In the sub-basement of the boiler room of Stevenson High School, a new recruit was joining the perverse cult of Satanic teens which lurked within the school.
No more than an hour ago, Howard had been shocked beyond belief to discover that the girl's gym teacher was conducting a passionate lesbian affair with one of the prettiest girls in school, Jennilee James, co-captain of the cheerleaders.
Through a spyhole in a wall, Howard had watched Jennilee, nude, go to her knees to mouth her voluptuous gym teacher lover.
While peeping, Howard had been caught by some of the Satanists who had cut that peephole through the wall.
Howard was now being recruited:
Tina Caligari, a wickedly sexy raven-haired temptress from the wrong side of the tracks, was now doing all the right things to Howard's cock with her mouth.
She was a member of the cult, and with squirming pleasure she seduced Howard into the ranks of the group.
Each sucking stroke of her lips and tongue on his straining stiff cock snared him deeper into the web of perversion-
And loving it!
CHAPTER ONE
The burning church lit up the night sky outside the small suburban town of Fairview on a sultry summer night.
The church of the Black Shrine.
Within its unhallowed walls had been enacted all sin under the sun, and moon.
Pervision-panic-sodomy-rape-whippings-torture-corruption of the innocent-blasphemy-perhaps even murder-all had been done in this church of the Black Shrine.
A church of Satan, where the unholy Black Mass had been held.
And now, that unholy church burned.
And the authorities let it burn.
Two red fire trucks from the Fairview township, complete with a hardy crew of trained firefighters, sat idly parked on the strip of two-lane blacktop below the church, which lay on the outskirts of town.
The equipment was in place. Streams of water were directed at the fields and woods surrounding the church, so the fire might not spread. But not a droplet of water was turned on the church itself.
Let it burn-that was the word tonight.
And so the firemen, except for the few training the water to wet down the trees beyond the church, the firemen stood idle. In any case, they were not allowed to get too near the church.
They were not allowed to pass beyond the police dragnet ringing the church.
Uniformed cops from Fairview and from two neighboring towns surrounded the fiery church, ringing it. They were backed up by an auxiliary squad of well armed deputies from the county constable's office.
Detective Morton Ohls made the rounds, rallying his police troops to vigilance.
Ohls was a fortyish fellow, gray, tall, slim, looking incongrous in his suit and tie. The gun in his hand made him a bit less incongruous.
"Look lively there!" Ohls shouted.
"Who the fuck is he kidding?" one uniformed cop muttered to another. "Ain't nobody alive in that flaming hell!"
"It's all over," his buddy agreed.
Once, it had been a real church. But this section had played out, the congregation dwindling until the church was abandoned. And for years, decades, it stayed abandoned, weathered by time, crumbling.
And then suddenly, shockingly, it was reoccupied, and once more it was a church-
A Satanic church.
Horror had fallen on the town. But now that horror was just about done, and the last act was being played out.
Played out?
Perhaps the cop was right-perhaps it was all over.
It was hard to see how anything, anyone, could still be alive in that inferno.
It was an old-fashioned wooden church with a high spire, and when it went up, it blazed like a tinderbox.
Walls, roof, and spire were all wrapped with roaring flames, the heat keeping the lawmen a respectable distance back. Yes, it was over.
So the cops thought. They rose from their places of concealment in the brush, behind rocks and fallen trees and stumps.
They were outlined in the firelight, but they weren't worried. Rifles and guns fell from the ready position.
The cops grouped up, coming together. Revolvers were holstered, shotguns were slung down low. Cigarettes were lit up and the cops watched the burning.
"Careful, there!" Ohls shouted. "Look sharp, you men!"
"What a fucking asshole," one cop said. "Shithead!"
"Yeah, that fucking Ohls is a tight-ass," somebody agreed. "Always gung-ho and brown nosing, the fucking schmuck!"
"Bucking for a promotion," offered a third.
"He wants the credit for making this collar."
"Collar?! Shit, they're ain't gonna be nothing left to collar in that fire-say, what's that?!"
From within the depths of the burning church, which was now wrapped in flame like a cottage covered with ivy, came a mechanical whine.
Ohls froze, silhouetted in firelight.
The whine deepened to a growl, then a sullen rumble which grew with each second until it became a roaring blast, an avalanche of noise.
It was the sound of an engine being revved up, throttle wide open, punching the engine up to its highest rpms.
Until it seemed that the very noise itself would shake the blazing church down around its foundations.
Suddenly-
The roaring peaked, and there was an instant of release, like that span when a bow drawn to its greatest reach suddenly looses an arrow.
A squeal sounded-it was curiously human in sound, but what it was was the shriek of rubber tires gripping the church floor.
The west wall of the church was the one most fiery. It seemed a solid sheet of flame, with timbers loosening and creaking.
The wall burst asunder, exploded from within, as a projectile was launched down the transept of the church, straight at and through the wall.
The projectile in question was a chopped high-powered cycle, a real high performance machine with a front shroud and windshield.
The rumbling roar from within the church had been the sound of that engine being punched up until it shook like a dynamo.
And then the rider had popped the clutch and the chopper took off like it was launched from a catapult.
Aimed at the wall most weakened by flame, the chopper punched through the flame weakened timbers, planks exploding outward in all directions.
The rider was crouched low in the saddle. He wore a black helmet and a black leather jacket and black pants. His garments smoked from the heat, but had not yet burst into flame.
The bike hit the ground, shocks taking the impact. But the bike kept on bouncing, its spinning wheels spinning and revving.
The rider slung out a booted foot to right the bike as it heeled over.
The bike righted, slewing downward in a blistering arc, aimed straight for the ring of unprepared police.
The bike plowed straight for a gap in the ring, a gap which widened as the motorcycle maniac zoomed onward.
The cops on either side had to move fast to keep from getting run over.
The biker broke the dragnet and speeded downhill, down to where the fire trucks and firemen loitered outside the police barricade.
Some of the cops on the hill recovered their wits sufficiently to raise their weapons in the direction of the fugitive.
"Don't! You'll hit our men!" Ohls shouted.
The bike skipped down the hill. Now it was the firemen's turn to scatter.
For an instant, it looked like the bike would dump when it came off the grassy hill and hit the blacktop of the road.
But the rider straightened out, aimed in the direction heading away from Fairview township, and really opened the throttle.
Already the cops were scrambling down to their parked patrol cars to give chase, creating a scene of comic Keystone Kops disorder.
But they were too late, and they knew it.
The high priest of this Satanic coven had made his escape.
Adrian Baranco-the Garden State Gargoyle-was still on the loose.
Three years later:
Trust a fellow like Howard Phipps to find the peephole into the girl's locker room! Though it wasn't Howard who made the hole....
Howard was a student at Adlai Stevenson High School in Fairview. A junior, he was of medium height, with curly brown hair, tortoise shell spectacles whose thick lenses covered dark brown eyes, a slightly snub nose, sensitive mouth. He was no athlete but he had a nice slim build.
Howard was chief of the audio-visual crew. This group of students was responsible for carrying out such tasks as the showing of movies to various classes, the lighting of the stage during school plays and assemblies, and so on.
It was easy work and it enabled Howard to get out of a lot of dumb and boring classes. Right now, he was missing a Civics class.
And it was this special status which led to the happy discovery of the peephole, which in turn changed his life by leading to-
Ah, but that's getting ahead of the story.
It was the start of the fall semester. School had only been in session for a few weeks. This was a warm overcast day.
The audio-visual storeroom was down in the basement of the school. The basement housed such things as the band rehearsal room, the understage area, the storerooms holding old desks and books and the like, and so on.
But it was Hugo the janitor's suspicious behavior which put Howard on to the discovery of the peephole.
Howard spent a lot of time down in this area. More than once, he'd seen Hugo sneak into an old storage room.
Those times he had seen Hugo, Hugo had not seen him. Nope, he hadn't!!!!!!!! No doubt Hugo thought that his secret was safe.
But now, Howard knew the secret-and what a secret it was!
Today was Hugo's day off. Howard made sure of that. He didn't want to get caught by the janitor as he ferreted out his secret.
And now he had found it-the spyhole!
And what a spyhole it was!
Unable to believe his good luck, Howard pressed his eye to the hole and peered through to the other side.
A locker room!
The locker room lay on the other side of this wall in the rear of the supply room. The supply room was filled with old junk-thirty year old discarded textbooks, old broken desks, rusted bandstands.
The hole itself was in a nook at the rear of the room. Howard might not have found it, if he hadn't secretly observed the janitor crouching there with his face pressed to the wall, staring obsessively at whatever lay beyond.
And shrewd Howard had a pretty good idea what it might be.
He waited until the janitor's day off-today-and then he dug out the secret of the spyhole for himself.
In the rear of the supply room, a stack of old desks had been heaped high to make a kind of partition closing off the corner.
Howard, having seen Hugo crouching there, went there immediately, worming himself into the sheltered nook.
On the floor was a stack of books which must have served as a seat.
Howard sat on it, facing the wall.
Books were piled against the wall. Carefully noting where they were, so he could replace them later, he cleared them away.
Sure enough, he found the hole.
It was at the height where a man seated on the books would have his head. The hole was about the size of a twenty-five cent piece, although the chipped plaster surrounding it made it look larger.
He put his head to the wall and looked through.
His eyes were already used to the dimness, and the room beyond, on the other side of the wall, was much better lit, though far from bright.
Howard saw rows of lockers, with narrow wooden benches in the aisles between. He saw tiled walls the color of pink pepto-bismol, and gray concrete floors.
A locker room, yes!
And not the boy's locker room, either!
That sly old dog, Hugo!
The janitor must have knocked this hole through the wall some time when school hours were done, and no students were about to notice the work.
And now he had a spyhole into the girl's locker room!
It was empty now.
Whatever girl's gym class was taking place, the girls must all be suited up and in the gym-after all, it was the middle of the period.
Well, he would just sit and wait for the end of the period, when the girls would come down, peel, and shower!
Howard was all but delirious at the delicious sights soon to be unfolded!
But, wait!
Perhaps his vigil would not be so long as he had thought-for he heard the sound of movement on the other side of the wall!
Perhaps a latecomer, going now to suit up-or a girl having to leave early, coming down to shower and dress.
Howard's pink face was flushed and shone with a mist of sweat.
Sneakered feet padded on the concrete floor. Sounds came through faintly, but they did come through, all right.
Howard reminded himself to be as still as a little mouse.
