While the expression, "sexual revolution", has become a nearly meaningless cliche since its adoption by the popular press, it is undeniably true that the climate of the times in regard to deviate sexual groups has altered considerably in recent years. The Womens' Liberation Movement is the most obvious manifestation of this change, having received wide coverage in all national and international media, but there are many other less well-known groups whose uphill fights against suppression and bigotry have been less publicized, but are nevertheless of great significance.
Lesbians, for example, no longer need feel a necessity to hide their sexual proclivities behind a psychologically damaging blanket of "respectability". Instead, they are able to live together honestly, in .couples or in groups, accepted by much - though, of course, not yet all - of "normal" society. The same is true for prostitutes, who are fighting for their legal rights and have gained some measure of acceptance from the general public through such widely read books as The Happy Hooker. Unwed mothers, particularly in modern societies such as Scandinavia, are not looked upon with the horrified disgust which they and their innocent offspring previously encountered, and communal families, wife-swapping, and variations of a menage a trois relationship are so common as to arouse no sense of surprise even among our more conservative citizens.
Although in our sexually oriented age more and more "perversions" are being considered "alternative life styles", there are still certain deviations from the norm which remain unacceptable to a large majority of the population. Few Americans can condone rape, animal sodomy, or child molestation. Unfortunately, the man on the street's quite understandable horror of the latter act has carried over into a blind and unreasonable distrust of the older woman who prefers younger boys to men of her own age.
It is precisely this controversial dilemma which prize-winning novelist Karen Zeigler explores in her newest novel, The Home-Ec Teacher. Can it really be considered child molestation when the youngster is willing and eager? The perceptive reader cannot help asking himself this question upon finishing this hard-hitting expose of the behind-the-scenes life at a typical American junior high school.
Experts tell us that there is nothing inately unnatural or unhealthy in a young boy discovering adult sexuality with a mature woman rather than experimenting among his peers. She is able to teach him to respect and enjoy his body as no teenage girl could possibly do, able to overcome his nervous timidity because she herself is confident in her own femininity. On a purely physical level, it is common knowledge that a woman reaches her sexual peak far later than a man, so that a older woman-younger boy relationship could be nature's answer to sexual satisfaction.
Miss Zeigler does not presume to have all the answers, but she does pose some very important questions which are of importance to all socially-conscious Americans. Although her frank, painfully realistic style of writing is certainly not recommended for the emotionally immature, we, the publishers, sincerely believe that this story can help overcome some of our society's unjust prejudice against these women who harm no one - and help many.
-The Publishers
Chapter One
"Zzzzzhhhhhmmmmm. . . zzzhhhmmm. . . "
A fat black fly zigzagged across the scarred surface of Principal Harding's cluttered desk, coming to rest between a pile of dime store ledgers labeled "attendance records". It sniffed curiously at a brownish coffee stain, then moved on to inspect a red spiral notebook, its thin legs vibrating above the peeling "Employees" label, before it crawled off in the direction of an obviously brand-new textbook optimistically entitled, "The Happy Homemaker!"
Krista Morrisson's gold-flecked brown eyes followed the insect's random path, half-hypnotized by the droning beat of its wings. Its somniferous buzz, Preston Harding's monotone Midwestern twang, and the suffocating closeness of the unventilated room were lulling the twenty-three year old blonde into a dreamy state of lethargy.
In a determined effort to stay awake, the curvaceous teacher shook her shoulder-length, honey-gold curls and stifled the yawn that rose in her throat by twisting her mouth into a contorted grimace. Why can't they at least open a window? she asked herself, and as though it had heard the words that rang in Krista's brain, the fly ceased its lackadaisical circling of the shiny pink dome topping School Superintendent Andersen's balding head and began beating its wings against the gritty window pane. It wants to get out of here as badly as I do, she thought distractedly, squirming uneasily on her metal folding chair in futile search of a position in which the sharp edge would not cut into the sensitive flesh of her naked thighs.
"Uh, Miss Morrisson, of course, of course," Principal Harding cleared his throat several times, then apologized. "So sorry, my dear."
Neither of the two dark-suited men seated in the stuffy cubicle which served as the junior high school principal's office noticed anything peculiar about their newly-hired home economics instructor's facial expression, for their undivided attention was directed toward more interesting parts of her anatomy.
While the middle-aged principal recited cliche after cliche concerning the merits and rewards of a career at Franklin Junior High School, he kept his beady brown eyes glued to the twin mounds of feminine flesh bulging above the provocative scoop neckline of the young teacher's white sundress. As for his white-haired superior, his bifocals glinted in avid admiration upon the shapely young woman's sun-bronzed, silk-smooth thighs.
Dirty old men! Krista abandoned her unsuccessful efforts to concentrate on the pot-bellied educator's laborious proclamations as she felt the men's undressing eyes boring through her lightweight summer dress. Pompous old windbags!
For a moment the irritated young blonde wished that she'd elected to wear something other than this skimpy dress with its plunging neckline and short flared skirt, but then she checked herself. After all, she'd put this on because the temperature in Pottawattamie Heights, Ohio, on this early September morning was 97 degrees in the shade. Didn't she have a right to be comfortable? Why should all men treat her so disrespectfully just because she had breasts and hips? She certainly wasn't about to wear a heavy wool suit like their ridiculous, old-fashioned getups - why, they looked like over-fed penguins!
All my life it's been the same! The attractive young teacher fidgeted restlessly as Arnold Andersen's grizzled head bent down to assess her sculptured calves and slim ankles. Men are just animals - all they can think about is sex! I'd thought things might be different now that I'm not just another pretty student. .. but these men are exactly the same as all the others, even they're both old enough to be my father and too ugly for even a wife to love!
"... don't you agree, Miss Morris - uh - Morrisson?" the principal's rasping voice broke through Krista's resentful reverie.
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of the newly-hired home economics teacher's stomach as she realized that she'd not heard a word the men had said. What in God's name were they going to think of her now - even if she didn't like Harding or Andersen, she did want to make a good impression on her first employers.
"I - I'm sorry, Mr. Harding," she began in a firm tone that effectively disguised her confusion, "but I don't think I fully grasp just exactly what you meant..."
The corpulent white-haired man smiled - or perhaps leered would be a more accurate description - in the direction of the curvaceous new teacher's low-cut bodice.
"Let me make myself more clear," he paused to pull a box of cheap cigars from his coat pocket, offering one to his older superior who accepted with a sycophantic smile. Both men lit up at once, and the young blonde almost choked as odious smoke filled the tiny office.
"What I meant to imply," he continued, "was simply that although we certainly do want to continue the cooking and sewing lessons in the ninth grade, we also feel that a greater emphasis should be placed on subjects like budget planning, first aid, personal hygiene, baby care - that sort of thing. Maybe it's a little - uh -progressive of us," he gave a rather prissy chuckle as he glanced in the direction of his colleague, "but we think it's wise for our girls to be aware of these matters. I'm sure you agree, Miss Morrisson."
Before answering, Krista abruptly stood up and threw open the small window behind her. The fly vanished into the open fields surrounding the new junior high school, and the young teacher stood watching it and taking deep breaths of the faintly smoke-scented air before turning to face the men.
"I do agree - as far as it goes," her drowsiness was rapidly being conquered by her growing dislike for these portly, self-important bores. "But what about the boys? Don't they need to know about these things, too?"
Superintendent Andersen exchanged a glance of tolerant amusement with Preston Harding, who was a carbon copy of his superior minus twenty years and about twenty pounds of fat. Both men drew in on their cigars, sending a trail of evil-smelling smoke spiraling past Krista's distastefully wrinkling nostrils before it drifted out the window.
"Ah-ha! So we've got one of those women's libbers on our staff!" the older man chortled, and Preston obediently echoed his disdainful laughter. "Next thing we know, our boys will be running around in frilly aprons and taking up knitting instead of football!"
Krista's lovely features flushed bright pink with annoyance. Were these crass stuffed-shirts a hundred years behind the times? Although she'd never been interested in joining any organized women's groups, and in fact found most of their literature too didactic and opinionated to finish reading, she firmly believed in the basic principle that males and females should have equal rights and opportunities. Surely every educated person felt that way - at least, everyone at her rather exclusive girls' college had ...
"Nonsense!" she snapped crisply. "We live in a changing world where the traditional family is being broken up, and by the time these youngsters are adults, the men may very well need to know how to take care of children and prepare food. More and more mothers take outside jobs every year, and surely it's ridiculous to expect them to bear the full burden of the kids and the house, too. It's only common sense!"
"Well . . . harumph . . . well, well," Superintendent Andersen began, but before he could think of a proper reply to the young blonde's onslaught of words, she interrupted him.
"And as for knitting, I suppose you know that there are certain tribes in Lapland where only men are allowed to knit or weave. It's simply a question of social customs - and I hope America is more open-minded than a primitive tribe and can pull itself out of its old-fashioned ideas about sexual roles!"
"Of course!" Preston Harding agreed heartily, not really understanding just what she was saying but somehow having the impression that to disagree would be unpatriotic. "But we aren't talking about Eskimos, are we?" he looked toward his superior, who nodded in support. "We're talking about Franklin Junior High School's ninth grade pupils."
"My point exactly!" Krista exclaimed.
As she watched the two men's beefy faces grow blank in incomprehension, the recent college graduate was tempted to giggle. With an effort, she forced her heart-shaped face into an expression of earnest solemnity.
33% of the nation's high schools have co-ed Home Economics classes," she continued, picking a number off the top of her head. "And in higher income areas, the figure's 59%."
"Is that so?" Andersen's ears perked up at the words "higher income," for his driving ambition in life was to have the Pottawattamie Heights school district - which also included the neighboring middle-class subdivision of Country Club Hills, and a more exclusive new development bearing the rhapsodic name of Arcadia - be the most prestigious school system in the greater Toledo area. "I hadn't realized that..."
"Very interesting," Principal Harding's voice rose an octave to mimic the older man's tone of approval. "No, I didn't know it was more than a passing fad at some of those weirdo progressive schools."
"Not at all!" Krista's exuded a persuasive self-assurance now that she could tell they were seriously considering her suggestion. "And, of course, the girls take shop classes, too!"
The two men stared at one another, aghast as this new insult to their conservative souls.
"Girls in shop class?" Preston Harding hedged dubiously. "I don't know what Rex Simmons'll have to say about that."
Suddenly the superintendent's pudgy face broke into a broad smile. "I never heard Simmons complaining about being around the girls," he guffawed, then turned to face Krista. "I like your idea, Miss Morrisson. We'll be the first school district in the Toledo area to do this, and it'll be written up in the papers. Increase our prestige and all that. What do you say, Harding?"
"You're entirely right, of course, sir," the middle-aged educator agreed, but his face was clouded with doubt as he slowly shook his thick neck and scattered a fresh crop of dandruff on his black suit jacket. "But. .. well.. . there's one more problem which-"
"Problem?" the pretty blonde demanded. "I can't see any problem!" She paused to light one of the Camel Filters which she chain-smoked, then continued, "After all, we discussed this in my education classes at Mount St. Catherine College, and I know better than to antagonize the boys by treating them like sissies. I have all sorts of plans for making them understand that cooking and sewing are fun."
"That's fine ... but I don't mean cooking and sewing . .. I'm speaking of the - uh - personal hygiene lessons I mentioned."
What's he getting at now? Krista asked herself. Is personal hygiene some sort of euphemism for sex education? Why can't he fust say what he means?
"I still don't see any problem," she said aloud, staring directly at the embarrassed principal. "Certainly you don't object to young boys learning to take care of their bodies in a healthy way?"
"W-well. .. harumph ... Miss Conaway - God rest her soul - used to tell the girls about - uh - their monthly difficulties. She showed them a nice movie made by Walt Disney."
A sudden vivid picture of herself as a skinny, pigtailed thriteen year old seated in a darkened room full of tittering girls watching that very same educational cartoon flashed before the blonde teacher's eyes. We thought it was silly and childish ten years ago, she asked herself. What must today's sophisticated pre-adolescents think of it? The young teenagers she'd observed hanging around the "sweetshop" and various drive-in restaurants in her week here in Pottawattamie Heights seemed far more mature both in body and actions than she herself had been at that age.
"I am familiar with that particular film," she began, jabbing out her Camel with unnecessary vehemence. "But don't you think that it's a bit immature for ninth graders? I mean, the average girl's menstruating by the time she's twelve, and surely these students are interested in learning about other things by now."
She'd deliberately emphasized the word "menstruating" in order to disconcert the prissy school principal, and was rewarded by seeing a bright red blush creeping up over his thick neck and long-jowled face. Lighting another cigarette, she continued her tirade.
"These students aren't children any longer, you know. They're old enough to get in trouble if they don't know the facts about sexual matters. Unwed fourteen year old mothers aren't nearly as rare as they ought to be, and it's mostly due to simple ignorance!"
Krista's voice rang with earnest sincerity, for she was remembering the unhappy situation of her own personal life. Would things have turned out so badly with Brian if I'd been taught something about sex? she asked herself. Would I be so confused... so unable to deal with men.. . ? Isn't sex at the root of most of my problems?
Raising her amber eyes toward the principal's ruddy face and the superintendent's lickerish leer, she opened her mouth to explain herself further, but the older man interrupted her before she could begin.
"Well, well, well," he chortled, winking at his colleague. "Miss Morrisson's certainly a very determined young lady, and I daresay she's more experienced in the subject than dear old Miss Conoway was."
"Bless her soul," Harding intoned piously, even as his eyes followed Andersen's intent gaze toward the new teacher's proudly straining breasts.
By God, I can see her nipples! he thought in astonishment. He was so bemused by the faint pink areolas peaking pertly through the thin material of the young blonde's smooth-cup nylon brassiere and flimsy white sundress that his attention strayed from the superintendent's next words.
"I think we ought to give her a free rein and see what happens," the balding educator said. His beady eyes gleamed with lascivious glee as in his mind's eye he saw this haughty young woman reduced to tears by the crude gibes and snickers of the class as she tried to explain about sexual intercourse. "Why don't we assign room 901 to her for the first term, while 902 takes shop, and then switch around second semester?"
"Wh-what was that, sir?" Preston Harding tore his eyes from the splendor of Miss Morrisson's full breasts with difficulty.
"Assign room 901, in particular, was notorious for its high percentage of undisciplined pupils, and there was no doubt in Harding's mind but that a couple of hygiene sessions - not to mention cooking and sewing, which these young hoodlums would never accept - would cure the silly teacher of her audacious ideas.
"A fine idea, sir," he nodded gravely. "Give it a try ... "
"You'll be able to plan the new hygiene course in time for the first day of school, Miss Morrisson?" Andersen inquired. "Of course, we don't have any material on hand.. . but I suppose you have enough firsthand knowledge of the subject matter ..."
As she realized the corner she'd talked herself into, the fair-skinned blonde's pretty face blanched, then flushed a becoming shade of pink. Oh God! her mind whirled. First-hand knowledge?! What does he think I am - a prostitute? I'm sure lots of these kids know more about sex than I do! Yet in spite of her acute dismay, the proud young woman's voice didn't quaver at all when she answered Superintendent Andersen.
"Of course everything will be prepared for Monday," she said as though no doubts had ever crossed her mind. "I'm ...,looking forward to starting classes."
"Good, good!" beamed the maliciously grinning older man. "We're so glad to have you here at Franklin Junior High."
Deducing from the ring of finality in the elderly man's words that this was supposed to be her cue to exit, Krista gratefully stuffed her cigarettes into her purse and rose from the chair. She held out her hand to them, uncomfortably aware of their lingering leers at her voluptuous body.
"So nice speaking with you," she said, shaking their hands. Anderson's palm was damp, the feel of a lizard; the principal's dry, but limp as a kleenex. Repressing a shudder of disgust, the new teacher escaped from the office.
The two small-town educators listened to the click of Krista Morrisson's high heeled sandals hurrying down the corridor, and then Superintendent Andersen's round face broadened into a complacent grin.
"If she can handle those loudmouthed punks in 901," he drawled, pulling his box of cigars from his pocket and staring contemplatively at them, "I'll eat my cigar!"
Preston Harding nodded, but made no reply. The young teacher's round high breasts were still dancing across his eyeballs, interspersed with less stimulating images of his overweight, ill-tempered wife Lois, whose pendulous breasts were encased in a size 40-D corset. Never, not even in the time of his wild youth at State Teacher's College, had he so much as kissed a voluptuous female like the one who'd just walked out of his office.
"Personally," he said, his flabby face slackened into a mask of pure lust, "I'd like to get a mouthful of Miss Morrisson's big tits!"
Chapter Two
The front of calm confidence which Krista had displayed before her two new employers remained with her until she had driven three of the four miles which separated the expanding suburb of Pottawattamie Heights from the three year old subdivision called Country Club Hills in which Krista had rented a one-bedroom "townhouse" apartment.
I can't do it! a panic-stricken voice inside her mind wailed just as she was passing the rustic-styled buildings of Pottawattamie Emporium, a brand-new shopping center built to resemble an old Western trading post. I can't possibly teach a co-ed sex class! I have to get out of it somehow...
The anguished young blonde's hands shook so badly on the steering wheel that she was forced to slow her emerald green Volkswagon to 30 mph and shift into second gear. Exerting every ounce of her willpower, she forced herself to concentrate on the heavy Labor Day weekend traffic until she reached the semi-detached, two-story building which she'd been calling "home" for a week now. The instant she walked in the door and flopped down on the imitation leather couch, however, the full force of her doubts and dread descended on her.
By now it was late afternoon, and the row of spindly trees which the developer had planted in Country Club Hills' parkways cast long, thin shadows snaking across the yellowing crabgrass of the small front lawn. To the disturbed twenty-three year old teacher, the wavering silhouettes seemed an advancing host of taunting adolescent males who menaced her with their long slender penises. Shuddering with self-disgust, Krista groped nervously for a cigarette.
What's the matter with you? her conscience demanded. Something's wrong with people who imagine perverted things like that! It's dirty . . ,sick . . .
Drawing deeply on her Camel, the young home economics teacher scrutinized the flickering shadows in a futile attempt to dispel the forbidden images. A clock in the kitchen struck five o'clock, and the baby in the adjoining apartment started its chronic colicky wailing, but the young blonde teacher was too absorbed in her own problems to hear anything but the thudding beat of her own heart.
Now that I'm teaching this awful so-called personal hygiene class, I'll never be able to get rid of thoughts like that, her tortured mind despaired. I'll never have a moment's peace from sexual filth . . . and just when I was hoping that this new job would help me forget about Brian and the terrible thing he did to me.
A fleeting image of her ex-boyfriend's handsome face flashed before Krista's brown eyes, dispersing the vision of naked young boys but not having the least effect on her low spirits. Brian Degraff's dark eyes seemed to bore to the very depths of her soul, wounding her with his contempt just as they'd done the last time she'd seen him, and his wide, normally grinning mouth was twisted into a scornful sneer.
"Brian ..." she whispered aloud, her voice whining eerily in the rather drab furnished apartment.
At the sound of her soft exclamation, the troubled blonde roused her shapely body from the couch and stubbed out her cigarette. You're getting like a lonely old lady, talking to yourself this way, her conscience warned. Pull yourself together!
In the past, the sensitive young woman had always found constructive action to be the best antidote to depression, so she now headed for the tiny kitchen which she'd made the most cheerful room in the flat by painting its formerly dirty pink walls a sunny shade of yellow. Krista enjoyed cooking, and for the next hour or so she busied herself with concocting a new casserole.
"Lots of vitamins and protein," she murmured as she sliced onions and grated cheddar cheese. "Ought to make me feel better. After all, I do believe in educating teenagers about sex - I just don't think I'm the right one to be teaching them. But if I can act cool and scientific about it, maybe it won't be as bad as all that..."
The home economics teacher's mood improved while she worked, but plummeted the moment her nutritious cauliflower au gratin was browning in the oven and her hands were again idle. Wandering disconsolately back into the silent living room, she stared out the window at the uninspiring view of a row of semi-detached houses exactly like her own, except that each one was painted a different insipid pastel shade. The sun had just set, and the figures of children playing some game with a ball in the street were hazy, unreal apparitions.
Why did I ever think I wanted to teach? she asked herself as gloom sank over her. I'm so mixed up myself that I can't possibly do my pupils any good. . .
Again, an unbidden stabbing memory of her erstwhile boyfriend, Brian Degraff, speared through the lonely blonde. What's he doing now? she wondered. Which law school did he get into? What kind of girl is he going with?
Yet even as she indulged in a moment of regret for her departed pinmate of three years, Krista knew deep inside that she would rather be here alone in this solitary apartment in one of Toledo's newest bedroom subdivisions than living with Brian as he'd so often suggested. Certainly, it would be nicer to have someone to talk to in the long evenings, someone to eat dinner with and discuss the events of the day; but then he'd want to go to bed and . . . and . ..
Stop it! the young teacher's mind commanded. Don't think about what he did to you again! You're starting a new life now - forget about him!
Walking with firm, determined steps, the pretty blonde headed for the tiny cubbyhole which served as the dwelling's bedroom, and dug out some college textbooks from a suitcase in the miniscule closet. Perhaps planning the classes she would be starting on Tuesday - three days from now - would blot out these unwanted memories.
Sighing under her breath, Krista lugged the heavy volumes back to the outer room and dumped them on the white, synthetic leather couch, then headed back into the kitchen. And some wine should cheer me up, too, she decided. I'll open that bottle Mother gave me.
Mrs. Morrison, a slim, gray-haired widow in her late fifties, still lived on the big Virginia farm which her husband had run before his death fifteen years ago. Although a caretaker actually managed most of the chores and the large tobacco fields, the energetic mother spent much of her time and energy on her small vegetable garden and orchard. Her chief pride and joy was her grape arbor, and her homemade wines had won blue ribbons at the county fairs for as long as her daughter could remember.
"Poor Mom," Krista muttered as she uncorked the bottle and poured some of the ruby red liquid into a tall glass. "She couldn't understand why I suddenly didn't want to marry Brian ... and of course I couldn't tell her the truth."
The engagement had been broken in April, shortly before the young couple's graduation from college, and when Krista returned to the farm to spend the summer with her mother before moving north for her first teaching job, she was still in a state of depression. Although her mother hadn't nagged at her about Brian, the young graduate had not been able to relax as she usually could in the country because the questions were constantly in her mother's eyes, if not on her lips.
Only once had the graying widow attempted to discuss the situation with her dejected daughter.
"You know, honey," she'd begun tentatively, "I wish you'd talk to me about Brian. I understand a little more about men than you do. They're not like us - they're rough and unrestrained, even the best of them, even your father. They can't help it."
Krista had looked away, blushing in discomfort. Her mother's comment had hit embarrassingly close to home, and she felt loathe to discuss her boyfriend's brutish behavior with her normally reticent parent.
"Maybe I should have talked to you about. . . these things ... before," her mother began again.
Oh no! Krista groaned inwardly. Not a discussion about the birds and the bees!
Although in principle the college girl believed in the merits of sex education, the situation with her mother was somewhat awkward. Once, toward the end of a rather drunken party celebrating the marriage of one of Brian's cousins, she'd learned some very interesting facts about the father she scarcely remembered. Otto Dregraff, her boyfriend's uncle, had filled her in on the lurid details while he polished off half a bottle of straight bourbon.
"Liked the women, your Daddy did," the intoxicated man had slurred. "And he liked the bottle. Wine, women, and song - that was his motto, though like all good Southerners his poison was bourbon. Good man, your Daddy. But like they say, only the good die young. And what a helluva way to go too! Speeding down the highway in a new Jaguar with a belly full of booze and a beautiful, willing dame beside you."
Krista was never to forget how astonished she'd felt at that moment. Her only impression of her long-dead father, up to this point, had come from her mother's faithful but uncolorful comments about Arnold Morrisson's good character and industrious improvements on the farm. Thinking of him as a real person with problems and faults was difficult for the confused daughter.
How could her mother act so calm and uncaring? she wondered. And suddenly a long-repressed picture of something that had happened when she was still too young to go to school flashed before her mind's eye. Early one morning, when she'd sneaked from her bed to investigate the dew-drenched summer garden, she'd peeped through the inch-wide crack in the double bedroom door and seen her muscular father, his face distorted with sheer animal lust, doing something mysteriously frightening to her futilely protesting mother.
Yes, Mother probably did understand how I felt, she thought. But I still couldn't talk about it with her. I wonder if Mom guessed that I'm not a virgin, Krista thought now as she savored a mouthful of her mother's light, fruity wine. It tasted of summer, of the long sunlit hours of childhood she'd spent playing in the big garden, the golden afternoons of her adolescence spent seated in the fragrant arbor dreaming over a book of poetry. Suddenly the twenty-three year old felt very old and sad.
This won't do! she lectured herself, downing the glass quickly and pouring herself another in the hope that it would lift her out of the doldrums. Pick up a book and start concentrating!
Her slim fingers grasped the volume on top of the pile, something entitled, All About The Family. It was intended for high school students, she noticed, but probably it would be the right sort of material for the ninth graders she was to teach; it was never good to look down on youngsters of that age. Opening the book at random, she found herself staring down at a full-page diagram of a carefully labeled male penis.
"Oh, God!" she exclaimed softly. "Am I supposed to draw that on the blackboard?" The thought was appalling, and Krista hastily flipped over the page only to gasp in even greater dismay. The author was still on the subject of male reproductive organs, and this time he'd chosen to make his point by inserting a photograph of a naked youth whose fully erect young penis pointed straight out from his athletic loins.
In spite of her initial shock, the Home Ec teacher felt a shameful stab of prurient curiosity. The teenager's immature cock was so slender and smooth compared to Brian's enormous fleshy cudgel.. . and it made her feel none of the horror and panic she'd experienced that evening in her boyfriend's fraternity house at the University of Virginia ...
The book slipped from Krista's lap as she shivered in reaction to her lurid, unwanted memories, but she made no move to retrieve it. Instead, the troubled blonde poured another cup of wine and let her alcohol-relaxed mind fall into a trance-like reverie of the past.
There'd been absolutely no indication on Friday that the weekend would turn out differently from any of the many previous visits which Krista Morrisson had made to her boyfriend's nearby campus. In fact, as she rode the train up from Mount St. Catherine College to the University together with half a dozen other coeds who were pinned to undergraduates, she'd been feeling especially lighthearted - who could feel otherwise on such a glorious spring day? The Banks and wide fields outside the dusty train windows were blanketed with blossoming trees and a rainbow carpet of wild flowers, and the sun shone as brightly as midsummer from a cloudless, azure-blue sky.
We were like butterflies, she thought dreamily now as she stared with unseeing eyes at the gathering autumn dusk and poured her fourth glass of homemade wine. All wearing new spring dresses, and giggling and fluttering around as though there was nothing else to life except having fun. It was only a few months ago . . . but it seems like years...
