would you feel if you were out there, completely exposed?" 

Laura felt a wave of fear wash over her; her knees became wobbly, and the color drained from her face. What Martin saw was the color leaving her face and the wild startled look; it was enough answer for him. 

"I see. It is interesting that so many women are ashamed of or even uncomfortable with their own bodies. They cover their bathing suit with towels and even find it unpleasant or unnerving to shower where they can see their own reflection in a mirror. Perhaps Katrina has learnt something that others have yet to learn."

Martin raised his eyebrows at one the men whom Laura assumed to be one of the lifeguards. He came over and Martin introduced him as Max. They shook hands, and Laura couldn't help but admire the masculine perfection that stood in front of her. Martin whispered something in Max's ear and he left. 

Laura watched as he went directly to the woman Martin had been talking about and said something to her. She immediately placed her feet flat on the ground each side of the lounge. This action had the affect of opening her legs even wider, and spreading her pussy lips a little more. She moved her right hand to the top of her thighs and started to gently massage the top of her pussy. Laura looked at Martin and then back at the woman. She raised her hand, pointed, and stuttered, 

"She's ... " 

"Yes. And she appears to be quite good at it as she seems to be enjoying her efforts." 

The women's hand was now making wider circles and applying more pressure. The palm of her hand was locked on the curve of her pelvis and her fingers moved across and around her pussy lips, firstly pushing them together and then separating them, such was the force applied. Moisture started to seep from the folds and the motion intensified. The rocking motion caused the beads of perspiration on her skin to roll down her tummy. Here they met her forearm which guided them across the smooth pelvic skin, and down between her legs. It gave the impression that her energy was being concentrated on the skin between her legs.

Laura watched, transfixed, but felt the secretions from her own pussy matching those of the brunette. Out of the corner of her eye, Laura noticed that one of the passers-by had stopped and was showing the same interest in Katrina's activities as was Laura. The new observer was a stunning blonde about 6 feet tall with a classic 34 - 24 - 36 frame and generous 'C' cups to match. The object of their attention also noticed the tall blonde and moved her hand in even more outrageous circles. 

Katrina's other hand pushed the right bra cup aside and started to rub her breast and aggressively pinch the nipple. She removed the covering from the other side and repeated the massaging and pinching of the other. At the same time, her mouth opened just the slightest and the very tip of her pink tongue poked out, barely showing against the brunette's mouth that had been painted a classic red lipstick. The tip stayed there for a few seconds and then her mouth opened wider, the tip sliding across the top lip where it was barely visible but all the more erotic because of the subtlety of the gesture. When the tip reached a corner it travelled even more slowly across the bottom lip. 

Laura thought that it was one of the sexiest gestures that she had ever seen. The tall blonde must have thought so too, because she went over, bent down, and made contact with a full lip-to-lip forceful kiss. Katrina responded with equal force and the blonde moved her hand down between the other girl's legs. As she did so, the brunette's hand left her boob and went between the legs of the blonde. Laura had a perfect view as the blonde moved her hand down and inserted firstly one and then two fingers in to the brunette's pussy. 

Their kissing became more enthusiastic until Katrina's hips started to buck. The blonde inserted another finger and then started to finger fuck the brunette. Almost withdrawing her hand, she then slammed it back into the open cunt while Katrina's hips thrust up to meet the probing hand. 

Standing there, Laura was spell-bound as she had never seen a woman do that to another woman; she had never seen women kiss with such passion and fire let alone use their fingers to excite each other in front of an audience. For a brief moment she wondered what it would be like to be one of the women, to actually feel the texture and moisture of the sex of another female. Would the liquid taste the same as hers? How much different would the bald skin feel compared to her hairy texture? What would it be like to touch another female with the understanding that hot open sex was involved? 

Riding over these emotions was the revulsion at watching two women doing this -- and doing it in public -- and the disgust at the intensity of the emotions that she was experiencing. When the two women climaxed, she almost followed them. Certainly there was a strong smell that accompanied them, and Laura was sure there was liquid running down the inside of Katrina's legs.

With a tremor in her voice and unable to mention what she had just seen, Laura tried to draw attention from the two women as they continued to gently caress each other. 

"The lifeguards are rather attractive. Do you hand-pick them?"

"We don't have lifeguards here. The men to whom you refer are the group leaders. You just met Max, the brunette's leader and she must do everything he commands. That little show that I believe you enjoyed," here Laura again went red as Martin continued, "occurred because I suggested the idea to Max. He agreed, gave the command, she naturally followed the instruction and we watched the performance. The added intervention of Sally, the blonde, in our little play was most unexpected and certainly beneficial." 