If he could hear, he also could be heard ... and he had no intention of betraying this sensational find, not ever.
Then a figure flounced into view.
Intense hungry wanting twisted his guts as he saw the girl.
At first, he saw her from behind. She was of average height, with a slim, elegant and pert long legged form.
She was tall and leggy. Straight fine blonde hair was worn down to slim shoulders, with a pair of barettes in front. The yellow haired hat sat on a long swan neck. She had a long straight back, softly rounded hips, and a delightfully pert and rounded bottom perched on a pair of long trim legs.
She wore the standard girl's gym uniform of white short-sleeved t-shirt embossed with the emblem of Stevenson High, a pair of red satin gym shorts with white piping, spotless white ankle socks, and low white sneakers.
She moved like a gazelle, going down the aisles, looking around.
Jennilee James.
Jennilee James!!!
Howard had to fight to keep from moaning. Jennilee was one of the prettiest and most popular girls in the school.
A senior, she was co-captain of the cheerleaders and secretary of the student council. She was lovely and an honor student.
Now she moved so Howard could see her better.
Jennilee had the face and figure of a teen fashion model, which she could have easily been.
Her fine-boned face was exquisitely formed, with pink flawless skin, sparkling green eyes, a thin straight nose, and a ripe red-lipped mouth.
She was on the slender side, with a pert pair of breasts. Some of the fellows scoffed and said she was too small in the titties, but Howard knew that was bullshit. Sure, she wasn't as big as some of the girls, not like Susie Fairbush or Rachel Rivington, but Jennilee was big enough, and the rest of her was really gorgeous, just breathtaking.
She had rounded hips and a really sensational ass.
Howard was now in a position to admire that ass, outlined as it was in the tight red satin gym shorts which looked painted on her.
The shorts were too tight, and the lower curves of her buttocks peeked out a bit under the bottoms of the shorts.
And that ripe ass rode atop a pair of truly sensational legs, long and lithe.
Howard started chewing his lower lip with mounting sexuality and raw lust.
Like the majority of teen boys (and girls, for that matter), Howard was just impossibly horny.
Cherry, too ... though he would have rather died than admit it.
Jennilee prowled the locker room, peering down one aisle, then the next, as if she was looking for something or somebody. Irrational fear prickled Howard-Does she know about the spyhole? he wondered.
But no, she couldn't! Jennilee didn't so much look in this direction. She couldn't be aware of the spyhole.
So what was she looking for?
There was something furtive and sneaky in her movements, too.
Howard immediately recognized that furtiveness, since he had employed the same tricks himself when he sneaked into this supply room.
That's what Jennilee was doing, he decided-making sure that nobody was around to see her, to see what she was doing.
But what was she doing?
Had she come down here to get high?
No, impossible! Even if a cleancut student princess like Jennilee James sucked on a reefer stick, she would never do it in the locker room, not when a class would come down and find the place reeking of reefer! Some tough chicks might pull a prank like that-Tina Caligari or some of the hard sluts in her clique might do it-but a sweet girl like Jennilee?
Never!
But, who knew? Maybe Jennilee was a klepto or something, and she had come down here to pilfer from the lockers of the other girls.
Wow! Wouldn't that be something?!
It sent Howard off on a sizzling fantasy, one where he coolly and calmly confronted the miss in the hall.
Jennilee would hardly give him the time of day, since she was in the in crowd and Howard was just this side of being a nerd. But he'd drop a few well-placed hints that proved he knew she was a thief.
Her angel face would be flustered with guilt, shame, fear. But he'd slip a possessive arm around her shoulders, assuring her that her secret was safe from exposure as long as she was nice to him.
And the payoff for his silence would be her hot bod.
He broke a sweat thinking about pressing kisses on her cherry-red mouth, Fr ench kisses, shoving his tongue in her mouth, tasting her. Then he'd put his hand on her tits, and if she protested, why he'd just remind her to play ball if she didn't want to be exposed to all her classmates as a sneaking thief. He'd feel up her tits through her blouse, then he'd slip his hand under her blouse and feel her bare tits. And hen he'd put his hand up her skirt! And then....
The only obstacle to this overheated daydreaming was that whatever else she was or might be, Jennilee James was no thief.
True, she had prowled through the entire locker room, as if making sure she was alone down there.
But that's all she did.
What was her game, anyhow? puzzled Howard.
His question was answered by a new arrival, as a second pair of sneakered feet came padding across the floor.
When he identified the newcomer, Howard flinched. Even though he was safe on his side of the wall, he felt anxiety.
For it was not another student miss who came traipsing into the girl's locker room, as Jennilee James had just done.
Ah, no!
It was a teacher!
Specifically, it was the gym teacher, Ms. Betty Lane.
Uh-oh, thought Howard-now Jennilee's gonna get it!
He didn't know how right he was!
Betty Lane was in her mid-thirties, divorced. She had been married when first hired here at Stevenson High, since the school board preferred teachers with a stable home life-such teachers being harder and harder to find, these days.
After Betty got her tenure, she shucked her husband with almost blinding speed. And since she had tenure, she could not be fired.
She was an athlete, an Amazon.
She was really built, but she was so no-nonsense and intimidating, that Howard had never been able to build up much in the way of sexual fantasizing about her.
Betty was of medium height, with a long narrow face showing a lot of jaw and a firm determined chin.
Light brown hair framed her face, the hair done up in a pair of modified Farah wings, reaching down to the nape of her neck.
She was broad-shouldered, bosomy, with an hourglass shape, wide hips, thick powerful thighs, shapely calves, a full firm ass.
Betty Lane must have spent much of the recent summer under the rays of the sun, since she was tanned to a rich golden skin tone, a tan which had not faded much, though October was right around the corner.
She wore a pale blue short-sleeved blouse and a pair of khaki shorts. White ankle socks and snazzy jogging shoes completed her ensemble.
Oh, yes-she was never to be seen without the two props of her position, a whistle and a clipboard.
The clipboard was in her hand, and the silver whistle hung on a string around her neck, resting on the tops of her swelling bosom.
Hmmm, thought Howard ... maybe Jennilee got sick and had come down here to change, and the gym teacher had come down to see if she was all right.
Or maybe it was that time of the month, and Jennilee just got her period.
But even though she was co-captain of the cheerleaders, Jennilee had better have a real good reason for not being upstairs in the gym.
She did.
Ms. Lane swung into view, striding boldly, head held high, bosom proudly out-thrust, long strong legs flashing.
Awed, Howard watched the play of flexing bands of muscle in those legs. Her thighs were thicker than his, and it was all muscle!
Sheathed with fine-grained velvety flesh....
No, come to think of it, Howard wouldn't mind being around if Ms. Lane should strip down some time for a shower.
She had huge tits and a tiny waist and a perfect heart-shaped ass. Her hips bowed out like the body of a viola.
She swept right up to Jennilee, standing facing her.
The two femmes made quite a study in contrasts, Betty the woman and girlish Jennilee.
Facing each other, they were so close that the fat tips of Betty Lane's rounded breasts nearly touched Jennilee's pert titties.
They were about the same height, but Jennilee was pert and fine-boned, while Betty was big-boned, bosomy, womanly.
Betty Lane leaned her head forward so her forehead touched Jennilee's.
Then she and Jennilee conversed in low, hushed, excited tones.
Howard could not hear what they said, further maddening his curiosity. Perhaps if he put his ear to the hole....
But then, he would have to take his eye away, which he simply could not do.
And so he was watching when Betty Lane tucked her clipboard under her arm, pinning it in place, and freeing her hands.
So she could put them on Jennilee!
Betty wrapped strong arms around Jennilee, embracing her frontally.
And now, Jennilee's pert titties were pressed and rolled by Ms. Lane's impressive and imposing breastworks.
Betty Lane wrapped her arms around Jennilee. Her head and the girl's mutually inclined, with the younger tilting her head back, offering up her cherry-red mouth.
Betty had a long thin mouth with pale pink lips. She parted those lips and fastened them on Jennilee's mouth.
Betty Lane and Jennilee James met in a hot open-mouthed kiss!
Pain knifed through Howard's groin-the pain of his erection caught in too-tight underpants and trousers.
His cock was rock-hard, swollen, seething, and cramped in the confines of his clothes.
Still staring-he hated to so much as blink for fear of missing one detail of this undreamed of extravaganza-he put a hand on his crotch.
Betty Lane and Jennilee kissed with open mouths. Jennilee closed her eyes, thick lashes fluttering as she leaned into the kiss.
Betty Lane kept her eyes open, and her tongue working.
The flexings of her jaw testified to the thrusts of her tongue, lancing into Jennilee's mouth, probing and testing and tasting.
With practiced ease, Jennilee leaned into the older woman, rubbing her silky foxy body against Betty's womanly flesh.
Betty's long strong legs were spread. Bands of muscle writhed in them.
Jennilee lifted one leg and rubbed it up and down along the outside of Betty's thighs, stroking flesh with bare flesh.
And then Betty's hands crept down Jennilee's spine, reaching for the rounded curve of her rump, where sassy buttocks tautened satin gym shorts.
Betty clamped hands on those buns, one on each cheeks, digging strong fingers into the youthful bottom flesh, squeezing and kneading it.
Jennilee moaned, her ass flexing, her tilted pelvis rubbing her pussy against Betty's crotch, as her ass was felt and her mouth tongued.
One of Betty's hands slipped off the ass and crept down to Jennilee's pink thigh, possessively stroking it.
The embrace caused the clipboard to slip free from its position tucked under Betty's arm during the action.
With a clatter, the clipboard fell to the floor.
Betty and Jennilee broke off the embrace. Guiltily, each looked over her shoulder, to reassure themselves no intruders had come along.
Then they smiled sheepishly at each other, amused at the ridiculousness of the idea that they might have been caught.
And all the while, hard-breathing Howard scrunched against the wall, peering through, his panting tongue hanging out.
His hand was on his meaty crotch, squeezing his stiff cock through his trousers.
His rod was so stiff it hurt, but squeezing it at least gave him something to do to take off the terrible pressure.
"This is unwise," Betty Lane said, "I know!" Jennilee agreed.
The teen was well known for her vigor, vim, and pep. But her peppiness was somewhat cut down now by her breathlessness.
"I just had to see you, even for a minute!" Jennilee said. "Sometimes it's just torture, seeing you and having to pretend that I'm just another student!"
Affectionately, Betty chucked Jennilee under the chin.
"But we know better, don't we, darling?" Betty purred. "We know how very special you are to me, my little darling!"