Nothing had been abnormal that evening, either; they'd gone to a party at the off-campus apartment of one of Brian's fraternity brothers, dancing and drinking Seagrams and Seven-Up from paper cups as they usually did. Oh, the dark-haired pre-law student had drunk too much and tried to get fresh, but that was nothing new - he'd been wanting to go too far ever since they'd been pinned the spring before, but she'd learned to hold him at bay by appealing to his honor as a southern gentleman. He always complained, but he nevertheless drove her back to the special dormitory reserved for visiting females.
It was on Saturday that the trouble began, and when she thought back on that fateful day, Krista realized she should have seen the storm clouds approaching. Everyone had gone out to a nearby forest preserve for a "grasser", a sort of picnic where the chief refreshments were kegs of draft beer and limp potato chips and Fritos. Although the innocent blonde had tried to keep track of how much she was drinking, Brian insisted on refilling her paper cup again and again. This, combined with not having eaten since a hamburger snack the night before, left her feeling dizzy and giggly by the time the sun set and the crowd loaded into their cars to head back to the frat house and continue the party indoors.
All afternoon Brian had been acting more boisterous than usual, and drinking very heavily.
In fact, all the guys had seemed somewhat over-elated, but it was only when the seven girls went back to the dorm to change out of their jeans into party dresses that Krista had an inkling why.
Candy Loupe, a buxom brunette whom Krista had never particularly cared for, told the others about it in the communal shower room.
"I stayed over at the house with Phillip last night," she said, obviously savoring the effect her statement had on the other girls. "And was it ever wild! You just can't imagine!"
"What do you mean?" Maryrose Milford, another girl Krista rather disliked for her vulgar way of speaking, demanded in a shrill, excited voice. "Tell us, Candie! C'mon!"
"Well. . .," the voluptuous dark-haired coed drawled, "I sure wouldn't want to offend anyone ..."
Krista could feel the other girl's black eyes boring into her, but she refused to give her the satisfaction of looking up from the pink-tiled floor of the shower stall.
"Well, okay," Candie giggled. "One of the guys had this movie ...,"
She paused for a tantalizing moment to whet their curiosity, feigning intense concentration on the task of soaping her large round breasts till they resembled snow-capped mounts rising proudly from the smooth golden plane of her suntanned belly. Krista averted her eyes.
"Yesssss?" breathed Maryrose, and all the other girls, even those like Krista who pretended to be disinterested, perked up their ears.
"Not a regular movie. . . one of those Swedish things, you know," Candie shrilled in an excited voice that belied her veneer of worldly sophistication. "I only saw a little bit of it, but it looked wild - I mean really wild!"
"I saw one of those films once," Maryrose interrupted excitedly. "My cousin bought it in Europe, and he showed it to me. I almost died, I was so embarrassed!" She shivered dramatically, making her full breasts jounce like a topless go-go dancer's. "But I really couldn't tell what was supposed to be happening because it was so blurry."
"Not this one!" Candie broke in. "You could see everything! And they've got lots more - some really kinky stuff, Phillip says. I think some of it even shocked him!"
"I should hope so!" a petite blonde named Phyllis exclaimed. "It sounds absolutely disgusting!"
Although Krista had always considered Phyllis a despicable goodie-goodie ever since she'd turned some girls in for skipping gym, she had to admit agreeing with her now. The very idea of Brian watching such filth - and probably imagining how he'd like to do those vile things with his girlfriend - gave Krista a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. How could Candie consider such vulgarity a joke?
Candie tossed her dark curls disdainfully. "Don't be such a baby, Phyllis! It's a lotta fun . .. you'll see-"
Her voice broke off abruptly as she remembered that the boys had made her promise not to tell the other girls what would be happening at the party for fear they'd refuse to come.
"But wait till I tell you what happened last night!" The uninhibited brunette hastily changed the subject. "I was in bed with Phillip, and he was so horny I couldn't believe it - wanting to do all these crazy things, you know! And then ..."
The other girls waited in fascination as Candie deliberately paused again, their nakedly glistening breasts jiggling softly beneath the cascading showers as their breath quickened. But Krista had had enough. Tearing her gaze from her ten involuntarily curling white toes, she snatched up her shampoo, soap and towel, and hurried out of the steaming shower room without even pausing to dry herself off. As she padded back to her room, the slapping sound of her bare wet feet on the cold tile corridor mingled with a faint peal of scornful feminine laughter.
Later that night, the same cynical mocking laugh would come from the lips of the boy she loved . ..
Even though five long months had passed since that never-to-be-forgotten Saturday night, Krista Morrisson could remember her emotions as vividly as though it had all happened last night. This episode had floated through her memory so often in the idle summer months that she knew she ought to begin to feel detached from it, to view it as an oft-reread book or one of those old films you see again and again on late night television. .. but she just couldn't. Her pain and sorrow were still as fresh as ever, and sometimes she feared that the wound might indeed never heal.
Now, as she slumped on the couch in her darkened living room, the tortured young blonde felt her sensitive vaginal lips quivering in automatic reaction to her memories. This unwanted tingling sensation was the most horrible part of thinking about Brian Degraff.. .,deep inside, the young woman realized how sinful she really was whenever she felt these electrical fingers fluttering out to her nerve endings and the undeniable droplets of moisture dampening the crotchband of her panties.
"Oh, God!" Krista groaned softly. "Not again! I don't want to think about it!"
An image of the father she'd scarcely known passed before the guilty young girl's eyes, and she felt a surge of self-disgust. Am I that same sort of debased person? Did I inherit bad blood that made me sex-crazed? Is that why I can't control these evil thoughts?
Krista poured another glass of wine, relishing the refreshing way it slid down her throat and soothed her jangled nerves. This is just the way I was feeling at that fraternity party, her thoughts drifted lazily. Before she knew what was happening to her, she'd slipped back into the past.
Everyone had been slightly intoxicated from the afternoon's festivities, and by midnight the party had degenerated into a complete shambles. Even Krista had given up her initial attempts to keep Brian from downing too much alcohol and resisting having her own glass refilled again and again with the Southern Comfort she was drinking. He'd seemed so irritated by her cautioning words, accusing her of being a prissy old woman and a killjoy, that she'd not had the courage to argue.
The last thing in the world she wanted to lose was his love. They'd known each other all then-lives, for their fathers had been good friends and they'd attended the same high school, but it wasn't until he was nineteen and she eighteen that he'd noticed his quiet blonde neighbor. Krista, on the other hand, had suffered from a severe crush on the handsome Degraff boy for as long as she could remember, and had longed to be one of the extroverted cheerleader types he'd dated in high school. Instead, she'd remained a thin, nondescript child until her senior year, when she'd suddenly blossomed into a lovely, outwardly poised young woman. When Brian returned from Europe, where he'd spent the year between high school and college, he'd noticed her at once, and they'd been going together ever since. The dark-haired law student was, in fact, the only male in whom Krista had taken a serious interest... the only one she'd allowed to kiss her.
No, her entire world would collapse without Brian Degraff, and therefore she always tried to prevent arguments or other unpleasantness. There was, however, one point on which she stood firm - the matter of her virginity - so she was dismayed when, half-way through the second bottle, he began to harp on the sensitive subject.
"Hell, Krista, you know I'm gonna marry you when I get through school," he slurred, trying unsuccessfully to plant a sloppy kiss on her unresponsive mouth. "So why wait just because of some crazy idea? That sort of shit died with Queen Victoria!"
The blonde turned away to stare at the opposite corner of the room where Candie Loupe, her long black hair flailing wildly in all directions, was gyrating in a primitive, almost obscene rhythm to a top-volume Jimi Hendrix album. Since Brian had given her the same impatient arguments time and time before, she didn't have to pay attention to his words to know what he was saying.
"You know how I feel, Brian," she sighed. "I could never respect myself again . .. and what would we do if I got pregnant?"
"You could take the pill like everyone else does," the dark-haired law student tried once again to tug Krista toward him. "That's no problem!"
Krista pulled saway, embarrassed by his attempt to embrace her in public.
"Please, Brian! You know I don't like to make out in front of people. It's .. . it's sordid, vulgar - just like taking the pill!"
"Oh, you're too much! Too fucking much!" the youth's handsome face clouded over in an angry scowl. "I don't think you really love me or you wouldn't drive me crazy like this. Jesus, don't you want to make love, too?"
"Of course I love you, Brian," Krista avoided the last question.
The truth of the matter was that, as far as she was concerned there was only the most tenuous connection between romantic love and the physical reality of going to bed with a man. Certainly, she felt warm and excited inside when he kissed her tenderly in private; she'd even felt an odd vibrating urgency deep in her belly and up between her legs when he stroked her breasts, but she'd repressed the sensation, pleasant though it was because it seemed alarmingly wicked. Yet these tendrils of arousal vanished the moment she thought of the pain and shame of having her boyfriend actually enter her most private feminine flesh with his enormous penis. He'd sometimes made her stroke his throbbing male hardness through his jeans, and she knew it was far too large to ever fit inside her vagina, but she was much too ashamed to discuss her fears with the man she hoped to marry.
"If you really love me then prove it!" Brian challenged, clumsily refilling their glasses with the last of the Southern Comfort. "Lovers have to make love - it's only common sense!"
"I don't want any more," Krista shoved the overflowing glass away.
Maybe he's right... she thought, shaking her head to clear away the whirling alcoholic clouds inside her brain. I know lots of the girls at school sleep with their steady boyfriends. But I can't do something I know is wrong. . . something dirty and degrading that'll start our marriage out in a cheap way.
A shudder wracked the intoxicated young blonde's slender figure as she saw a mental picture of herself lying naked on a bed in a cheap hotel room, just like a common slut, or perhaps sprawled in the back seat of Brian's dark green Mustang with her skirt and slip bunched up around her waist and the windows clouded over with steam. No, she could never submit to such humiliation...
"You don't wanna drink, you don't wanna screw - what the hell do you wanna do?" Brian was growing belligerent as the alcohol heated his blood for he was feeling even more aroused than usual after last night's lewd performance by Candie Loupe. "Look at Candie - she knows how to have a good time ... and how to make a guy happy!"
"I've heard all about what Candie did," Krista's voice was low and calm but terse with barely controlled anger, "and I don't want to hear another word. I was never so shocked in my life!"
"Okay, okay, forget it," Brian sounded as though he regretted having mentioned the raven-haired brunette. He stared moodily at his almost empty glass, drained it, then glanced surreptitiously toward the end of the beg room where Candie, surrounded by an eagerly clapping crowd, had kicked off her shoes and climbed on top of a low coffee table to continue her pagan dance.
"Listen, I need a refill," he gestured toward the empty Southern Comfort bottle. "I'll be back in a minute, okay?"
Something about the way Brian's brooding eyes slid over Candie's voluptuously displayed loins made Krista feel dizzy and sick. So that was the way he wanted her to act!
"I'm . . . I'm going to the washroom," she told Brian, feeling more miserable than ever when he nodded absently as though he'd not even heard her.
There was a long line outside the fraternity house toilet, and the intoxicated coed began to feel so ill that she had to lean her head against the wall. What am I going to do? A voice inside her mind screamed so loudly that she didn't even hear the raucous jokes and laughter of the people around her. I can't be the sort of girl Brian wants... but if I'm not, I'm going to lose him to someone like Candie. . . I can't avoid the problem much longer.
Krista stayed in the welcome privacy of the washroom for as long as possible, holding a towel soaked in cold water against her burning forehead, but soon someone began banging on the door and she made her way out into the hallway, still feeling giddy. From downstairs, she could hear the party growing more rowdy than ever, and she suddenly decided that it was time for her to go back to the dormitory.
"Take it off! Take it all off!" she heard a drunken masculine voice shout as she headed for the bedroom where the coats were kept, and a shudder ran through her innocent body. Then as she pushed open the door and saw what was going on inside, she felt her blood turn to ice.
There, on the big bed, right on top of everyone's coats, lay Maryrose Milford, as naked as she'd been in the shower earlier that evening, and above her loomed an equally naked male. Krista didn't recognize him in the dim light, but she was sure it wasn't Frank, the girl's steady boyfriend, because it was he who'd gone into the bathroom after her. No, her brazen classmate was doing something with a stranger, something so unspeakably nasty that the watching blonde felt as though she were going to faint.
The girl had taken the boy's huge penis in her mouth!
Obscene slurping noises, mingled with shameless mewls and moans, issued in a steady stream from Maryrose's cock-impaled lips, and Krista thought that she'd never heard a more repulsive sound. It was actually too dark to see exactly what was transpiring, and in any case the man's taut-muscled buttocks obstructed her view, but the blonde's imagination filled in the missing details.
What does it feel like to have a cock in your mouth? her mind whirled wildly. How does it taste? It must be horrible - but Maryrose seems to like it from the sounds she's making. I always thought she was a slut...
Yet, despite her revulsion, the naive college, girl felt a strange quivering sensation down between her trembling legs. The unwanted fingers of excitement flickered up into her churning belly and breasts, and she suddenly felt as though her brassiere was too tight as its lace cups rubbed against her tautening nipples. Shocked and humiliated by her traitorous body's reaction, she turned quickly away from the salacious spectacle and shakily made her way downstairs.
It had seemed only the briefest second that she'd stood before the half-open door, but when Krista reached the fraternity house recreation room and saw how drastically the mood had changed, she realized with a guilty start that it must have been longer. The blaring hard rock music had been replaced by a soft, romantic album of oldies-but-goodies, and Candie had ceased her wanton dance to curl up in Phillip's lap, her short black lace bikini panties. The other couples who remained were similarly entwined on couches around the darkened room, all of them eagerly staring toward the end of the room where Brian and another fraternity brother were setting up a small movie projector.
Recalling Candie Loupe's shower room conversation, Krista knew at once what was going on. What was happening to everyone? her thoughts ran wildly. She'd known this crowd of people all through college, and they'd never done anything like this. A lot of drinking, some off-color jokes, a little necking, probably some lovemaking in private ... that was all she'd ever seen happen until tonight. Was it because this was their last spring here at college - or had Brian perhaps just not taken her to the more debauched parties?
Everyone was too absorbed in their drunken sexuality to pay any attention to Krista as she stood frozen in the doorway, watching her boyfriend fiddle with the focus on the rented projector. Even Brian didn't notice her silent presence or he surely would have changed the subject of his conversation.
"Ya seen this one before?" the other boy was asking. "It's outtasight, man! Got a chick in it who looks a lot like Krista - except that I can't imagine your girl doin' stuff like this!"
Brian bristled defensively, for in some oblique way he considered his girl friend's sexual irresponsiveness to be a slur against his own masculinity.
"Ya don't know what you're talkin' about, man!" he said in a loud voice that echoed throughout the entire room. "Krista's a hot little piece if you know how to get her turned on!"
"Is that so?" Candie giggled from across the room. "I always wondered if her prissy act was for real!"
"She's really a good lay?" the boy beside Brian asked curiously. "Christ, and here I always though that great body of hers was going to waste!"
"No way, man!" Brian jabbed at the focus of the projector so fiercely that the plastic attachment broke in his hand.
"Hey, look what you've done, you asshole!" called Phillip. "Now you've broken the fucking thing, and we can't have a show!"
"I'll fix it, man... I'll fix the goddamn thing," Brian began, but then his words trailed off as he saw Krista striding angrily toward him.
"You're a liar!" she hissed through clenched teeth, too angry to car about the others in the room. "How could you say that about me? Take me home right now, Brian!"
The handsome law student blushed a furious shade of red and lowered his eyes to avoid the preying glances of his fraternity brothers. An angry scowl crept over his features, and when he spoke, his voice was harsh, almost vicious.
"Don't you tell me what to do, woman!" he growled. "I'll show you who's a liar!"
"Don't touch me!" Krista shrieked as her enraged boyfriend lunged toward her.
But there was no stopping the lust- and alcohol-maddened college man. His pride and reputation among his fraternity brothers were being threatened, and suddenly he had simply had enough of his girl friend's prudish behavior.
At this point, Krista's memory of the evening clouded over with a protective blackness. Somehow, she remembered, she'd been physically forced up into one of the bedrooms and thrown down on a narrow, unmade bed - next morning, there'd been ugly bruises on her legs and finger marks branded on the tender flesh of her arms where Brian's angry hands had gripped her. But after he'd begun yanking off her clothes, the memory once again became horrifyingly clear.
"You bitch! I'll show you!" he'd snarled above her as he recklessly tore off her blue cotton shirtwaist, scattering buttons right and left. "You've been making a fool of me long enough, you goddamn little cock-tease!"
"Brian! Stop it!" Krista wailed in terror-stricken anguish. "What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing's the matter with me that a good fuck won't cure," he growled, pushing her down on her back so hard that she lost her breath. "I'm just doin' what I should've done a hell of a long time ago!"
"Noooo!" Krista wailed. "You're acting crazy! Let me out of here!"
She again struggled to rise while his hands were busy fumbling with his jeans, but before she could scramble to her feet, he'd worked his Levi's down over his long legs and freed his thickly swollen cock. At the sight of the huge angry-red cudgel, the inexperienced blonde virgin's eyes widened in horror and her blood turned to ice in her veins.
"You can't!" she gasped. "You can't rape me! No, Brian, NO! It's too ugly like this! Pleezzzee! Another time, I promise ... but NOT LIKE THIS!"
The sex-starved male was totally unmoved by his girl friend's piteous pleas.
"I'm sick of waiting, you bitch!" he cursed. "I don't want your goddamn promises - I want some action!"
Suddenly he was kneeling on top of her, his rough hands tearing off her brassiere and ripping her little white panties into two ragged pieces so that her body was completely exposed to his hungry leer. At the sound of her last shred of protection being so brutally removed from her helpless body, the naive young virgin's eyes were blinded by hot tears. Her vulnerable sobs aroused a chord of sympathy in the alcohol-crazed youth, for the hands which grasped her sensitive breasts were a bit more gentle than before, but by now Krista was too upset to appreciate the subtle difference.
"No, no, nooo!" she chanted through her sobs. "No, pleeazzee, nooo!"
"Sssshh," the lust-frenzied male whispered, mashing his mouth against her reluctant lips and forcing his eager tongue between her teeth. "I'm sorry I treated you so rough, baby, but I just gotta fuck you now. It won't hurt - I'll be real careful."
Krista tried to protest, but it was impossible to speak with his hot wet tongue thrusting halfway down her throat. His whiskey- and cigarette-tainted breath mingled with the room's dirty sock odor, symbolizing the ugliness of the situation for her, and Krista's body went rigid in despair as she realized that there was no escape from this debased humiliation. All her girlhood dreams of a romantic wedding night with a kind and tender husband carefully removing her white lace nightgown in some luxurious bridal suite were crashing down around her head, and she felt so much sorrow at their loss that for the moment her physical fears were drowned out.
Taking Krista's silence and cessation of struggle as a sign of acquiescence, the passion-fired college man dropped the full weight of his muscular loins down upon the tearful blonde's satin-smooth flesh, pressing her so hard against the stained and crumpled sheets that she thought her lungs were being crushed. The buttons on his oxford-style shirt - which he'd not bothered to remove in his haste to possess the girl who had denied him for so long - dug into her painfully flattened breasts, sending hot arrows of discomfort shooting out to every nerve-ending in her helplessly impaled body.
"Oooohhh!" she gasped weakly as his lust-driven hands began rummaging roughly between their tight-pressed flesh. "Ooohh, nooo!"
As though he'd not even heard his girl friend's feeble wail, Brian Degraff tangled his fingers in the sparse baby-fine hairs of her pubic mound then shot his long middle finger straight downward to rub against the hotly quivering flesh of her never-before-touched vaginal slit. Without thought of fear or injury, he pistoned his stiffened linger up and down along the innocent virgin's cringing cuntal crevice until he located the tiny orifice he was seeking.
"Christ, baby, you're so fucking tight," his alcohol-blurred voice mumbled into the heated cavern of Krista's mouth. "I never felt anything so good!"
Never in her entire life would the curvaceous blonde schoolteacher forget the searing pain which had surged through her as Brian's insensitive middle finger rammed up into her unprepared vaginal passage. Her body stiffened and jerked as though she'd been electrocuted, and a dizzying wave of blackness temporarily blinded her as she involuntarily clamped her trembling thighs together to stop the assault. Instead of expelling the invading hand, however, her vain effort only succeeded in compounding her humiliating vulnerability; the tighter she pressed, the more deeply his finger delved into her fire-filled pussy.
Just as she was feeling as though she would die - or at the very least faint - form the torturous pain of Brian's defiling finger, a peculiar sensation began developing in the pit of the abused virgin's churning belly. Knives of red-hot agony continued to stab through her obscenely sprawled body, but gradually a strange sort of unwanted excitement was blending with the pain, a sensation rather like the illicit thrill she's sometimes experienced when her boyfriend fondled her breasts - but much more intense.
Oh, God, what's happening to me? her intoxicated mind whirled. I can't LIKE this - I must be so drunk I'm going crazy!
In her panic at the threatened betrayal of her flesh, Krista renewed her futile struggles. Maybe she couldn't hope to escape from the athletically-built youth, but at least she could retain a bit of pride and self-respect. Furiously, desperately, her long legs kicked and squirmed beneath Brian's heavily pressing loins, and a stream of shrill, incoherent protests issued from her mouth as she tore her bruised lips away from him.
"Oooohh, noo! Stop it! Nooo!"
Her screams were so penetrating that Brian felt certain they were audible to everyone else in the thin-walled fraternity house, and this knowledge fired his sadistic passion to even greater intensity.
"Uuunngghh," the tortured blonde wailed again as her boyfriend's jabbing finger popped from her burning vagina with a lewd sluicing sound, leaving her feeling strangely empty in spite of her extreme relief.
Maybe he's come to his senses at last, she thought, struggling to rise from the crumpled bed. I have to get out of here before he turns into an animal again!
But the moment the frightened blonde virgin scrambled to a sitting position, her hopes of escape were rudely dashed. Brian's cruel fingers gripped the tender flesh of her breasts, pinning her back down against the mattress, and his strong knees wrenched between her helplessly thrashing legs so that her pussy was spread wide open to attack. Eyes glazed with horror, Krista gaped at the huge cudgel of male flesh waiting only inches away from her fearfully cringing vagina.
"Noooo!" she shrieked again. "It's too biggg! It'll kill me! Stop it, you dirty animal!"
The lust-demented law student paid absolutely no attention to his girl friend's piteous cries. Growling low in his throat like the animal she'd accused him of being, he flicked his powerful hips forward and rammed his angry-red penis hard against the tightly resisting orifice of her virginal pussy.
Until this evening, the innocent girl had never seen a man's erect penis, much less felt one, and even through humiliated despair, she felt a twinge of surprise at its heated rubbery texture and the unexpected way the smooth-skinned cock-head pulsated against her tender flesh as though with a life of its own. Then as Brian lurched forward again, everything faded from her mind but wave after wave of blinding pain.
"Aaarrgghh!" he bellowed in the tone of a conquering caveman. "Gonna fuck ya - fuck ya good!"
Although Krista tried with all her might to clench her vaginal muscles together and prevent the defiling penetration of her long-guarded vagina, it was a wasted effort which only succeeded in heightening her anguish. His blunt-nosed cock-head shoved insistently against her tiny cuntal orifice until at last she gave way beneath the brutal pressure and allowed his blood-engorged hardness to spear several inches up into the weeping blonde's fear-quivering cuntal channel.
I tried to stop him - I did try! the overwrought schoolteacher told herself as the scene now replayed itself before her tortured eyes many months later. And I did think I loved him! If only he'd been kind and gentle, I wouldn't still be thinking about how his penis ached and burned inside me. I wouldn't have this fear.. .
The drunken college boy had pushed with all his might into her cringing vagina, ignoring her piteous wails of pain. She would never forget the shattering fire that pierced every cell in her cruelly impaled loins as his rampaging penis ripped through the thin membrane of her maidenhood, nor the shame which had been almost more unbearable than the pain.
For several minutes he'd pounded his thick virility into her, slamming all the way to her sensitive cervix and pulling her sensitive inner flesh out again as he withdrew. Before she'd even begun to grow accustomed to the huge object throbbing inside her inexperienced vagina, she'd been startled to feel hot liquid splashing against the burning passage.
"Oh, no! No! It was so ugly!" she muttered to herself now, feeling the remembered sensation so vividly that, without thinking, she dropped her hand between her trembling thighs to see if she could feel the same horrible sticky moisture. As her fingers grazed her vaginal slit, a powerful jolt of excitement shot through her loins, and the shame-filled teacher quickly jerked her hand away.
Her boyfriend's spent penis had slipped from her ravished cunt with a lewd wet sucking sound which still echoed in her dreams after all this time. She'd risen shakily from the strange bed when he was finished, clutching for her clothes without even looking at him, hot tears pricking behind her eyelids.
"You're the most horrible monster I ever met," she'd said as she edged toward the door, still fastening her clothing. "I never, never want to see you again!" Ripping her fraternity pin from its place of honor above one proudly lifted breast, she'd flung it across the room at him.
"What makes you think I'd ever want to see you, either?" his face had hardened into the well-remembered sneer of dislike. "You're about as much use in bed as a five-buck whore - just lying there like a sack of potatoes. No, you're worse, cause you gotta moan and cry about it."
Unable to bear another word, the weeping coed had run from the room, his last insults echoing after him as she fled down the hallway.
"I'm gonna find me a real woman who knows something about loving," he'd shouted so loud that surely the other people in the fraternity house must have heard him. "Good-bye and good luck, you cold bitch!"
"Cold bitch... cold bitch..." Krista murmured unhappily to the four walls of her tiny apartment. "Am I?"
Rising shakily to her feet, she headed for her lonely bed, her lovely face a mask of desolation and longing.
Chapter Three
"All right, class," Krista smiled at the room full of eight grade boys and girls who were busily washing pots and pans and tidying the cooking room after their first lesson in Mexican cooking. "You handled those tortillas just fine! If you keep going this way, we'll be ready for that barbeque I promised you by next weekend."
The class broke into loud cheers, their shrill young voices almost drowning out the blaring bell which indicated the end of the class period. As they streamed out of the large room, waving and grinning at their pretty young teacher as they hurried to the cafeteria, she felt a justified pang of pride. Despite Principal Harding's doubts, the coed Home-Ec classes had worked out better than even Krista herself had expected. After a day or two of rowdy jokes every time they looked at one another seated at a sewing machine or standing behind a stove, the boys had begun to show more enthusiasm than the girls.
The secret is to let them learn while they're doing something they enjoy doing, the attractive schoolteacher told herself as she fastened her golden hair more securely at the nape of her neck and smoothed down her plaid skirt. Of course thirteen year olds don't want to sew aprons and potholders - they'd rather learn American Indian crafts and sew costumes for the school musical. And the eight graders certainly can't complain if we learn to cook things that are good to eat and have parties.
"Gee, Miss Morrisson," Phillip Larsen, a thin blond eight-grader with adoring Cocker Spaniel eyes, had said to her just this morning. "My sister took Home-Ec from old Miss Conoway three years ago and all she learned to cook was cream sauce and tapioca pudding. But we're making real food!"
