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Life Class

By: zibertinx



I once had an erotic drawing made of my wife. It was pretty tame: the artist worked from a photograph I provided, and I'd posed her like the model in Renoir's The Bather Arranging her Hair, as she has a similar figure and skin tones. We were both pleased by the result, although when she saw it Luce remarked that she wished we'd gone for something bolder, and it would have been more fun if she'd sat for the artist in person.

  "In fact," she added with a smile, "I think it would have a lot more fun!"

"Maybe you could pose for life classes," I suggested.

"For lots of horny young art students? Mmm!"

"Of course your poses wouldn't be quite right and they'd have to keep rearranging them…"

She giggled. "Oh, I'm sure they'd all be very detached and professional about it – worse luck!"

Later on, after we'd made love, I thought of a way to make this fantasy come true.

It took months to set it up. I had to find a studio and get hold of easels and canvass and charcoal and paper and paint, keeping them all under a tarp in my garage until I'd made all the other arrangements. Then I had to work up the nerve to tell her what I'd planned, or at least the part of it I wanted her to know in advance. 

I wasn't sure how she'd take it. I thought she might be shocked, and she was a bit, but then she started to get excited. During the next few days she took to draping herself over the furniture in suggestive attitudes, and asking me anxiously if the students knew she didn't mind if it was a bit naughty.

"I told them it was entirely up to them," I said, which was true as far as it went.

Finally the day arrived. I don't know which of us was the more turned on. I'd told her not to put on any underwear that morning as it would leave marks on her skin, thinking this would heighten the anticipation. It did. By the time we got to the studio in the afternoon her excitement was obvious from way her nipples strained at her cashmere top, while the crotch of my jeans was bulging.

Everyone was there ahead of us, as I'd arranged.

Luce did a bit of double-take when she saw them, because, apart from Will, none of them looked very much like art students. Will, to be fair, was wiry and pale with delicate hands and badly bitten, though clean, nails. Shawn, on the other hand, was a big black guy who looked as though he was more used to handling weights than a pencil. Gary was a bit older than me, carrying a bit of a middle-age spread but not flabby. And Gary had brought his wife.

Luce looked at me in alarm when I introduced Linda. Somehow it hadn't occurred to her that one of her artists might be female. I just shrugged, though meeting Linda for the first time gave me pause too. She was about the same age as Gary, but although she had grey hair she had a superb figure, and she didn't dress her age: she wore leggings and a tight T shirt that did nothing to hide either her trim thighs or her breasts, which were small and still firm. 

There was a bed in the middle of the room, with just a white bottom sheet on it. Five chairs surrounded it, with easels in front of four of them. I sat down in the fifth while Luce moved uncertainly to the bed.

She looked around at each of us. "Er, what do I…"

Nobody said anything as the answer was obvious. With a "here goes" she quickly kicked off her shoes and stripped off her sweater and slacks and lay face up on the bed.

I heard an indrawn breath from one of the guys. Linda murmured something that sounded appreciative. I just savoured the sight of Luce's soft, natural curves and her pale skin, and the contrast they made with her red nipples and dark fuzz at the top of her legs. Even if this had been just a life class, I thought, it would still have been bloody good fun.

"How do you want me?" asked my wife from the bed. I think it was meant to sound seductive though her voice was a little tremulous and high-pitched.

"Just do what feels good to you," Gary suggested.

Luce stretched her arms behind her head and arched her back a little. Her breasts shifted slightly with the movement. However, she had her legs crossed, giving a great view of her creamy hip and arse, but hiding her pussy.

"Not bad," Gary said, "But can you open your legs a bit?"

Obligingly, she parted her knees.

"A bit more than that."

Her response was to move one of her feet about an inch. I realised what she was up to then. If they wanted more they'd have to move her legs themselves!

"Good girl," I thought. "You're getting into this now." From where I sat I still couldn't see her pussy. I wondered how wet it was. The thought made my cock twitch.

It was Will who obliged. "No, that's not it. Here, let me." He got up and went to the bed. Luce lifted her head a little to track him with her eyes as he bent over her and took her left leg in both hands. He moved it well to one side, but didn't take his hands off straight away. Instead he slid them slowly up from her knee to the top of her thigh and brushed her bush with his fingers.

Luce sighed and lay back.

Will said "That's more like it" as he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"That is a nice cunt," Gary said. "Nice and juicy."

I heard a little gasp from the bed, and a faint creaking as my wife squirmed a little. A faint flush was spreading across her breasts.

"I can't see her clit, though," the old man went on. "Does it get bigger than that?"