Laura refused to discuss the incident as she was still very confused and uncomfortable about her reaction to the complete performance. She was also feeling very scared as Martin seemed to be able to turn everything back on her. She was relieved to be saved from any need to respond when he continued. 

"As you can see, our group leaders are all in the finest physical shape and present the best picture of today's male. If you look closely, they do present the best 'package' of manliness that you could expect." Martin stressed the word 'package', and Laura knew instantly what he meant.

The emphasis on this one word forced Laura to look at the brief bathers each was wearing, the swim suits barely constraining the muscle that was clearly outlined behind the thin nylon. Laura's eyes moved from groin to groin as she quickly surveyed each male pelvis within the pool area. She couldn't believe the size of the 'packages' these men carried; far larger than anything Laura everhad to contend with. One looked as though it was half erect, and the idea of the full size of the monster caused her nipples to harden and her pussy to start its secretions again. Almost subconsciously she actually pushed her pussy in the direction of her gaze. Her mouth started to open and a small sigh escaped as she imagined that body on top of her, pounding away with that monster cock in her tight pussy.

Martin noticed her reaction without comment, at least for a short time. Then, in a very soft voice, he leaned closer and spoke to her. 

"These are the men that you decided would not suit you. Are you sure you made the correct choice?"

Again, there was that subtle intimidation, the suggestion that she had been foolish and silly. Certainly the obvious male power that these bodies demonstrated could not be discounted. They moved with the grace of animals looking over their claim, certain that no challenge to their pack existed. The attraction was timeless, the athleticism of the male to guarantee food and protection from competing males, to ensure the subservience of the female, a stark reminder that any resistance to their will is futile. 

Historically, the absolute physical power of the male over the female is a guarantee that the more powerful one always gets what he wants. It is the same strength that reassures the female she will be safe as long as the male is around and happy. It was the obvious display of masculinity, the skin exposure, the package display, the message that each was sending of sex - not in the sense of fucking, but sex as in protection, breeding, and the raw basic urges of continuing the human race - that Laura was finding almost overwhelming. The stark contrast between Martin's control and precision compared to the message these men were sending was deeply emotional for Laura.

As she looked at each one, she just wanted to fall backwards, spread her legs and drag him on top of her. The desire to feel his body thrusting into hers, to feel his breath on her skin, to hear the animal grunts accompanying each thrust; to feel the floor grab her skin as she was pushed along; to grab his back and try and pull more of him into her; to feel a big cock slam into her wet cunt and feel as though it was coming out of her mouth; the desire to feel him make that final slam and spew cum deep within her was overwhelming. The imagery was breathtakingly real, so real that Laura had difficulty in understanding exactly where she was. She made an attempt to cover her confusion and to support her earlier decision.

"No, you would never make me do what Max made Katrina do," she said. 

"Not only would I make you do that, I just made her do that." Martin stated the obvious in a very authoritative tone. 

Martin turned back and Laura followed him back to the lift. Her head was hurting and she was emotionally drained from the earlier experience in his office -- his refusal to become involved, the behavior of the other people in the school, and the normality that had disappeared since she had first walked in to this weird building. Every one of her attitudes and beliefs had been confronted in a most aggressive fashion: her business beliefs, her sexuality, and even the concept of normalcy. She was the one usually in control; others conformed to her requirements - in bed and business. Here no-one played by those rules. Even the normal chain of command was lost in this place, secretaries telling managers how to run the business. 




The School Counsel Who Can't Say No



She tripped as she ran up the plain concrete school steps, the top one catching her toe—sending her almost stumbling to one knee. She paused a moment delicately balanced on spiky heels, knees pressed together and noticed a fleck of concrete rubble caught in the skin. She flushed, thinking where that fleck had come from. She caught here breath and stood smoothing her tight denim mini skirt only to find the squat dean of student affairs, Helen Reyes, leaning against the door arms folded across her ample bosom, tight smile creasing her doughy cheeks. 

"Another traffic jam today, Ms. Lin?"

She looked at her watch—twenty minutes late! "Sorry, Helen. I took the bus today—god, it's so slow."

Reyes continued her stare, her smile fixed, her eyes cold. "This is the third day in a row, Grace."

Grace dropped her eyes. "I know. I'm so sorry- it's been a --a -- hectic week. Really sorry for this."

Reyes nodded, pulled the heavy door to the community college open, motioning for Grace to proceed through. As Grace passed, beside her, she murmured, "Please Grace, don't let us think you don't like your job here."