Krista smiled at the memory as she locked her desk and headed out into the corridor in the direction of the faculty lunchroom, but her contented expression faded when the boys' washroom door was flung open and two tall, well-built adolescents came sauntering straight toward her. Both youths were students in her afternoon ninth grade Home-Economics class, and in the two weeks she'd been teaching at Franklin Junior High she'd learned to dread the very sight of them and their little band of unruly friends. Lewd smirks lit their handsome faces as they moved toward her, their eyes boring through her short plaid skirt and tight turtleneck pullover so that she felt completely naked, but she managed to force her mouth into a cool and confident smile which she hoped betrayed none of her inner turmoil.
"Good afternoon, Robbie," she said in a carefully modulated neutral tone as she came face to face with the two good-looking youths. "Good afternoon, Charlie."
Neither boy moved or spoke. They remained standing directly in front of her, thumbs hooked in the wide leather belts of their low-slung Levi's, scrutinizing her with their brazen eyes until Krista felt her cheeks flaming in spite of her valiant efforts to keep calm. From the smell of tobacco that clung to their clothing, she surmised that they'd been smoking forbidden cigarettes in the washroom, but she felt so disconcerted by their disrespectful behavior that she hesitated to say anything about it.
"Christ, Charlie, it's our sex teacher!" Robbie Blair, the dark-haired instigator of much of the trouble in room 901, exclaimed in a tone of mock surprise. "She looked so sexy I didn't recognize her!"
Suddenly Krista had taken as much as she could stand of the boys' rudeness. What business of theirs was it what she wore? How dare they speak to her this way!
"Maybe you don't recognize me, Robbie," she snapped, "but I recognize you. And I also see that you've been disobeying the school rules again by smoking cigarettes. I ought to report you to Principal Harding!"
"Oh yeah?" Robbie's deep brown eyes were far more cynical than any fourteen year old's Krista had ever seen before. "So how come you're not gonna?"
He says that as if he knows exactly why I can't bear talking to Preston Harding! the astonished teacher thought, as if he knows how that dirty old man upsets me by staring at my breasts and legs with those beady eyes of his. . .
"This is your first warning," she said crisply, surprised at the firmness of her own voice. "Next time I catch you at it, it's straight down to the principal's office with you. I mean it, boys!"
"Prissy Preston!" the dark-haired youth sneered. "I'm terrified, aren't you, Charlie?" "Sure thing, Robbie!" the other echoed, Krista stared intently at the two young teenagers. Their muscular bodies were incased in skin-tight bell-bottom Levi's and black T-shirts emblazoned with hand-drawn psychedelic designs, and their neatly combed dark hair hung a scant centimeter longer than school regulations permitted. Identical sneers graced their smooth young faces, but whereas Charlie's hazel eyes were wide with admiration for his friend's boldness, Robbie's brooding brown eyes reflected bitterness and a strange, indescribable expression which so unnerved their pretty teacher that she turned and started to brush past the boys.
As she hastened down the silent corridor toward the faculty lunchroom, she could feel the youths' gazes boring into her back, hear their derisive snorts of laughter. Although the curvaceous blonde tried to hold her body stiff and straight as a ramrod, her acute awareness of the swaying undulation of her hips and buttocks beneath her short plaid kilt sent an involuntary blush creeping up over her cheeks.
I won't look back at them, she vowed, gritting her teeth and clutching her pocketbook so fiercely her knuckles turned white. I won't give them that satisfaction!
Yet as she rounded the corner, her head, driven by some inexplicable force, swung around to glance at the two youngsters. Even from this distance, the intensity of the Blair boy's fervent gaze disturbed her, and as Krista entered the pushed through the door marked "faculty only", she realized her knees were shaking like the yellowing leaves on the tall elm outside the window.
The small lounge was crowded and thick with smoke as almost every teacher in Franklin Junior High lit up the cigarettes they were unable to smoke during class periods. After taking her plate of fish sticks, instant mashed potatoes, and weeping cherry jello, Krista's dark eyes roved worriedly around the four tables searching for an empty seat. At Principal Harding's table - he sat in the same place each day, surrounded by a few of the older faculty members with whom he seemed to have established a rapport of sorts, his dowdy secretary, and several other unfortunate latecomers - there were two free chairs, but today the young blonde just didn't feel equal to Preston's piercing eyes glued to her breasts as she choked down her lunch.
Luckily, the seat at the far table beside Rex Simmons, the shop teacher, was also empty. Although she found the sandy-haired man's clean-cut self-confidence and inane male chauvinist jokes about the "gals" in his classes almost as appetite-suppressing as the principal's lewd stares, it seemed the less objectionable of the two alternatives.
"Well, hello there, stranger," Simmons grinned at Krista over a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes. "Long time no see . . . "
The shapely blonde flinched as the man's booming voice resounded across the long table. It was true she'd been avoiding any confrontation with her burly, freckle-faced co-worker since she'd turned down his invitation to accompany him on a "night out in Toledo", but there was no reason why everyone else need know this. Through the corner of her eye, she saw the spinsterish geography instructor, Belinda Blanche, raise her straggly eyebrows toward the two girls' gym teachers.
"So much work..." Krista murmured unconvincingly, taking a cautious forkful of her tepid fish sticks.
The tasteless food stuck in her throat like thick cotton wool, but Krista chewed resolutely until the curious glances of the other teachers had refocused upon their lunch trays and their conversation had resumed. Only Rex Simmons' intent gaze remained cemented to her body, his eyes drilling through her form-fitting sweater in a most disconcerting way.
"How's it going, Kris?" Rex leaned so close to the embarrassed blonde that she could smell his aftershave lotion. He wore English Leather, a scent she particularly loathed.
"Just fine, Mr. Simmons."
The blonde's voice was deliberately cool and non-committal, for although the shop teacher seemed a perfectly nice man - though not especially intelligent or sensitive - she had absolutely no desire to get involved in a personal relationship with any male just now. Still, it was nice to have someone to talk to during lunch rather than spending the hour chewing and smoking in stoic silence as she normally did, so she made an effort to continue the conversation.
"And how are your classes going?" she inquired politely, abandoning her fish as inedible and picking up her carton of milk instead. "Making progress with the girls?" In their last conversation, he'd complained that they were afraid to hammer a nail.
"Matter of fact, I am," the sandy-haired teacher grinned. "Maybe you womens' libbers haven't got it all wrong after all. I gotta admit there's not nearly so much horsing around now the gals are there."
It made Krista feel better to hear him say that, even though he was staring at her lips sucking her straw in a way that brought back repugnant memories of the shameful act she'd observed Maryrose Milford performing at the long-ago fraternity party. Perhaps, she reflected, suppressing the lurid images inside her head, Mr. Simmons might have some suggestions about handling those awful boys in room 901. . . especially Robbie Blair.
Trying her best to ignore the spark of obvious interest in the husky man's pale blue eyes, she turned to face him.
"Mr. Simmons, I wonder ..."
"Rex, please!"
"All right, Rex," Krista relented. "I wonder if you ... I mean, I've been having some difficulties with the ninth grade boys, and .. . well, do you know Robbie Blair?"
"You bet I do - the spoiled brat! Everyone knows that Blair kid, ever since he got expelled the first week of seventh grade for setting off a bomb scare. They had to let him back in school 'cause his old man's got a lot of pull with Superintendent Andersen, but we'd all have been better off if he'd been shipped off to military school then and there!"
"He's such a strange child," Krista mused, a vivid image of the youth's handsome but sneering face flashing before her mind's eye. "His eyes look so sad . . . and I really don't think he's as unintelligent as he pretends to be."
"Well, I don't know about that. Far as I'm concerned, the kid's a natural-born hell-raiser, but from what I hear about his family there's reason enough for him to be messed up. Old man's some kind of wheeler-dealer type who's never at home, and Rhoda Blairs earned herself a reputation you can smell a mile away with her goings on while her husband's out of town. I could tell you some stories about her, all right," he paused, glancing around the table, "but let's save them until we've got some privacy.
Krista squirmed uneasily on the edge of her folding chair and lit a Camel. Please don't let him ask me for another date! she pleaded silently. How can I make him understand for once and for all that I'm just NOT INTERESTED!
"The poor boy ..." she said aloud.
"Got an older sister who takes after the mother," Rex continued. "Out drinking and screwing every night from the time she was fourteen till she finally got knocked up at sixteen. Went to Chicago to get rid of it, and never came back. They say she's got some job, but your guess is as good as mine as to what sort of work she's doing. Nope, the Blairs aren't exactly the American Dream, even though they've got money coming out of their ears!"
Such strong pangs of pity washed over Krista Morrisson that they drowned her dislike for the fawning man beside her. No wonder the boy's such a troublemaker, she thought. What else could you expect with a home background like that? It's exactly what we learned in college - behind every behaviour and learning difficulty there lies an emotional problem, and it's a teacher's duty to help resolve her pupils' conflicts. It's about time someone took an interest in Robbie!
Rex glanced down at his wrist watch and downed the rest of his Coke. "Gee, it's been nice talking to you, Kris," he said in a low, significant voice. "We ought to get together more often!"
Still absorbed in her concern for her handsome fourteen year old student, the attractive young blonde nodded absently, not really concentrating on what Simmons was saying.
"How about tomorrow night - Saturday," he continued, grinning from ear to ear. At last the standoffish Home-Ec teacher seemed to be responding to his advances! "We could catch the new flick in Pottawattamie hills - it's something by Sam Peckimpah, or else go into the big city if you want some more action. What'ya say, Kris?"
Krista's honey-gold head snapped upright, her eyes widening in alarm as she murmured, "I-I'm so s-sorry . . . but I have . . . other plans."
"Another time, then?" Simmons sounded puzzled, disappointed.
The good-looking extrovert had never had trouble getting dates before, and since as far as he knew Krista didn't have another boyfriend, he couldn't understand why she seemed so disturbed over the prospect of going out with him. Why should a sexy chick like that want to sit home alone nights when they could be having a good time together instead? It just didn't make sense!
"How 'bout next weekend?" he persisted. "Maybe we could drive down to Circleville, where they've got this Pumpkin Show. Pumpkin-burgers . . . the whole bit. . . should be good for a few laughs."
To the nervous blonde's vast relief, the piercing bell signaling the end of the lunch hour chimed just at that moment. Quickly jamming her cigarettes and lighter into her purse, she stepped to her feet and smiled stiffly down at the tall red-haired man without looking him in the eye.
"M-maybe," she stammered in a most unenthusiastic manner. "So much work ..."
Rex shook his head as he watched the fair-haired woman hurrying back toward her classroom.
"I don't get it," he mumbled under his breath. "I don't fucking understand that chick!"
Krista stayed at Franklin Junior High for an hour or so after classes ended that Friday afternoon, typing desperate letters to the film departments of the state universities pleading for sex education movies explaining the act of intercourse. Already having requested such material from the state library and having received only the weary old Walt Disney effort on menstruation and an even more imsipid film on the same subject produced by some new tampon company, she was now in a real panic. In the first two weeks she'd instructed the class in the changes that occur in an adolescent's body, stretching out this relatively inoffensive subject as long as humanly possible, but even if she could divert the students for another week or so on the history of birth control methods, the time was fast approaching when she would be forced to mention the connubial relations between man and wife.
"And I simply can't stand up there in front of those awful boys and tell them how a man puts his erect penis inside a woman's vagina - I can't!" the troubled young blonde murmured to herself as she sealed the last envelope. "At least if I can show a movie, it'll be too dark for them to stare at me in that disgusting way."
A faraway look gleamed in her amber eyes as Krista remembered the rude stares Robbie Blair had lavished on her tight sweater all during today's class period. They'd merely been discussing the subject of nutrition for growing young people, a relatively innocuous topic which was all she felt she could handle by the end of the week, but his piercing eyes and crude comments had managed to completely disrupt the class.
"If Katie Morgan eats the same vitamins and proteins as you do, Miss Morrisson," he'd inquired after she'd explained the method for computing how many of each nutrient an individual's body required, based on height, weight, and age, "will she have tits as big as yours?"
It had been a cruel jibe, for Katie Morgan's chest was flat as a washboard and she was a shy, sensitive little girl who acted younger than her fourteen years. Although Krista had been angry, at the same time a disconcerting tingling in her own breasts had diverted her indignation. Also, she was still feeling sympathetic toward the unhappy boy after her conversation with Rex Simmons during lunch.
"The correct word is breasts, not tits," she'd reprimanded less harshly than Robbie's malicious comment deserved. "And apparently you've not understood what I've been explaining for the past forty minutes. Katie is smaller and younger than I am, so of course her vitamin requirements are somewhat different. Perhaps we shall have to go over this lesson again on Monday."
At least that would prevent commencing on a more embarrassing topic . ..
"Hey teach!" Charlie, Robbie's sidekick, had called out, "when do we get into the hardcore stuff, huh?"
As Krista's thoughts ran back over that disastrous class period, she collapsed on the desk with her throbbing head buried in her hands. I can't bear to think about it any longer, her troubled mind groaned. Now it's the weekend, and I'm only going to think of pleasant things for the next two days.
But what pleasant things? Her lonely, shabby little flat out in Country Club Hills subdivision where the neighbors were all involved in a tight little clique of newly-marrieds and young parents. She'd been invited to one backyard barbecue out of politeness, but finding nothing to contribute to the conversations about morning sickness and the obstinate nature of two year olds, had refused the second invitation. She'd never been asked to join them again . ..
Well, I really ought to write to Mother, Krista thought rather desolately as she gathered up her pile of envelopes and left the classroom. And my college girlfriends, too. ..
But what did her former classmates know or care of her present life? When they wrote bright little notes on their pastel stationery, they chirped about weddings and babies and engagement diamonds. Surely they couldn't care less about Krista's problems with homeroom 901, nor about the bitter ache which still burned inside her at the thought of her former fiance, Brian Degraff. No, those young women inhabited another world . ..
On the way home, the curvaceous teacher stopped at the drugstore to buy a bottle of aspirins to cure the headache that had begun to pound behind her temples.
After purchasing her giant-size bottle of aspirin, Krista lingered for a few moments before the magazine rack. She extracted the lone edition of Scientific American from the piles of glossy mens' magazines, confession magazines, and Good Housekeeping, and was just starting to skim through an interesting articie on vitamin deficiencies in American schoolchildren when her eyes caught sight of a tall, arrogant youth sauntering through the drugstore doorway. Suddenly, her knees began shaking like a schoolgirl's.
Krista's first impulse was to drop the magazine and sidle into the phone booth before Robbie Blair saw her, but in a split second she changed her mind. Hadn't she promised herself to help the boy before he turned into a full-fledged juvenile delinquent? And anyway, she'd never before spoken to him alone; perhaps, out of the company of his admiring companions, he would be less defensive, less unapproachable.
"Hello, Robbie," she greeted the handsome youth in a firm, cheerful voice.
The sullen teenager tossed his long hair back from his forehead and fixed his large dark eyes upon his teacher, sending an involuntary shiver flickering along her spine. Goodness! she marveled, he really is a beautiful young man - he's built like those Greek statues that are supposed to show the perfect human form! Yes, I MUST do my best to help him!
"Hi," Robbie muttered at last, then moved toward the prescription medicine counter at the other end of the pharmacy.
From that one terse word, Krista realized that the instinctive voice which had told her he'd be different away from his gang had been entirely correct. He'd not gone so far as to smile at her, but at least he'd not sneered .. . and his tone had been almost shy. Keeping his slim figure in sight through the corner of her eye, she continued to leaf through Scientific American.
Just as she'd hoped, the good-looking teenager strolled over toward the magazine rack to thumb through the new editions of Playboy and Penthouse. Embarrassed by the wanton pictures, Krista turned to stare at the package in his other hand, a large bottle of diet-tranquilizer pills about which she had just read a most alarming article.
Oh God! her mind whirled. Is Robbie in as bad shape as that? Is he one of those kids who've gotten themselves hooked on 'downers'? It's my duty to at least warn him of the danger, to make sure the poor boy doesn't turn into a drug addict.
Screwing up her courage, the twenty-three year old schoolteacher looked directly into the fourteen year old's face. Although she was not a short woman at five foot six, she had to tilt her chin slightly to stare into Robbie's fathomless brown eyes, and again she felt her knees grow weak from the intensity of his gaze.
"How about a ride home, Robbie?" she inquired in a deliberately casual tone. "I've got my car just outside, and it looks like rain." Indeed, the bright blue skies of the lingering midwestern summer had faded, just since yesterday, to the threatening grey of oncoming winter.
Robbie hesitated for a second, then shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not?" he agreed.
They paid for their magazines, the young boy breaking a fifty dollar bill to pay for his October Penthouse.
How could his parents be stupid enough to supply a child of his age with that kind of money? Krista asked herself. Perhaps they hoped to compensate for the love and attention they weren't giving their son, but all they were doing was paving his way toward the traps of dangerous narcotics and mind-warping obscenity!
"This is a nice little car," Robbie remarked as they got into the Volkswagon, and once again Krista sensed that he was trying to make a friendly overture. "I like small cars. My Dad's got a Lincoln Continental, and my Mom's got a big Buick, but I think they're crazy. Those things use up gas like it grows on trees or something, but my folks don't give a damn about anything but showing off how much bread they got."
Krista glanced at the boy in surprise. The last thing she'd have suspected him of having was a social conscience, and the unexpected insight made her feel more hopeful of convincing the precocious ninth grader to stop using dangerous barbituates.
"That's just the way I feel about cars," Krista agreed, grasping onto the common thread. "With gas so scarce these days, we all should do our part. Now tell me where you live, Robbie."
For some unexplained reason, the blonde home economics teacher found herself gripped with a nervous excitement as she followed Robbie's directions toward the exclusive subdivision of Arcadia. Much as she wanted to speak with the boy, she was perturbed by the close proximity of his body. Surely he was sitting far closer to her than necessary - was he going to make another crack about her tight sweater and short skirt?
Don't be ridiculous! she told herself firmly. It's a small car - of course he's sitting near you. And why should it bother you, anyway?
A sudden ray of sunlight burst through the clouds clinging to the horizon, momentarily blinding Krista as she turned under the turreted billboard announcing the entrance to Arcadia. Squinting in the sudden glare, she slowed down to navigate the winding lanes far back from which lay large modern split-levels or sham Tudor structures on large, well-landscaped lawns.
"Robbie," she began at last, just as the glittering pencil of sunshine dissolved and the afternoon faded into evening. "I wanted to speak with you ..."
"About what?" he bristled, instantly defensive.
Krista didn't want to antagonize the sensitive youth; she wanted to show him that she wasn't too old to understand his problems, that she wanted to be his friend in the fullest sense of the word. But she did feel a responsibility to comment on the dangerous drug he'd bought, even if it made her sound like the rest of the nagging adults he so abjectly resented and ignored.
"Those - those pills ..." she said. "Do you have any idea how much damage they do to your body? You're young, Robbie - you have your whole life ahead of you, and it can be a good life, if you want it to be. But it can be a living hell, if you get addicted to drugs at your age. Please believe me!"
To her surprise, the fourteen year old let out a bitter snort of laughter.
"Tell me about it!" he said, and the contempt in his voice could not entirely disguise his unhappiness. "I got an older sister, ya know, and when I went through Chicago last summer, I stopped to see her. Some of her boyfriends keep her well supplied with this stuff, and she's living in another world. And my Mom, too - that's who these are for. She takes pills to sleep at night, and then pills to get through the day."
He paused, his handsome young face black as a thundercloud, his hands gripping the bottle and magazine in his lap so forcefully that his fingers trembled. It was as though he felt he'd said too much and wished to retreat from his vulnerable position back to the anonymity of his normal delinquent image.
"I'm sorry ..." Krista said softly. There was much more she wanted to communicate to the disturbed student, but she was afraid of sounding too much like the teacher she was and incurring his hostility.
"Me, I don't fool around with that shit," Robbie finally continued. "Sure, I like to smoke grass, drink booze . . . but I've seen what these weird pills do to you and I don't want anything to do with it."
"I'm proud of you, Robbie!" Krista exclaimed impulsively. "And I want to apologize for thinking the worst about you."
"Yeah ..."
Although the handsome adolescent didn't look up from his lap, Krista felt sure that he appreciated her comment. Heartened, she decided to speak to him about the chaos he incited in the room 901 "personal hygiene classes" - the boy certainly seemed intelligent enough to understand.
"One other thing," she said softly. "Why do you keep egging everyone on in my class? Why do you want to turn the lessons into a complete shambles? I really believe that talking about these things can help you all, but when you're turning all the kids against me I can't accomplish anything positive."
"I dunno," the dark-haired youth muttered, looking rather embarrassed. "There - that's where you've gotta turn - that's my street."
Krista deftly pulled her small green car to a stop before a shrub-hidden house with the name Blair inscribed in medieval lettering on a sign beside the postbox. Turning toward the boy, she stared deeply into his dark eyes and once again felt a peculiar shiver coursing along her backbone.
"I'm serious, Robbie! You and I both know how dangerous it is to be ignorant about - uh - sexual matters. I'm talking to you as an adult when I ask you please to make the boys behave. They all seem to do what you say."
Robbie grinned proudly. "Sure they do!" he proclaimed. "I'm the leader. The rest of 'em gotta do just what I tell 'em to!"
It sounded suspiciously like a gang to Krista, and she wanted to get to the bottom of this, because to her the word "gang" carried a sordid aura of slum-style violence.
"Would you mind if I came in for a few minutes?" she asked the boy before taking time to reconsider her request. "I'd like to meet your mother..."
Robbie's troubled eyes roved quickly down the tree-lined driveway and peered into the three-car garage at the end. No cars were in sight, so he presumed his mother was with one of her innumerable "men friends" and would not disturb them. There was certainly nothing he'd like better than to spend a bit more time with his sexy Home-Ec teacher, who was acting so friendly and talking to him in a way no adult had spoken before now. Not only did Miss Morrisson have a body that rivaled anything in his Penthouse magazine, she also treated him like a human being instead of some sort of repulsive reptile. Having her really care about him moved him far more than he was ready to admit to himself.
"Sure," he said easily, then imitated a phrase he'd often heard his mother use. "Come on in and have a drink."
It sounded just right in his ears - smooth, sophisticated. Mom always means something else when she says that, he meditated as they walked together through the garden, stepping around neat piles of fallen leaves which the gardener would gather and burn tomorrow. Does this teacher want some fun and games, too? She doesn't seem like the same type, but Jesus, I'd like to get my hands on those big tits of hers! Wouldn't the guys fall over when I told them that!
If Robbie Blair was refusing to acknowledge to himself that he was deeply flattered by his attractive teacher's interest in him as a person, Krista was deluding herself in the opposite direction.
If I can meet his mother, I'll be able to make more progress helping him with his problems, she told herself as they climbed the broad steps of the Blairs' old-English style two-story brick residence. I can see exactly how she's not providing the right stimulants for him to develop into a happy, healthy young man.
But these brave inner rationalizations did not take into account the compelling voice deep inside her soul which was loath to take leave of the young boy for other reasons entirely.
The spacious living room was silent, the house apparently deserted. Krista balanced gingerly on the edge of an expensive brown leather couch as Robbie, going through the motions of a person far older than he was, expertly mixed two dry martinis and handed one to his teacher. His face bore a proud half smile, and she refrained from making any comment about his being far under the legal drinking age for fear of offending him and breaking the fragile cord of communication that was being established between them. Besides, she needed a drink!
"You like martinis?" he asked as he sprawled on a velvet-upholstered armchair across from the couch, kicking his dirty tennis shoes against the luxurious fabric as only the children of the affluent would dare. "Mom and Dad always have them before dinner."
"Yes, thank you, Robbie," Krista said, though in fact she never drank gin. "You have a - a very nice house."
"Ain't my house - it's my parents'," the youth replied, the habitual sullen sneer sliding back over his handsome face. "I hate all this old-fashioned garbage. It's as bad as the cars ... all flash!"
There was a moment of silence. The air seemed strangely charged with an electrical excitement which made Krista feel ill at ease.
"I ... I guess your mother's out..." the pretty teacher said at last. She'd sipped her martini too quickly in her nervousness, and as she'd eaten almost no lunch, it was already making her feel rather dizzy.
"Yeah," Robbie sighed, as though he couldn't have cared less. He stood up and moved toward the stereo, put on a hard rock album which Krista remembered from the fraternity parties with her ex-fiance, then he flopped back down in his chair and took a long swallow of his drink.
Another long silence.
"About the personal hygiene classes ..." the uncomfortable blonde began at last, but the young boy interrupted her.
"Look, we don't want to learn that shit," he said in a belligerent voice. "I know more about crap like that than any damn book, and so do the rest of the guys! At least, we know about the things that matter, and we don't wanna know about all that vitamin shit!"
"Maybe your friends know all about - uh - their bodies," Krista's face was flushed from embarrassment at Robbie's language and the delicate subject matter, but she was determined to make her point, "but I'm sure lots of the others don't. You're being selfish - just think about it! Statistics show that many unwanted pregnancies could be prevented by proper education beforehand."
The blonde teacher was thinking of what the shop instructor had told her about Robbie's older sister, and from the expression on his handsome face, she suspected that he was, too.
"Yeah," he muttered after a brief moment. "Yeah, okay, maybe that's right. I never thought of that."
"Will you speak to your friends?" Krista's melodic voice had dropped to a near whisper. "Ask them to stop disrupting the class? Will you do that for me?"
The adolescent's dark head was bent as he stared in deep concentration at his shoes which were fashioned of very expensive leather and formed a ludicrous contrast to his faded Levi's. At last he raised his face to his teacher's, his large brown eyes staring at her with that look which sent her blood racing through her veins.
"Yeah, okay," he agreed, a little smile twisting over his expressive mouth. "Yeah, I'll talk to 'em. But let me tell you one thing, Miss Morrisson - I'm only gonna do it because you asked me nice. Nobody bosses Robbie Blair around!"
"I'm not trying to 'boss you around,' Robbie," Krista exclaimed. "I want to be your friend."
"Yeah . . . ?" the youth sounded suspicious, curious.
Impulsively, the curvaceous teacher reached out one slender hand to touch the boy's bare arm. A sudden bolt of electrifying excitement shot through her body like molten liquid lightning at the contact, and she quickly snatched her hand back, but from the look in Robbie's wide-eyed face she knew he'd felt something, too.
"Yes, really," she murmured quietly.
What's going on inside me? she questioned herself as she sipped her martini. Of course it's thrilling to have made a real communication with this troubled child, but why does my body feel so peculiar? Perhaps it's the martini - never did like gin very much . . .
Deep inside her soul, Krista realized that the sensation churning in her belly was of emotional, not physical, origin, and that it was closely akin to the way she's occasionally felt with her boyfriend in college. Her conscious mind, however, refused to accept the disturbing reality so she quickly changed the topic of conversation in order to break the suspect intensity surging between herself and her student.