I'd barely heard him: I was too caught up myself with the sight of Luce's labia, pink, puffy and glistening under the view of these strangers. "Um… well, yes," I replied.

"Maybe this will help." Linda went and knelt down in front of the bed, between Luce's spreadeagled legs. She leaned forward, put her tongue out and began to lick delicately.

"Hey, what are you…?"

Luce's head jerked up. She had never been with a woman before.

Linda met her stare. "Doesn't it work for you?" She'd stopped licking for a moment but put her finger in Luce's pussy instead, to begin massaging her clit as she spoke.

There was a long moment of silence. Then Luce sighed. "Aah… yes… but it's… even better if you suck my nipples."

Linda grinned. She came around the side of the bed, leaned over and took my wife's left breast in her mouth. She drew the nipple in slowly, lifting the whole breast and then letting it drop back. My wife's head fell back and she moaned aloud as her flesh quivered.

Then Gary was at her right breast, massaging it with his fingers while his teeth and lips worked on the nipple.

By now I was rocking back and forward in my chair, letting the end of my prick rub against my jeans, wondering how long it would be before I couldn't stand it any more and had to pull it out and start stroking. Will seemed to have a similar problem. He was still standing near the foot of the bed, his eyes fixed on the woman who was now thrashing about in front of him, the little pink knob of her clitoris clearly visible.

Suddenly Shawn said: "No, no, this is no good. I can't see her eyes."

I'd almost forgotten the big black man. To my amazement he was still sitting behind his easel, with of all things a stick of charcoal in his hand. "Jesus Christ," I thought. "He really did come to sketch!"

"Have you got a pillow or something to prop her head up?"

"Sorry," I said, "didn't think of it."

"Too bad." He put the charcoal down and with a quick, smooth movement pulled his turtleneck up over his head. When he stepped out of his trousers and boxers I realised that drawing clearly hadn't been the only thing on his mind after all, as his erection sprang up and hit his flat, gleaming stomach.

Shawn rolled up his clothes in a bundle and walked naked over to the bed. As my wife's writhing became more desperate, her first orgasm getting close, one by one the others did as the big man had done and stripped. I did the same, sighing with relief as my cock came free at last.

My eyes widened when I saw what emerged from Will's pants. The scrawny "arts student" had the biggest tool I'd ever seen, even in pictures. It was almost completely straight and must have been at least 9" long. It seemed to swell larger still as he massaged it. But I forgot about that when I saw Linda naked. She was still bending over Luce, now flicking her nipple with her tongue, and presenting a view of one of the tightest, smoothest arses I had ever seen. 

  "What would Gary say if I went over and put the end of my cock between her cheeks?" I wondered, but I was distracted from the thought by what Shawn did next.

He had put a hand under the back of Luce's head to lift it up and shoved the wad of clothing under it. But that meant his cock was waving just an inch or two from her face. The raw pink flesh at the end seemed almost to glow. Her face jerked around as she followed its movements with her eyes and her lips parted. She was panting with lust now, and I thought she was going to take him in her mouth. 

He stepped away as though he was about to go back to his easel.

"Shawn!" my wife gasped. It was something between a command and a plea.

Suddenly he took one step forward, grabbed a handful of her hair to pull her face towards him, and shoved his knob in her mouth.

Luce shuddered violently. Then, like they'd picked up some sort of signal, Gary and Linda bit down on both her nipples at once, and she came. She spat Shawn out of her mouth and screamed, her hips bouncing violently, and a thin jet of juice squirted out from between them.

As Luce's head flopped back onto Shawn's clothes, Linda stood up and looked at Will. She fingered herself as she spoke to him. Her snatch was fully shaved.

  "Go on," she breathed. "Let's see you use that thing!"

  Luce didn't seem to have any idea what was happening to her. She seemed almost comatose after her orgasm. She didn't even seem to be aware of will grabbing her legs and tugging her towards the foot of the bed, where he stood with his prick levelled against her cunt. She noticed when he entered her, though.

  "Oh my God!" she cried. "What the fuck is that?"

  Will didn't waste any time. The muscles at the backs of his thighs quivered as he hammered into Luce. His fingertips buried themselves in the soft flesh while her legs tightened around him convulsively. She wasn't far off coming again.

  Shawn hadn't finished with her yet, though. As she lay with her eyes shut and her mouth open, gasping with pleasure, he threw one leg across her shoulder, straddled her, grabbed her face with both hands and forced his dick between her lips for the second time. "I'm not having you spit me out again!" he warned her, but he needn't have bothered. She gave a muffled cry but she hooked her fingers into his arse to pull him in deeper.