Jennilee looked ready to melt. She readied herself for another clinch, but this time Betty Lane fended her off.
"No," the older woman said, "no more now! We don't dare! As it is, we've been here too long anyway. We'll have to get back with the rest of the class before we're missed!"
"Oh, I wish we could love it up now!"
"Love it up"--Howard's face was already flushed with red heat, but when he heard that, he blushed redder and hotter.
Though his blushes were neither so red nor so hot as the flaming heat rising from the stiff cock he kneaded through his trousers.
"Tonight," Betty promised. "Later, as soon as cheering practice is done, and the rest of the squad goes home! Then we'll really be alone down here, you and me!"
Jennilee all but danced with eager anticipation.
"Oh, I can't wait! That's hours from now, just hours!"
"Then maybe you had better take a cold shower after class," Betty suggested. "That just might cool you off for a while!"
"I doubt it!" Jennilee breathed.
"So do I," Betty Lane smiled.
Then she leaned over and picked up her clipboard-not without providing peeping Howard with a sensational view of Betty's ass.
Betty stood so her back was to him. She leaned forward from the waist, her rounded ass cheeks shoved back, tautening her shorts.
Howard chewed his lip to keep from groaning aloud.
But no matter how hot he got, he would make no betraying noises. He had found a good thing here in this peephole, and he wasn't about to fuck it up by giving himself away with a groan, no matter how hot he got!
That's what he kept telling himself ... while all the while, his kneading fingers played with his cock through his trousers.
Sweat stung his eyes, itching and burning them. He longed to wipe the sweat-but he would not look away, no, not for a second.
Clipboard picked up, tucked back under her arm, Betty Lane was all business now.
"You trot on back to class," she told Jennilee. "It will look better if we don't come back at the same time!"
Jennilee was sent on her way by the now no-nonsense gym teacher.
"After cheering practice, right?" Jennilee said.
"That's a promise!"
"That's all I'll think about all day," Jennilee said. "Thinking about it!"
"Just you think of all the delicious things I'm going to do to you when I've got you down here later with your clothes off," Betty Lane growled.
Those thoughts made Jennilee shiver with anticipation ... and nearly made Howard come in his pants when he thought about them.
Then Betty Lane sent Jennilee on her way, with a proprietary pat on the ass.
Jennilee halted, looked over her shoulder, and flashed the gym teacher a smile which would have melted ice.
Howard came close to melting down himself.
Jennilee flounced off, putting more of a wiggle in her walk than ever, swaying her sassy little butt until she moved past Howard's viewpoint.
Jennilee went upstairs, to the girl's gym. Betty Lane hung around a moment longer. Christ! Her nipples were standing out like thumbs!
Betty Lane cupped her breasts, big round mounds, full and globular, squeezing and kneading them, hugging them to herself.
She took hold of her nipples and pinched them, ecstasy flickering on her face.
Howard had a rough moment, then, when Betty Lane turned and faced the wall behind which he squatted on a pile of old Civics textbooks, kneading his stiff cock.
For an instant he froze, as if the blood in his veins turned to ice water.
But common sense alerted him that it had only been a casual glance on the part of Betty Lane, and that she certainly had no idea he spied on the other side of the wall.
Later, Howard would reassure himself that he had nothing to worry about.
After all, it was the teacher who was having a lesbian affair with her student! Betty Lane had more to worry about than he did!
But he would tell that to himself later.
Now, with only a wall standing between him and the gym teacher, Howard was more than a little intimidated by the Amazon.
Betty Lane left off fondling herself and put it together.
It was like watching her don a mask.
She composed herself. Her bosom swelled even tighter against her blouse as she filled her lungs with a deep breath, then slowly let it out.
She composed her face, hooding the lewdness which had shone in her eyes all the while she had been with Jennilee.
Her face assumed an expression of alert, no-nonsense authority, the kind needed to ride herd on a gym full of nubile misses bursting with the high spirits, hot blood, and sizzling juices of teen girls.
The transformation was startling, but not fully complete.
For her nipples were still stiff.
Her breasts were melons of flesh, high and firm, crowned with nipples which now looked like a pair of pebbles thrusting against her straining blouse.
Betty Lane held her clipboard pressed against the front of her chest, so her nipples would be hidden until they softened from their erect state.
Then she padded around the corner and out of sight.
Leaving Howard sitting there very much shaken.
But one thing remained an absolute surety in Howard's mind-the determination that, when Ms. Betty Lane and lissome Jennilee James held their post-cheering practice rendezvous, Howard would be right where he was now, enjoying a front row seat for all the action!
CHAPTER TWO
Happily Howard did not have to wait until later that day for a hot payoff of lust.
Ah, no-he had only to wait a quarter-hour from the time that Betty Lane and Jennilee James left the locker room.
For, fifteen minutes after their departure, the gym class proper ended, and the class was dismissed for showers and changing.
Manfully, Howard had resisted the temptation to pull his pud and make himself come, though it had not been easy.
His senses were so stimulated-overstimulated-and his cock flamed so hot, that only-a few more pulling strokes would have brought him off.
But he held on for what he knew was the big show.
No, not the BIG show. That would come when Ms. Betty Lane and Jennilee James were closeted alone together later.
But this scene was almost as good!
What sounded like a thundering herd came streaming down the stairs as the girl's gym class was dismissed.
There was a crack as the door was flung open to the locker room, followed by a babble of girl's voices.
And then the locker room was crammed with girls!
Girls, girls, girls!
Senior girls-this was the senior class. There were femmes of every shape, size, make and description.
Tall girls, fat girls, brunettes, redheads, sun-kissed blondes. Creamers all, all of them all sweaty and flushed from their exercise period.
All of them outfitted in those darling uniforms of tight white t-shirt and even tighter red satin gym pants.
Howard was confronted with a forest of female bodies, with scores of limbs.
His view grew more dense, more complex, since what had been empty space was now jammed to the aisles with the girls.
But that was only the beginning.
For the nubile lovelies poured down the aisles between the wall lockers, stepping around the benches running down the aisles. The benches were bolted in place and were painted yellow, the same shade as the wall lockers.
(Hugo the janitor had cut a good deal on a load of mustard yellow paint. It was a godawful shade, but he had made a nice kickback on the deal, and pocketed a nice piece of change.)
Those narrow aisles filled on both sides with a double file of girls standing back to back, the bench running between them.
Dials were spun, lockers opened, and the locker room resounded to the sound of locker after locker being thrown open.
And then the girls undressed.
Gym sneakers and socks were pulled off by the dozens, with scores of bare pink feet pressing the cold stone floor.
T-shirts, moist with sweat, were peeled off bodies, baring breasts in brassieres.
Howard suffered from what could only be termed an embarrassment of riches. No matter what direction of the locker room he turned his bulging eyes, more vistas of undressed female flesh confronted him.
Not only his eyes bulged, naturally.
His pants bulged at the crotch as if lifted by a tentpole. It was the pole of his prick, of course, engorged in full erection.
For some instants, he was too stunned, too stupefied by the vision, to even think of grabbing for his painfully stiff cock.
His eye picked out individual visions:
There was Kelly Green, a leggy ash blonde lovely with a wide face and gray eyes and hair cut straight and very short.
She had pear-shaped tits and they were fitted into a white cotton bra with a little pink lace bow between the cups.
Her rump was high and rounded and her white satin panties had gotten caught so they were pulled tight at the crack of her ass, sinking between the cheeks.
With studious self-absorption, Kelly slipped her slim fingers under her panties and tugged the tight rolled part out of her buttocks.
And there was Marjorie Dawe, her brown hair parted in the middle and worn in a pair of braids that fell down to her tits.
Her naked tits!
She had small ones with big round brown nipples. Her braids swung back and forth as she chatted volubly, the braids sweeping pendulum like across her tits....
And there was Tina Caligari!
Oh, Christ, she was such a hot slut!
Tina was a real teen dream. She came from the wrong side of the tracks. She had hard, brittle good looks, a tough cynical face.
And a body that wouldn't quit.
She had big tits, skinny waist, ripe ass, and long strong legs.
And-oh, Christ!--she was wearing a black lace bra!
What a slut!
The sight of gum-chewing Tina in her tight black bra caused Howard to make a grab for his groin, hand lunging for his cock.
He squeezed his slab of meat as he kept watching.
Tina's long lustrous black hair was piled high on top of her head and pinned in place. Her bra was too tight by a size or so, causing her already large tits to swell up as though ready to pop out!
She wore a necklace, a chain around her neck, and a piece of jewelry attached-
What was it, a cross?
No, not a cross ... a star. Tina wore a star on a chain around her neck. But not a Jewish star. Tina wasn't Jewish, Howard knew. He was pretty sure she was Catholic. But the star was a funny one. It was like a sheriffs star, only it was turned point-down. That was funny.
Lately, Howard had seen a lot of those funny stars around school-drawn on desks and notebooks and as grafitti.
The star hung down over Tina's big tits in that black bra, and when Howard got a look at them, he stopped thinking about the funny star.
Popping her gum, Tina reached behind her back for the hooks of her bra, the movement making her mounds bulge that much more prominently.
She unhooked her bra and took it off-
And then somebody stood in front of the peephole, blocking the view.
Howard could have groaned with frustration. In fact, he was not sure that he had not groaned at the sudden interruption.
Frustration!
"Come on, move, for Chrissake, move!" Howard muttered.
Presently, the female person who had blocked his viewpoint had moved ... but so, alas, had Tina, who must have moved to the showers.
There was spattering as the showers were turned on, their hose-like spray splashing down on the floor of the shower room.
Unfortunately, Howard's vantage point, while taking in the main aisles of the locker room, and the entrance to the showers, did not include the showers themselves.
So, he could only imagine what scenes took place in the showers.
But no imagination was necessary to see the group of girls, all pink and naked, trooping up to the shower, towels in hand.
It was a stampede of nubile nymphets, a forest of shapely limbs.
Here, gathered as if for his amusement and pleasure, not to mention lust, were girls of every shape, size, and endowment.
There were those little misses who matured later than their contemporaries, who were as much girl as woman.
They were petite, with plum-sized titties-"tits" being too grandiose a word to describe those budding mounds of flesh-titties tipped with pink nipples no bigger than dimes pasted on their buds.
Some had almost boyish bodies, long and lean and lithe and hardly showing any prominent sexual characteristics at all.
Girls who showed but a small shadow of hair on their mounds, with their immature slits flashing pink and appealing.