"That's a good album you put on," she remarked brightly, though in fact she hated it because of its association with Brian Degraff. "Do you like the Pink Floyd?"
Robbie was pleased and surprised to find a grown-up - and a schoolteacher at that -interested in rock music. Somehow, after talking to Miss Morrisson today, he felt as though the nine years difference in their ages had shrunken considerably. She was just like a normal person - a sexy, warm-hearted woman in contrast to the giggling girls in his classes. Wow, what wouldn't he give for a girl friend like her!
"Yeah, they're the greatest!" he exclaimed, jumping up and putting on another LP as he spoke. "This is one of their old albums - it's really outtasight!"
The music which flooded the luxurious living room was soft at first then shaded into strange chords which reminded the listening blonde of a quiet stream and the sounds of birds. Krista began to relax under the spell of the serene song, but suddenly she stiffened and jerked as a discordant wail interrupted the melody.
"That sounds terrible!" she exclaimed. "Now why would they want to spoil a lovely song by putting in a sound like that?"
She glanced sharply toward her young pupil, wondering why his smooth forehead was wrinkled in such a worried frown and why his head was cocked toward the arched doorway which led from the cathedral-ceilinged living room toward a broad curving staircase. Then the shrill cry echoed through the pleasant strains of the Procol Harum album a second time, and Krista abruptly recognized that the half-human shriek was coming from upstairs, not from the elaborate stereo set.
"What's that?" she whispered, her brain whirling with scrambled images of bloody injured animals or - much worse - some innocent maid being attached by a fiendish thief. Surely this was just the sort of house that would attract a robber... or a murderous rapist!
Robbie jolted to his feet as the eerie wail resounded yet another time, louder than before, then faded into a groan of undeniably human anguish.
"Oh, God!" the blonde teacher's quavering hand rose toward her throat in a classic gesture of terror as she watched the young boy move swiftly and stealthily toward the wide stairway. "Be careful!" she hissed. "Don't go up there, Robbie! It might be dangerous ..."
"Shhhh!" he cautioned. "I'll see what it is ... "
Actually, the adolescent had a fairly accurate idea of what was transpiring upstairs. Mrs. Blair was not what one could call discreet about her numerous liaisons, and he had often returned from school to find her locked in illicit embrace with one or another of her lovers. Being a normal teenager with a full share of the rampant sexual curiosity typical of his age, he'd frequently spied on his amoral parent and had gained some very enlightening insights into the techniques of lovemaking.
Today, driven by an instinctive force which he did not attempt to analyze, he felt compelled to let this sexy Miss Morrisson see a glimpse of the obscene performance he was certain his mother was putting on in the guest room. Guest room because his mother never culminated her extra-marital affairs in the large double bedroom she shared with her seldom-seen husband.
Maybe she'll get turned on when she see's Mom going at it! The half-formulated thought glided through the back of Robbie's brain like an unfelt breeze which somehow ripples the water, and by the time he was halfway up the long staircase, his potent young penis was lurching uncomfortably inside his skin-tight
Levi's. That's what happened with Ginny Bromley. ..
Fifteen year old Ginny who lived just three doors away from the Blairs' home in a pseudo-Mediterranean villa flanked by fake Grecian pillars, had happened over one late afternoon to sell him one of her older brother's term papers. As they'd watched the salacious spectacle from the hallway, the brazen blonde tenth grader had hitched up her miniskirt and allowed Robbie to ejaculate his eager adolescent sperm inside her sparse-haired pussy. Now, though, she was always hinting that she'd like a repeat of the erotic session, Robbie couldn't care less. She was nothing but an easy lay whom every guy in the neighborhood had screwed, a virtual whore just like his mother and older sister Lynda.
But the voluptuous Home Ec teacher, whom he could hear tiptoeing up the carpeted stairs behind him, was quite another matter. Although her every gesture and the curving lines of her cock-stirring figure exuded a warm aura of femininity, she possessed none of the sluttish qualities he so detested.
By the time they'd reached the upper landing, the occasional wails had grown to a continuous chorus of gasps and groans punctuated by uncontrolled whimpers of excitement. All at once the innocent blonde realized what was transpiring, and although she was loath to move any closer to the obscene sounds, her footsteps quickened as she hurried after her favorite student.
Robbie mustn't see this ugly thing! her mind cried. It could scar him emotionally for the rest of his life! I have to stop him!
But by the time Krista caught up with the boy, he was already peering eagerly through the half-open door, his expressive dark eyes wide with interest. Even without looking inside, the horrified teacher's worst suspicions were confirmed as a whiff of the pungent, unmistakable odor of naked flesh and hot sperm assaulted her distastefully wrinkling nostrils.
"Robbie!" she breathed urgently into his ear. "Get away from here! Come back downstairs with me!"
Instead of obeying his teacher's instructions, the lust-driven adolescent draped one strong arm around Miss Morrisson's slender back and pulled her into a position where she could not fail to see the salacious spectacle. Through the thin wool of her pullover, his tight-pressing fingers explored the contours of her warm flesh, and his virile teenage penis throbbed in automatic response. Suddenly, the force of his longing for his lovely teacher hit Robbie full force, and he lost all reservations and inhibitions.
"Whaddya think of that?" his low voice hummed in her ear. "That's my Mom ..."
Shock and sympathy for her good-looking young pupil merged in Krista's confused mind to an overwhelming degree, and his insistently pinching fingers on her back only increased her inner turmoil. She stared at the shocking scene before her eyes with the same feeling one experiences in overly violent films - an instinctive revulsion mingled with some strange curiosity. In fact, the debauchery was such that she could scarcely comprehend its reality.
Rhoda Blair, her ripely curvaceous body positioned so that her son and his schoolteacher received a licentious view of her well-rounded ivory-white buttocks and sculpted legs, was lying on her side with her scarlet-smeared lips ovalled around the turgid stiffness of her lover's penis. At the same time, the man was fiercely pushing an ivory dildo into her dark-fringed vaginal orifice.
"Yeeaahh," she wailed, her loins undulating in rhythmic response to the frantic thrusts of the phallic instrument. "Do it to me . . . give it to me . . . yeeeaaahhh . . . oohh, yeeeaahh . . . punish me, lover ... harder, harder . . . yeeeaahh!"
Krista Morrisson, her widened brown eyes glued to the shameless display, fought back a rush of nausea. This was even worse than that dreadful fraternity party! And the most horrifying part of it was that this innocent child was observing his own naked mother's perverted performance.
Oh, God, how can I help Robbie? her tortured mind grieved. How can I help him face this obscene devastation of his family security? Rex Simmons was right about his mother.
While Krista labored under her misconceptions, her precocious pupil was inwardly gloating at the expression on his teacher's heart-shaped face. She was shocked, that much was obvious, but he thought he could also detect a glimmer of forbidden arousal in her amber-flecked eyes.
"Whaddya think!" he whispered again, almost imperceptibly running his tongue along her earlobe, which he'd been told was one of the nerve-filled "erotic centers" of the body.
The blonde teacher shivered at the sensuous tickling sensation, but she scarcely realized what had caused it. Her attention had temporarily wavered from the boy by her side to the lascivious act being performed on the large bed in front of her, and she was staring as though mesmerized at the older woman's crimson-painted fingernails smoothly stroking the naked man's jouncing testicles. Deep in her own vagina she felt an unwanted responsive tingling, but although she clamped her full-fleshed thighs together in acute shame, the forbidden feeling refused to vanish.
No, no! her conscience shouted. You can't be feeling excited by this ugliness! It's sick!
Clenching her eyes to blot out the lurid details of Robbie's mother's debauched cock-sucking, she started to back away from the half-open doorway. It was only then that she became fully conscious of her handsome young pupil's tightly circling arm.
Krista's hand swiveled sharply to stare at the boy in astonishment, but his gaze was fixed upon the rumpled red velveteen bed. Little rivulets of perspiration had formed on his forehead and he acted as though he didn't feel his teacher's body trying to pull away. In fact, his grip around her straining back grew more forceful than ever.
"Come on, Robbie, please!" Krista urged. "Don't watch them - come downstairs!"
"Shhhh!" the youth turned from the salacious scene for a brief instant, and his teacher saw that his dark eyes gleamed with a strange wild light. "They'll hear us and-"
The rest of the boy's sentence was drowned out by a hoarse grunt from the man on the bed.
"Suck it, you whore!" he cried as he rammed the thick ivory phallus to the hilt between the curling black tendrils of Rhoda Blair's down-thrusting pubic mound. "Uuuugghh! that's it! All the way down that hot little throat! Yeah! YEAH!"
Krista's horror-widened brown eyes flew for the first time toward the man sprawled beneath the shameless mother's slavishly kneeling body. He appeared to be about forty-five or fifty with thinning dun-colored hair and the pot belly typical of a heavy beer drinker. The innocent teacher wondered fleetingly what Robbie's attractive brunette mother saw in this unattractive specimen - somehow it made the whole affair even more sordid and defiling that her illicit lover wasn't even handsome.
"Uuuumm . . . aaahhh! Uuuuuhhh ..." the lewd, incomprehensible sounds spilled from Rhoda Blair's lipstick-smeared mouth in a steady stream in obscene tempo with the jouncing of her unnaturally impaled pussy and the straining contortions of her mouth. Krista's eyes bugged from their sockets as she watched the experienced woman suck the thickly throbbing cock-shaft so deep into her mouth that only a few inches of angry-red male flesh remained visible.
"Oh, no!" she gasped under her breath, suddenly feeling so faint that she would have toppled over if it hadn't been for the young boy's restraining arm around her waist.
"Shhhhhh!" hissed Robbie for the second time.
Krista focused her vision on his smooth young face, noticing that his cheeks were feverishly flushed and that his breath was coming in rapid gasps. He seemed completely unaware of her presence as his dark eyes darted first to his mother's artificially filled vagina then to her saliva-slickened scarlet lips, but in fact he was very conscious of the trembling blonde beside him ... so conscious that his potent young penis swelled longer and thicker than ever until it tented out from his jeans so noticeably that only a naive person like the young teacher could have failed to observe it.
"AAAHHH!" screamed the brunette adulteress, and she began bucking her voluptuous loins more furiously than before.
Robbie could sense that his mother was nearing her climax, and while part of him hated her wanton vulgarity, he did not try to deny that her uninhibited lovemaking was lewdly arousing. An intense erotic elation was transforming the blood in his veins to liquid fire as he spontaneously pulled his voluptuous teacher a little closer to him.
Christ, I don't believe this! his passion-stupefied mind exulted. What'll the guys say when I tell them I had my arm around sexy Miss Morrisson, and she didn't even try to stop me! I just don't get it... she always acted so uptight before. . .
The fair-haired teacher was even more bewildered than her fourteen year old student as to why she didn't put an end to this scandalous situation, but she felt as though she were paralyzed. Of course she had no business letting one of her young male pupils touch her in this way, but under the circumstances there seemed no way to move away from Robbie without causing a commotion and alerting the obscenely copulating couple within, and that would embarrass him more than ever.
That's the main thing - to do what's best for Robbie, she rationalized, refusing to admit how strangely exciting it felt standing encircled in his clasping arms. Right now he needs comfort, needs to know that someone believes in him, has confidence in his worth as a person in spite of his horrible mother.
If only he would move away from the torrid tableau of his own accord, then everything would be all right. They could have a long discussion about what true love should be, and she would assure him that physical relations need not be ugly and degrading. Strangely enough, although she'd been quite unsure of this herself after the experience with Brian, she now felt a warm certainty that love could be a beautiful and honest thing, an act of giving and receiving that benefitted both man and woman. Not like Mrs. Blair's self-destructive depravity, no . . . more like the happiness she herself felt being near Robbie and knowing he trusted her as he'd never before trusted an adult . . .
The young blonde gritted her teeth and closed her brown eyes tight to shut out the lewd sight of the strange man's swollen hardness ramming up into Mrs. Blair's wide-stretched red lips. She would stay with the troubled boy because he needed her, but she didn't have to watch the degrading display.
"Christ, you fucking bitch!" the man's hoarse voice exclaimed. "I'm gonna cum right in your mouth! Cum all over ya!"
His shameless cry was followed by an acceleration in the lewd sluicing noise which Krista knew was caused by the madly thrusting dildo, and then a strangled groan of pure animal passion erupted from the abandoned mother. With a low sigh of despair, the innocent teacher allowed her eyelids to slide open; it was no use trying to shut out reality, for her imagination supplied vivid images to accompany each obscene sound.
Robbie's left hand - quite involuntarily, his naive teacher felt sure - had somehow drifted down along her spine to settle on the firm-fleshed mounds of her kilt-covered buttocks, and this overly intimate contact made Krista feel more uncomfortable than ever. Unwanted shivers of sensation flickered from the spot where his hand grasped her ass-cheek to every nerve-ending in her trembling body, disturbing her almost more than the inhumanly contorted faces and spasming bodies of the lust-frenzied couple inside the bedroom.
"You fantastic bitch . . . you fuck me so good with your mouth . . . make me cum, damnit!" the man ranted, shoving the eight inch ivory dildo in and out of Rhoda Blair's hungrily accepting cunt with such force that Krista's own almost virginal vagina cringed in sympathy.
Glistening droplets of milk-white vaginal secretions were oozing from the ecstatically moaning brunette's artificially ravished pussy, soaking her sparsely curling pubic hair and even dribbling down her snow-white thighs and onto the red velveteen bedspread. Much to her dismay, the disconcerted schoolteacher could feel her own involuntary cuntal secretions moistening the crotchband of her modest white nylon panties, and she clamped her quivering thighs together in an attempt to stop the embarrassing flow. This well-meaning effort, of course, only succeeded in heightening the strange, unwanted vibrations surging all through her tight-squeezing upper legs and churning belly.
Oh, God! her mind wailed in feverish agony. Please make this torture end! Please make Robbie come to his senses and get away from here!
Yet although she told herself that she couldn't bear another instant of this corruption, the young blonde's eyes remained as tightly glued to the thrashing couple's violently climaxing bodies as did those of her fourteen year old student. She watched, incredulous, as the older woman's cock-filled cheeks bulged around the man's fleshy staff, felt her own throat tighten as the dark-haired woman's Adam's apple bobbed up and down in her frantic effort to swallow every drop of the stranger's wildly spurting semen. And although she was sincerely revolted by the way Robbie's immoral mother continued to squirm against the upthrusting imitation penis, her traitorous vaginal muscles began to dilate and contract in automatic arousal.
"Uuuuggg . . . AHHHHH!" the wantonly bucking woman wailed, and suddenly the two wide-eyed watchers saw her voluptuous body stiffen and jerk as she writhed in the throes of an extravagant orgasm along with her still-ejaculating lover.
The sticky wet dildo slipped unnoticed from her fulfilled cuntal depths with a lewd, sluicing sound and, untended, rolled off the heaving mattress. Robbie saw that Miss Morrisson's consternated eyes followed the indecent object's path as it inched in their direction, and he felt a telltale quivering in her softly fleshed buttocks.
"C'mon, let's get outta here!" he hissed in her ear.
Once again, he gave her velvet-smooth earlobe an imperceptible caress with his tongue, but as before she did not seem to notice his bold overture. Her lovely face looked wooden and dazed, and it was hard for her desire-blinded student to be sure exactly what she was thinking as she followed him robot-like back down the stairway and into the living room.
The stereo was still blaring out to the empty room, the automatic record change mechanism having dropped down the Beatles' Sergeant Pepper album.
"Ohhh, I get by with a little help from my friends," wailed the musicians, and suddenly, Krista's pent-up tension got the better of her. Hot tears, triggered by the song's poignant refrain, brimmed up in the corners of her large, amber-flecked eyes, and she impulsively reached toward her handsome teenager student and grasped both his hands in her own as they stood in the hallway.
"Oh, Robbie," she said in a soft, emotion-charged voice, "I'm so sorry you had to see an ugly thing like that! Try to forget it, darling."
The endearment slipped from between her lips before she had a chance to think about what she was saying, and the troubled teacher grew terribly flustered as the word resounded above the pounding rhythm of the loud rock music.
What's the matter with me? she chastened herself, attempting to pull her hands away from the boy's. That's the wrong way to talk to a teenager - he'll think you're treating him like a baby . . . Why on earth did you say "darling" to him, anyway?
But Robbie's reaction was totally unexpected. Quite the opposite from taking his teacher's affectionate word as an insult on his maturity, he considered that she really thought of him as a man ... a sexually desirable man. Too excited to even notice that she was trying to disentangle her hands, he tugged her toward him with all the considerable force in his muscular young loins.
As Krista felt her body falling against the youth's broad chest, she was so surprised that she lost her balance entirely and collapsed against Robbie with her long honey-blonde hair sweeping down over his shoulder and her burning face pressed against the smooth warmth of his neck. Unlike many of the boys in his class, his skin was unblemished, and for one unthinking moment the sheer sensory pleasure of his silken flesh was so overwhelming that she forgot where she was and what she was allowing to happen. Then as his pulsating virility pressed up against her thigh, she jerked away in shocked confusion.
"R-Robbie!" she stammered. "Wh-What are you-"
Before she could finish her question, the impetuous fourteen year old had pulled her back against his body and mashed his warm lips up against her half-open mouth. His moistly quivering tongue shot between her teeth at once, muffling her cry of protest, and again she felt his potent young penis lurching against her trembling upper leg.
"I've wanted to do this ever since I first saw you!" the lust-maddened adolescent mumbled into her futilely resisting mouth.
This, though he'd never admitted it even to himself until now, was completely true. Even when he'd delighted in tormenting the nervous new Home Ec teacher and made crude jokes about her magnificent body behind her back, he'd wanted her. He'd known inside that, although Miss Morrisson was the sort of female he'd never really had experience with, she was the opposite of his unfaithful mother and sluttish sister Lynda . . . she was the naked Venus who glided through his most secret daydreams.
"You've treated me better than anyone else ever did," he said now in a burst of passion-inspired honesty. "I think I really love you, Miss Morrisson!"
"ROBBIE!" Krista cried, twisting her mouth away from him at last. "Don't be ridiculous!"
This is insane! her brain whirled in a crazy carousel of confusion. What in God's name have I gotten myself into?
Her eyes roved wildly around her, staring at everything else but the youngster whose close-hugging loins gave her such a strange, unwanted sense of excitement.
"But I mean it, Miss Morrisson!" Robbie insisted. His voice sounded hurt, defensive. "I thought you said you wanted to be my friend..."
"Oh, but I do, Robbie - I do!" Krista tried to speak in her normal schoolteacher tone, but a tremulous quaver gave her away. "I am your friend . . . but. . . but-"
"But what?" Robbie whispered, and then his crushing lips were once more preventing any discussion and his hungry tongue was nuzzling against the walls of her traitorously accepting mouth.
Krista tried one last time to break away from the forbidden embrace, but by this point she was so confused by the contradictory impulses surging through her healthy young body that she didn't really put any heart into her protest. Somehow, the straining muscles of Robbie's eager young body - yes, even the frantically throbbing hardness which had filled her with such fear and dread in older men - suffused her with an uncontrollable desire.
I WANT him to kiss me! she realized, and although the shocking self-knowledge stabbed at her conscience like a well-honed dagger, she realized that her tongue was involuntarily thrusting back against Robbie's.
What in God's name is wrong with me? Guilty recriminations flooded the young blonde's brain, yet still she made no real effort to end the illegal embrace. I never let anyone but Brian kiss me this way before - and I didn't feel this way when he did it, either. Maybe. . . maybe it's because Robbie needs me so much.
This neat bit of rationalization restored Krista's composure to the extent that she pulled her flushed face away and said firmly, "I think we should have a talk, Robbie."
From upstairs came the dim sound of running water and a low peal of amorous laughter and vile memories of what she'd just witnessed surged through Krista's mind. Disentangling herself from her young student's passionate gaze and resolutely ignoring his woebegone expression, she moved toward the living room. Although she'd much preferred to have left the house at once and avoid an encounter with the unprincipled mother, she refused to desert the unhappy boy until she'd tried to console him.
But I mustn't touch him again, she vowed, seating herself primly on the same leather sofa they'd vacated fifteen minutes before. Of course, it's not surprising for a boy his age to have a crush on his teacher, but I mustn't encourage it. The main thing is to help him understand that what he saw upstairs isn't all there is to love and marriage. . . to make him realize all women aren't like his mother.
The thought of Mrs. Blair so enraged the pretty blonde schoolteacher that she forgot her new-made promise and reached for Robbie's hand. He'd sat down next to her, a scowl darkening his handsome face, but his hand gripped hers eagerly.
"I do want to be your friend, Robbie," Krista began, "but - uh - hugging and kissing are something you save for someone you love in another way. For someone you marry ..."
"Oh, yeah?" the boy muttered resentfully. "What about Mom, then? She sure ain't married to that guy and they were doing a hell of a lot more than hugging and kissing."
Krista wished that the fourteen year old wouldn't swear so much, but this didn't seem the appropriate time to criticize his language.
"That's exactly what I want to talk with you about, Robbie," she replied. "The reason your mother does ugly things is because she doesn't understand the true meaning of love. She doesn't realized that it's caring for the other person as much as you care about yourself, so-"
"But that's how I feel about you, Miss Morrisson!" interrupted the aroused youngster, and suddenly his arms were around his teacher again. "So why don't you want me to show it? I bet you don't really care about me at all, that's what!"
What on earth am I supposed to do now? Krista's mind whirled in wild search for some way out of this dilemma, but the strange tingling excitement was once again rushing through her bloodstream and making clear thought impossible.
"R-Robbie ..." she tried to speak, but her voice trailed off helplessly as the dark-haired teenager's head pressed up against her throbbing breasts.
"I just love your breasts, Miss Morrisson," he whispered. "I always wanted to touch them like this!"
Then he was kissing her again, more urgently than before, and his strong hands were massaging the twin mounds through her thin wool sweater. Since she wore only the lightest sort of stretchy nylon brassiere, her tautened nipples peaked through the red pullover like two tiny ripe berries, thinly covered and sensitive to his touch. As the aroused youth rolled them between his fingers, violent surges of heat-lightning careened throughout her body.
"No . . . you m-mustn't ..." she managed to gasp.
Robbie didn't appear to have heard her. "You're so beautiful! And you really care! I think you're just outtasight, Miss Morrisson, no kidding!"
Before Krista could say anything, there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs, followed by a raucous burst of laughter. Although the schoolteacher jerked away from her young male student instantaneously, his raven-haired mother and her lover had already seen their embrace.
"Well, if it isn't Robbie." Mrs. Blair whose voluptuous figure was emphasized rather than hidden by her opaque rose-pink dressing gown, tottered unsteadily toward them. "Doesn't he look cute kissing his little girl friend, Jake? Just precious!"
The man called Jake who looked rather more presentable in his well-cut suit than he had when naked, laughed mirthlessly. His eyes slid toward his watch.
"Oh, don't eat and run!" Rhoda Blair giggled and the balding man guffawed. "Let's have a little drinkie. I'm not supposed to after taking those pills, but what the hell! Live dangerously, that's my motto!"
Dangerously, all right, Krista thought angrily. Dangerous for her innocent son! She's absolutely disgusting! An unfit mother for an intelligent, sensitive boy like Robbie. . . but it's a good thing she's too drunk to see that I'm far too old to be her son's girl friend.
In fact, the dark-haired mother hadn't touched a drop of anything except strong black coffee today; she'd taken a couple of her favorite little red pills before her session with Jake - they made her extra responsive, she'd explained to her casual lover with a provocative smirk - and she was feeling giddily self-confident but rather uncoordinated.
"I hope you weren't too busy with your little friend to remember my pills?" she demanded to her sullen son.
"I got 'em."
"Well, then, pour us some martinis, can't you?" Rhoda was suddenly irritated. The pills made her moods fluctuate for no apparent reason.
Suddenly Krista stood up, feeling thankful that the overcast sky had faded into an early dusk and that she'd happened to be wearing this schoolgirlish kilt and pullover instead of her usual conservative dresses. But even if they did notice her age, she couldn't bear to stay in this room another instant.
"I have to get home," she said, instinctively twisting her face into the self-conscious smile she'd worn when visiting friends' homes in her high school days. "It was nice meeting you."
To the blonde teacher's relief, Robbie came with her toward the door and out into the darkening front yard. Long shadows from the trees and shrubbery were rapidly melting into solid blackness, and a desolate wind was whipping the neatly raked leaves all across the lawn.
"Good night, Robbie," Krista said softly. Her heart was overflowing with sympathy for the handsome teenager, but though she wanted to express this to him, the words stuck in her throat. Smiling rather tremulously, she held out her hand.
Before the inexperienced twenty-three year old knew what was happening, she felt herself once again pressed tightly against her well-built student's muscular chest. His heated lips meshed against her mouth, causing her to gasp for breath, and although she fully recognized how dangerous this illicit physical contact was, she couldn't pull away from his ardent embrace.
The poor unhappy child, she thought distractedly, trying without much success to ignore the flaming fingers of arousal that fanned from her crushed breasts to every nerve-ending in her trembling body. How can I deny him the affection he needs so badly?
"You know, I wish you were really my girl friend! Robbie murmured into the soft cavern of his lovely teacher's mouth. "What's your name, anyway? Your first name, I mean."
Krista fought to regain her self-control, but in spite of herself she was trembling from head to toe.
"You . . . you mustn't say things like that, Robbie," she stammered, trying unsuccessfully to pull her thighs away from the pulsating hardness bulging from her fourteen year old student's tight jeans. My God! she thought in dismay, the boy's got an erection! Things are really getting out of hand!
"How come? I mean it... " he frowned at her suspiciously. Are you just like the rest of the grown-ups who're always saying 'tell the truth,' and then biting your head off if you do?"
The young teacher tried to laugh, but the strangled sound that wrenched from her constricted throat bore more resemblance to a sob.
"But surely you have a nice girl friend in your own class?" she choked out. "A good-looking boy like you ..."
"Aw they're just dumb kids," Robbie shrugged contemptuously. "All they wanna do is giggle with their girl friends down at the sweet shop or something. They act like they're mentally retarded!"
"B-but I-I" Krista faltered, "I'm your teacher, R-Robbie, and . . . and ..."
"Then teach me!" the impetuous boy demanded. "You say my mother thinks about love the wrong way - well, you show me the right way! Please!"
"B-But, Robbie . . . b-but..."
Her voice faded away as she suddenly realized that her young pupil's eagerly throbbing penis was rubbing in an obscene undulating motion just below her involuntarily dampening vagina. Of course he didn't mean to do it - after reading over a dozen research books on adolescent sexuality in preparation for her detested personal hygiene lessons, she was well aware of the uncontrolled physical needs of pubescent males - but she must find some way to stop him without wounding his sensitive ego.