  Gary came round behind Linda and put his arms around her to massage her tits while she stroked herself. She turned to kiss him, then broke away and approached my chair. 

  I had my cock in my right hand and my balls in my left and was wanking vigorously now: I was going to come soon and I didn't care. But Linda stood over me and said: "Come on, you. I'm not letting that go to waste!"

  She forced my hand off my dick, grabbed it and tugged me to my feet. Walking backwards, she led me to the side of the bed, where she sat down, next to where two men were driving themselves into my wife's willing body. Linda opened her legs, baring her bald cunt for me, and arched her back to thrust her sharp little nipples towards me.

  Just at the moment I entered her, Will groaned loudly and his whole body went rigid as he came into Luce's cunt. 

  "Don't hold back," Linda demanded. I was going slow, trying not to come too early. "Just fuck me."

  As I quickened my pace, so did Shawn. I heard his balls slapping my wife's chin as his thrusts speeded up and then a gasp as he emptied them down her throat. Her own orgasm overtook her an instant later. I could tell because she clenched the hands on his buttocks into fists, digging her fingers in so deep the nails must have drawn blood.

  Out of the corner my eye I saw Will pulling out, his dick still hard and shining with his and Luce's juices, and Gary behind him, erect and ready to take his place. 

  As Luce swapped one cock for another, Linda suddenly stood up, pushing me away just as I was on the point of coming. She turned around to bend over my wife, presenting that beautiful, toned backside to me as she leaned across her. When Shawn pulled his cock from Luce's mouth, Linda was there ready with her tongue protruding. While she buried it in my wife's face, and her husband thrust his tool between her legs, I was frantically parting her lips with my fingers, probing with the head of my cock as I tried to get it into her before it exploded.

  I just made it. I shut my eyes and groaned at the feeling, the stinging heat of my spunk spurting up into this woman's body while she snogged my wife.

Funnily enough Luce never did ask to see any of art students' pictures! I thought this was just as well, at least until I opened the mail a few days later. One of the letters was a large board-backed envelope. Out of it fell, of all things, a charcoal sketch of my wife, sprawled naked on a bed, and to my inexpert eye it looked pretty good.

There was a note on the back.

"Hi Dave and Luce

You weren't to know this, but I actually lecture in fine art (better not say which college!) When I saw your ad on the swingers' site I thought this was too good to miss. Anyway here's a souvenir – it's not great but I got a bit distracted! Luce, any time you fancy picking up your modelling career, let me know!

Love Shawn"

Life Class



Ballard High was where I went to school. Having had a fairly decent education, I ended up going on to University and at that point decided that I wanted to teach. Of course, it never occurred to me that I would end up back where I started.

So now I was twenty five and teaching English at my old school. I seemed to be reasonably good at it too, as the student's grades where not only maintained, but if anything slightly improved. The initial ragging that I received during my first lessons was to be expected, but they were no different to what I did ten years earlier to my own tutors (some of whom were still there). I knew then how a teacher should best react, and I used my knowledge to good effect. Within seconds of entering the classroom I pinpointed who my opponent was; Jimmy Smith. You could tell that everybody was looking to see what he would do.

I needed to learn all their names -- and fast, so I put a sheet of paper on the front right-hand desk and told the girl sitting there to put her name in the rectangle corresponding with her seating position in the class and then pass it on. While they were completing the form I half turned and began writing on the white board.

I wrote; 'Basil Turner, known to my friends as Baz. But you can call me Mr. Turner or Sir. Turning back quickly and moving to one side, my name was now visible. I waited for Smith to pipe up, knowing he would say one of two things, knowing also that I had an answer to both.

"Baz! Basil! Basil Fawlty!"

The class giggled.

My timing was perfect; he had just finished writing his name on the piece of paper and I quickly read it upside down.

"Ah, and you must be... what's that? Jammy Smith?"

The class chuckled at that, but I pressed home my advantage, "Now why did I think that you might suggest Basil Brush instead? Believe me, I've heard all the jokes before -- and some were even funny!" I smiled when I said this, but I was close to Smith and I was looking directly down at him. My smile faded, "Now Jammy, are there any more jokes that you want to crack at my expense?"

Jimmy wasn't used to a challenge like this and all he could do was shake his head dumbly. I spun on my heel and walked back to the board, where I wrote in big block capitals 'BULLYING'. I turned back to face the class.

"Bullying," I said. "That was what I was doing to Jimmy just now, both by name-calling and by an aggressive demeanour."