But such lesser developed girls were far from the majority, and even despite, perhaps because of their relative immaturity, they were appealing.
Yet the majority of girls had gotten their growth. Tits!
Tits, tits, tits!
A parade of them floated under Howard's very nose, tits in all shapes and sizes:
Pear-shaped tits ... long, curvy tits with upswept tips ... big round creamy tits, round as pink grapefruits ... tits that, while pale white, were tipped with nipples that were big, dark, and brown ... with nipples pink as the tips of pencil erasers....
All shapes and sizes of girls!
Tall skinny ones with pertly pointed small tits and high rounded asses and long legs. Short girls with big boobs and asses.
There were blondes and brunettes and even a few redheads ... and a few girls who most surely were not natural blondes, as their black bushes proved.
They trooped into the shower, with all those bare feet padding on the stone floor, passing into the anteroom of the showers where they hung up their towels.
From within the showers came the splash of water, the babble of conversation, shrill girlish shrieks of laughter.
Howard, two years ago, had suffered a bout of high fever, when his temperature ran close to 103 degrees.
He felt no less feverish as he watched the big parade.
Even hotter, hottest of all, was the stiff cock he kneaded through his pants.
He knew he would come soon.
It took an effort of will, a real effort, to pull his hand off his cock for the time needed to open his pants.
He pulled down the zipper and thrust his hand inside, fumbling his stiff cock past his tight undershorts.
Naked cock flesh seethed in his hand. Some fancy contortions were required before he wrestled his cock out of his fly.
And then there it was, rising like a red rhinoceros horn, a horn of flesh coming out of the open flyhole of his cock.
He clamped his hand on the joystick, clutching it so the red cock head jutted out of the top of the clutching hand.
The rod seethed in his grip as he put his eye back to the peephole.
Then-
Oh, God! It was Susie Fairbush, one of the prettiest girls in the whole school, a brown haired girl with a sweet sexy face and a sensational bod.
Susie was not tall, no more than an inch or two higher than five feet, but was she ever stacked! Her shortness seemed to make her even more voluptuous.
She had huge tits, like melons they were, and a rounded juicy ass and thick shapely thighs and a full dark brown bush-
Well, that did it!
Howard's was only human flesh, and it had already held out during a lust-inciting parade that would have made any male's blood boil.
The sight of Susie Fairbush, and the contact of his hand against his naked cock brought his lust to the boiling point.
Ah, that did it!
A final toss brought him off.
He came!
What a wrenching orgasm it was!
Howard felt like he was sitting in the electric chair, riding atop 13,000 volts!
His first spurting spray of come jetted high up on the wall he faced.
Frantically, breathlessly, he tilted his cock and spread his legs to keep the spurting semen from falling on his clothes.
Seemed like his cock would never stop spurting!
He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from moaning. He sat shaking and shuddering on the heaped pile of books which served as a seat.
Then his orgasm peaked, and he stopped coming.
Some come had spilled on his hand, and on the wall before him, but a quick scanning glance informed him that he had escaped getting any of the stuff on him.
Presently, when he had recovered his wits and self-possession, he cleaned up.
All around him were old textbooks, some of them going back to the '50s. They would perfectly serve his purposes.
He tore pages out of the books and used them to wipe his cock and the wall clean.
His cock was sensitive, and it ached when he wiped it with the wadded pages torn from old textbooks. His sticky engine glowed a dull hot red color.
He mopped his sweating face, too, and cleaned up the streamers of come which his first powerful spurt had shot on the wall.
He finally stood up. He was shaky, weak in the knees, his cock semi-erect.
He stuffed his cock back into his pants and underpants. His trembling cock lay coiled in his white cotton underpants.
He scrupulously searched his pants for any sign of semen. Even a drop could betray him. Due to the dimness of the room, he had to look extra-carefully.
He could have stayed here all day, but his next class was not so easily gotten out of as the class he'd cut to get down here.
He made sure that everything was just the way it had been when he first entered.
He even piled up the books back in place, covering up the peephole.
But he would be back, no matter what!
For this afternoon, following cheering practice, Ms. Betty Lane and cheering co-captain Jennilee James had an assignation.
Come hell or highwater, Howard would be there, too!
No high water was in evidence-
But hell was just around the corner....
It promised to be quite a confrontation, this meeting-"duel" was a more accurate description-between Luke Cranach and Miss Nola Falconer.
The other students in Miss Falconer's last period history class would have very much liked to see that meeting.
But none of them dared linger in the area after the last period bell rang. None of them wanted to fall under Miss Falconer's evil eye.
And so, when the three o'clock bell rang, the other students, boys and girls, jumped to their feet and streamed out of the door.
"Stay where you are, Luke."
Luke was in the aisle himself, ready to gather up his books and make a dash for the door in the hopes that Miss Falconer had forgotten about him.
She sat at her desk at the head of the classroom, seemingly absorbed in the attendence notebook spread open on her blotter.
But without so much as lifting her gaze from the book, she told Luke to get back in his seat-and he got.
Miss Nola Falconer was not one to be trifled with.
Luke sat back down, face sour and pissed off. Strong hands brushed back wings of his long dark hair off his face.
Luke was a transfer student who had arrived here at Stevenson High in mid-term. Already he had made a reputation for wildness.
He was a tall, athletically built roughneck, not unintelligent, but surly, sullen, rebellious, volatile.
He had hair that was straight and black and thick, almost like an American Indian's hair, which he wore over his ears and on his collar.
His short-sleeved shirt was tight and showed off his muscular frame, with its broad shoulders, solid chest, taut flat belly, strong arms.
His face was long, almost a horse face, with deep dark brooding eyes, Roman nose, and thin, sensitive pale lips.
Nola Falconer was thirtyish, with pale brown hair worn short and straight, like a shiny helmet of hair framing a patrician face.
She was long and lean, fine-boned. Her face showed a classically chiseled profile, with deepset gray eyes, thin straight nose, and a pouting red-lipped mouth.
She wore a white shortsleeved blouse, a very feminine and frilly blouse with lace at the collar and little ribbons and bows.
She had high firm conical shaped breasts with long nipples which made them look especially sharp and pointy.
She was tall, lean, lithe, angular. Her wide triangular face showed jutting cheekbones, sunken cheeks, deep eye sockets.
Her coloring was very fair, with skin almost marble-white. Makeup accented her thin arched brows, thickened her lashes, painted her pouty lips red. Her head perched atop a long swan-like neck. Arms and legs were long. Her arms, bare from the shortsleeved shirt, showed fine straight hairs on the forearms. Her hands were long with tapering fingers that looked almost skeletal.
Below the waist, she was hidden by the desk she sat behind.
Clamor, noise, commotion rang through the school halls following the ringing of the three o'clock bell.
Scores of lockers were opened, their doors crashing open, their contents looted by students hastening to get the hell out.
School was done and it was a beautiful day outside.
Some students clustered in the vicinity of the open doorway of Miss Falconer's classroom, buzzing with curiosity.
Then, finally, Nola Falconer arose from her chair.
She wore an off-white skirt of some tweedy fabric, lightweight enough for this spell of unseasonably warm fall weather.
She showed a roundly ripe ass perched atop long stilt-like legs sheathed in hose, dropping down to a pair of shoes which seemed designed for old maid schoolteachers, so thick and clunky and unappealing were they.
The chunky Cuban-style heels of those shoes tapped out a brisk click as she crossed from desk to door.
She surprised the handful . of curious students who lingered to see Luke catch hell from Miss Falconer.
They wanted to see Luke catch hell, they didn't want to catch it themselves, and so they were taken aback by Nola's appearance at the door.
"If you don't have somewhere else to be," she said, "I'm sure that I can find a place for you all in detention hall!"
The group instantly broke up, scurrying around the corner and out of sight of her baleful glance.
"Fuckin' witch," one of the chased fellows muttered, careful to pitch his voice so low that Miss Falconer could not possibly hear it.
"She's one cold cunt!" his buddy agreed.
Nola Falconer stood in the open doorway, back turned to the classroom, arms folded across her small firm bosom.
Luke shot her the finger from behind her back.
But not for long-he sure didn't want to get caught for that, too!
Miss Falconer stood there, watching as the stream of students pouring down the hall to the stairwells faded into a thin trickle.
Within five minutes, the hall-indeed, the school-was virtually empty of students.
This classroom was on the thrid floor, and through its open windows came the sounds of kids hanging out on the grounds, laughing and joking and flirting.
Luke's scowl deepened.
Mr. Gray, the bio teacher, went by, exchanging greetings with Miss Falconer.
Gray, a man whose suits were the same as his name, had a drinking problem, and even as he went down the hall, he had a slight unsteady veer in his moves.
It was common knowledge among the faculty that the seemingly colorless Mr . Gray was having a hot affair with Mrs. Raglan, the health and hygiene instructor.
Presently Nola Falconer turned, reentered the classroom, and closed the door behind her, locking it.
The door was wood, with its upper third made of pebbled glass which allowed light in, yet obscured the interior of the classroom. This was standard issue for all classroom doors, since the dark glass prevented classes from being disrupted by prankish jokers standing out in the hall making faces behind the back of some earnestly instructing teacher.
Nola Falconer crossed to the side of the classroom opposite the door, where a row of windows stood.
She went down the row, pulling down the shades, covering the windows.
Occasionally she had to rise on tiptoes and reach for the shades, causing her skirt to ride up, thrusting out her rear and lifting her bosom.
She had a fine figure, if on the lean side, but Luke was hardly in a position to appreciate her figure, all things considered.
Outside it was a cloudless blue sky day, but as the shades cut off sky and sun, the room was filled with a rich deep brown dimness.
A history classroom, similar to most other classrooms. At the head was the blackboards, stretching across the wall. Blackboards? Actually, they were green, murky with the dust of erased chalk.
In front of the blackboard was Miss Falconer's desk. Hanging in a flange on the right side of the blackboard was a small American flag. Overhead were banks of florescent lights, now extinguished, adding to the brown dimness of the room.
Stretching down the length of the room were rows of desks with aisles between.
Luke Cranach sat in the second row, in the second desk from the rear wall.
His burly forearms rested on the top of the desk and he sat hunched forward, his long hair slanting down on his face.
When the last shade was pulled down, Nola Falconer went to him.
Luke tensed up.
Now, she stood looming over him. She was tall, with those flamingo legs and those chunky three-inch heels on her square-toed brown oxfords.
"Sit up, Lucas."