But the crimson-faced young teacher couldn't make herself move! Her traitorous loins, acting as though with a mind of their own, refused to relinquish the exquisite pleasure which was invading every inch of her fire-filled flesh. Although she was overcome with guilt at her own wickedness, she could not hold back the obscene gasp of ecstasy which slipped from her lips as his boyishly burgeoning cock pressured right up against her skirt and panty-protected pussy.
At the sound of the older woman's low whimper, Robbie's potently protruding penis swelled so thick and iron-hard that he thought it would rip through his thick denim jeans.
Jeez! he thought frantically. If I don't move I'm gonna shoot my load all over Miss Morrisson's clothes, and she'll be so mad she'll never talk to me again.
It was an impossible dilemma; Robbie's frustrated adolescent body was even less able to obey the commands of his conscience than was that of his teacher. Telling himself that in another minute he would put an end to this dangerous titillation, he hugged the blonde woman to him with all the strength in his healthy young loins.
"Tell me your name," he insisted in a lust-distorted voice. "Please! Or else we aren't really friends."
The flaxen-haired teacher's bewildered brain was whirling with black clouds of confusion as she stared at her young student. Neither of them noticed that cold drops of rain had begun to splatter down on their passionately entwined bodies.
"My name's Krista," she whispered.
It's like those tribes we learned about in college, her mind whirled wildly. They only told their real names to someone they trusted enough to feel vulnerable with . . .
"Krista ..." Robbie sounded as though he were savoring a mouthful of some new and exotic food. "Krista ..."
Suddenly all coherent thought was wiped from the trembling schoolteacher's consciousness as the handsome teenager began bucking violently against her unwillingly excited vagina. A galvanizing bolt of pure passion charged through her bloodstream, and she abruptly abandoned all pretense of modesty and began a wanton rotation of her own fire-filled loins in eager response to his lust.
"Ohhhh," she gasped in helpless delight.
For a long blissful instant, everything vanished from Krista's mind but sheer wonderment at the never-before-experienced sensations surging through her frustrated body. Then, as the moaning teenager stiffened and jerked against her and a shamefully sticky moisture began seeping from his wildly lurching penis onto her plaid skirt, she was jolted abruptly back into the chill horror of reality.
"NO!" she cried, yanking herself away from Robbie Blair with such sudden force that he nearly toppled onto the grass in the throes of his orgasm. "You - you bad boy!"
It was a stupid thing to say, and the shuddering young teacher realized it the instant the words left her lips. It's you who's bad! her guilt-ridden conscience shouted. You let this happen! He's only an innocent child - but you 're a sick pervert!
Yet, strangely enough, the knowledge of her own moral turpitude only roused Krista's undeserved anger against the bewildered youth. As though some devious portion of her brain believed that by lashing out at him she could restore her own self-respect, the trembling blonde began scolding the boy in a hysteria-tinged schoolteacher voice.
"You bad, bad boy!" she exclaimed again, staring in disgust at the growing dark patch on his jeans. "How could you do such a thing?"
And then, to her surprise, she began to weep. As she half-ran, half-stumbled across the darkened lawn toward her car, the stinging teardrops mingled with cold rain upon her flaming cheeks, and her choking sobs were wafted away by the suddenly icy wind.
Chapter Four
One bright Sunday morning, two weeks after the shameful episode with young Robbie Blair, Krista Morrisson stood biting her fingernails and staring desolately out her rather smudged picture window at a troupe of toddlers on tricycles and a worried-looking young husband mowing his patch of crabgrass. The weather had unexpectedly turned warm again, but despite the bright sunlight and glorious autumn colors, the pretty schoolteacher's mood was one of nervous agitation.
Poor Robbie! she agonized for the millionth time since that afternoon when she'd visited his home. I've made him feel so unhappy - and that was the last thing on the earth that I wanted to do. ..
A vivid image of his handsome young face staring up at her in uncomprehending misery from the rows of desks in homeroom 901 flashed before her eyes, and she gave her thumbnail such a vicious gnaw that an unnoticed spot of blood appeared. The poor youngster was obviously perplexed by her unwillingness to be with him alone, but what could she do? Risking another incident like the one two weeks ago was simply too dangerous.
Krista sighed and turned away from the incongrously cheerful tableau outside her dusty window. If she'd been in her normal energetic high spirits, she'd probably have started polishing windows and doing the mending, but today she felt too depressed to do anything but flop down on the sagging imitation leather couch and light another cigarette.
Moving to Country Club Hills had been a mistake, she recognized now, because every time she observed the newly married couples and their army of preschool offspring, she felt again the impossibility of ever being able to play their game. It was the same feeling she'd had last night on the date she'd finally accepted with Rex Simmons, the shop teacher ... a feeling of not belonging, of being unable to cope with the normal behavior patterns.
As she recalled the way he'd tried to kiss her in his new Mustang after their evening of dancing and drinking at The Bavarian Barn, a Munich-inspired beer hall stationed on the expressway leading into Toledo, Krista's hand rose involuntarily to her mouth as if to wipe away the taste of the sandy-haired man's insistent lips. All she'd been able to think of, as he pressed his hard mouth to hers and mumbled inanities about how pretty she looked, was how much more beautiful and meaningful it had been kissing Robbie Blair.
"Damnit it all, anyway!" she muttered rebelliously. Swearing wasn't one of the well-bred young woman's vices, but this morning it suited her downcast mood. "I won't think about anything today. I'll take a nice drive in the country and forget my troubles. Rex Simmons said there's lots of nice lakes a little north of here - I'll drive up there. After all, if I'm living in this part of the country, I should at least get to know something except Pottawattamie Heights."
Yet when Krista - who for some inexplicable reason had changed from her faded blue jeans and unironed shirt to a figure-flattering slacks and sweater ensemble in a shade of rusty orange which set off her amber-flecked eyes and pale golden hair - got into her car, she found herself heading toward the exclusive subdivision of Arcadia instead of directly for the freeway. Without consciously having made any decision, she found herself cruising along the winding street on which the Blairs' imitation Tudor home was located, and her left foot automatically pressed on the brake as she neared their driveway.
What in God's name am I doing here? she asked herself.
Then, as a slim, well-built young figure in tight jeans appeared from behind the lilac bushes in the corner of the front yard, her question was immediately answered. The attractive adolescent's eyes turned in aimless curiosity toward the slowing car, then lighted up in excitement as he recognized his teacher's green Volks wagon.
Drive on! Krista lectured herself sternly. You're only asking for trouble! But it was no use - one foot remained cemented to the brake even as she pressed on the gas pedal, stalling the car.
Robbie bounded eagerly toward the automobile, coming to a standstill a scant foot away from the driver's seat as the perturbed blonde teacher fumbled nervously with the ignition.
"Hi, M-Miss Morrisson," he stammered, suddenly shy. "C-can I help out?"
"Why, hello, Robbie." The pretty blonde tried to speak lightly, but her high-pitched voice rang artifical even in her own ears. "I just happened to be passing ... on my way to the country . . . such a lovely day ..."
As she fiddled with the ignition, the car's motor turned over and began to purr again in the normal way.
"Well, everything seems all right now," she remarked brightly. "I guess I'll get going ..."
"Miss Morrisson!" Robbie exclaimed. "Wait a sec!"
"Yes?" Krista's voice sounded fairly steady now, but her legs were still trembling.
The unhappy adolescent stared at his teacher's face, obviously trying to speak but unable to utter a syllable, and suddenly she heard herself saying, "Would you like to come along? I was going up to the lakes."
Immediately, the youth's troubled expression transformed to a look of rapture, and within seconds he'd jumped into the seat beside her.
"Great!" he exclaimed. "I know some really super places up there."
It took about an hour to reach the particular little lake which Robbie recommended, and all during that time Krista managed to keep the conversation strictly general. They spoke of the scenery, the fine weather, and New York where Mrs. Blair had gone for the weekend with her latest boyfriend and where Krista had once been on a school excursion.
They were still discussing the various sightseeing spots in New York City when they parked the car in a shady picnic spot and started crunching down a narrow leaf-covered footpath through the forest, but within minutes Krista's confidently casual tone faded away. Somehow, now that she was without the crutch of maneuveruring the automobile, she was too aware of Robbie's burning gaze to continue her flow of artificial conversation.
"I ... I really appreciate the way you've made the class behave during the - the hygiene lessons," she began hesitantly. "It's made things much easier for me."
Robbie felt a rush of pride; he'd made a rather strenuous effort to curb his friends' tendancy to torment their obviously embarrassed sex-education teacher, and had been sorely disappointed when she'd failed to compliment him before. Now, gazing deeply into her long-lashed brown eyes, he felt an egoistic surge of triumph.
"Yeah," he shrugged, shuffling his expensive leather shoes in. the dry brown leaves more vigorously than necessary. "They all do what I say - and I wanted to help you out."
"Well, thank you . . . "
Much to the flustered teacher's relief, their path suddenly came to an end at the bank of a small, totally deserted lake. Tall pines and robust oaks surrounded the crescent-shaped azure-blue pool, and the cries from the ducks and other birds were so loud that it seemed unnecessary to continue the rather disconcerting conversation.
"C'mon," Robbie said at last, taking hold of Krista's hand and tugging her after him as he spoke, "I wanna show you a really neat place!"
Krista's pulse quickened as the boy's warm fingers gripped around her own, and her hopes of keeping this afternoon outing a strictly platonic affair vanished. Willpower! she silently commanded herself. Control! But even as the words rang in her brain, that unwanted tingling sensation was pulsing up between her legs and in her belly, and beneath her snug turtleneck sweater her full breasts were swelling with an ominous inner heat.
In an effort to block the intensity of her sinfully rising emotions, the young blonde turned her attention to the beauty of the landscape. She found it surprising, but extremely endearing, that "Robbie should take such an intense pleasure in sunlit glades filled with goldenrod and the clear brook that rippled its willow-edged way down to the lake. Who would believe that this was the same boy who'd been known as the school troublemaker only two short weeks ago?
"Here we are!" he cried enthusiastically as the path led them to a sandy beach beside which tumbled a small waterfall. "Do you like it?"
"Oh, it's lovely! It's just perfect!" Krista gave her student's hand an impulsive squeeze. "I'm so glad you brought me here."
Indeed, it was a beautiful spot, the sort of scene whose almost magical quality cannot help but fill those who stumble upon it with a serene joy in being alive. Graceful ferns and velvet-soft moss grew all around the brightly cascading water, their fresh green color providing a vivid contrast to the scarlet leaves and sapphire blue water, and overhanging willow branches and ivory-white water lilies gave a sense of Oriental mystique. Isolated in this pastoral paradise, it was all too easy to forget the restrictions and responsibilities of the everyday world.
Inevitably, teacher and student found themselves groping for one another's feverishly responsive bodies, their eager lips meeting in a long drawn-out kiss which took their breath away. Everything vanished, for one ecstatic moment, save the delirious bliss of their mutual desire.
This is the way it should have felt with Brian, Krista's dizzy mind whirled. A shiver of surprise ran down her spine as she realized that her thoughts had scarcely dwelt upon her ex-fiance at all during the past couple weeks - she'd been too absorbed in Robbie to worry about the bitter past.
"Oh Miss Morrisson..." Robbie groaned under his breath.
The lust-maddened adolescent's virile penis felt even longer and thicker against Krista's thigh than it had the first time he'd embraced his Home-Ec teacher's voluptuous figure, and he was desperately afraid that he might cum in his jeans in the same humiliating manner as before. If only she would let him put his painfully throbbing cock inside her and teach him how it felt to make love to a real woman - or at least massage his aching hardness in her soft white hands. Did he dare ask her? She'd certainly been acting as though she liked him today, as though she wasn't mad about what happened the other time...
Before Robbie could summon up the courage to make any overture, however, the twenty-three year old teacher came to her senses. With a tormented gasp of guilt, she snapped her neck back to break the forbidden kiss and stared at the handsome teenager in wide-eyed despair.
"No, Robbie, no," she said softly, twisting her slender fingers together nervously. "Please ... we mustn't..."
"How come?" the dark-haired youth insisted.
Robbie was an intelligent, intuitive boy who'd learned at an early age to protect himself against his unstable family by distinguishing between what adults said and what they really meant. Now, although Miss Morrisson's "no" was firm, he immediately perceived the indecision in her voice. Even more importantly, he realized that she'd never have allowed any physical contact between them unless she herself secretly longed for him.
"It's like I said before," he continued. "I think I love you - and I want to learn about love in a good way. It's normal to want to express your emotions with your body!"
Krista winced as she heard the boy parroting exactly what she'd told the students in her personal hygiene classes just last Wednesday. Any argument she advanced now would make her look like a hypocrite in Robbie's eyes and destroy all the improvements she'd observed in his personality in the past couple weeks.
"But Robbie," she began weakly, "I was speaking about people who are the same age. I mean ..."
"What the hell does age have to do with it?" A resentful frown clouded his handsome young face. "It's how you feel that counts, if you're being honest. How could you say you want to be my friend when you really only want to be a teacher? Why'd you lie to me?"
Stinging tears pricked at Krista's eyes at this accusation, and without thinking what she was doing she reached out to stroke Robbie's flushed face.
"I do want to be your friend, and I wasn't lying to you!" she whispered. "Please believe me, Robbie. Please!"
The ardent teenager, encouraged by his teacher's emotion-charged words and further aroused by the urgent lurchings of his eager young penis, once more reached out and drew Krista's voluptuous body into his arms. The slacks and sweater she wore were so tight-fitting that he could distinguish every curve of her lust-inspiring figure, and his desire flamed to a raging furnace of implacable passion.
"Shit, Miss Morrisson!" he gasped into the softness of her flaxen curls. "You make me feel better than I ever did before. Honest!"
The young teacher shivered as irresolvable questions whirled through her brain. One part of her mind urged her to put an end to this illicit relationship at once, but a far stronger impulse so forcefully challenged this that she remained paralyzed in indecision. I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't! she thought wildly. Maybe a little kiss doesn't hurt anything, but who knows where it'll lead? Remember the last time. . .
"Oh, God!" she moaned helplessly, remembering the feel of her young student's potently pulsating penis from the time before. He was pressing closer and closer . . . any minute now she'd once again feel that wonderful boyish hardness rubbing against her trembling thighs. Each second that she allowed him to stimulate her was only making it more difficult to consider the situation rationally, and she could feel every nerve in her frustrated body screaming for release from the tension that consumed her.
"What's the matter," Robbie's low voice hissed in her ear. His tongue darted out to wetly caress her sensitive earlobe, and then he added, "You feel good, too, don't you? Don't you?"
"Ohhhhh," the confused schoolteacher whimpered, and then suddenly the barriers which for years had held back the expression of her deepest, most vulnerable emotions began to crumble. "Ohhh yes! YES! It's good, Robbie! God forgive me, but it's wonderful!"
From Krista's earliest years, her hard-working, God-fearing mother had instilled certain ideas in her daughter's subconscious. Women must be strong, self-reliant; they must never allow themselves to become vulnerable; and above all, they must not degrade themselves by expressing uncontrolled emotions. By the age of nine or ten, the sensitive young blonde had learned to repress all outward display of joy or despair, and the passion that surged through her now gave her an extraordinary sense of emancipation.
Perhaps, she reflected in a sudded flash of insight, I'm not only helping Robbie. . . he's helping me understand about the fullfillment of love, too. I feel so much for him - and I want to express it.
As Krista stood pondering these newly formulated ideas, her innately sensuous body relaxed against her young student's pressuring loins. His throbbing male thickness thrust against the tight crotchband of her rust-colored slacks, but, as before, she felt none of the repugnant fear she'd experienced during her brutal defloration.
I don't care if it's wrong, her lust-bewildered mind cried as the well-built teenager gently pushed her limp, unprotesting form down onto the soft lakeside grass. I want to feel his little boy penis inside me. I'm happier right now than I've ever been - and I won't even think about tomorrow.
"I want to love you, Robbie," she cried impetuously. "Oh, God - I want you! I need you."
Robbie's heart leapt in excitement at his teacher's wanton words, and he suddenly lost all sense of restriction. As his eager adolescent hands clutched frantically at the older woman's ripened breasts, a fleeting remembrance of one of his mother's lewd performances flickered across his brain. He'd hated his mother as he watched her groan beneath some strange man's ravishing tongue, but he knew that when he transformed Krista Morrisson into a similar mass of vulnerably pleading feminine flesh, it would be a beautiful rather than an ugly scene.
I'll show her I'm a man, he thought. A real man! His impatient, inexperienced fingers tore at the complicated fastenings of her tailored trousers, then, acknowledging defeat, began rummaging up underneath her sweater.
"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed in shamed frustration.
Suddenly, as much to Krista's astonishment as to her young pupil's, the voluptuous young woman rose to her feet and began to pull up her sweater. A provocative smile appeared on her normally innocent face as she inched the tight turtleneck up over her proudly straining breasts and off over her involuntarily crimsoning face. With a defiant tug, she wrenched her sweater away and tossed it on the grass.
"There you are, little lover," she murmured in a husky, sensuous tone that rang grotesquely in her own ears. "Do you like my breasts . .. take them in your mouth . . . kiss them ... kiss my nipples!"
Robbie hesitated a brief second, so shocked by Miss Morrisson's sudden transformation into a nakedly provocative sex goddess that he could hardly believe this was real. His wondering dark eyes bugged from their sockets as he gaped up at his voluptuous teacher, and his turgid young penis lurched with alarming impatience.
When the youth failed to respond at once to her wantonly erotic invitation, Krista, correctly ascertaining that her bold overture had overwhelmed him, knelt down on the cool grassy bank. The twin mounds of her proudly uplifted breasts, cream-white in vivid contrast to her sun-tanned shoulders and torso, danced mere inches before his incredulous eyes, and without waiting another moment he thrust out his pink tongue and tasted, for the first time in his fourteen years, the satin-smooth elasticity of a woman's breast. Encouraged by her shiver of excitement, he licked experimentally over the pale brown areola surrounding his teacher's rose-pink nipple, then carefully planted a moist kiss on the quivering bud itself.
"Ooohhhhh," whimpered the half-naked blonde. "Oh yes, Robbie, yesssss!"
His initial timidity conquered, Robbie Blair began tonguing first one perfectly rounded breast, then the other, till both nerve-filled nipples stiffened and hardened into two bright red berries. Unable now to control or disguise her shameful delight, the pleasure-tormented blonde moaned under her breath and tangled her fingers in the eagerly sucking youngster's soft hair.
"Wow, Miss Morrisson," Robbie peered up at his teacher's lust-contorted face from between her two heaving breasts, his own expression strangely altered by his passion. "I never touched a woman's breasts before - they feel so wonderful!"
"Really?" Krista sounded surprised. From the wild tales with which the boy had entertained room 901 during the first few weeks of school, she'd thought for sure that his sexual experience was considerable and of the most basic sort. "This is the first time . .. ?"
"No kidding," Robbie's voice was muffled as he licked almost reverently at the warm resiliency of the kneeling woman's flesh. "Oh, sure, I've squeezed Ginny Bromley a few times, but she's just got little tits, not as big as yours. And I've seen my mother..." His tone grew suddenly contemptuous. "But hers are so big they flop all over the place. She wants to go to some dumb place in L.A. so they won't sag any more. Costs nine hundred bucks. That's all she talks about anymore."
"Oh, Robbie, Robbie," Krista murmured compassionately. She bent over to kiss her favorite student's wavy dark brown hair, once again oversome with pity for his unwholesome home life.
"But you're different," the teenager continued, growing unexpectedly honest in the throes of his intense passion. "You're prettier than any of the pictures in those magazines. I wish I could see you without any clothes on . . . see your legs ..."
But even as the warning resounded through her lust-befuddled brain, she'd moved from the boy's erotically titillating mouth and slowly begun to unzip her wool trousers. Fiery fingers of sensual excitement flickered from the top of her head to her involuntarily curling toes as she eased her well-rounded hips and sculpted legs out of the orange pants and kicked off her fashionable Swedish clogs. Although she shuddered with horror at her wanton performance, it was simply too late to stop.
I know I'm committing a terrible sin, her mind cried. But I don't care! The only thing that matters is that Robbie feels happy, understands about love in a good way. And that I act honest with him . . . honest with myself.. .
"Here you are, Robbie," she said proudly, a sudden spurt of rebellious triumph against all the precedents of her ultra-proper upbringing rushing through her bloodstream. "Here's my body - all for you!"
Sinking her bikini panty-clad body back down onto the soft lakeside grass in a deliberately wanton spreadeagled position, Krista thought, I'm free! I'm doing exactly what I want to do. . . making Robbie happy, and expressing my own emotion in a way I never could before. And it's good - it's good because he needs me, and I need him - and we really care!
The newly awakened twenty-three year old's eyelids flickered shut as she felt her teenage lover's warm lips tremulously caressing her naked breasts again, then gliding down over the flat plane of her belly till he reached the barrier of her modest white cotton panties. His wetly flicking tongue caused her tautened stomach to churn with a never-before-experienced carnal craving, and she opened her eyes again in a sudden reckless urge to watch the full extent of her depravity.
Robbie's tousled dark head raised from his teacher's naked loins to meet her gaze. From the prurient gleam of lust in his large brown eyes, the understood that he yearned to remove her panties, but was afraid to offend her. Oh God! her mind wailed. If I take off my panties, will he want to kiss me down there?
Although she'd learned from her extensive sexual research of the past month that there was nothing unsanitary or abnormal about cunnilingus or even fellatio, long years of conditioning made it difficult for the inexperienced blonde to regard oral sex as anything but dirty and perverted. Yet despite her repugnance, a seed of salacious curiosity was rapidly blossoming inside her lust-aching loins.
If I don't let him, he'll think that a woman's vagina is disgusting instead of beautiful, she agonized. I have no right to afflict him with my own hang-ups!
"Do you want to take off my panties, Robbie?" she finally asked in a voice that was barely audible against a background chorus of chirping crickets and birdsong. "Do you want to see my pussy?"
"Do I wanna?" the desire-dazed adolescent breathed. "Oh, wow - do I ever!"
His fingers trembled and his breath came in hoarse gasps as he slid the flimsy white material down over his teacher's full-fleshed white buttocks, but he never faltered. For a brief second he stared eagerly at the gold cornsilk strands of Krista's curling pussy hair, and then, hurriedly tugging the panties down over her long smooth legs and tossing them away, he impulsively reached out to stroke the sparsely-fleeced "vee" between her thighs.
The discarded panties caught on the brambles of a nearby blackberry bush to wave in the breeze like a flag of victory, but neither Krista nor her young lover noticed. By now, both were so caught up in the whirling vortex of their mutual passion that they were aware of nothing but the thudding beats of their hearts and the exquisite erotic fire scorching through their veins. As Robbie's tongue timidly snaked out to taste the coral-pink flesh of his teacher's shamelessly proffered pussy, he gave a low gasp of delight.
"Jesus!" he cried excitedly. "You taste so good! I'm so turned on I can't stand it!"
The young blonde quivered at the electrifying contact of the youngster's warmly prodding tongue, but she was still enough in control of herself to be aware of his bulging penis pressing impatiently against her naked leg. He mustn't ejaculate in his jeans again, her mind raced deliriously. It'll embarrass him too much . . . wound his sensitive ego.
"Wait, Robbie!" she gasped suddenly. "Stop!"
"What's wrong?" Robbie's handsome face clouded in fear that she'd changed her mind and didn't want him to suck her pussy after all. None of the guys in his gang had ever done this, although they talked about it endlessly, and he was loathe to relinquish his unexpected opportunity. "Please let me! Don't you like it? Am I doing it wrong?"
Krista choked back a half-hysterical laugh - the teenager's expression was so woebegone.
"You're doing everything just right, Robbie, darling," she reassured him. "And I do like it... " Her voice trailed off as she realized in a sudden moment of self-knowledge that she did indeed like the feeling of his moist tongue lapping at her most intimate flesh. Little by little, her inhibitions were miraculously disappearing.
"But I want you to be naked, too," she continued, feeling strangely excited by the sound of her own lewd words. "I want to see your body too ... I want to see your long hard penis!"
Before the teacher's words had left her mouth, the eager adolescent had sprung to his feet and was ripping down his fly. He wore no undershorts - underwear being considered childish in his particular crowd - so his swollen angry-red hardness thrust immediately from his sparse-haired loins in relief at escaping from the torturously tight Levi's. In another thirty seconds he'd yanked the pants over his feet, kicked off his loafers, and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Suddenly redfaced, he stood diffidently before the spread-eagled older blonde as though unsure quite what to do next.
"You've got a beautiful body, Robbie!" Krista spoke sincerely, but she also realized that this was what the adolescent needed to hear. "You already look like a man! Now, do you want to kiss me - uh - down there again?"
With a gutteral groan, the lust-crazed youth dropped to his knees between the ivory-white thighs of his provocatively positioned teacher. His lips played for a moment against the tantalizing softness of her baby-fine pubic hairs, and then his hungry tongue once again sought the delicious pinkness of her fresh-scented vagina.
"Ohhhhh yeesssss!" the blonde cooed, temporarily abandoning all lingering vestiges of reluctance as an intense spasm of delight coursed through her long-frustrated loins. "Good, Robbie!"
Encouraged, the fourteen year old began to experiment. He knew, from spying on his mother's extramarital activities, the basic principles of tongue-fucking, but observing and actually accomplishing it himself were too entirely different matters. The bittersweet pungency of Miss Morrisson's ever moistening cuntal flesh was dizzyingly distracting, and the silken warmth of her resilient breasts further overburdened his senses. Half-crazed with excitement, he brushed along her delicately quivering cuntal lips in search of her clitoris.
"Go for her clit, man," he recalled being told by Ginny Bromley's older brother. "Once you start sucking on that, you've got it made!"
"Yeah, sure," Robbie had replied, deliberately offhand as he filed this useful tidbit of information away for future reference. "Shit, everyone knows that!"
"Yeah, man," the older teenager had sighed, obviously thinking of some recent conquest. "The most up-tight chicks go crazy when you go for that little button."
Little button, Robbie's mind thought frantically now as he greedily lapped up Krista's copious feminine secretions. He'd been trying to move very gently for fear of hurting his teacher and having her put an end to this ecstatically erotic act, but as his emotions surged out of control and his tongue sank accidentally into the inviting orifice of her tightly clasping vagina, he heard a muffled moan of pleasure.
"Oooohhhhh, darling! That's good . . . sooooo goooddddd!"
Spurred on by the older woman's obvious enthusiasm, Robbie speared his tongue deeper into the damply clinging channel. As he did so, his nose inadvertently grazed against his teacher's warmly pulsing clitoris. The gasping blonde yelped in ecstatic pleasure, and the boy knew he'd discovered his target.
While trying to control the desperate pulsation of his rampant young penis by pressing its swollen length against the older woman's jerking leg, he stabbed further into the velvet-soft confines of Krista's vagina, then massaged her tautly quivering clitoris with his tingling tongue. The woman's voluptuous figure jerked and bucked beneath his lewd ministrations, feeding his self-confidence, and his hands rose simultaneously to knead the resilient mounds of her heaving breasts.