It looked like I had the class's attention now, so I continued, "I know that you are going to take the Micky out of my name whether I like it or not. That's one of the perils of teaching. But I want you to be aware that it can be the first step on the road to bullying." I quickly scanned the class to make sure that there was nobody who could be termed 'overweight' and then said, "You may call somebody 'Fatty' and consider it a term of endearment, with no intention of hurt or insult. And the person in question may seem to respond positively to it."

I paused and was rewarded by Jimmy's hand rising up to ask a question, "But, what if everybody has a nick-name? Surely it would be alright then?"

"It sounds a good idea and, possibly, a fair one. But 'Baz' and 'Smiffy' wouldn't be in the same league as 'Fatty', 'Titch', 'Stinky' or any others you can think of."

Smith automatically looked across the room at one of the other students. I could see that he was of a diminutive stature and mentally kicked myself for not spotting that. But it must have struck a chord with Jimmy. I let him speak out.

"Alfie, does it bother you... you know if we call you that?"

I could see that Alfie was about to respond with a dismissive reply and I looked straight at him and cocked my head. He paused, then realised that perhaps for the first time he could say what he really felt.

"I... guess that I would prefer to be called Alfie."

I spent the rest of the lesson discussing issues of a similar nature. The whole class, girls and boys, joined in and expressed their opinions. They seemed to respond to this unorthodox form of a lesson. All I had to do now was maintain the momentum. This was just one of my GSCE classes (it had been suggested that this one might be the most problematical). I was lucky; I didn't have to teach the third class. However, I did have to take lessons with other year groups and some of them were pretty trying. However, the start that I had made with Year 11 seemed to have a knock-on effect and the youngsters showed me a reasonable amount of respect.

After four years, I had a reputation of being a teacher that pupil's wanted in the classroom. It was hard work at times, but I was proud of my achievements. However, such dedication has a price and my private life suffered. At University and afterwards I had few girlfriends, but since returning to Ballard I'd effectively been celibate.

*****

Wednesday afternoon's lessons were scheduled to take place in Room 34, opposite Room 32 and next to the Art Room in 33. The fourth side of the square formed a congregating area which led onto the stairwell.

I got into the habit of starting my homework marking after the lessons. It was nice and quiet up there on the top floor and I could get quite a lot done. One day, I finished the marking more quickly than usual, packed my bag and got up to leave. As I shut the door, I noticed movement through the small door window of the Art Room. I knocked and went in.

Maggie was the Head of the Art Department. I knew that she sometimes stayed behind and used the class (and her office at the back) as her studio.

"Hi Maggie," I said. "I didn't realise you were still here."

She turned to face me. She usually had her dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, but now it hung down loosely across her shoulders. She had also changed into a flowing robe, not exactly a Khaftan, but then not exactly a smock either. She had obviously been painting and appeared to be in the process of cleaning her brushes. The canvass was facing away from me and I was tempted to walk over and have a look, but realised that an artist might not appreciate having her work viewed before it was finished.

"I'm just tidying up," she replied. "It's surprising how an empty classroom aids the creative juices." Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she smiled at her own private joke. We talked as she continued to clear her things away.

"I'd heard that you use the classroom as a studio for your painting, but I've never actually seen any of your work. May I have a look?"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't see my current project, but I've got a couple of canvasses in the office." She led the way into the room at the far end of the class. I noticed that the small window in the door had been covered with a piece of cardboard, but the high windows to the side allowed ample light into the room. Maggie picked up a couple of paintings and turned them round to show me. I was taken aback, because I hadn't expected to see portraits. I didn't know the subjects, but I looked at them open-mouthed, because they looked so real -- almost as if they could step out of the confines of the canvass.

"Wow," I said. "They're really good. Who are they?"

"Oh, it's a private commission. They're getting married next month and wanted a matching pair of portraits."

"Is that what you specialise in?"

"It's what helps to pay the rent, but I prefer ad hoc studies really." She paused and hung her head on one side. "Actually, you may be able to help me there."

"Me? How?" I asked.

"I'd like to do some sketches of you." She saw the doubtful look on my face and tried to put me at ease, "Don't worry. You don't have to pose or anything. Next time you're doing your marking, why don't you come in here and do it? It'll be nice and quite and I won't disturb you. I'll just use pencil or charcoal and sit observing as you work."

I scratched my head and gave a neutral reply, "Well, I'll think about it."

She stood looking at me for a moment and then said, "I think you'd better go now." I was a bit put out, feeling as though I was being dismissed, but then she explained, "I've got to get changed."