"Oh, no! I love my job, Helen," Grace lightly touched the administrator on her arm. "It won't happen again; I promise."

Reyes glanced at her painted fingernails, then back to her eyes. Her expression revealed contempt, yes, but something else, what? Claire snatched her hand back. 

"I'm glad to hear that, Claire. Have a good day."

"You too, Helen. Thanks for understanding." As she walked away, feeling the semen trickle out of her sticky anus, her panties forgotten by the side of the road somewhere, she thought, 'I really do have a problem.'

Earlier this same morning, her husband had dropped her off at the bus stop. She'd decided to take the bus to work to prevent herself from any distractions on her way home. 

as she boarded the bus, she thought of those distractions of finding herself cruising dangerous neighborhoods entering seedy lower-class bars ending up on bar tables getting fucked by roomfuls of black men... god, what was she thinking? She was a school counselor—an important job. She was a wife and mother! How'd it ever get this bad? 

In her bag she carried her newly purchased book, "Sex Addiction: Ten steps to conquering your problem and gaining control over your life"

She felt victorious just buying the book. She'd taken her first step—she'd made her self-admission official; she had a problem. Didn't they say that was 90% of solving the problem was facing it? Something like that. 

She took a seat towards the mid-point of the bus, sat and checked her makeup in her compact mirror. 

At 43 years old, she still looked good- few people would ever guess her age correctly. She'd come from Taiwan a few years earlier with her American husband. She still had smooth skin, almond eyes, long mane of lustrous black hair, As usual, she wore her typical tight top, cleavage showing her small but firm breasts, short skirt revealing her top asset- long, curvy legs. Her heels were high, skinny and strappy. She snuck a peak around the other commuters were quiet and sleepy but she caught a few admiring glances. Dampness seeped into her little white panties; she fought an urge to tough herself. 

Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed when the bus crossed into the poorer end of Passaic. She bit her lip as the bus stopped, letting a stream of black people board. Portly unattractive men and women shuffled on the bus. None held any interest, until the bus doors closed and the bus began to move. The driver stopped abruptly to let a final passenger on. 

He was in his early twenties, light skin blondish dreadlocks pulled back in a thick ponytail. He looked liked a mix—black and something else. He looked pretentious—arty; then she noticed his body. 

Medium height, slim, twenties but inside those jeans, she couldn't help noticing, he had a mound of meat that she couldn't believe. 

She moaned softly, her pussy instantly soaked her rectum pulsing. "Oh god... not again."

She stared at him covertly. He stood behind the driver, hanging onto a strap. She clasped her knees together her panties soaked as she watched his buns; tight and fit. 

He turned giving her a clear look at his package—huge! He caught her eye- smiled. She looked down then up at him again. She smiled, just a bit, in return. 

The bus came to a stop and the young man abruptly released the strap and headed for the door. She watched him step off the bus and onto the sidewalk. The doors closed and the bus pulled away from the curb. 

"Wait!" she called out, rushing to the front. 

She stepped into the morning sunshine, squinted. Where? For a panicked moment, she thought she's lost him. Then down the sidewalk, she saw him pimp walking away, she ran as best she could barely noticed the black faces staring at her the garbage in the street the empty lots. She caught him grabbed his sleeve. 

"What?" he demanded, turning towards her his face filled with violence. 

She recoiled. "Sorry!"

His anger subsided into confusion. "You were on the bus?"

She nodded breathless. 

"So?" he waited. "What you want?"

She struggled for words. Finally, she whispered, "You're beautiful,"

"I'm- what? Oh!" his face broke into a mischievous grin. "You want something? No shit?"

She nodded, still breathless. 

"Now?"

She nodded again.

"Where?"

"Anywhere,"

He took her arm, led her up a grimy alley. "What you want, China-girl?"

She placed a hand on his tight chest. "Everything,"

He whistled softly. "You crazy..." 

Her desire threatened to overwhelm her. "I know. Please...?" She implored. 

He led her up the darkened alley, tall buildings surrounding the. He went up to a door and pushed it in. the building had been some sort of commercial space- but had long been abandoned. Trash strewn concrete floors, broken glass, smell of piss. But isolated from the busy street. 

"Here?" she asked. 

He grinned, undoing his belt. "Hell yeah,"

She dropped to her knees, barely feeling the cold concrete floor, virtually attacking the snap of his pants. She could feel him growing swelling inside—oh god!

She yanked his zipper down, spread the fly of his pants open, then dragged them off his tight hips. There it was- massive girth already apparent through his boxers. She slowly lowered his shorts savored the moment his massive organ emerged. 