Everybody called him "Luke," even the teachers, all but Miss Falconer, who stubbornly insisted on calling him by the more formal rendering of his name.
Slowly and sullenly he sat up, his thick-featured face darkly brooding, eyes staring straight ahead at the blackboard.
"Take your books off the desk," she said.
His books were heaped high, with his spiral notebook at the base, and his textbooks piled up one atop the other, so they formed a kind of stepped pyramid.
Luke slid his books off the desk, placing them on the floor under it.
Now, about half the desks in school were new, but the other half were old indeed, the wood dark with age and scored and scarred with the grafitti of legions of students.
Luke sat in such a desk. Carved into its top was an elaborate piece of grafitti, which had been hidden by his piled books.
Nola Falconer held out her hand.
"Give it to me, Lucas."
"Huh? Give what?"
"Don't play the innocent. The knife. Give me the knife."
"What knife?"
"The one you used to carve the desk with!"
"I don't have a knife."
"Don't play games with ME, little boy! I'll have you down in Mr. Kolodny's office so fast your head will spin!"
Mr. Kolodny was the vice-principal in charge of discipline.
"You can be suspended for carrying a knife in school," she said. "Not to mention having to pay the price of the desk you defaced! I might be inclined to give you a break, which as I'm sure you know, Mr. Kolodny wouldn't!"
THAT was for sure-Kolodny had been trying to get something on Luke for months, rightly suspecting him as one of the main troublemakers in school.
With an open and shut case like this, Kolodny would hang his ass!
"My patience is not inexhaustable," Miss Falconer said, "neither is my mercy! Don't try either! I know you have the knife, I saw it, and the only reason that I didn't demand it in front of the rest of the class was because you would surely have gotten a suspension once the knife was seen in public!"
She held out her hand.
"Give!"
Now, Luke had come up in a hard school. He'd been in trouble with the law more than once-a family tradition-but he'd never gotten caught for anything big.
He knew that when the cops nabbed you, you kept your mouth shut and volunteered nothing. His first instinct was to do the same here.
Of all teachers in school, Miss Nola Falconer was the last one he would expect to give him a break.
And yet....
What choice did he have?
She certainly couldn't do him any worse than Kolodny would!
Face set in a soured expression, Luke dug deep and came up with his knife.
"Here ... "
He placed the knife in Miss Falconer's palm. It was a gravity knife, folded up now, showing a shiny black enamel surface and steel studs.
"A most formidable piece of armament," Nola Falconer murmured.
Her face was as unreadable as that of a sphinx.
Her long slim fingers curled caressingly around the blade.
Her other, empty hand jabbed an accusing forefinger at the sign which was so freshly carved into the desk.
Carved just this period, in fact!
But, no matter how shrewdly he thought he had done it, he had been seen by Miss Falconer, who commanded him to stay after class.
"Don't insult me by denying you carved this, Lucas."
Luke kept his mouth shut.
"Why did you carve it?" Luke shrugged. "Well? Actions have reasons. Why did you do it?"
"I dunno ... I was bored, I guess."
"You were bored. But why this particular symbol?"
Luke shrugged again.
"I asked you a question."
"I don't know why!"
A long pink-painted polished female fingernail tapped on the fresh-cut sign.
It was a five-pointed star, its top point turned down.
"You don't know what this sign is?'" Miss Falconer sneered. "I thought that you were a brighter boy than that!"
Face coloring with red, Luke muttered, "I know what it is!"
"What? What is it, Lucas? What does it mean?"
Nola Falconer leaned forward, her triangular face thrust forward, her gray eyes piercing, her expression queerly intent.
"It's, uh, like magic," Luke said hopefully.
Nola Falconer remained silent.
"Black magic," Luke said. "The sign of the devil ... isn't it?"
"Yes, Lucas, as a matter-of-fact, that's just what it is, the sign of the devil."
In her eyes gleamed a curious glow of satisfaction. Had he been more observant, Luke might have noticed that twin dots of fiery red heat glowed in Nola's cheeks. Those red dots, combined with her ivory white face, gave her a consumptive look.
"Where did you learn about this sign, Lucas?"
"I dunno," he shrugged. "I saw it around ... on an album cover ... in the movies. Probably in the movies, you know, in some exorcist picture or something."
"Or something. So, to amuse yourself, you cut a Satanic sign in the desk?"
Luke shrugged.
"Do you know Tina Caligari?" she asked, seemingly pulling that question from left field.
"Huh? I know who she is ... I've seen her around."
"Friend of yours?"
"Naw. I don't run with her crowd."
"Rachel Rivington? You know her?"
"I know her to say hello to ... she's in my algebra class."
"Did either Tina or Rachel show this to you?"-she meant the Satanic sign.
"No!"
"I warn you, don't you dare he to me!"
"Hey, look, Miss Falconer. It's just something that you see around. There's lots of these all over school, you know, like on the bathroom walls and desks and so on, so I just felt like doing one, that's all!"
Nola Falconer smirked. dullness shivered Luke, as a nasty foreboding came to him.
"Hey, now, wait a minute, Miss Falconer! I admit I carved this, but this is the only one I ever did! I'm not the guy who's been marking them up all over school! I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me, I swear! I--"
"Oh, shut up."
Luke shut up, his mouth gaping open. Without warning, in the blink of an eye, Nola Falconer slapped Luke's face. Crack!
Slapped him hard, too-the classroom rang with the ringing echo of the slap. The impact rocked him, spinning his head.
In the same heartbeat, she backhanded him, cracking his other cheek.
Initially, he was so surprised that he could hardly react. His cheeks were hot and burning from where she struck him.
Rage erupted in him.
"Cr azy fucking bitch!"
Hardly aware of what he was doing, he grabbed the desk and hopped up out of his sight, doubly enraged by Miss Falconer's silvery laughter.
She took a step back from him, her right hand moving-Click!
Expertly she tripped the gravity knife, so the blade came flicking out of the holder and locked into place. She stood there, waiting, with the knife.
She sure looked like she knew how to use it, too!
The sight of his own glinting blade turned to him froze his hot-headed rush.
"You're crazy! Fucking crazy!" he gasped.
"I bet you'd like to use this on me now, wouldn't you?"
Her hand came up, swooped down.
Thunk!
She thrust the knife point-first into the heart of the five-pointed inverted star which Luke had cut into the desk.
There it stood, humming with vibration.
"Go ahead," Nola Falconer invited, "take it!"
"Lady, I don't know what your fucking game is, but-"
"Don't you want to find out? Hmmmm? Find out what my game is?"
"Whatever it is, it's too deep for me!"
Luke shook his head, his cheeks burning. He was more impressed than he liked to admit by her expertise with the knife.
Nola Falconer reached for him. Luke glowered, shoulders bunching up in big slabs of muscle under his shirt, his hands balled into fists.
"Listen, I never hit a woman before, but-"
"There's the knife, Lucas. And surely a big strong boy like you could make short work of a sheltered schoolteacher like me!"
She moved forward, reaching out with both hands.
Luke felt like an overconfident swimmer suddenly caught in turbulent currents which may well prove too strong for him.
He trembled in an agony of suspense, uncertainty.
What was this witch all about!?!
Then she took hold of his head, pressing cool palms against cheeks which flamed from the double slap she had planted there.
The contact was electric.
Now, holding his head, she pushed her face in front of him, her classically chiseled patrician features distorted in a famished expression.
Hungry, wolfish....
She pushed her head forward and kissed him on the mouth. "Oh!"
He was surprised and his mouth gaped open and when it did she thrust her long pointed serpent's tongue inside.
She pressed her front against him, nuzzling his chest with the tips of her tits, rubbing them back and forth.
Her tongue plunged into his mouth, wriggling on his tongue, tasting his mouth, thrusting so deep that it seemed she was reaching for his throat.
Luke was so stunned, taken so aback by the sequence of events, that he stood as one paralyzed, too shocked even to kiss her back.
She broke off the kiss, pale gray eyes luminous, red-lipped mouth glimmering....
Luke was no slouch when it came to the girls, he was quite the young stud, in fact. But these bizarre developments had him at a loss, to be sure.
"Miss Falconer," he said plaintively, "I don't understand!"
Miss Nola Falconer reached for her lace-throated blouse and with long slim fingers undid pink pearly buttons, opening the blouse to the middle of her bosom.
Circling her neck was a thin gold chairn. Attached to the chain was a pendant, hidden from sight within her blouse.
She hauled the chain up, pulling the pendant into view.
It was a five-pointed star. "You've been selected for special tutoring, Lucas!"
CHAPTER THREE
"Oh, Miss Falconer!" Luke moaned. "Nola ... Nola...."
"Miss Falconer will do nicely, Lucas," the teacher said firmly.
The tone of her voice was not the only thing which was firm.
So was Luke's cock, which had sprouted into a monstrously swollen erection.
Nola had backed Luke into the rear wall of the classroom, where her hand slid up and down his swollen crotch.
His lower body was encased in tight faded denims, whose crotch strained at the seams from his swollen member which she now rubbed.
"Such a strong, such a virile young man!" Nola murmured.
Luke groaned when she squeezed his cock through his pants.
"Let's have a look at your manhood!"
His hands shook when he reached for his belt. But the teacher put her hands on his, moving his hands down to his sides.
"I'll do it, Lucas. Leave everything to me!"
"Nola ... I mean, Miss Falconer. ... wow!"
Expertly she unbuckled his belt. The top of his pants came loose with a snapping sound, followed by the metallic clicking of his zipper.
"No underpants, Lucas?" Nola purred.
"Uh, no, uh, Miss Falconer ... I don't wear
"How delightfully uninhibited! Almost pagan, I could say ... which is one of the things attracting me to you, Lucas!"
She took hold of his stiff cock.
"And here's another attraction," Nola added.
Luke's jeans were open down the front, showing a dark brown bush, a rampant hardon, and a pair of darkly swollen balls dangling like pendants below the rod.
"Such a well endowed young man, too!"
Luke had a thick circumcised cock, full and fat, thick. Nola held it in both hands, squeezing the rod of flesh.
Sweat beaded up on Luke's forehead from the handling.
He felt like he should be doing something, but he was unnerved by Nola Falconer. Forget the fact that she was a teacher-he'd never met a woman even remotely like her!
He tentatively reached up and touched her breast.-.
Through the frills of her blouse and the cup of her bra he felt a firm tit.
She placed her hand on his and put it back down at his side.
"Don't you, uh, don't you want me to do anything for you, Miss Falconer?"