I left the office and closed the door behind me. Looking back I now understood why the window was covered. As I walked away I found myself thinking about Maggie taking off her painting outfit. Although she was ten years older than me, I couldn't help wondering what she looked like underneath it.

*****

A week later, I sat in the classroom after the GSCE students had left and looked at the pile of marking I had to do. Then I looked out of the window at the bright sunshine playing on the newly planted trees at the front of the school. I had to do the work, but I didn't feel like being there on my own, so I thought about taking up Maggie on her offer.

When I walked into the Art Room there was no sign of her, but the office door was closed. I walked up to it and knocked.

"Just a minute," she said. "I'm just changing."

The door opened and there she stood in her painting dress and with her hair hanging loose again. I stood with a pile of papers under my arm and a briefcase weighing down the other. I wasn't sure what to say, but Maggie pre-empted me.

"So, you've come to sit for me after all?"

"Well, I need to do this work and you wanted a subject, it seemed only natural."

"Good. Well, you just carry on and I'll sketch you while you work."

I sat down and began to work. At first I was a little self-conscious, aware of the faint scratching sounds of the pencil and the rustling of the paper as Maggie turned a page. But before long I became absorbed in the papers I was marking and forgot about her.

When I was not far from the bottom of the pile, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Maggie get up and walk across to the windows. Curious, I looked up to see what she was doing. As the late sun had moved across the sky, it had reached a position where it was being reflected from a neighbouring house. The light was blinding and she had decided to pull the blinds to cut out the distraction.

However, as Maggie stepped across in front of the window in order to pull the cord, the rays silhouetted her body within the flowing gown she was wearing. It was almost as if the material was transparent. Her breasts were clearly unfettered by the constraint of a bra and swung as she moved. I'd idly noticed this movement earlier, by now I knew why. The blinds closed and prevented me from seeing anymore, but I found myself wondering if she was completely naked under there.

My concentration blown, it took me twice as long as it should have to finish the remaining papers. Finally, I sighed with relief and shoved the completed sheets into my briefcase. I looked at Maggie, who simply stared at me and then madly scribbled.

"Stay still," she hissed, ripping off another page and starting another drawing.

When she looked at me it was as if she was scanning my face, determining where all of the lines and shades were to be found. The speed at which she worked was breathtaking -- I almost expected that I would see insane doodles when I was allowed to peek. But to my surprise, the last picture captured a remarkable likeness. It was almost as if I was looking in a mirror, but somehow she had managed to capture the things that I see in myself, rather than just the outward image.

Margaret sat back, looking exhausted. She looked at me again and her face softened from its previous determined concentration.

"There, I think that I've got what I wanted. Would you like to see it?"

Her look was almost one of a post-coital glow. I had never seen such passion in an artistic exercise before.

"I think I'd like to paint you Baz. Properly, that is."

"Properly? What do you mean, properly?" I asked.

"As nature intended, of course."

"You mean... nude? No way! I couldn't... I'd be too embarrassed."

"Tell you what; we'll take it slowly, one step at a time and if you aren't comfortable at any stage, then we'll stop." She smiled in a friendly, encouraging manner.

I can honestly say that I had absolutely no intention whatsoever of posing for Maggie. I'm not a prude by any means, but I just couldn't do it. I simply couldn't sit naked in front of a woman -- I was sure that I hadn't the self control to keep my cock limp!

The next week my usual lessons were cancelled as the students were sitting their examinations, but the following week I was back in Room 34 for the last session of the day. It was different this time though, as the youngsters no longer had to study for the exams that had just been completed. The lesson instead took the form of a free discussion on careers. When the bell went I was left alone once more. I had no reason to stay behind, or to enter that Art Room, yet I felt compelled to do so.

"Baz!" Margaret greeted me as I walked through the door. "I was hoping you would come. Are you going to sit for me?"

I was already regretting my decision to walk into the room. But she saw the worried look on my face and said, "Don't worry; I just want you to sit with your jacket off so that I can do some studies."

Margaret led me into her office / studio and closed the door.

"Now, off with your jacket and sit on the stool over there." She indicated a solid looking wooden seat that I had to stretch up to perch myself on.

She sat on a chair opposite me and picked up a large sketch pad. I was surprised to see that she was using charcoal this time. She told me to look up towards the corner of the ceiling and I gradually relaxed as she worked. In fact, the process of sitting quietly and letting my mind wander was almost cathartic in a way. My reverie was gently broken by a soft sigh from Margaret. The charcoal stick had broken and she got up to fetch a replacement. I watched as she walked across to the corner I had been looking towards and bent down to open a box.