It was beautiful; thick long swollen lying against massive balls. She touched his balls stroking them as her tongue glided to massive head. Quivering her tongue reached, licking his head, probing the hole at its tip. 

She opened her thick lips, took the entire head into her mouth. 

Taste of sweat, salt, her mouth orgasming with stimulation and satisfaction. She wanted him-- all ten inches of him; get it down her throat! She gasped and swallowed, her throat penetrated by his head, his shaft nearly fully inside of her. 

But she couldn't take him all of the way. She spit him out, gasped, "Fuck my ass!"

She rummaged through her bag now sprawled on the concrete floor found a new tube of lubricant and a magnum condom. 

She stood up, grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, tasting his toothpaste and tongue. "Fuck me..."

She pulled up her skirt and pulled her panties down, showed him her tight hips and shaved pussy. She turned and bent over, spreading her ass, showing him her tight little brown hole as he put the condom on. 

Behind her, he rubbed his thick fingers over her tiny clit. She moaned He put his face there, his strong tongue slurping and probing her little wet holes, his tongue alternating at first but then focused on her smooth tight swelling sphincter; she dilated, her rectum pulsing with acceptance of his probing tongue. He pushed his tongue deeper into her rectum, her anal canal spasming. 

"Fuck me!" she begged. 

He stood, put his condomed shaft up to her hole. 

"No- no condom! I want to feel you naked in my ass!"

"You sure? Alright..." He spit into his hand, rubbed it onto his thick cock.

She felt the head of his massive shaft press against her rectum. Sweat beaded across her forehead as she tried to relax her sphincter. 

"Ready?"

She nodded; the pressure built --oh god!—until she thought it might never go in—when, suddenly, with a sharp moan, the head popped into her, its massive fullness trembling her knees. 

"Yes, oh please deeper..." she moaned. He grabbed her hips, gently slid his massive girth up her rectum, his cock penetrating her deep into her body. She screamed as he smoothly pumped his cock in and out along the entire length of his shaft; her moans driving him faster and faster. 

She orgasmed- the sweetest, most intense orgasm ever—her anal orgasms always made her crazy. Sweat poured off her onto the dusty floor; her rectum pulsed; her pussy dripping. He pumped her harder, moaning until he was slamming her up to the hilt of his shaft his huge balls slapping her vulva with every pump. 

"More-- more --oh yes!" This is why she lived- this is what she wanted!

With a roar and gasp, she felt his cream surge through the tube of his cock, splitting her sphincter so deep as it gushed into her naughty brown hole. 

They slowly sank together knees to the grimy floor, his thick trunk still inside her anal passage, her sphincter's spasm continuing her orgasm washing like waves of ecstasy through her bloodstream. 

Kneeling, she almost passed out, then chanced to glance at her watch. 

"Oh shit, I got to get to work!"

She slid off him with a pop and a gasp. 

He stood up, chuckling, "You crazy,girl!" as she turned and licked his shaft, taking his sticky member deep down her throat once more, looking him deep in the eyes. 

"You are so good, you deserve it..." she breathed, tasty her own musky saltiness on his thick member. She licked his cock clean, then reached into her bag for her compact. Crouched down, she flipped open the compact and placed the mirror between her legs. Her eyes growing misty, she relaxed her sphincter. Splat! His load of cum spilled out from her hole onto the mirror. 

"You din't!" he gasped. 

She nodded, grinned naughtily as she raised the mirror and smeared his cum all over her face, licking the mirror clean, licking her fingers and lips. 

"C'mon, let's go. I'm late!"

She took a cab the rest of the way to the junior college she worked at. Cost her 30 bucks and she was still late—caught by Helen Reyes. 

What a day!

She walked down the hallway, feeling weak. The halls of the counseling center where she worked were quiet at this time of the morning; the few students wandering the halls were interns or assistants. She glanced at a couple, smiled and wondered if they could even imagine who she really was; who she had become. Shame threatened to stop her in her tracks; she felt like announcing, "I'm an anal slut!", then wondered if students already suspected as much. Her husband had told her that he could tell by the way a woman walked whether she took it anally or not. Could every male tell this? God, what about her career?

Finally, at the far end of the corridor, separated from the other offices by a stairwell, she found the refuge of her door; Claire Lin, MSW, licensed therapist. She took a deep breath and unlocked the door, ready to be a professional. 

Her office was bigger than most, with a full-size desk and a table where she would confer with students on their future career paths and academic challenges. The office was scrupulously neat; papers filed in their appropriate places, her desk blotter empty save for her appointments for the day. 

She took her new book out and began to glance through it. 

To be continued...