"Oh, yes! Yes! But not yet! When the time comes, you'll do it for me, but for now, just let me do you ... "
Clutching his cock, unwilling to release the rod, Nola sat down, parking her ripe bottom on a desk chair which had been polished and grooved by innumerable student fannies over the course of the years.
Seated, she put her head just about level with his cock.
"I want to see more of you," she murmured.
Nola slipped a hand under his t-shirt, which now was damp from the sweat which had soaked it since the start of this session.
She pressed her palm to his ridged abdomen, caressing it while her other hand kneaded and pulled on his cock.
"Ummmm, so nice and firm! What a pleasure it is to handle such fine young flesh!"
Later, Luke would wonder whose flesh she had been handling that was not so fine and young as his ... but that would come later.
He would come sooner ... but not yet.
"Ta ke off your shirt, Lucas. Show me your lovely body."
He was glad for the chance to do more than just stand around simmering with the flaming bar of his cock in her cool hand.
He peeled off his shirt, exposing a solidly muscled torso.
"Lovely, just lovely!" Nola murmured.
Her hands crept up his chest, letting go of his cock for a moment so she could slide her palms up his belly to his chest.
Internal rigidity held his cock with its head aimed upward at the ceiling. It jerked, twitching from side to side.
Oddly, Nola's hands were cool, almost cold, as she stroked his flat belly.
Her fingers fastened on his nipples, small brown dots.
She squeezed them and teased them. She dug her nails into the buttons and pulled them, making him moan.
His cock wagged like a dog's tail as she pinched his nipples stiff.
Then her hands slid down to his waist, taking hold of the tops of his jeans and pulling them down off his hips.
Tight jeans, requiring a good deal of force to free them from his muscular hips and past his powerful thighs.
Then the jeans fell in a heap at his ankles, leaving him naked above.
Luke wildly looked around, seeing the history classroom, the rows of shaded windows, the maps on the wall, chart of the presidents, the globe mounted atop a gray filing cabinet at the head of the room.
The room was in shadow, but not too dim. Still, his fair flesh stood out from the brown gloom clustered in the classroom.
Luke hated school, make no mistake about that.
But for him to be naked in a classroom-why, it seemed faintly sacriligious, like farting in church.
He hadn't much use for church, either, when all was said and done.
"You have a lovely body, Lucas.
"Uh, thank you, Miss Falconer."
"And a gorgeous ass. Turn so I can see it."
Even as she spoke she moved him, hand clutching the rod of his cock, turning him so he stood facing her in profile as she sat at the desk.
"Oh, yesssssss ... lovely!"
She attached her free hand to his rounded buttocks. His legs had soft brown hair, but his buttocks were covered with a peachy golden fuzz.
She kneaded the bottom flesh, as if testing its softness and resiliency. His buttocks were a pair of rounded globes.
As she stroked his butt, she squeezed his cock.
Luke was anxious about his nudity.
"Gee, Miss Falconer, if somebody catches us
"The door is locked, Lucas."
"But-"
"You leave the worrying to me, young man! And the thinking!"
"I--yes, Miss Falconer."
She patted his bottom. "That's a good boy!"
Then she slipped her fingers into the crack of his ass.
Involuntarily he tightened up, buttocks flexing, closing on her hand, squeezing it.
"Loosen up! I'm not going to hurt you, silly boy!"
Remembering those slaps to the face-not to mention her fancy knife work-Luke was hardly reassured about her intentions.
Then she twisted his stiff cock at the root and gave his ass a hard smack.
"Loosen up, I say!"
Sighing, he tried to relax his buttocks.
His mouth went dry and his heart hammered with sexual anxiety as she pushed her fingers deep into his bottom cleft.
He gasped when her finger prodded his asshole.
She chuckled at his reaction.
"Don't be such a baby, Lucas!"
"Uh, sorry, Miss Falconer ... "
She took her hand out of his bottom cleft and put it on his hip and then turned him so he faced her straight on, his cock jutting in her face.
"Such a pretty cock!" she cooed. "And so thick, too! You must be very popular with the little misses in school, Lucas!"
He didn't say anything.
"I'm no little girl'" she said, "but I'm impressed myself! Such a pretty cock cries out for kisses!"
Nola bent his cock down from the vertical to the horizontal, so its head aimed right straight at her mouth.
Puckering up, she squeezed his cock, causing its hot head to go more swollen and bulbous even as she attached her lips to it.
A wave of erotic dizziness swept him as he had his cock head plied with hot sucking kisses that made him quiver all over.
Nola detached her mouth from his cock, stuck out her pink pointy tongue, glided it over her lips, swabbing them.
A ray of light struck her face, glistening on her parted lips as she pushed her head forward and took his cock in her mouth.
"Oh, Miss Falconer! Oh ... oh!"
She stuffed the ball of his cock head into her mouth, red lips clutching his rod below the arched rim of the shaft.
Then she sucked on his cock head.
She rubbed the cock head against the slippery roof of her mouth, then pushed her head forward, taking the cock deeper.
The flaming red rod was engulfed by her sucking mouth, sinking deeper and deeper.
Luke was breathless and panting and moaning as his simmering member was gobbled up in her greedy mouth.
Its width stretched her lips, pressed her tongue flat to the floor of her mouth.
What tremendous suction she had!
Her mouth collapsed around his cock, with a suction that turned him inside out.
Luke could hardly keep his feet, he was so overcome with hot lust. He reached for her shoulders to brace himself.
Then thought better of it, and held the desk instead-she had indicated that she didn't want to be touched without prior permission.
Somehow he had stepped into a teen dream come true, and he feared to break the spell by doing anything she might not approve of.
He'd had his cock sucked before, once or twice, but never like this!
The teen girls who'd taken him by mouth had seemed either inexperienced or squeamish. But Nola Falconer was greedy for cock.
As she sucked and slurped, she further excited him with skilled manipulations.
She cupped his swollen balls, so they quivered in her cool smooth palm while she sucked on his shaft.
She fingered the swollen balls lightly-so sensitive were they, that too heavy a touch would have made him cry out.
Her head bobbed back and forth, sliding her mouth up and down his cock, never taking the cock completely out of her mouth, but always holding some part of it.
She was very neat in her suckings, too, careful not to spill a drop of saliva.
Each time his cock emerged from her mouth, it glowed redder and hotter.
Now she reached behind him with both hands.
His cock was held in place solely by her sucking mouth, since her hands had crept behind him, fastening on his behind.
Holding his buttocks one in each hand, squeezing and kneading them as she sucked.
Luke was not, could not remain idle. His buttocks clenched and his hips worked, pumping back and forth.
But he was not fucking her face so much as she was fucking him with her mouth.
This was the first time in his experience where the female was the aggressor. A novel sensation, though with disquieting overtones.
But who cared about them overtones, when the reality was what her mouth was doing to his stiff penis, what her hands were doing to his ass!
"Miss Falconer, I--I'm gonna come!"
"Um-hmmmmmm!"
With her mouth full, she signaled him all the same to let loose.
Her mouth bobbed up and down on his cock like it was mounted on springs. Only a few more strokes of lips and tongue would set him off....
Suddenly, she shoved her fingers in the crack of his ass and pushed a fingertip against and into his asshole.
At the same moment shoving her face forward and taking his cock deep, so deep that its head was stuffed into her open throat.
While her finger was jammed into his asshole
Over-stimulated, Luke came!
His cock bucked like a cannon, firing spurt after spurt of thick creamy come, recoiling on the velvet bed of her tongue.
With a monkey grip of suction, her mouth milked him, sucking down streaming semen as quickly as it was pumped out of his rod.
And she greedily gobbled down that semen.
Gulp ... gulp ... gulp....
Tapping his cream at the root, draining him dry. Her finger shoved up his ass was like having a live wire in there, and each time she wiggled it, a fresh squirt of come came oozing from his cock.
Even after the last drop of semen was sucked from his cock to drip down her throat, the rod remained rigid in her mouth.
Which was just as well, for Miss Falconer was hardly done with him yet!
CHAPTER FOUR
"You don't wear underpants, Lucas?" Miss Falconer teased, hiking up her skirt. "Well, neither do I!"
Her skirt climbed stockinged legs. Flesh-colored stockings. Her legs were long and shapely, legs like white scissors of passion.
Up rode her skirt, up and up, past knobby knees, up rounded thighs....
At the tops, the stockings were circled with broad bands darker than the rest of the hose, coming up to just about the tops of her thighs.
Pinned to those dark stocking tops were glinting metal garter tabs. Above that lay creamy white naked thigh tops.
Above that-
Nola Falconer was naked.
Nola Falconer hiked her skirt up to her waist in front, so you could just see the white satin garter belt circling her middle.
Framed by the garter belt, its suspenders, and the dark tops of her stockings was a pair of rounded white hips, centered by a long thin slitted mound fleeced with a ginger colored fluffy bush.
Her slit was a long narrow gash, delicately lipped, moisture glimmering within.
Nola pulled her skirt all the way up, baring her bottom, too. She parked that round white rear atop an old scarred desk.
And spread her legs, flashing her naked cunt.
"You can reach it better on your knees, Lucas...." she drawled, pointing a finger at the floorboards at her feet.
Luke stood there, torn by conflicting emotions.
He was still naked as a jaybird-well, almost, since he still wore his jeans, though they formed a puddle of denim around his ankles.
But the rest of him was nude.
Already he was under her spell.
After she had sucked him off, she stood up. Carefully she had taken hold of his cock, pushing it away so as not to smear or stain her outfit with the sticky wetness clinging to the cock.
Then she kissed him on the mouth. He didn't like that-kissing a come-filled mouth.
"Don't be a child!" Miss Falconer sneered. "If I can swallow it, you can kiss the mouth that sucked it! Anyway, it's your own come!" When he still demurred, she'd said: "You'll take my kisses the way I want, or not at all!"
Then, when she'd pressed her lips to his, he'd closed his eyes and opened his mouth while she fitted her own mouth upon it.
Her mouth was warm, overheated, savory. Of course she shoved her tongue deep in his mouth and had licked his tongue during the kisses.
Was that his own come he tasted on her otngue?
Did it matter? No!
After all, Miss Falconer never would tell any of his schoolmates on him. What's more, her passion for him was a gift from the gods and he'd have to be a fucking moron not to take her up on it and keep her happy.
After more kisses, she'd unfastened her mouth from his, and let go of his semi-stiff cock, which dangled down weightily, twitching.
Then she had made that crack about wearing no underpants, like him.