Memories of Maggie passing in front of the windows as she closed the blinds returned as the material of her garment formed itself to the curve of her back, buttocks and legs. I no longer wondered if she was naked underneath -- there was absolutely no trace of panties, not even a thong. Almost immediately my lack of self-control made itself apparent and I could feel my cock stiffening in appreciation.

Margaret returned to her chair and continued with her work. My face felt hot as I was sure that the pulsing lump in my trousers must be visible, but she seemed unaware of my predicament. I hoped that if I concentrated on my pose the erection would go away. But the harder I tried, the stiffer it remained.

"Well, I think that's enough for one evening," she said eventually. "Next time I want you with your shirt off, OK?"

"Er, right," I said. I grabbed my jacket and trying to drape it over my arm so that it hung down in front of my trousers, I quickly said goodbye and departed.

*****

The following Wednesday I was debating with myself whether or not to sit for Margaret again. My resolve wasn't particularly great as I'd found myself having a number of erotic dreams about her and, inevitably, I found myself slipping through the door once more. As I approached the office at the back I realised that the door was slightly ajar. For a second or two I saw her standing with her back towards me, naked. She lifted her gown up over her head and let it fall down over her body.

In that brief glimpse I noticed the following; that Maggie had an even tan all over, with no bikini or costume lines. Her body shape was that of a classical artistic beauty; neither skinny nor fat, but endowed with the most desirable of curves. My body betrayed me again and the twitching within my underpants was beyond control. I was about to turn away and escape the embarrassment when Margaret suddenly turned and caught sight of me through the crack in the door.

"Oh, hello Baz. I'm nearly ready for you. Would you like to come on in?"

The unintentional (and seemingly innocent) double entendre did nothing to calm my libido. I sat down on the stool again and tried to act casual as I crossed my hands on my lap. Margaret merely glanced in my direction before giving me my instructions.

"Jacket and shirt off please, and you might as well take off your shoes and socks."

I remained seated as I removed my jacket and tie. I was more than a little nervous by now and, frankly, struggled to get my shoes and socks off because of the rather large obstacle that was occupying the front of my trousers. As I straightened up I couldn't help but notice just how much my erection showed. I swear that Margaret smirked before beginning to make strokes upon the paper with the charcoal.

Throughout the one and a half hours I sat there, Margaret concentrated on her work without saying a word. She stopped eventually and stood up to look at the pages that were scattered around her. I took it as a signal that the session was over, stood up and walked over to have a look at the sketches. I'd worried that she might have noticed my erection, but the pictures made it very clear that, not only was it obvious, but that she had clearly spent a great deal of effort getting the outline accurate.

I figured it was probably time to leave and turned to Margaret to say goodnight, but something stopped me; she was chewing on her bottom lip. She looked as though she was about to say something, so I waited.

"Baz, will you sit for me again... I mean properly, this time?"

My mouth suddenly went very dry. I croaked, "You mean... naked?"

Margaret nodded in reply, but then said, "You can just take your trousers off to start with if you like." 

There was absolutely no way that I had ever expected to agree to such a request and it was as I was trying to form a suitable polite -- but negative - reply that I looked down and found my hands autonomously lowering my trousers to the floor. Having gone thus far, it seemed daft not to carry on. I stepped out of the legs and threw my cream chinos onto the pile made up by my other clothes. I sat down on the stool again; even more aware now of the erection that was tenting my boxers.

After another thirty minutes of scribbling, Margaret looked straight at me with a determined expression on her face. "I want you naked now Baz," she said. "You're not going to let me down are you?"

By now I was so nervous that my hard-on was beginning to wane. I stood up and turned away from her in order to push my underpants down. When my cock popped out it was lower than horizontal and I could see it wilting as I watched. In a way it was a bit of a relief. I turned back round with my hands held in front of my genitals and the sat back down.

"Can you sit in the same position you were earlier, please? That's it, one hand on your hip and the other on your thigh."

She seemed to be looking straight at my manhood when I moved my hands, but very quickly returned to her sketching. She continued for a while, but I got the impression that she was frustrated by her work in some way. I tried to relax as I wondered what was wrong, but then I found out.

"Its no good, this is hopeless," Maggie said suddenly. She stood up and put the pad and charcoal down. Without any warning she grabbed the hem of her robe and simply swept it up over her head and threw it aside. If I had thought she looked sexy from her rear view, from the front she looked fabulous. I hadn't realised just how large and firm her breasts were. The areolas of her nipples were small, but the nipples themselves were large -- almost three quarters of an inch across. Her bush was thick and dark, but as she sat back down with her legs parted it was still possible to see her pink pussy lips.