The hitherto righteously modest blonde was speedily discovering that the vagina which she'd so shamefully ignored could be the source of unimagined bliss. As Robbie's slaving tongue jabbed first into her throbbing cuntal channel, then circled her stiffly erected clitoris, she felt as though she were about to explode from the maddening pressure. Deep inside her churning belly, a chord of arousal was strumming a pagan drumbeat of passion, and her lust-trembling legs slid further apart to allow the adolescent easier access to her fire-filled pussy.
"Aaaahhhh ... oh, God . . .
AAAAHHHHHH!" she wailed again as her hips began an instinctive undulating movement up toward her young student's working mouth.
It's going to happen! her pleasure-glutted brain screamed as Robbie's smoothly spearing tongue sank so deeply into her spasming pussy that his nose tantalizingly grazed the nerve-filled nub of her sensitive clitoris. I'm going to climax. . . and it's going to be a million times better than when I've rubbed my legs together in bed. It's going to be so wonderful that I don't know if I can bear it!
Then, just as Krista felt the first waves of impending orgasm gathering force deep within her churning belly, her young student gave a loud, inhuman groan and pulled his damply flushed face out from between her weakly quivering thighs. At the same time, he relaxed his talon-like grip on her straining breasts, leaving her limp and trembling on the grass.
"Oh no!" she whimpered. "Don't stop, darling! Please don't stop!"
Robbie rose to his knees, a delirious sense of power surging through him as the older woman's helpless entreaty echoed through the peaceful lakeside meadow. He'd often been here in this idyllic spot before, dreaming of how he would someday ravish a beautiful female - now he was actually doing it! At first, he'd felt rather uncomfortably awkward, like a little boy ... but now she was begging him! He was really a man!
"I'm not stopping," he grunted through gritted teeth. "Dontcha worry 'bout that."
"Ohhhhh ... but ... but ... " Krista moaned, opening her gold-flecked brown eyes to stare in shameless appeal at her teenage lover. She'd never suspected that her traitorous body could be reduced to such a humiliating mass of yearning flesh ...
"Now I'm gonna screw you!" Robbie boldly proclaimed, brandishing his rigidly swollen cock-shaft in one had as he eased himself backward into position.
The boy's obscene cry echoed through the desire-heated blonde's confused brain for a moment before its meaning truly registered, but when she finally realized how far she'd let things go, a cold sweat broke out all over her naked loins. A vivid remembrance of the pain and degradation which Brian Degraff's brutally impaling penis had brought her mingled in her brain with a sharp reminder of her role as this boy's teacher. It was unheard of to make love to one's innocent junior high school pupils - it was even illegal!
"No. .. w-wait a minute, Robbie!" she gasped in a hoarse voice. "Please . . . let's be sensible ..."
Yet despite her words of protest, the deepest part of Krista's soul knew that she would not try to stop Robbie Blair. His sudden metamorphosis into manhood had sent her passion swelling to new heights, and her faithless loins were demanding release from the erotic yearning that burned through them after the boy'd lewd tongue-fucking. Even the unpleasant recollection of her cruel defloration was not enough to still the ever-accelerating lust that surged like liquid lightning through her veins.
But it's wrong! she tried to convince herself. Even if it does feel good, it's still sinful, immoral!
"No, pleeeeezzzzzeeee!" she wailed softly as Robbie, too excited to be stopped by her protests by now, pressed his throbbing hot penis directly up against the well-lubricated mouth of her vaginal opening. "Pleeeezzzzeeee ..."
The ardent adolescent paid no heed to his teacher's unconvincing objections. He'd held back for as long as possible, relishing the feeling of power he achieved as the older blonde writhed beneath his wildly thrusting tongue, and also feeling uncertain of her reaction to the final indignity of intercourse. Now it was impossible to wait another moment, for his potent penis was about to explode. This time, he was bound and determined he would be fucking deep into his sensuous Home Ec teacher's enticing little cunt when this happened.
"NOW!" His guttural cry rang out so loudly that a flock of wild ducks circling over the small lake sped away startled into the cloudless sky. "Gotta do it now!"
Partly in response to the urgency in her favorite pupil's voice, but just as much for the satisfaction of her own compelling lust, Krista unexpectedly reached out her arms and pulled the crouching youth's face close against her own.
"All right, darling," she whispered before kissing him. "Make love to me ... I want you to do it!"
The obscene invitation floated back to her own ears as though she were dreaming, and she repeated it silently as the groaning adolescent's blunt hard cock-head stabbed against her involuntarily tensing cuntal orifice. I want you to make love to me. . . it's right that we make love because we care about each other.. . I want to feel your little boy cock inside me. ..
Opening her big brown eyes to give Robbie a tremulous smile, Krista started in surprise at the dramatic change that had taken place in his face. His eyes gleamed from underneath the disarray of his long dark hair with a wild intensity that reminded her again of her erstwhile boyfriend, but instead of feeling fear, she was aware only of an implacable excitation.
"Ohhhhh, Miss Morrisson!" the fourteen year old wailed suddenly as his boyish hardness failed to penetrate her tiny cuntal opening. "You're too tight! I can't get it in!"
Krista heard the despair in the sensitive adolescent's outcry, and her own fears and doubts vanished completely in the face of his boyish insecurity. Maybe I don't know much more about lovemaking than Robbie does, she vowed, but I'm going to do my best to make this a beautiful experience for him.
"Of course you can, Robbie!" she said, her voice much more assured than her emotions. His penis, boyishly slender as it was, felt far too large to enter her virtually virginal vagina. "Let me help you ..."
As she spoke, the young teacher reached one trembling hand down between their tight-pressed loins to grasp hold of his lustfully stiffened thickness. It pulsated against her palm as though with a life of its own, momentarily disconcerting the inexperienced blonde, but after a second its warm smoothness began to seem sensuous rather than alarming.
"Your penis feels so good, Robbie," she heard herself whisper. "I want to feel it thick and hard inside me."
Guiding the turgid cock-head toward her unprotected cuntal orifice, Krista cautiously inched her pelvis up to meet it. "Come on, darling," she urged, despite her own fearful misgivings. "You can doit!"
Robbie required no further impetus. His self-confidence restored by his teacher's encouragement, he glued his mouth to her soft pink lips and flicked his muscular hips forward with all the strength in his healthy young body. There was an obscene little popping sound as the blood-filled head sank an inch into the older woman's straining vagina, and the teenager's fingers grasped Krista's firm breasts for support as he continued to press downward.
"Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhh," the twenty-three year old blonde winced as her pupil's potent penis slid another couple of inches into her torturously stretched cuntal passage.
Yet despite her cry of pain, wisps of dizzying desire were once again dancing through her veins. Her abruptly terminated orgasm had left her over-stimulated and eager for further erotic attentions, almost as though her muscles were striving with a will of their own for climactic release.
Above the naked schoolteacher, Robbie was grunting and gasping as he forced his angry-red rod of flesh inch by inch up into the gradually accepting pink folds of her hair-fringed pussy. His eyes bugged from their sockets in disbelieving excitement as he watched the tiny orifice sucking in his thickly swollen penis - he'd never had an erection this large before! - and the pinkly glistening lips of her vagina clasping around him like a flower folding up its petals at sunset.
Lunging forward one final time just as Krista's ivory-white hips cautiously bucked up to meet his impaling penis, Robbie plunged his turgid manhood all the way up to the hilt. His blunt-headed cock scraped against his teacher's spongy cervix as she winced in agony, then lay pulsating for a moment of triumph inside the warm, butter-soft confines of her clinging cuntal passage.
Although tears of pain sprang up in Krista's blindly staring brown eyes, she stifled her scream of pain. I must be built wrong, her tortured mind despaired, if I'm too tight to take even a young boy's erect penis. But I mustn't let him know how I'm suffering, or he'll get the wrong idea about lovemaking.
Robbie hadn't an inkling of the martyred efforts his teacher was making on his behalf. As far as he was concerned, this was the most momentous occasion of his life, and the heat of his passion blinded him to the anguished expression on the blonde's face as she gritted her teeth and clenched her eyes shut. This was so different from his first two attempts at fucking a female that he could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses.
"Oh, God, you make me feel so good!" he babbled in a hoarse, strangled tone that sounded unfamiliar in his own ears. "So damn good! It's fantastic!"
When he'd screwed Ginny Bromley standing up in the hallway outside his mother's bedroom door, it had happened so quickly that he'd never been quite sure whether or not he'd really gotten all the way inside her. The other experience had taken place with a buxom eighteen year old counselor at the ritzy camp in the Upper Peninsula where his parents shipped him every summer. The girl - whose name he'd not even known - had lain limply on the sand with her chunky thighs spread wide apart while a queue of preadolescent campers spewed their pent-up semen into her cum-flooded vagina. The Blair boy had been fourth in line, and by the time he shot his eager load into her unresponsive cunt she'd been disgustingly sticky and so stretched that he'd remarked afterward, "If that's what fucking's about, I'd rather jerk off." Out of some misplaced conception of modesty, the plump counselor had even refused to remove her bikini top.
Not only had those girls' lacked the exquisite elasticity of his Home Economics teacher's vagina, which now clasped his pulsating penis like a second skin, but - more importantly - he'd known that he was nothing to them but another cock. With Krista Morrisson, there was an explosive element which he would have called "love" if he'd been pressed to give it a label, and this added immeasurably to the intensity of his passion for her voluptuous body. She was a real woman, neither nymphomaniac schoolgirl nor a mindless whore like his mother, and he felt himself a real man as he let his eager virility throb inside her velvet-soft cuntal passage.
"Is it good for you, too?" he demanded. "Is it? Is it?" Suddenly this was very important to him as the fleeting memories of his first sexual escapades danced before his eyes.
"Oh, yes! Yes, Robbie," Krista managed to gasp, though stabbing arrows of white-hot flame were searing blistering trails of agony from her violated vagina to each and every nerve-ending in her helplessly impaled body. Blackness punctuated by flashing red sparks whirled before her tight-shut eyes, but she nevertheless felt sincerely gratified by the young boy's erotic ecstasy.
Robbie let out a cry reminiscent of a conquering caveman, wrenched his throbbing thickness almost all the way out of the older woman's cock-stuffed pussy, then rammed back down with all his might. As her quivering cuntal muscles contracted around his spearing hardness, he could feel every vein and wrinkle in her deliciously squeezing vagina. Again, groaning in triumphant delight, he withdrew and then stroked back down to the hilt so that his blood-engorged testicles jounced against her resilient ass-cheeks.
"Ooohhhhh!" Krista yelped as, to her immense relief, a powerful wave of rapture obliterated her initial agony.
The fear-tensed muscles of her vagina, taut as finely tuned violin strings at first, had involuntarily relaxed as she compassionately assured her young lover that he was bringing her happiness. Gradually her physical craving for the orgasm she'd nearly reached from Robbie's sensuously sucking lips and tongue was overcoming her pain, and the unbearable ache inside her cock-impaled pussy faded to a dull throb of pleasure-pain.
"Ooohhhh, Robbie!" she moaned, thrilled to the roots of her being as his slender teenage penis adjusted itself to a smooth, age-old fucking rhythm which stimulated the flow of her feminine lubricating fluids. "Oh, my wonderful little lover! That's the way! Ohhhh, God! YESSSS!"
For the first time in her repressed twenty-three years, the curvaceous blonde schoolteacher understood why lovemaking was regarded as one of life's most beautiful experiences. Up until this moment, her underlying fears and conditioned moral standards had only allowed herself to accept her seduction of her attractive ninth-grade pupil by telling herself it was for his own good, but now she recognized that her own long-frustrated erotic need was the main impetus behind it all. This insight, rather than shocking the no-longer-innocent teacher, strangely exhilarated her.
"Oh, Jesus!" Robbie cried, excited by the older woman's uninhibited admission of passion. "You like the way I'm fucking you, teacher? You like my cock in your cunt?"
The boy dimly realized that he was saying things he might regret on Monday morning, but he no longer cared. His swollen testicles were churning with an implacable fury as they bounced against Miss Morrisson's crazily undulating buttocks, and his immediate interest was only in holding back his approaching orgasm for as long as humanly possible.
She's gotta cum, too, his lust-maddened brain whirled. I gotta see her screaming and begging for my cock - I just gotta!
As if in answer to his unspoken plea, the shamelessly writhing blonde began to chant in incoherent delight, then let out a wail as her hands gripped his tousled hair and pulled his face close to her own.
"Oh, God, yes! Fuck me hard, little boy! Harder! Harder! God, I love your cock! Oh, make me cum! MAKE MEEEE CUUUMMMMMMM!"
At the sound of his formerly reserved teacher's keening cry of lust, Robbie knew he could hold back no longer. Blood boiled impatiently in his adolescent testicles, and blackness swam before his eyes as he grew nearer to what he knew would be the most powerful orgasm he'd ever experienced. Yet even in the midst of the madly whirling maelstrom which careened through his young body, he still remembered that he wanted the voluptuous blonde to climax along with him.
"Can't wait. . . can't wait..." he choked out inaudibly.
Suddenly his lust-frenzied brain recalled the way his sensual teacher had nearly cum when he'd kissed her sensitive clitoris, and in the last moment before his overpowering release, he roughly shoved one hand between their perspiration-slickened loins to madly tweak and tease at the tiny nerve-filled button nestled between her silken-haired pussy lips. Simultaneously, he continued his savage thrusts into her dilating cuntal passage.
"Ahhh . . . ohhhhhhh. . . aaaahhhhh Krista babbled in mindless arousal as the double stimulation triggered a volcanic wave of sensation deep within her insanely thrashing loins.
This is what life's all about! was the young school teacher's last clear thought before the billowing waves of ecstasy which had been building inside her merged to a tidal wave which crashed inside her cock-filled vagina. Her body seemed to splinter into a thousand rainbow-hued fragments which floated weightlessly out above the clouds like some unearthly firework display, cascaded back down onto the earth, then rocketed up again as her spasming cunt was suddenly drenched in a hot flood of male sperm.
Student and teacher cried out together in a delirium of passion, their shrill voices echoing eerily across the placid waters of the small, uninhabited lake. For several timeless minutes their almost inhuman chorus of lustful groans shattered the silence of the quiet woods, till finally they lay panting in exhaustion in each other's arms.
Feeling as though she were in the midst of a dream from which she never wished to awaken, Krista clung to Robbie's sweat-streaked young body. His boyish penis gradually deflated inside her blissfully sated vagina, slipping at last out of her sperm-soaked passage with a wetly obscene sluicing sound to lie uselessly limp upon her cum-splashed thigh. She never noticed, for by this time, they had both fallen into a peaceful post-orgasmic slumber, their naked bodies soothed by the unseasonably warm rays of the sinking autumn sun.
An hour or so later, when the shadows were lengthening and the air had grown chill, the lovingly entwined couple regained consciousness. For a long moment teacher and student gazed into each other's eyes, not required words to express their mutual happiness. The dreamlike quality which had colored the entire afternoon prevailed as, laughing softly, they gathered together their scattered clothing and made their way back down the narrow forest path toward the car.
This joyous mood continued all the way until they reached the cloverleaf where the expressways leading to Toledo, Detroit, Ann Arbor and Jackson met in a surrealistic tangle of cement. For this first part of the drive, their serenely smiling faces kept meeting in a glance of mutual pleasure as each reflected on how the other had subtly changed. Krista's lovely features seemed to have acquired a warm, womanly maturity within these short hours, as though at long last she recognized and accepted her own feminine sensuality; and the hitherto rebelliously negative youngster's features seemed to have relaxed into a new expression of confident self-assurance.
Probably, had they not chanced to meet a familiar well-polished Chevrolet with a faulty muffler which they immediately recognized as belonging to Principal Preston Harding, this almost magical aura of self-discovery would have accompanied them all the way back to Pottawattamie Hills. As it was, however, Krista grew tight-lipped and silent after waving and grinning woodenly at her superior, while Robbie squirmed in increasing discomfort in response to her sudden change in mood.
"Well, see you Monday, Robbie," the guilty teacher said with false brightness as she pulled up before the Blair's dark and silent pseudo-Tudor home. The large, obviously empty house looked forbiddingly lonely in the gathering dusk, with the tall trees casting ominous shadows across the spic-and-span lawn. A brisk wind had sprung up; Indian summer was over for this year. But if the pretty blonde schoolteacher was aware of the desolate atmosphere, she didn't allow herself to give any indication of it.
"Uh, g-good night," the teenager stammered uncertainly.
What had gone wrong? One minute they'd been lovers . . . and the next, she'd suddenly changed back into an up-tight adult.
"Th-thanks for a nice afternoon," he tried again, and then was furious with himself for having mouthed a phrase he'd been taught to recite after kindergarten birthday parties.
Krista continued to stare resolutely in front of her, as though the silent road ahead held something of immense interest. Her expression was so firmly indifferent that the young boy's words strangled in his throat. There was so much he wanted - needed! - to say, but somehow speech was impossible. Flinging a despairing glance over his shoulder, he sprang across the dark lawn as though fleeing from life-sapping Furies, phantoms of death.
Chapter Five
"... therefore, the School Board has requested that we all do our part by speaking to our pupils about the irresponsibility of vandalism and hooliganism this Halloween."
Krista Morrisson shifted uncomfortably on her metal folding chair and stifled a yawn. Why must Principal Harding schedule faculty meetings for Friday afternoons? For the past few weeks, ever since that sinfully shameless Sunday with Robbie Blair, it had been all she could manage to get through the normal work week acting calm and confident. By the last hour of the last day of the week, she wanted only to escape from Franklin Junior High . . . certainly not sit in a stuffy meeting together with the principal whose every glance told her that he knew or at least suspected what had transpired that afternoon beside the lake.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Rex Simmons, the shop teacher and her one-time ardent suitor leaning unnecessarily close to the substitute French teacher as he whispered something into her ear. At least that problem seemed to have solved itself, for petite Mile. Delacrois appeared inordinately flattered by the sandy-haired Simmons' attention.
But what about the rest of my problems? she asked herself as the principal droned on. My loneliness? My frustration? And poor miserable Robbie Blair?
"... harrassment of our most respected citizens, not to mention destruction of property! Any suggestions from the floor?"
Oh, God, why doesn't he shut up so we can all go home.' Krista thought irritably. But she kept her eyes fixed upon the pot-bellied educator in an expression of avid attentivity, for her paranoia was such that she didn't dare appear disinterested in his little sermon.
For the past two weeks or so she'd been uncomfortably aware of his speculative gaze - not just leering at her breasts, although he continued to do that too - but another sort of look that aroused all the guilt in her tortured conscience. When Superintendent Andersen had made his monthly visit to Franklin Junior High's classrooms last Thursday, he'd also affixed her with the same disturbing stare.
They all going amazingly smoothly, even room 901, she told herself for the hundredth time. They must have heard some awful rumor . . . must suspect my perverted tendencies.. .
Suddenly aware that the room was deathly still and that Harding's beady gaze was focused upon her, she heard herself offering a suggestion.
"Maybe if we - the faculty - offered alternative entertainments to the students, they wouldn't feel it necessary to squirt windows with shaving cream and smash pumpkins in the streets."
The nervous young blonde was so surprised at the forceful tone in her own voice that she scarcely heard the rest of the discussion. At last, to her relief, she saw the other teachers rise and head for the parking lot.
"Will they never stop coming?" Krista muttered rather irritably as, for at least the hundredth time that evening, piping voices outside her front door shouted, "Trick or treat!" After about a dozen Camels, three drinks and four record albums, Krista was bored to death with Halloween, depressed and unhappy at being alone. And with youngsters of every age coming to the door, she couldn't get Robbie Blair out of her mind.
Oh, Robbie! Krista cried in silent despair.
A vivid image of her handsome young student's darkly sorrowful eyes flashed across her brain. The sensitive youngster obviously couldn't understand why she had vigorously ignored him ever since that magical Sunday afternoon down by the lake when they'd discovered such bliss in each other's bodies. Several times he'd even come around to her house, once carrying a large bouquet of red roses, but she'd refused to open the door. After he'd seen her peeping from behind the curtain, he'd not returned - but each day in room 901 he stared at her, his eyes dark pools of bthomless misery, until she thought she would scream from frustration.
"But what else can I do?" she wondered aloud, draining her rum and heading a little unsteadily toward the kitchen for another. She had to fall asleep to turn off these unbearable thoughts!
Already she was positive the principal and superintendent suspected her - herself from a small town, she knew all too well how rumors got around. Even Rex Simmons was giving her peculiar sidelong glances when he wasn't busy peering down the front of the new French teacher's frilly blouses. To risk another indiscretion was sheer madness, no matter how she yearned to recapture the wonderful joy of that reckless afternoon.
As she moved back toward the living room there was a loud knock on the door and a muffled cry of, "Trick or treat!"
"Not again!" she muttered, flinging open the door as she reached for the last of the Mar's Bars. What were their parents thinking of, anyway, to allow their children out on the streets this late?
To her surprise, the sheet-draped figure - who was even taller than she - slipped through the door with the alacrity of a World Book salesman. As she gaped at the ghost, he suddenly yanked off his white disguise and stood smiling impishly at her.
"Robbie!" she gasped. "Oh, no ... "
"Yep!" he grinned. "Fooled you that time, didn't I?" Then his voice sobered. "I-I brought you something," he said, extracting a large box of expensive chocolates from a deceptive orange and black trick or treat bag. "It's Dutch chocolate - it's really good. I th-thought you should get some Halloween candy instead of always giving it away."
"Th-that was thoughtful of you, Robbie," Krista stammered, backing away and eyeing the lavishly beribboned box as though it were a letter bomb. "But I certainly can't accept it. And you must leave - right away. Please!"
"Why, Miss Morrisson? Why?" the Blaire boy's handsome face wrinkled in a frown of acute distress as he took a step toward his voluptuous teacher. "Why don't you like me anymore? I-I thought we were friends. . . and I thought you had a good time that day we-"
"Please, Robbie," Krista interrupted. "It's not that I don't like you, but we simply can't go on like this. It's too dangerous!"
"Dangerous?" the teenager seemed genuinely puzzled.
"Yes, dangerous!" the wretched blonde schoolteacher repeated. "How come?"
"Oh, God!" Krista cried in despair, throwing up her hands. Although she was trying with all her might to suppress her emotions, an undeniable tingling sensation had arisen down between her thighs, and her breasts felt suddenly swollen. "People are bound to find out!"
"Who?" Robbie sounded as though he didn't believe a word the older woman was saying, and his resentful expression indicated that he felt she was trying to get him out of her hair because she disliked him. "Who's gonna know unless we tell them?"
"Somebody . . . anybody . . . everybody ..."
"Well, so what if they do?"
He really doesn't understand, Krista thought frantically as she backed another step away and stumbled against the wall. How can I explain?
"I'll lose my job, Robbie," she said in a voice that trembled despite her efforts to remain calm. "And I'll not be able to get another. And you'll probably be kicked out of school, too. You see? It's simply too risky to-to-"
"Aw, don't worry about that," Robbie's tone was one of utmost confidence. "My Dad wouldn't let that happen. Shit, he got me outta bad trouble once before, and he can do it again. The State Director of Education owes him a favor or something."
"But, Robbie!" A thin edge of hysteria crept into Krista's melodic voice as she felt her panty crotch band involuntarily dampening. "There's a difference between a schoolboy prank and breaking the state law, you know."
"Well, I don't give a damn," the boy insisted. "I know I love you, and that's the only thing that matters to me!"
"Oh, I love you, too!" the agitated blonde teacher cried impulsively, "but-"
Suddenly, her voice faded away as she realized what she'd admitted, and she looked down to the ragged carpet with her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Oh God! What have I said? her tortured mind screamed. I knew I shouldn't have drunk so much hot buttered rum! I have to get him out of here fast before I lost all my self-control!
But it was too late! Flinging the ten dollar box of candy onto the telephone stand, Robbie reached out and pulled his voluptuous teacher's limply trembling figure toward him. For an endless moment they stood staring mutely at one another, their eyes glowing with reciprocal desire, and then the impetuous adolescent mashed his mouth against his quivering teacher's pink lips.
Just one kiss, Krista's brain rationalized as she responded passionately to the boy's obscenely plunging tongue. Then I have to tell him to leave. . . Oh God, but I feel good with Robbie, she told herself. Why should I be forced to deny it? Perhaps he's right, and I'm all wrong for worrying about idiots like Principal Harding when I should be rejoicing in having discovered love at last.
"Listen!" Robbie whispered into the warm receptive cavern of the blonde schoolteacher's soft mouth. "That's what I wanna say, but that song says it better than I ever could . ..
"Now I know why I've found the answer for myself What a day it would be to share To share your love. . .
They both listened intently to the music for a minute, their fire-filled loins pressed together in urgent desire. In this moment of what Krista considered perfect communication, she :emporarily overlooked the ludicrous - at least in the eyes of Pottawattamie Hills' conservative society - discrepancy in their ages and positions.
Have I found the answer? she asked herself, but it was merely a rhetorical question which her passion-yearning body had already decided for her.
"This is an outtasight album," the teenager murmured indistinctly as he ran his tongue along the older woman's pearl-white teeth. "I got it at home, too. It's great that we dig the same music, don'tcha think?"
Yes, Krista did indeed think so, but at the moment she was too overcome with the immensity of the choice she'd made that she was unable to utter a sound. An awesome sense of relief shuddered through her desire-aroused loins as she vowed that, evil though she might appear in the eyes of others, she was going to be true to herself.
The joyously embracing young couple was so caught up in their intimate romantic reconciliation that they failed to hear the crackling noises outside the uncurtained picture window, even when one of the three astonished teenagers crouching there clumsily tripped over his long white sheet and tumbled into a neatly raked pile of rustling oak and elm leaves. Picking himself up in time to see the voluptuous blonde leading their friend toward the couch and unbuttoning her silky white blouse, he gaped at the others in wide-eyed amazement.
"So that's how come Robbie's been acting so weird tonight," Charlie Cartwright adjusted the eyeholes of his sheet to better observe the salacious spectacle. "Jeez! Who'd ever have thought Blair had a thing going with sexy Miss Morrisson? Unreal!"
"Lookit that!" Tow-headed Phillip Larsen shoved his look-alike brother Glen in the ribs. "Shit! I don't believe it!"
"Shut up!" Glenn hissed. "Don't let 'em hear you, you dope! I wanna get a good look at this!"
The younger boy glared resentfully at his brother, wishing as he often had in the past that he'd had the good fortune to be eighteen months older and two inches taller than his sibling. Nevertheless, he fell quiet, perhaps more eager than the rest to see what would transpire, for his secret cross was that he was still a virgin.
Kneeling rather awkwardly among the dead leaves, the three sheet-draped teenagers stared in wide-eyed envy as their curvaceous Home Ec teacher, now clad only in a sheer white lace brassiere and matching bikini panties, knelt down on the rug beside the sofa and removed their still-seated friend's jeans and pullover sweater.