Following which, she had proved the point by pulling up her skirt and showing her naked crotch framed by garter belt and hose.
He'd never had a woman attired in such hot lingerie, hadn't seen any outside of the pages of a girlie magazine.
The sight sent shock waves through his libido.
First his mouth went dry, then it watered.
Nola Falconer moved her knees to the opposite corners of the desk, spreading her thighs wide and flashing her naked cunt.
"Gosh," Luke said, "I mean, damn! You sure are something else, Miss Falconer!"
"That's for sure," Nola said, flashing her sex.
"I mean, I never met anybody like you!"
"Again, right."
"You're so cool and proper and lady-like ... I mean, nobody would ever guess that you're such a wild lady!"
"I'm no lady," she said. "And nobody will ever guess, either. You won't tell them."
"Me?! No, I'd never tell, Miss Falconer! I'd never tell! Like, I'm no snitch! I'm one guy who knows how to keep his mouth shut!"
"And when to open it," she said.
She covered her crotch with her hand, then spread her fingers so her fluffy bush and folded cunt lips peeped out between her digits.
She stroked herself, sex lips spreading, flashing bright wet inner pink, where moisture glimmered and oozed.
"Do you eat pussy, Luke?"
"Yes, Miss Falconer!"
"That's a good boy. I had you pegged for an advanced student, all right. That's one of the reasons I selected you for special training!"
Bare buttocks squeaked against the scarred desk top as Nola Falconer perched closer to the edge of the desk, thrusting her crotch forward.
Wetness shone on her stroking fingers, and on her cunt lips, as could be seen when she pulled her fingers away to reach for Luke.
"Come to me, Lucas."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Come to your mistress!" She held her wet fingers under his face. "Can you smell my juices, Lucas?"
"Ummmm, yes!"
She patted his cheek, then reached for the back of his neck, where she clamped her hand to pull his head forward.
Kneeling on the waxed buffed polished wooden floorboards, Luke pushed his head between Nola's rounded stockinged thighs.
Heat, pungent musk, poured out of her sex.
"Oh, Miss Falconer!"
Moaning, he buried his face in her hot sex.
The woman-scent of her was aromatic, intoxicating, making him lightheaded. The fur of her gingery bush tickled his nostrils.
Then there was the incredible softness of her sexlips, quivering against his kissing lips, wet heat rising up from them.
She pressed down on his head, forcing his face deeper into her crotch.
Juices smeared his lips, chin. He kissed her cunt up and down. Stockinged thighs pressed his head, his ears.
Her thighs covered his ears, muffling sound. But he heard her when she told him to put his tongue inside her honeypot.
Honeypot?
It was well named, for her slit was packed with the rich oozing honey of her secretions, pouring from heaving inner walls.
Hot as a furnace she was, too ... and so juicy!
Nola's buttocks tautened as she squirmed on the desk, pushing her cunt against his mouth, holding his head down between her legs.
He licked, lapped, swallowed her juices, probed for more.
Nola Falconer showed stiff nipples, standing out like diamond-hard points against the front of her blouse, which she still wore.
Her Satanic necklace worked out of her unbuttoned collar, falling between her breasts, swaying like a pendulum as she rocked.
The crowd of students gathered outside the school had dispersed some time ago. Distant sounds came through the empty building, too far away to bother with.
Within, liquid suckings and slurpings came from Luke's mouth working on Nola's sex.
Breathless, but still in control, she commanded him to tongue her clitoris.
He withdrew his tongue from her slit and pressed it to the top, where a long flat node of flesh rolled in its natural oils.
She flinched when his tongue stabbed the love button.
"Not so hard!" she said sharply, pulling his hair by the roots.
Luke feathered his tongue tip across her pulsing clitoris, while Nola retained her grip with his long hair wound around her fingers.
When she saw that this rhythm would do, she relaxed.
"That's better," she sighed. "Keep licking me like that until I come!"
He worked his tongue back and forth across her clitoris, each stroke making her hotter.
Her stockinged legs hung down off the desk's edge. She scraped the clunky square toes of her shoes against his chest and belly.
She rubbed her insteps against his flanks. It was a bit painful yet bracing. Then she moved both feet closer together.
His dick was hard once more.
Nola Falconer pressed her shoes against his stiff penis, clutching the cock by the insteps of both shoes.
Then she rode his lips and tongue until she came.
He was impressed by the power in her thighs. She was a skinny bitch but real strength lay in those long lean muscles.
Her cunt pulsated against his mouth. Her hips tilted, shoving her cunt up against his licking tongue, rising to meet his strokes.
She came.
Nola Falconer was electrified by the orgasm. Her wiry body rigidified. Her head tilted back, face straining, neck corded.
She pressed her thighs so hard against Luke's head that the pressure was alarming. What a vise-like grip her thighs had-
Nola Falconer shuddered with orgasmic throes. Her gripping thighs forced his face deep into her climaxing cunt.
It was hard to breathe and he was dizzy by the time her orgasm peaked. Then the tension left her body and she slumped in relaxation.
Her thighs lost their iron grip and fell to the sides, releasing his head.
Luke lifted up his head to take a deep gasping breath. His face was wet and red.
Nola Falconer loosened her grip on his hair, letting the long strands slip through her fingers, then playfully ruffling his hair.
Her ginger bush was dark with dampness, her cunt was coated with a compound of saliva and secretions. Frothy wetness bubbled on her slit.
"Nice...." Nola purred.
She climbed down off the desk, planting her feet firmly on the floor. Her skirt started to fall in place, but she caught it and held it upright.
Lifting one foot, she pressed her leather shoe against his stiff cock.
"My, my ... hard again!"
She rubbed her shoe against his cock, making the member rise vertically, then pressing its underside with her chunky heel.
"I'm not done with that pretty cock," she said. "Not yet! ... But I'm not done with that mouth of yours, either!"
Standing in the aisle between the two rows of desks, Nola Falconer turned her back on Luke, presenting her backside.
Her skirt was held up at her waist. White satin of the garter belt circled her slim waist, its ruffled suspenders stretching down her hips.
Her buttocks were ripely rounded, a pair of firm creamy globes of a shade of whiteness but a little darker than the garter belt.
Nola Falconer looked down over her shoulder at him. Her legs were spread. Quivering below the moons of her buttocks were her succulent, dripping sexlips.
With one arm she reached back behind her, putting her hand on top of his head.
"Does my ass attract you?"
"Yes, Miss Falconer!"
"Of course it does. Kiss it!"
Puckering up, he pressed kisses on her buttocks. They were soft, smooth, buttery, yet high and firm, with zero sag. Framed by garter belt, garters, and stocking tops, her ass seemed even more prominent and jutting.
As he pressed kisses on her posterior, she leaned into his face, thrusting her buttocks against him, and wriggling her ass around.
At last, she pulled away from him, her bottom glowing from his kisses.
To his surprise, she let her skirt fall, smoothing it down over hips and buttocks, covering all her loveliness.
"Oh, wow! You're not gonna stop now, are you?!"
"Yes."
"Oh, but Miss Falconer-" She shushed him. "You enjoyed yourself, Lucas?"
"I loved it! But why do you want to stop now?!"
"To keep your interest."
"But my cock is so hard and hot!"
"Yes,' she smirked, "I can see that! And that's how I expect it will be when you come to my house tonight!"
"What?"
"This was just the appetizer," she said, "the warm-up. The preliminaries. The main event takes place at my house tonight!"
"Sure, great-but what about now?"
"Now is over. If you want more, you'll do as I say!" She clamped her hands on her hips and struck a posture of uncompromising dominance.
"And you do want more, don't you, Lucas?"
"Yes, of course I do!"
"Then you'll do things my way ... or not at all. So pull up your pants and stuff that lovely cock inside! You're greedy, Lucas, greedy for pleasure! And that's good, very, very good, that greed. But it had to be properly directed. Channeled. I know you're disappointed, but I promise that you'll find that I'm well worth waiting for!"
"Yes, Miss Falconer ... "
Shakily Luke got to his feet. His knees ached from pressing so long. His jaws and tongue ached from going down on her.
And his cock ached from stiffness.
He pulled up his pants. His hardon wouldn't go away. He stood his cock upright and worked the zipper closed.
The cock swelled the crotch of the too-tight denims.
Nola Falconer mopped her brow with a hankie she took from her pocketbook. She snapped open a compact and touched up her makeup.
Satisfied with her looks, she penciled an address on a sheet of notepad paper, folded it once, handed it to Luke.
"My address," she said. "You know where it is?"
"Yeah."
She grabbed his crotch and squeezed his stiff cock and his nuts. "Yes, Miss Falconer. Not 'yeah.'"
"Yes, Miss Falconer ... "
"That's better." She let go. "You have a lot of potential, Lucas, but you need training. I'll see that you get it. You can get out tonight?"
"No problem."
"You have a car?"
"It's not much, but it gets me where I'm going."
"Good. Park a few houses away from mine. Come around to the back door. I don't want to start the neighbor's tongues wagging."
"I'll be careful."
"Yours is the tongue I want to wag ... I'm sure you can guess where! And come after dark. I come alive at night!"
"Eight o'clock okay, Miss Falconer?"
"Better make it half-past eight, to be on the safe side."
"I'll be there! I can't wait!"
"Try to be a good boy and not stroke off your hard-save it for me!"
"Aw, Miss Falconer, I don't do that-"
"Bullshit. All boys jerk off, no matter how much they're getting. But I want you to keep that thing in your pants hot and hungry for me!"
She arranged for them to leave separately. "Don't forget your toy," she reminded. She meant his knife.
He pulled it out of the desk, grunting from the effort. The blade was in deep. He folded the blade and pocketed it.
"Hey, Miss Falconer! Where'd you learn to use a knife so good?!"
"You'd be amazed at some of the things I do."
CHAPTER FIVE
So that's how girls do it!
This day had been a real learning experience for Howard Phipps. In fact, he probably had gotten more out of this one day than he had in all the days of his school experience.
Hours had passed since his first session at the spyhole in the storage room. Now it was much later.
He pressed the readout button of his digital watch.
Time: 5:30 PM. Lesbian time!
An hour or so ago, he'd let himself into the storeroom and taken up his vantage point by the peephole.
Upstairs, in the girl's gym, Ms. Betty Lane directed the cheerleaders through a practice session. From a distance, Howard heard the clomp of their sneakered feet as the squad pranced through their routines.