I defy any man not to get an immediate and powerful erection in such a situation.

"That's better!" she said, with a big grin on her face. She set to work once more and this time seemed more pleased with the results.




Life Class



As my penis throbbed, I tried to maintain my pose, but I was having all kinds of carnal thoughts about Margaret by now. I could actually feel pre-come oozing from the tip, but I didn't look down until I heard Margaret drop her pad. There was a thick blob of milky white liquid dribbling down, but I didn't get long to look at it. Within seconds the beautiful goddess who had been recording my image closed the distance between us. She didn't say anything. There was no indication of what was about to happen.

When Maggie reached me she put her left foot on the low, side bar of the stool, stepped up and swung her other leg across me. I swear that she didn't even use her hands as she plunged herself down onto my dick. Her pussy gave very little resistance and was sopping wet. In one move she impaled herself upon me. As this wonderful example of womanhood began to move up and down in a fucking motion I felt her vaginal muscles starting to work on my shaft.

I was so stunned that I simply remained sitting with my arms at my sides. Margaret took hold of them and placed them on her breasts. The nipples were already hard and as I squeezed the soft flesh of her tits I could feel that she was reacting to their sensitivity. I tried to duck my head down so that I could use my mouth, but I found it difficult as, by now, the woman sitting astride me was driving up and down hard. Clearly, she was close to her own release and was desperate to achieve it. Her buttocks were slapping down on my thighs and she was moaning loudly. I prayed that nobody outside would be able to hear us.

Suddenly, Margaret froze in mid-lunge. After a few seconds she slipped back down until my cock was fully embedded, then slowly rose once more. This happened three times, after which she sat panting, clutching me to her.

"That was soooo fucking good," she hissed in my ear. "Just give me a moment to come back down, my pussy is still shuddering."

I knew it was -- I could feel it. I couldn't even begin to describe the sensation, but it was one that I would recommend to any man.

Margaret stood back up. With her feet still on the side bars she towered above me. Her pubic bush wasn't far from my face and I could see and smell her arousal. The heady aroma was powerful and I felt drawn towards the puffy pink labia that were now clearly visible, outlined by beads of moisture adhering to the hair. I reached around and grabbed hold of her buttocks, pulling her towards me. I could feel the heat that she was giving off as my lips neared their target. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and reached my tongue out to touch her clitoris. She shuddered and started moaning again, but only let me continue with this for a few seconds.

"Oh, you're so good at that! But, you mustn't do it anymore you naughty boy. Now it's my turn to do something for you."

She stepped back down away from me, pushed my knees apart and knelt down between them. Her and reached up and pulled my cock down from its high angle and licked around the head. She paused and looked up at me.

"It may shock you, but I really love the taste of my own pussy juices and come -- especially when it's on you."

She let the shaft spring back up and then kissed all the way down the central ridge to the base, where she sucked my left testicle into her mouth. Nobody had ever done that to me before -- in fact I'd never heard of anyone else having had it done to them. The warmth and the sensation of her tongue rasping across the sac made me even harder. My dick was by now almost touching my stomach -- in fact, as it throbbed with the blood coursing through it, the helmet was tapping out a rhythm somewhere near my belly button.

Margaret moved to the other testicle and gave it the same treatment. Then, somehow, she contrived to take both of them into her mouth at once. I wondered how much longer I could last without exploding.

My balls suddenly felt cold as they slipped back out. Her tongue swirled around as she moved her mouth back up the entire length. The feelings that I had had in my testicles I now experienced at the end of my penis; first the tip, then the head, then about half way down the length. While she was busy with her mouth, Margaret enclosed her fist around the base of my cock. She didn't rub, as I had expected, but gripped tight. Somehow this helped me to last that much longer. Having been ready to burst seconds before, I managed to last another five minutes.

"Margaret... I coming," I warned her.

I thought that she might stop then and use her hand to finish me off, but instead she bobbed her head faster. Now she released her grip and used the hand to rub at the same time. The effect was immediate; I felt the semen surging up from my balls. My come seemed to be pumping into her mouth for ages. Finally, she pulled away. It was clear that the volume was slightly more than she could handle as dribbles had run down from the corners of her mouth to her chin. She smiled and wiped the milky fluid away with her hand.

"Oh boy! Do you always come like that?" she asked.

"I'm sorry... but you seem to have got me quite worked up."