"Ooooh," Phillip couldn't help gasping in grudging arousal as Robbie Blair's almost man-sized erection jutted from his sparse-haired loins.
If only mine were that big. . . he thought wistfully.
Immature as it was, his eager penis - like those of his brother's and their friend Charlie's - instantly began to swell and throb at the sight of Krista's magnificent feminine figure. The youngest boy had never before seen a flesh and blood naked female, and the other two had only seen Robbie's mother. Although they were not technically virgins, thanks to the always compliant Ginny Bromley who'd dropped her little panties and raised her miniskirt for them in the Larsen's backyard treehouse one summer afternoon, neither of them really had the slightest inkling what sex was all about.
Completely forgetting that they'd planned to smash every pumpkin they could get their hands on in Superintendent Andersen's well tended garden, the three sex-obsessed adolescents watched in mounting excitement as their Home Economics instructor provocatively stripped off her brassiere and panties and then pulled their equally naked friend down beside her on the floor. Three prominent protrusions appeared in the front of their improvised ghost costumes, and their harsh breathing could be heard even above the blustering gusts of autumn wind.
"Wow!" Phillip exclaimed as, after a tender exchange of words interspersed with ardent kisses, the schoolteacher positioned herself so that her pink-fleshed vagina was glistening directly above her young lover's eager face. Her own lush red hps were poised in obvious intent over the youth's upthrusting cock-shaft, and there was a gleam of aniticpatory excitement in her wide brown eyes.
"Shut up, you asshole!" Phillip's older brother hissed in a strangely choked voice.
Phillip never even felt Glen's vicious kick on his shins, for his entire attention was devoted to the erotic tableau taking place mere feet from where they crouched. He'd heard about such sexual practices - they all had, of course - but the passionate frenzy with which the naked couple licked and sucked at each other's most intimate flesh filled the watching teenager with jealous awe. Robbie Blair, they each decided separately, was a real bastard for not even telling them about his surprising secret sex life.
By the time the sweat-slick bodies of the older woman and adolescent male had begun spasming and jerking in the throes of violent orgasm, the hotly aroused teenagers outside the window were half-insane with desire. As little rivulets of his best friend's sticky white sperm started trickling from the corners of Miss Morrisson's cock-bloated cheeks and their ecstatic moans grew so loud they could be heard through the double glass of the storm window, Charlie Cartwright jumped to his feet.
"It's not fair!" he exclaimed, too excited now to care whether or not he was overheard. "Blair's a motherfucking bastard, that's what he is! How could he be screwing the sexiest teacher in the school and not even tell us?"
Glen Larsen nodded in fervent agreement. "Yeah, what's the point of being a gang if you keep secrets like that? It's really rotten of him!"
The three youths, together with two other ninth graders whose more surveillant parents had refused to let their sons out of the house, had been members of a tight-knit group for over five years now. They trusted each other implicitly and shared every scrap of lurid sexual knowledge they happened across. Robbie, though the tacitly acknowledged leader of the gang, was certainly not exempt from their ideals of total honesty and unilateral togetherness.
"It's unjust!" Charlie sputtered, sounding for all the world like his father, a prominent Toledo attorney. "I think it's time we put a stop to this. Either we all get to screw Miss Morrisson, or he hasn't got any right to!"
The dark-haired fourteen year old strutted determinedly toward the schoolteacher's front door, his white ghost costume flowing ludicrously behind him in the brisk night breeze. Without a moment's hesitation, Glen Larsen followed suit, and after a last lingering glance at the lust-sated bodies collapsed on the floor inside the living room, his bemused younger brother scurried after them.
The apartment door was unlatched, for Krista, having been brought up in Virginia farm country where neighbors were virtually part of the family, had never even paused to consider that any danger might lurk in Country Club Hills' suburban streets. Buoyed up with their righteous indignation and an overwhelming sexual appetite which blurred the normal boundaries of student-teacher relationships, the sheet-draped adolescents strode without a single qualm into the dimly-lit little living room. They stood side by side, menacing the blissfully unaware couple like three solemnly accusing Roman Senators.
"Oooohh, that was lovely, darling," the newly uninhibited schoolteacher was cooing as she massaged Robbie Blair's deflated cock with both slender white hands. "Now, do you want to put it in my pussy?"
Suddenly the front door, which the angry youths had accidentally left open, slammed shut in a burst of wind which sent a flurry of dry brown leaves scattering over the worn carpet.
Krista's head jerked up from her young lover's exhausted loins in shocked surprise, but she was still so dazed from the miraculous discovery of cock-sucking and from her own stupendous orgasm that her only initial thought was, Oh, yes, it's Halloween, isn't it?
It took another thirty seconds for the bewildered twenty-three year old blonde's head to clear enough for her to wonder why on earth the trick or treaters had entered her home uninvited. And I'm stark staring naked! she was suddenly panic-stricken. And Robbie, too! Oh, my God in heaven! What will these innocent children tell their parents?
"Robbie!" she gasped. "Oh, Robbie! Look! LOOK!"
He gaped up at her, his wide, startled eyes still glazed with blindly mindless lust. In the same instant, she realized that the ghost-costumed figures were far too tall and burly to be neighborhood kids and that crying out to Robbie for help was incongruously ridiculous. She was responsible for allowing them both to fall into this bizarre situation, and she alone would have to do the explaining to the authorities. In her extreme paranoia, the guilty teacher believed the unrecognizable sheet-draped figures to be those of the principal and superintendent. . . and perhaps Rex Simmons whose amorous attentions she'd rudely rebuffed ... or maybe an irate parent...
"Huh?" Robbie's tousled brown head raised itself from his teacher's sperm and saliva streaked vagina with obvious reluctance. When he saw his three friends - whom he recognized instantly - his naked body froze in anger.
"What the fuck are you guys doing her?" he demanded. This was his scene - the best thing that had ever happened to him in his entire fourteen years - and they had no right to come barging in like this!
"We figured," said Charlie Cartwright, coolly confident, "that if we were really pals like we've always said, you'd have let us have a piece of the action. Since you were too much of a shithead to do that, we're here to claim what's due us."
For one crazy moment, Krista was so relieved to discover that the intruding apparitions were Robbie's friends rather than her employers that she was tempted to giggle. The three of them looked so absurd as they squinted through the jagged holes in their grass and dirt stained sheets! Then, as her eyes caught sight of the thickly throbbing bulges down where their energetic adolescent erections lurched against their makeshift costumes, her mirth abruptly vanished.
Oh, no! the horrified schoolteacher wailed in silent shame. What a shocking spectacle I've made of myself! How can I ever show my face in Franklin Junior High after this?
"Get the hell outta here!" Robbie commanded in an arrogant voice as the blonde woman beside him scrambled frantically for her scattered clothing. "This ain't none of your damn business!"
"Oh, yeah?" Charlie bristled belligerently at his best friend's disdainful tone. "Well, I'm making it my business now!"
The dark-haired adolescent suddenly tore off his grubby sheet, and the teacher couldn't repress a gasp of dismay as she saw the bestial rage etched on his round freckled face. By now, her fingers were shaking so nervously that she couldn't fasten the metal hooks and eyes of her lacy brassiere.
"I'm the leader!" came Robbie's angry retort. "And I say, piss off! Miss Morrisson and I have better things to do than talk to you kids!"
"Like screwing?" Glen Larsen guffawed, tugging off his own sheet.
"And who the hell says you're the leader?" Charlie sneered. "I'm as big as you are - bigger where it really counts!
For the five years in which Robbie and Charlie had been close friends, the shorter, plumper boy had ardently admired his more daringly rebellious companion. Recently, however, the freckled boy's baby-fat had hardened into manly muscles, and he'd shot up six inches in as many months. Most importantly, as far as the boy was concerned, Charlie Cartwright was now the proud possesser of the longest and thickest cock in the entire ninth grade. His resentment against Blair, which had been smoldering for months, had exploded at last. No one was going to boss him around anymore, especially not his best buddy!
"Bug off, motherfucker!" Robbie shouted, leaping to his feet. The last insult had hit too close to home, and he was really furious. Fists clenched at his sides, he glared at his freckle-faced friend.
"We're not going nowhere till we get what we came for!" Cartwright stood his ground.
"Ya wanna fight or something?" Robbie's challenge ran out loud, but his teacher could see from the nervous way his eyes flickered over the three other boys that he knew perfectly well he was outnumbered. The Larsen brothers, trained by their violent quarrels between themselves, had the reputation for being excellent fighters.
Krista's heart ached with pity for her young lover. Still continuing her futile attempts to fasten her brassiere, she rose shakily to her feet to stand beside him.
"Boys, boys," she urged. "Let's be sensible about this. Why don't we - uh - get dressed and - and - I'll make some cider, and we can - uh - talk about things ..."
Her voice trailed off as she heard how ludicrous her own words sounded. This can't be happening! she thought wildly, once again wishing she'd not downed so many hot buttered rums so that at least she'd be able to think clearly.
"We don't want no cider - we want sex!" Charlie was feeling so egoistical by this point that all his usual restraints vanished. "And we don't want you to get dressed - take off that bra again!"
"Shut up!" Robbie cried. "Don't talk to Miss Morrisson like that!"
"Look, I'm horny, man. You got your kicks - and now it's our turn to get ours." His long cock pulsed painfully against his Levi's, adding vehemence to his next words. "And if I don't get a chance to screw our teacher," he affixed Krista with a level-eyed stare that made her wince in sudden panic, "then everybody in town's gonna know 'bout this by Monday morning. And that's a promise!"
"Yeah! Screw!" the younger Larsen boy picked up the only word of Charlie's threat that made any difference to him. Ripping off his sheet at last, he stared at his voluptuous Home Ec teacher's voluptuously exposed body in avid hunger. "This sure beats smashing pumpkins!"
"Shut up, ya punk!" his brother flung over his shoulder. "Whadda you know about fucking?"
"More'n you do, I bet!" the twelve year old lied bravely.
Krista paid no attention to the siblings' quarrelsome interchange. She stood frozen in fear, her unfastened white brassiere dangling loosely from her sloping shoulders, her hands crossed in a useless gesture of modesty over the honey-gold curls of her pubic mound. As Charlie's hard words echoed again and again through her bewildered mind, alcoholic clouds swirled like a rose-tinted kaleidoscope before her dazed eyes.
I have to find some way out of this mess! she told herself frantically. Some way that'll save my reputation and salvage Robbie's pride. . .
Her troubled brown eyes turned toward her favorite pupil, noting that despite the proud thrust of his naked shoulders, his face was shadowed with crestfallen hurt as both his friends and the purity of his first real love fell by the wayside. Every sweat-slickened muscle of his classically sculpted male figure was tensed in barely controlled rage . . . except his previously potent penis, which now dangled uselessly between his sparse-haired thighs.
"All right boys," she began, the words flowing from her lips before she'd actually decided what she should say. "We're all friends, right?"
Charlie and Robbie glowered at each other resentfully, but she ignored them. Her head was so full of madly churning emotions that for the moment it was impossible to consider anything but some escape from this intolerable situation. I can't possibly make love to these strange boys, she agonized, ignoring the fluttering fingers of excitement that crawled up her spine at the obscene idea. It's too perverted! Being with Robbie in private was excusable because we love each other - but imagine doing it in front of others! It's horrifying enough that I'm naked like this!
Yet, when she spoke, the distressed young blonde's words were in direct contradiction to her silent reservations. Staring intently into each boy's eyes, she slowly and provocatively removed her brassiere to display her vulnerable, yet nevertheless proudly held nakedness to their admiring gaze.
"We're all friends here," she repeated, "and I want us to stay that way. Now, if you boys really want to make love to me that badly . . . well ... I think Robbie will understand ..."
Krista's gaze focused on the naked youngster beside her, inwardly begging him to understand that her feeling for him was special, and that what was transpiring now was only due to dire necessity. Or was it? Undeniable pangs of wanton arousal surged through her veins at the mere thought of the forbidden act she was suggesting, and a tiny droplet of feminine fluid seeped down into her already matted cuntal curls.
Am I one of those perverted exhibitionists? she worried. Some sort of kinky sex freak? No! I won't think of it in that ugly way. I'll try to believe that I'm sharing what I have to give as a woman with these innocent boys. . . maybe that way I can bear the humiliation. God! I hope Robbie understands.
"I'd like to - to teach you boys about making love," she said suddenly, surprising even herself.
And teach myself about giving love. . . she pondered, closing her eyes as her mind began once again to spin in crazy configurations of color. Only when the ominous metallic sound of a zipper being pulled down invaded her bewildered consciousness did she open her eyes to see Charlie Cartwright, naked as the day he was born, advancing toward her. Once again, she shot a chagrined glance toward Robbie, but his scowling gaze was glued to a worn spot on the flowered carpet.
When the well-built youngster who intended to degrade her in front of his classmates had drawn so close that his boyish odor of fresh earth and dog hair faintly tinged with Ivory soap teased at her wrinkling nostrils, the nervous teacher's eyes pivoted toward him. Completely naked save for a thin string of multi-colored beads around his neck and an expensive wrist watch on one arm, he moved so near that his jutting, angry-red cock-head grazed against her churning white belly. In the background, she was dimly aware of the other boys' quickened breathing.
God! The teenager's penis looked enormous! Surely it was even bigger than her old boyfriend Brian's punishing rod of flesh, or at least it appeared so in contrast to Charlie's still immature physique. Her pretty face turned bright red as the rubbery heat of Charlie's swollen head touched her naked flesh, and she shuddered as arrows of electric intensity shot up and down her spine.
"Do you like it?" the freckle-faced teenager leered. I heard ya tell Robbie you were still hot for a cock in your cunt - think this'll do the job?"
The fair-haired schoolteacher flinched at her pupil's obscenely insulting words, but she was suddenly aware that behind the tall teenager's facade of bravado, he was really seeking reassurance. His precociously developed penis was a symbol of his budding manhood, and she instinctively sensed that by admiring them she would be giving his adolescent ego a much-needed boost.
"It's certainly a very nice penis, Charlie," she said rather primly. "So long and thick ..."
The youngster's face lit up with pride, and to Krista's astonishment she saw her own hand reaching out to gently caress the hardened male thickness. The smoothly pulsating flesh felt heavy and warm in her palm, and to her surprise, she felt that her initial shameful trepidation being rapidly overpowered by a curiously compelling desire.
I'll take him in my mouth, just like I did with Robbie, she decided, pleased with her plan. In some peculiar way, the degradation of sucking one little boy's turgid cock while she could still taste his best friend's drying sperm on her lips filled her with an obscene excitement. This way, too, she would not have to suffer the agony of having that enormous flesh cudgel ramming into her tight, scarcely used vagina, and Robbie would have the satisfaction of knowing that he still was the only one who'd actually entered her.
And the other two probably just wanted to watch, she told herself in a burst of misguided optimism.
Giving the teenager's burgeoning cock a gentle squeeze and staring directly into his lust-sparking hazel eyes, she spoke to him in a voice which had unintentionally sunk an octave to become a husky, seductive purr.
"Do you want me to suck your nice hard penis, Charlie? Would you like that?"
The Cartwright boy felt as though his potent young cock was going to explode right here and now beneath Miss Morrisson's softly caressing fingers which would severely damage his newly forming reputation. With an effort, he pulled away from the lovely naked blonde and stood staring first at her invitingly smiling pink lips then at his best friend. Robbie, who'd slumped down on the couch in defeat as Charlie began pulling off his Levi's, was obviously furiously jealous despite his efforts to appear nonchalant.
Serves him right, the bastard! Charlie gloated.
Although he was loathe to relinquish this rare opportunity to have his painfully pulsating penis sucked, his longing to impress the friend who'd betrayed him was even more intense. He was going to fuck the Home Ec teacher's enticing blonde-fringed pussy, something he felt certain no other male in Franklin Junior High had ever done.
"Nah," he said to the provocatively poised teacher. "Cock-sucking's okay, but I'm gonna stick it in where a man's cock really belongs - in your pussy!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie could see his dark-haired friend's naked body stiffen and jerk in anger. It annoyed him very much to see his best buddy's loyalty to the gang vanish just because of some broad, especially when adults had been their sworn enemies ever since they'd been old enough to see which way the wind was blowing. Now, Robbie was acting like he was in love or some sappy thing like that. As far as the freckle-faced schoolboy was concerned, screwing was one thing - and a pretty super thing at that - but getting all starry-eyed like the stupid old-fashioned poems they had to read for literature class was quite another.
"Oh!" Miss Morrisson's low gasp interrupted the youth's irritated reverie. "Oh, no, I-I don't th-think that's a very g-good idea, Charlie."
Anger at his friend and the impatient ache in his proudly jutting penis caused the husky teenager to reply more sharply than he'd ordinarily have dared.
"I'm the one who says what we do!" he announced. "Now lie down, teacher, or else I'm gonna do what I said before and tell everyone in Pottawattamie Hills that you're making it with Robbie Blair. And my Dad says it's against the law until you're sixteen, so there!"
Krista knew that the state legal age of consent had recently been lowered to fifteen, but it didn't seem the right moment to correct her student's information. All of them are fourteen or even less, anyway, she thought dully as she obediently sank down on her well-worn carpet. She's fallen onto her stomach, unconsciously wanting to hide her shame-flushed face from the four pairs of young eyes, but a moment later she realized she'd made a grave tactical error.
Charlie, after one hungry look at his Home Ec teacher's ripely rounded buttocks jutting pertly toward him, sank to his knees and dug his eager fingers into the resilient softness of the twin mounds. Jees! He couldn't believe he was actually touching his teacher's firmly rounded white ass-cheeks!
"Oh, no! No! I can't!" Krista moaned into the rug, suddenly panic-stricken at the thought of Charlie Cartwright's man-sized phallus. "It's too big! Please!"
The teenager gave a triumphant grunt of triumph, and his wantonly sprawled teacher suddenly realized that he'd taken her plea as a compliment. Sympathetic compassion surged through her, obscuring physical fears and shame, as she considered what a precious gift she could give the handsome youngster. By hiding her agony and pretending to enjoy his lovemaking, she had the power to ease him into self-confident maturity.
"Whatcha doin', Charlie?" Phillip Larsen queried in a shrill voice. Both he and his older brother had advanced toward the lewdly positioned couple to better observe the salacious spectacle, and Glen's right hand was massaging the protruding bulge in his denim jeans.
"Gonna fuck her dog-fashion!" boasted the naked teenager. "That's what this beautiful ass deserves. I read in Penthouse that your prick goes in deeper this way."
"No kidding ..." Phillip's boyish exclamation died away into a low gasp of disbelieving excitement as he saw his older friend's hugely swollen erection ease its way up between the billowing mounds of his teacher's full-fleshed ass-cheeks. The boy's purplish-red cock-shaft, a vivid contrast to Miss Morrisson's snow-white skin, pushed its way inward until several inches were hidden from the Larsen brothers' fascinated gaze.
This is impossible! Krista's mind whirled as she felt the heated male weapon pushing awkwardly between her trembling thighs. I must be the most wicked, perverted woman in the world to allow it to happen!
Her wide amber eyes popped open to gaze in sudden masochistic arousal at her reflected image in the uncurtained picture window. God! What an obscene picture she and the naked boy made! Suddenly, beyond all rational reason, she knew that she wanted this debased ravishment more than she could ever admit, even to herself. She also realized, in a moment of instinctive feminine knowledge, that despite the boy's self-confident attitude, he knew very little about a woman's anatomy and even less about the techniques of mutually satisfying sex.
Pushing herself up onto her elbows and thereby jutting her perfectly rounded buttocks high in the air, Krista reached one trembling hand underneath her uplifted loins to clasp Charlie's excitedly but misdirectedly thrusting thickness. Overwhelmed by her own audacity, she guided the pulsating flesh rod toward the cringing orifice of her vagina. Then muscles tautened in dread of the pain which she feared would tear her apart, she held her breath and waited for the thick ramrod of flesh to enter her.
Excited by his teacher's bold gesture, Charlie Cartwright dug his fingers into her quivering white ass-cheeks for support and flicked his muscular young hips forward with all the pent-up sexual energy in his frustrated adolescent loins. Immediately, his fully erect cock speared into Miss Morrisson's clasping hot vagina, and for a few seconds he held completely still, savoring the wonderful tightness of her firm-muscled cuntal passage.
"Jesus Christ!" he groaned in ecstasy. "Teacher, your cunt feels so good! I never felt nothing so super in my whole life! Does my prick feel good inside you?"
"Uuunnggg," the schoolteacher whimpered, unable to reply.
Although she was tempted to wail out her anguish, to beg him to remove his iron-hard penis from her stretched and burning vagina, Krista instead gritted her teeth and vowed to withstand the pain. Actually, although the teenager's oversized cock-shaft filled her so completely that she could feel every wrinkle and throbbing vein pressing against the walls of her fire-filled pussy, the anguish was less than she'd anticipated. Robbie's energetic tongue-fucking and her resultant climax a few minutes ago had left her cunt well-lubricated and relaxed, easing Charlie's unhesitant entry.
Half out of his mind now with erotic passion, the freckle-faced teenager began a frenzied in and out stroking motion which elicited a low yelp of pain from the impaled blonde beneath him. He was pounding into her aching cuntal depths like a jackhammer, obviously without giving a thought to the woman's pleasure or comfort, in his urgent need to satisfy the burning ache in his own fire-filled penis, and his tortured teacher thought she would faint as his hard-hitting thickness smashed against her sensitive cervix deep inside.
God, he's going to kill me! her pain-dazed mind shrieked. But he probably doesn't know any better. . .
"Slow down, Charlie!" she gasped. "Slower . . . smoother ..." Though the red-hot agony increased as she bucked back to meet his pummeling penis, she forced herself to undulate her hips in the sensual rhythmic movement which she wanted him to imitate.
To the cock-impaled teacher's acute relief, the intelligent Cartwright boy almost immediately sensed what she wanted him to do. His rock-hard length still lunged all the way to the hilt between her responsively churning buttocks, but now his strokes were measured, sure. At once the unbearable agony in Krista's ravished vaginal passage faded to a rippling throb of pleasure-pain.
"Good, Charlie," she moaned, delighting in the velvet-soft texture of his lust-bloated testicles as they slapped in tantalizing tempo against her nerve-filled clitoris. "You're fucking me sooo goooddd!"
The schoolteacher's newfound pleasure in her student's energetic adolescent penis had temporarily blinded her to the presence of the two tow-headed brothers and her first young lover. When Glen Larsen's voice suddenly rose above the lewd chorus of blissful grunts and flesh slapping against flesh, her head jerked up in astonishment.
"I can't stand it!" the husky ninth grader blurted out. His hands suddenly began clawing at the zipper of his jeans, and a long, slender penis, fully erect and throbbing eagerly, thrust out at a ninety-degree angle from his muscular loins. "Can't you suck me off while Charlie screws you, Miss Morrisson? Suck my cock like you did Robbie's before?"
The blond youth's excitement-cracking voice filtered through Krista's consciousness as though in a dream, but her reply was a long time in coming. When she raised her eyes from the faded flowers of the carpet, the face of young Robbie Blair blurred, then refocused before her lust-dazed gaze.
What does my young lover think of me now? she worried, even as her ass-cheeks rotated in wanton circles around the other boy's ever-intensifying strokes. Does he consider me a whore like his brother and sister? He just has to understand that, even though I love Charlie Cartwright's big hard cock pounding into my pussy, the feeling I have for him is something special. I can't bear to have him think I'm a hypocritical slut.
Teacher's and student's eyes locked for a long, intense moment, and then Krista parted her lush red lips in a loving smile which she hoped against hope conveyed her emotions. To her consolation, he flashed her a hesitant grin in return.
"Yeah, Miss Morrisson," he said suddenly. "Suck Glen's prick! Nobody ever did that to him before . . . show him how good it feels."
Her heart singing with joyful relief, Krista turned toward the now-naked blond teenager. Running her tongue over her lips in a provocative gesture that flooded her with masochistic rapture at her own wantoness, she caressed the teenager's boyishly slender penis with hungry eyes.
"Come over here, Glen," she purred. "Come and kneel in front of me.
The sex-starved adolescent needed no further urging. Within seconds his youthful virility was pulsing an inch away from his teacher's receptively parted pink hps, a pearlescent droplet of pre-cum lubrication fluid glistening like a precious jewel in the narrow slit of his glans. Awed by the delight she was experiencing in her own depravity, the cock-impaled blonde darted out her tongue to lap up the pungent-tasting liquid.
"Ummmm," she murmured huskily. "You taste so gooodd."
As he watched the older woman's smooth lips ovalling around his turgid cock-head to tease at the sensitive foreskin, Glen felt so excited that he feared for one dreadful instant that he would cum immediately without having enjoyed the feel of a woman's mouth around his almost virginal penis. Only the thought of his younger brother's derisive comments gave him the willpower to hold back his wildly churning cum.
"Shit!" he breathed in reverent delight as the rose pink lips slid further and further along his fully erect penis. "It feels so good I can't stand it!
As the boy's hands tangled frantically in the tousled blonde curls of his teacher, she sucked the heated cock-shaft so far into her throat that not one half inch of angry-red penile flesh was visible to the wide-eyed youth. His blood-filled testicles slapped softly against her chin in obscene rhythm with the virile thickness ravaging her pleasure-glutted vagina, and her cheeks began to hollow and squeeze around the iron-hard rod as she uninhibitedly strove to bring the naive youngster to mind-blowing orgasm.
Look at me! the teacher's brain cried in masochistic delight. Lying naked on the floor with teenage boys fucking my cunt and my mouth at the same time! And I love it! What if Brian Degraff could see me now?
"What about me?" a piping voice broke through Krista's obscene thoughts. "I'm so horny I'm gonna die! What can I do, teacher?"
The pathos in the slightly built youth's voice stung at the kind-hearted teacher's heart, but she could not answer his urgent question. She tried to pull her mouth away from his brother's deeply imbedded cock to murmur, "Later, Phillip, darling," but Glen groaned in anguish and roughly yanked her head back down against his thickly throbbing penis.
"Don't stop now!" he wailed. "I'm gonna cum any minute!"
Once again, Robbie took control of the situation.
"Get down by your brother, Phil!" he commanded. Krista looked up at her favorite pupil with shock-widened eyes, wondering what on earth he had in mind. His lovely, long penis, she noticed dazedly was once again throbbing stiffly from his loins.
"Wh-what?" Phillip sounded as perplexed as his teacher felt.
"Kneel down, I said. Miss Morrisson can suck two cocks at once! Why not?"
Oh no! Krista thought wildly. This is really going too far!
Yet despite her misgivings, the sensual blonde schoolteacher found herself caught up in the maelstrom of erotic madness. Gripped by an uncontrollable masochistic appetite, she began frantically sucking first on Glen Larsen's turgid thickness, then on his brother's more slender but also impatiently pulsing penis. At the same time she continued thrusting her hips back to meet the powerful thrusts of Charlie's relentlessly lunging cock, her wanton undulations growing more and more wild as she felt an awesome orgasm gathering force deep inside her.