"That's good, I'm glad." She looked back at my cock, which she was still rubbing, and said, "It looks to me like you're still worked up even now."

Sure enough, although I wasn't as rock-hard as I had been earlier, I was still sporting an erection.

"Perhaps we can make use of this, Baz. I've got quite worked up myself now and I want to feel you inside me again," she said huskily.

Maggie stood back up. She took my hands and pulled me from the stool and guided me to one side. Then, without taking her eyes from mine, she bent over the stool and rested her stomach on it. She got her balance right, and then took hold of the legs of the chair. The sight of her gorgeous rump pointing up towards the ceiling is something that I will never erase from my memory. When she lifted her feet from the ground and rested them on the side rails, forcing her knees to spread around the legs she exposed herself more fully than I imagined possible. Her pussy lips were parted in anticipation -- I could actually see into the passage!

I don't actually recall moving my legs, but the next thing I knew I was standing over Margaret, bending my knees and aiming my dick. I pushed and became swallowed up within her. She looked back up at me.

"Baz, I want you to fuck me really, really hard, OK?"

I withdrew until just the head of my cock remained within her then pushed back in quickly. Maggie smiled encouragingly at me, so I repeated the movement, only a little faster and harder. I placed my hands on her hips in order to prevent myself from knocking both her and the stool over and began to ram as hard as I could. I was concerned about making her sore, but she seemed to want me to do this, so I continued. Besides, I could hardly say that I wasn't enjoying it, could I?

Harder and harder I thrust into her, my thighs almost spanking her ass cheeks with force of their striking. I could see a sheen of perspiration building up on Maggie's back and her hair had fallen down to cover her face as she moaned with pleasure. Once again I felt her orgasm build and then release itself through the walls of her vagina, clenching at my cock.

"Slow down now Baz. Take it easy for a while," she said, breathlessly.

The conversation had been one-sided for some time, as I'd been concentrating my energies. I eased off the pace and took long, leisurely strokes. Margaret purred with the pleasure of it. After a while she looked back at me again, her face damp and flushed and from her recent climax. She licked her lips and asked, "Have you ever had anal sex, Baz?"

"No, never," I replied.

"Have you ever thought about trying it?"

The honest answer? "Well, yes, I suppose I have," I said.

"Yes, so have I." She smiled and turned her head away again.

I looked down at my dick disappearing into and then re-appearing from Margaret's pussy. Just above was the tiny brown hole of her anus. Was she actually asking me to fuck her that way? I withdrew from her vagina, but continued my movements allowing my shaft to slide along the cleft between her cheeks. She didn't object, so I took it as tacit approval. My shaft was soaked from her juices, which had now been spread liberally along the crack, so I took hold of my cock and pressed the head to the opening. At first I was scared of hurting her but she didn't make a sound, so I pushed a little harder. I felt the tightness as the head of my cock began to force the sphincter muscles aside.

Maggie began to pant, but I could sense that she was trying to relax her body. As she did so, the engorged knob slipped in. I paused for a while, waiting for her breathing to ease and then pushed once more. I tried to ease it in a little at a time, using as much patience as I could muster. I was surprised when I realised that I was fully embedded. My movements continued to be gentle, and gradually I felt it get easier and easier, until I was able to take proper strokes with little or no resistance. Her ass was so much tighter than her pussy, but that merely added to the pleasure -- for both of us.

"I had no idea it would feel like this," she said. "Do you think it's possible for me to come like this?"

My answer was to begin plunging hard into her ass in the same way that I had treated her pussy earlier. It was now a race; to see if I could make her orgasm yet again, before I did.

Margaret egged me on, begging me to go faster and harder. My knees were beginning to wobble from their constant bent position and I was out of breath. I grew more and more tired, realising that I was close to coming. It was me that was making the noise now and my grunts grew louder as I finally jetted my come into her ass. I felt like collapsing, but I tried to keep stroking just a little while longer and was rewarded with the now obvious signs of my partner's own orgasm.

My cock flopped out and I dropped to the floor, where I laid on my back with my eyes closed. I didn't see Maggie dismount from the chair, but sensed her near to me and then felt her lips on mine. We stayed there kissing and cuddling for some time.

The Janitor was quite surprised to see two teachers leaving at such a late hour, but didn't bother to ask why we were still there. As we walked to our cars Margaret suggested that we go back to her place because, as she put it, "I've got a lovely big shower that's large enough for two and an equally large bed for afterwards. I'm hungry right now, but once we've eaten I want to see what else we've never tried."

*****