"Ooooh . . . aahhh . .. ooohhh ..." she chanted in a delirium of bliss as the waves of oncoming release broke faster and forcefully over her straining flesh.
"Trick or treat!" called voices from the dorstep, but the only one who heard them was Robbie Blair.
Wisely choosing to ignore them, he turned his full attention back to the salacious spectacle of his triple-impaled young teacher wailing and writhing in undisguised enjoyment. The last traced of his initial jealousy had vanished in his mounting lust, and he'd begun massaging his once again erected penis.
Somehow - Krista never remembered exactly how, when she recalled the debauchery of that never-to-be-forgotten Halloween night - both brothers' slender young cocks were simultaneously invading her bruised and aching mouth. Though the two boys' penises were underdeveloped in comparison to the man-like weapon spearing in and out of her spasming pussy, their simultaneous penetration stretched her cheeks and lips to the most painful limits of endurance. Yet, despite the choking discomfort, the teacher grew more aroused than ever by the unspeakable obscenity of the act she was performing.
"AAARRGGHH!"
Charlie Cartwright's wild shout and the powerful shudder that wracked his madly plunging loins told Krista that he was approaching his climax.
Cum! she thought in passion-crazed bliss. Oceans and oceans of hot little boy cum flooding all over me!
Bucking her perspiration-glistening hips back as hard as she could so that the youngster's softly jouncing balls would stimulate her tautly trembling clitoris, she prayed that the explosive orgasm building inside her would not elude her. Almost unconsciously, she suctioned and squeezed at the two pulsating penises in her mouth, employing muscles she'd never before known she possessed.
"Cum in my cunt!" she gasped as she withdrew from the Larsen brothers for one brief second to take a deep breath of air. "Cum in my mouth!" Then her lewdly ovalled lips plunged back down on their stiffly throbbing young cock-shafts.
The two tow-headed young brothers stared in shocked fascination as their teacher, her head still bobbing madly up and down over their inthrusting cocks, arched up as though her back were breaking and began to rock like a devil-possessed madwoman upon their friend's thickly spewing penis. At the lurid sight of his white sperm gushing back out onto the golden cuntal hairs between Miss Morrisson's wildly thrashing white thighs, they simultaneously released hot floods of long pent-up semen into the wantonly wailing woman's gulping throat.
"I'm cuuummiinngg!" Krista groaned, mindlessly swallowing every possible drop of the brothers' heated cum even as she whipped her exploding loins back and forth over Charlie's still-ejaculating member.
"Ohhh, shhhiitt!" The fourteen year old Cartwright boy's bellow blended with his teacher's moans of ecstasy and the Larsen brothers' uncontrolled grunts and gasps. Her fiercely spasming cuntal muscles were milking his potent young penis of every last drop of life-giving seed and rocketing him into another reality where there was nothing but throbbing, thrashing flesh and an everlasting bittersweet physical fulfillment.
Krista's eyes bugged from her lust-contorted face as she wallowed in the indescribable bliss of her perversely obtained orgasm. With Robbie, her release had been tender and beautiful. . . but now that three strange little boy cocks were ravishing her at the same time, she'd lost herself entirely and become nothing more than a pleasure-maddened receptacle for their fresh teenage sperm.
The passion-submerged teacher was unconscious of anything except the blinding waves of joy which broke again and again over her shuddering body that she'd entirely forgotten about Robbie Blair. When his boiling hot sperm suddenly jetted from the tip of his hand-held penis onto her bucking back, she was too far removed from the reality of guilt and morality to feel anything but another wanton surge of ecstasy.
Even later, after the five orgiasts had finally pulled their cum and sweat stained bodies from the floor and collected their discarded clothing, Krista was unable to feel the slightest twinge of remorse. Her amber eyes locked in a glance of loving understanding as the three rather dazed-looking youngsters stood by the front door, and she noted with pleasure that after their communal ravishment of her willingly offered body, her favorite student seemed to have regained his former status with his best friends.
"C-can we come to see you again, Miss Morrisson?"
Krista turned her head away from the dark-haired Blair boy to smile tenderly down at little Phillip Larsen.
"Of course, darlings ..." she murmured.
"And can Jeff and Mark come, too?" Robbie asked. "They shoulda come tonight, really, 'cause they're part of the gang."
"Oh, no!" Krista's mind suddenly cleared enough to remember that she was their schoolteacher. If too many youngsters found out about her illicit extracurricular activities, the results would be disastrous.
"I think it's better if - if we keep our little secret to ourselves," she continued in a rather desperate voice.
"But they're part of the gang!" Robbie insisted, and Charlie nodded in solemn agreement. "It's not fair if they can't come, too."
"But boys, boys," the suddenly agitated schoolteacher looked at the four handsome youngsters with pleading eyes. "If everyone hears about - about tonight - I'll lose my job and . .. and ..."
"Don't worry!" Robbie reassured his blonde lover, kissing her gently on the cheek. "We've been a gang for five years, and we know how to keep a secret. Honest!"
"Well, all right," Krista relented as she felt his warm lips caress her own. "Why don't you all come next Friday and we'll have a party. Okay?"
Grinning and laughing, the teenagers trooped out into the icy cold night. To the paranoid woman's vast relief, they tiptoed in absolute silence away from her home. Only when they were back on the front sidewalk did the contented junior high instructor hear a sound from her four young lovers.
"Hey, lookit all them pumpkins," a shrill voice, unmistakably Phillip Larsen's, drifted back in a chilling blast of wind. "Why don't we smash 'em like we said we were gonna do?"
"Shut up, moron!" his brother's lower tones reached Krista's ears. "Messing 'round with jack o'lanterns is for little kids ... and we're men now!"
Smiling softly, the Home Ec teacher shut her front door and headed for the bedroom.
Yes, they 're men now.. . or at least on the road to becoming men, she thought drowsily as she laid her exhausted body down beneath the blankets. And I've shown them the right way...
For the first time in months, the curvaceous twenty-three year old enjoyed a deep, truly restful sleep. The recurring nightmare in which Brian Degraff, naked save for a white Klu Klux Klan hat, a large fraternity ring and an erection the size of a baseball bat, chased her across a barren field covered with surrealistically barbed brambles, did not haunt her tonight. The sexually fulfilled blonde slept peacefully, a serene smile on her lush pink lips. Never again, in face, would her ex-boyfriend disrupt her sleep as mounted on a huge Arabian steed and brandishing a flaming cross and a gnarled cane like the one his senile grandfather had carried, he menaced her over miles and miles of bleak wasteland.
Chapter Six
The morning after her first orgy, Krista Morrisson awakened to the pealing chimes of church bells from the Catholic cathedral. As the sensual young schoolteacher lazily yawned and threw off the covers, a double-speed remembrance of last night's erotic ecstasy played before her mind's eye. "Uuummmmm," she murmured happily as she headed for the pink-tiled shower to wash the dried sperm from her finally fulfilled loins. "It was good, and I don't care what anyone else thinks."
The church bells continued to chime as the voluptuous blonde donned a faded pair of skintight blue jeans and thick Norwegian pullover. She felt fired with energy, and intended to plant the tulip and daffodil bulbs she'd purchased in the garden shop in Toledo yesterday. While drinking her nescafe and nibbling a piece of cheddar cheese, she recalled, why the bells were ringing more than usual for a Sunday morning.
"Of course - it's All Saints' Day," she muttered to herself as she chomped on a crisp red autumn apple. Ordinarily, she didn't bother with breakfast, but last night's sexual excesses had given her an appetite. "A Holy Day of Obligation. Mother's probably in church right now, sitting in the third row left side like she always does. And the Degraffs are sitting in their fourth row, right side pew like they always do."
Usually, thoughts like this made Krista feel guilty and depressed, but not today. Whether or not she attended church services hadn't bothered her much since she'd "lost religion" after a teacher in college had informed them that Christinanity was merely another opiate of the populace, but she'd nevertheless felt a lingering reluctance to relinquish the old traditions. Now, still eveloped in the warm glow of last night's erotic exorbitance, the lovely young woman could flash a tolerant smile of uninvolvement at the thought of her mother's riduculous pheasant-plumed hat and her ex-pinmate's mother's ratty squirrel warp.
For the rest of the brightly sunlit but nonetheless brisk autumn morning, Krista raked leaves and planted spring flowers. Smiling secretively, she exchanged pleasantries with her neighbors about how nice it was that teenage vandals had not decorated the street with shaving cream, smashed pumpkins, and toilet paper as they normally did.
It was only when she saw Principal Harding's faulty-mufflered Chevrolet wheeze to a stop in front of her apartment that Krista's soraing spirits plummeted. Tugging at her greeen and red ski sweater so that it minimized the luxuriant swell of her full breasts, she contorted her face into an appropriately dutiful grimace and headed toward her portly employer. Although her stomach felt as though a million demented butterflies were crazily careening inside it, she managed to greet the unattractive middle-aged educator with what she hoped was a cool and confident smile.
"Well, hello, Mr. Harding," she said, hastily wiping her muddy hands on her levis before offering her hand. "How nice to see you. Isn't it a glorious day!"
"Nice day, yes," the lecherous man's gaze immediately focused to Miss Morrisson's trimly contoured buttocks and remained glued there for the remainder of their brief converstaion. "Nice day. And all the better because our streets are not defiled with the shards of innocent children's beloved jack-'o-lanterns."
"Yes, indeed," Krista replied brightly, wondering in a paroxysm of terror just what he was getting at.
"I stopped by," Preston continued pompously, "to congratulate you, Miss Morrisson."
"Yes?" Krista sucked in her breath, awaiting the worst.
"Your suggestion at the faculty meeting about teachers doing their part for the community by keeping the worst offenders off the streets, plus the editorial I wrote for the local newspaper, have made this the cleanest Halloween in twenty years! I understand you yourself gave a little party . .. ?"
How does he know that? Krista worried, but she answered calmly.
"Yes, I did .. .just for a few of the worst troublemakers."
"That's the spirit!" The young blonde shuddered inwardly as the principal's flabby hand patted her shoulder. "You certainly do have a touch with those young hooligans."
Three weeks later, on the night of northern Ohio's first significant snowfall, the pleasure-sated schoolteacher lay in her rumpled bed watching the figures of her six young lovers hurry silently down the street. She signed softly, thinking what a wonderfully erotic evening it had been ... how beautiful it always was when the boys paid her a visit, as they did several times a week.
It's times like this, she thought sleepily, that compensate for my paranoid guilt. How happy I'd be if the world could accept the way I am, and I didn't have to constantly worry about being caught!"
Yawning, she turned once again to the window. By now, the teenagers had vanished from view, but their footprints were vividly etched on the clean white snow. For an instant Krista considered going out and shoveling her walk to erase the damning evidence, but then she decided she was being ridiculous. After all, it was only midnight; by morning, several more inches of snow would have drifted down to hide the footsteps.
Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and since Krista had early plane reservations to fly down to her mother's farm in Virginia, she knew she'd better get some rest. Her last thought, before falling into a sound sleep, was of how she would miss her darling little lovers.
Twenty minutes after Krista's deep brown eyes flickered shut, the snow stopped.
The moment Leroy Jankowski, whose blue and white garbage truck followed behind the five a.m. street plow, saw the footprints, a lecherous smile lit his broad face. So he'd been right! The voluptuous schoolteacher was having nightly visitors. For several weeks now, after he'd observed a rather drastic change in the quality and quantity of Miss Morrisson's garbage, he'd been wondering what the curvaceous blonde was up to. Now, carefully inspecting the six sets of youthful footprints, he understood why there'd been so many empty coke bottles, used condoms, douche powders, and scented feminine sprays in the young teacher's yellow plastic garbage pail!
There were three main things the burly garbage collector appreciated in life: beer, gossip, and women - this later category not including his frowsy wife Sophie. Gossip was easy to come by in his job - he'd never forgotten the time he found a broken battery-run dildo in Rhoda Blair's pseudo-Gothic garbage pail, for example - and the guys in the bar were always willing to buy him a drink just to be entertained by his often scandalous stories. But when it came to finding beautiful young women to fulfill his third need, the going got harder. Milkmen, postmen, and door-to-door salesmen had great luck with frustrated young housewives - or so he'd heard
- but when he made his rounds, hubby was still home in bed or perhaps drinking coffee in the kitchen.
Coming to a standstill outside Krista Morrisson's back doorstep, Leroy glanced cautiously around him. It was still pitch black outside, and, today being a holiday, the windows up and down both sides of the street were still dark. Grinning lewdly, the heavy set garbageman set the schoolteacher's emptied plastic pail back down, then stealthily pushed the kitchen door open. He'd known it would be open, for he'd tried it before.
When Krista felt hands pulling off her electric blanket and turning her over onto her belly, she was still so drowsy that she thought she was still with her young lovers.
"Robbie? ... Charlie? ..." she murmured softly.
"Sorry to disappoint ya, ma'am," a gruff masculine voice leered. "This time it ain't none of your little boyfriends."
The terrified teacher's eyes flew open and she tried to pull herself upright, but calloused hands were pinning her naked back flat against the mattress. Twisting her neck around, she found herself staring into the unshaven face of the local garbageman, whose daughter, Janice, was in her seventh grade sewing class.
"What are you doing in my bedroom?" she gasped, her pretty features distorted into a mask of contorted terror. "Get your hands off me! How dare you!"
"Whatssa matter, teacher?" the middle-aged man taunted. Keeping one iron-hard hand pinned to the woman's frantically struggling body, he tugged down the zipper on his tained blue overalls, kicked them aside, and then ripped off his greyish jockey shorts.
"D-don't talk to me like that, you rapist!" Krista hissed, but her voice trembled as she realized that she'd finally been found out. And by Leroy Jankowski, the biggest gossip monger in Pottawattami Hills!
"I don't wanna talk, lady," grunted Leroy. "I wanna screw this here nice ass of yours. And if you got any smarts at all, you won't try to stop me, cause I know things 'bout you that you wouldn't want repeated."
Choking back the scream that rose in her throat at the man's sadistic snigger, the panic-stricken blonde began to struggle with all her strength against the garbageman's cruelly talon-like fingers. Though she was by no means a fragile female, her madly kicking legs were abruptly stilled as the naked invader's hulking weight landed full-force on her helpless body. As she gasped for breath, he lifted himself up, gave her a stinging slap on the tender flesh of her asscheeks, then dropped back down on her with his thick, haircovered legs brutally forcing her trembling legs apart.
"Git that ass up, teacher! Let's see you like the feel of a real man's cock for a change!"
Shivering in fearful disgust, Krista again twisted her head to see Leroy, a swarthy leer on his lust-twisted face, pulling back the thick foreskin of his massive member. The hot-fleshed cudgel was so huge that for a fleeting instant the naked teacher believed that this must just be another nightmare like the one where Brian Degraph threatened her with a baseball bat shaped penis but as a suffocating sweat and stale garbage emanated from the intruder's thick-muscled loins, she knew that this was no dream.
"No!" she hissed, not daring to cry out aloud. "Get that horrible thing away from me, you stinking bastard! Don't touch me!" Despite his caveman-like physique, Jankowski was not normally a violent man. For fifteen years now, he'd refrained from giving his nagging wife the beating he felt was long overdue her, and he'd accepted that their marital realtions should consist of a quick missionary-position fuck after his Saturday night bath. But tonight was going to be different.
The blonde teacher's invective suddenly aroused a powerful streak of long-repressed sadistic rvenge, and his unwashed face controted into fury as he applied another brutal blow to her pinkly quivering buttocks. Thinks she's too good for me 'cause I'm the garbage collector, does she, his lust deranged mind cried, and he wrenched her ivory-white buttocks apart so viciously that the tortured blonde yelped in pain.
"I tol'ya to shut up, bitch! You're so horny you can't keep your hands off little boys - well, now you're gonna find out what happens to sluts like you! Think you're real hot shit, dontcha? Ya ain't - you'se just a hot cunt like all the other bitches!"
Overcome with the force of his long-suppressed sadism, the garbageman, without a thought of his victim's fear or possible injury, rammed the bulging head of his monstrously swollen penis up against the tiny pink orifice nestled between the schoolteacher's billowing white buttocks. There was a loud obscene popping sound as his huge cock-head broke throuth the cringing sphincter muscle, followed by an inhuman scream from the pain-stunned schoolteacher.
"AAARRRGGG! OOOHHHWWW!" the obscenely impaled blonde shrieked as the huge flesh cudgel forced its way deeper and deeper into her dry, fear-cringing anal passage. Then, as the ramrod-stiff penis plunged all the way to the hilt, stretching the walls of her tensed rectum beyond the limits of human endurance, her tortured figure collapsed limply upon the blankets in a black cloud of unconsciousness.
Leroy, half insane with desire as the equisite tightness of Miss Morrisson's velvet-soft anus clasped around his lust-throbbing penis, paid no attention to his victim's reaction. All his life he'd dreamed of fucking a beautiful blonde in the ass till she screamed for mercy, and at last his deepest perverted desire was being fulfilled. With an animal roar, he began fucking into the tiny orifice with all the brute force in his ape-like body.
After a short minute of welcome relief, Krista came out of her faint to feel the most extreme agony she'd ever experienced searing from her violated virgin rectum to every nerve-ending in her helpless body. Daggers edged with tongues of white-hot flame shot up and down her spasming anal passage as the merciless male lunged again and again into her forbidden nether opening, and she scarcely dared to breathe for fear that this would increase her anguish. Each time his lust-swollen cock withdrew, thin membranes of tissue from her overstuffed rectum were pulled out with it, leaving her so raw and chafed that each brutal downstroke hurt more than the one before.
"No . . . nooo . . . nooooooo ..." the degraded schoolteacher changed in tempo to Jankowski's rhythmic strokes into her never-before-entered anus. "You're killing me ... killing me ... "
But even as she wailed out her torment, the pain in her ravaged backside was subtly changing. Her rectal muscles were automatically adjusting to the invading object, and the pre-orgasmic secretions of Leroy's impatiently pounding penis served to lubricate her unprepared passage. Although she still felt a strong discomfort, mental despair was taking the place of physical torture.
I'll never feel clean again, she wailed silently. Oh God, I never really believed that human beings could be so vile, certainly not in a civilized country like America. It's unnatural, disgusting! How am I going to live with the repulsive memories?
"Nice tight ass you got, teacher," the garbageman panted above the pain-quivering blonde. "Whattaya think of my prick now, huh? Feels good in your hot little asshole?"
"NO! Oh please! Ahhhhh ... ooowwwww," Krista gurgled incoherently into her tear-stained pillow.
The vile rapist's obscenities made the situation seem even more obscene than before, but to Krista's horror this very sensation triggered an unwanted spark of masochistic excitement. Without realizing what she was doing, the teacher was automatically undulating her cock-stuffed buttocks back to meet the garbage collector's forceful thrusts. This destroyed the last vestiges of burning pain, and to her horror she realized that her traitorous body was actually beginning to enjoy the brutalizing anal rape.
"Better than little boy cocks?" Leroy sneered, gloating at his victim's full-fleshed ass-cheeks rotating around his pummeling flesh pole. Arching his muscular hips, he bore down with ever-increasing fury, for the forbidden sight of his huge hardness slicing again and again into the tiny virgin orifice thrilled him more than anything he'd seen for years.
"It's better, huh? Ya like it, huh? C'mon, say you like it, bitch!"
"Ohhhh ... no, no, no!" Krista chocked out.
God, I wish it still hurt, her mind raced wildly. How can I ever admit that this horrible rape feels good? I'd rather die than sink that low. ..
"SAY YA LIKE IT!" the enraged garbage man bellowed.
But before he could insist on this final humiliation of the conceited schoolteacher, Leroy felt the semen churning in his balls as they whacked against Krista's hair-fringed vagina. His penis, which hadn't enjoyed a tightly elastic clasping like this in longer than he liked to remember, was ready to explode!
"Say it! Say, 'Fuck my ass!' " Jankowski groaned one last time before the first searing jets of sperm began flooding from his penis into the young woman's wildly contracting rectum.
Through the thunderous whirlstorm pounding in his passion-dazed ears, Leroy heard the proud young woman suddenly babble out a stream of crazy, incoherent syllables. Then, to her amazement as much as his, a loud, lust-distorted wail of submission rang out in the darkened bedroom.
"All right, all right," the words tore from her lips with a painful wrench which heightened Krista's masochistic excitation. "Fuck my ass! Fuck it hard! I deserve it! I LIKE IT!"
"Yeah! Move that ass!" gasped the garbageman as his hot semen splashed in an endless cascade of life-giving seed into the schoolteacher's hungrily suctioning anus. "Suck my cum up that hot little asshole!"
As the heated spurts of sperm drenched her stimulated rectal channel, a churning pressure exploded deep in Krista's guivering belly. Thick hot rivulets of male cum dribbled down over her vaginal slit, which was previously titillated by his jouncing balls, and suddenly ner voluptuous body was jolted into a galvanizing orgasm.
"EEEEEHHHHHHHHH! she shrilled mindlessly as the erotic waves of her unexpected climax washed over her bruised and battered body. "Cccccccuuuuummmmmiiiii nnnnnnggggg..."
For several minutes the lust-crazed teacher was transported to another universe where there was no guilt, no shame, nothing but blinding physical bliss. The power of her paroxysmal passion terrified her when the last swells and surges of joy faded at last; how could her body react in a way which betrayed every principle she believed in? Shuddering with horror, she felt Leroy Jankowski's huge cock deflating and finally slipping from her unnaturally violated anus with a sickening sluicing sound.
"Get out," she spat at him, lifting her head for a last look at the virtual stranger who had degraded her in the most heinous way possible. "Get out before I call the police!"
The sweat-streaked garbageman rose from the creaking mattress, a satisfied leer on his swarthy face. "I'm goin', lady, I'm goin', he drawled, winking at her in a shamefully familiar way as he pulled on his greasey overalls. "But I don't think you'll be calling no cops, 'cause explaining 'bout them boyfriends of yours ain't gonna be easy. You keep your secret, and I'll keep mine, and we can have some more fun one of these mornings."
"No!" Krista whimpered, watching with horrified eyes as the burly garbageman swaggered from the bedroom without so much as a backward glance. "No ... no ... no ... " her voice died away in a flood of tears as she buried her head in the rumpled bedclothes and tried unsuccessfully to shut out the smell of sperm and sweat and the lingering aroma of garbage.
Finally, the despairing schoolteacher dragged herself to the shower, where she spent the better part of an hour scrubbing furiously at the body which had so wantonly betrayed her. Then, after changing the sheets and telephoning her mother to say she was sick with the flu.
I'm sick, that's true enough, she thought bitterly as she gripped the receiver in her trembling hands. A sick, despicable pervert. . .
"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear," her mother's voice came over the line so faintly the girl had to strain to hear it. "But we'll be seeing you Christmas, of course, and that's only a month away."
Not if I'm in jail, you won't. .. was Krista's bitter reaction, but she replied, "Yes, I'm looking forward to Christmas."
"Oh, by the way, dear," Mrs. Morrisson remarked. Brian Degraph brought such a delightful girl back with him from Stanford. Everyone says she's the spitting image of you!"
After the phone conversation, the troubled young teacher crawled into bed. Here she stayed for the entire four days of the Thanksgiving weekend, getting up only to go to the toilet or get something from the kitchen. By Sunday night when she fell into her insomnia-wracked sleep she'd gone through a giant-size jar of Nescafe and two bottles of brandy.
The doorbell rang twice on Thursday morning, but when she saw from behind her bedroom curtains that it was Robbie Blair, she didn't answer the door. All during that first day the telephone kept ringing, making her so agitated that finally she took it off the hook. The normally silent instrument's sudden burst of activity must have something to do with her terrible experience with the garbageman, and she just didn't want to know about it.
I should pack my bags and escape, she told herself at first, but she seemed to be afflicted by an inexplicable deadening inertia. Besides, where would she run? There was no escape from the consequences of her perverted behavior. If Krista had answered the door or picked up her phone, she'd have saved herself a good deal of anquish. Robbie had come by Thanksgiving morning before going to visit his father's mother in Cleveland to tell his teacher that the gang had taken care of Leroy Jankowski and that she needn't worry. He and Charlie, having planned to surprise Miss Morrisson with an early morning fuck before their four days of separation, had bumped into the smug-faced garbageman as he sauntered out Krista's back door smoothing his overalls over his now limp penis in evident satisfaction.
They'd threatened the suddenly less confident workman to have him charged with rape, emphasizing their lawyer - father's connections to various state officials, and Jankowski realized at once that he hadn't a leg to stand on. He was, afterall, the lowly garbageman; of course any court would chose to believe the evidence of two "innocent" youngsters whose fathers were friends of the judge ...
As it was, however, Krista felt like Marie Antoinnette bouncing in a wagon on her way to the guillitine as she drove the four miles toward Franklin Junior High on Monday morning. Her paranoia had been fed by the four days of lonely depression, and she was not in the least surprised to be cornered by Principal Harding and
Superintendent Andersen within five minutes of having arrived at work.
"Can we speak with you for a few minutes, Miss Morrisson?" the superintendent inquired.
Following the two portly educators through the crowded halls, Krista felt numb, almost indifferent to her fate. I suppose they'll send me to jail for a few years, she thought, as she'd been doing all weekend. And the poor innocent boys will probably end up in some awful reform school which'll destroy them completely. I thought I was helping them - but I've hurt them more than anyone else could.
"Please sit down, Miss Morrisson," began the white-haired superintendent. "Now, we've been hearing many reports about the work you've been doing with our more - uh - difficult older students."
Oh, God, Krista despaired. Can't he make it quick? Must he twist the knife in the wound?
The troubled teacher was so distracted that she lost track of what her employer was saying for several sentences. Suddenly, she focused in on a phase which seemed totally out of context with what she supposed he'd been saying.
"... and, of course, a considerably higher salary."
"P-pardon me?" she exclaimed in surprise. "Higher salary?"
The superintendent smiled benevolently at the Home-Ec teacher from across the table.
"Of course you're bound to receive a greater reward for the much more intensive duties your position as Director of the Northern State Boys' Correctional Home," he began. "And I don't wonder that you're surprized we've recommended you for the post, considering your age and sex. But, after seeing the wonders you've worked here, we both feel sure you're capable of handling the job."
Two bright spots of pink appeared on the young blonde's previously ashen face as a slow smile played on her lush pink lips. It can't be true! she thought dizzily. I must be dreaming. But she knew inside that this incredible thing was actually happening to her.
"If you want to accept the job, you'll have to begin at the first of the year. What do you think, Miss Morrisson? Of course, we'll be sorry to lose you, but in all honesty I think this is the start of a fine career for you."
"Oh, yes," Krista's smile grew so bright that her whole face seemed to glow with an inner luminence. "Yes, I'll accept the job ... with the greatest of pleasure!"