But now, pulse quickening, cock throbbing, Howard delighted in watching a routine altogether different from any ever seen on the playing fields.
The other cheerleaders had finished practice, stripped, showered, and gone home. But Jennilee James remained behind, on pretext of going over some new routines with Ms. Lane. When the last of the cheering squad had finished dressing and gone home, Betty Lane and Jennilee worked out their routine, all right.
Just goes to show how quickly a fellow can get jaded, Howard thought.
After all, earlier he'd thrilled to the sight of a locker room full of naked girls.
Now, though, as Stevenson High's prettiest misses, the cheerleaders, stripped and showered, Howard was impatient for them to be gone.
He'd already seen plenty of flesh today-
Now, he wanted to see action!
And action was what he saw!
After the last cheerleader but Jennilee had donned her street clothes and said goodnight to Ms. Lane, the gym teacher paused, then slipped upstairs to make sure that the girls had all really gone, and were not lingering in the gym.
Howard, electrified with anticipation, seethed with excitement at the sound of the locker room door behing locked.
Now, if only Jennilee and Ms. Lane went into a clinch where he could see it....
He dreaded that they might do it somewhere in the locker room beyond his vantage point, where he might not see a bit of it.
What torment that would be!
"Are they gone?" asked Jennilee.
"All gone!" Betty Lane happily announced.
Betty still wore the garb she'd had on all day, consisting of blouse and bermuda shorts, white ankle socks and jogging shoes.
But Jennilee was dressed in her cheering outfit. Betty liked to have the girls all suited up when they took practice, reasoning that it added reality.
Jennilee wore the uniform, consisting of a green and white (the school colors) jumper worn over a shortsleeved white blouse.
The jumper had a bib front embossed with the school emblem, the famous egghead mascot of Stevenson High.
Straps ran from the top corners of the bib, across her shoulders, crossing in an X-pattern over her back, buttoning to the rear of the skirt's waistband.
The skirt was green with white pleats, its hem reaching to the tops of Jennilee's knees. White ankle socks and saddle shoes completed the outfit.
Jennilee had her hair gathered in a ponytail. Her face shone with sweat and there were dark damp circles under her arm.
Which daunted Betty Lane not at all as she embraced the girl.
All right! Howard silently exulted.
The boredom of waiting, the fear of getting caught, the discomfort of perching his fanny on a stack of books-
All forgotten now, as the long-anticipated show began.
Betty Lane gathered Jennilee into her arms. At first, the embrace seemed almost maternal, as the two femmes stood face to face.
Jennilee was enfolded in the gym teacher's arms. She rested her head on Betty's lush bosom. Betty stroked the girl's hair, face.
One of Betty's hands was on Jennilee's hip.
The hand stole over to the girl's rump, resting on a buttock, squeezing it through the skirt.
Jennilee moaned softly, pressing her front even more tightly against Betty Lane.
Now Betty more actively squeezed the teen's buns, kneading them through the pleated skirt, squeezing ass cheeks like ripe fruit.
Jennilee nuzzled Betty's bosom, pressing her glowing face into pillowy tits.
Jennilee turned her face up. Betty kissed the girl on the forehead, a chaste kiss.
But the succeeding kisses were hardly so chaste.
Hunger sparked in the older woman's eyes, mouth. She tilted back Jennilee's head and pressed her pink-lipped mouth to the girl's.
Mouth merged with mouth in hot tongue kisses.
Jennilee stood on tiptoe, muscles sliding and flexing in her bare legs. She rubbed her front against Betty's.
Betty stroked Jennilee's bare thigh. Her caresses climbed higher, as did the hem of the pleated skirt.
Which rose all the way up to bare Jennilee's white satin bikini panties.
Holding the skirt up, kissing the teen mouth with a probing tasting tongue, Betty began to fondle the girl's buttocks.
The white bikini panties were brief, barely covering the bottom halves of Jennilee's buttocks, exposing them above, showing a deep-plunging bottom crack.
Betty Lane took hold of the buttocks one in each hand, and cupped them, squeezed them. Then she slipped her hands inside the panties.
The panties worked down off Jennilee's nubile hips, down to the tops of her thighs. Her front was pressed to Betty's, barring Howard's view of her sweet poozle, but her gorgeous ass was all bare.
After many heated kisses and caresses, Betty's hands drifted away from bared buttocks, their mouths disengaged, and they came apart.
Then they stripped.
Jennilee's hands shook with eagerness as she undid the two buttons at the top of her jumper bib, unfastening the straps.
The front of the jumper came undone, falling down her waist.
Betty took hold of the skirt and pulled it off Jennilee's hips and down her legs.
Jennilee put a hand on Betty's wide shoulder for balance, as she stepped out of the uniform and discarded it.
Her panties formed a white satin roll of stretched fabric running across the tops of her thighs, baring her fluffy bush, her slitted sex.
Betty extended her hand as if she was going to shake hands. Instead, she inserted her hand between the girl's thighs, pushing the panties further downward.
She held her hand so thumb and fingers formed an L shape, then she pressed the L to Jennilee's crotch, pressing her naked pussy.
Jennilee moaned from the touch.
Betty rocked her hand back and forth, stroking Jennilee's sex.
The panties worked down to the girl's knees, which were weak from the wave of hot lust generated by Betty's fondlings.
When Betty pulled her hand out from between Jennilee's legs, it was wet with juices, as was the girl's cunt.
Jennilee stripped off her blouse, adding it to the growing pile of clothes. She now wore her white flowered bra, rolled panties, socks, saddle shoes.
Betty took off her blouse. Her heavy breasts strained the cups of a flesh-colored nylon bra, a heavy duty bra designed for a full-figured bust.
This underwired bra hooked closed in front, as was demonstrated when Betty took it off, unclasping the hook joining the bra cups.
Freed from the confines of the bra, the meaty tits flopped free, shoving aside the now empty breast cups.
Betty shrugged out of her bra straps, bare now above the waist.
Jennilee was a nubile teen with fine breastworks, but Betty was a woman, with a woman's frame and impressive endowments.
Wide shoulders helped support a pair of melon breasts. Freed from the bra, they dangled down to her elbows, luscious swollen globes.
Jennilee thought so, too, for she gave a little cry and buried her face in them, nuzzling the naked tits.
While Jennilee leaned forward, wallowing in Betty's ample bosom, the gym teacher unhooked the back of the girl's bra.
Then Betty cupped her tits, lifting, pushing them together, plumping them up-not that they needed it, they were so round and full and heavy!
Jennilee nuzzled the naked tits, round pink melons with dark brown nipples, nipples which seemed as big as cherries.
Stiff throbbing nipples ringed by wide coronas which took up a large part of the bosom flesh. Nipples now pebbly with stiffness.
Betty rubbed her nipples back and forth across Jennilee's ardent face. Jennilee sought to capture a nipple with her open mouth.
Teasing the teen, Betty swirled her nipples around the mouth, pulling them back from her bps each time they reached to close on a nipple.
When Jennilee finally gave off a cry of frustration, the gym teacher showed mercy and stuffed a nipple in the girl's moaning mouth.
Jennilee's pert pouty lips pressed closed on the nipple like a hungry infant's, sucking vigorously on it.
While Jennilee sucked her tit, Betty reached under her to fondle the girl's breasts, working them free from the open bra.
Presently, Betty freed her nipple from Jennilee's sucking mouth. So tightly did the girl's lips clutch it, that the nipple came loose with a popping sound.
In the dim light of the locker room, reflections glinted off the saliva coating Betty's sucked nipple, that throbbing pebble of flesh.
Betty offered up her other nipple for equally ardent sucking, but not before she had divested Jennilee of her bra.
It was quite a contrast, between Jennilee's pert, firm tits and Betty's lushly over endowed creamy womanly breasts.
While Jennilee sucked the other nipple, Betty's fingers did cunning things to Jennilee's tender tits.
Finally it was Betty who freed her tit from Jennilee's mouth. The suckings made the nipples seem twice as swollen as they had been, even in their erect state.
Betty put her hands on Jennilee's shoulders, stroking them, then pushing downward.
Jennilee picked up her cue.
She knew what Betty wanted. She had been through the routine enough times to know.
Jennilee's legs folded at the knees and she got down on them, her head now level with Betty's crotch.
Betty opened the catch of her shorts, pulled down the zipper, opened the flaps, then worked the shorts off her wide womanly hips.
Stunned as he was by all the revelations he had seen on this special day, Howard could still feel a shock when he saw that Betty Lane wore, not panties, but a pair of men's white cotton undershorts, the jockey kind.
Her shorts dropped to her feet. She pressed her crotch against Jennilee's face, while the teen pressed hot kisses all over her.
Betty slipped her fingers into the elastic waistband of her shorts and eased them down.
It was startlingly erotic, the contrast between her ultra-womanly physique, and those man's white cotton undershorts.
But it was still more erotic when she pulled them all the way down.
Betty had a fine-toned, well conditioned physique. She was a big woman, needing a regular diet of exercise to keep her full figured form from sagging.
Her belly was rounded, her navel concave. Her pink hips bowed out like a viola. Her thighs were smooth rounded columns. Her bush was dark chestnut brown, a pointed van dyke beard covering a rounded succulent pubis.
"Van DYKE"--that was a good one, thought Howard.
Ms. Betty Lane was sure a dyke, all right!
Howard would have given more than his eyeteeth to be standing where Betty now stood, with Jennilee James naked at her feet.
Ready to serve, mouth open!
Betty stepped out of her shorts and underpants. Like Jennilee, she still wore her socks and sneakers.
Howard wondered what that was all about. Maybe the femmes didn't want to stand on the cold floor. Maybe they feared athlete's foot. Or maybe it was just some kind of in-group lesbo turn-on. Or maybe they were just in too much of a hurry to bother with taking off sneakers and socks!
Betty's ass was as ripely rounded and amply endowed as her tits. She had a huge heart-shaped ass with rosy rounded cheeks.
He'd love to sink his teeth into that ass!
Betty shoved her hips forward into Jennilee's face.
With a little cry of hungry wanting, the girl buried her face in Betty's crotch, nuzzling, licking, kissing, moaning.
Pleasure shuddered through the older woman at the contact of the girl's mouth with her heated-overheated-cunt.
Most of Jennilee's face was hidden in Betty's loins as the girl went down on her.
Even through the wall, Howard thrilled to the lickings, slurpings, moanings.
Jennilee's hands crept up, sliding caressing palms up Betty's powerful thighs, then fastening to the older woman's wide hips.
To which she held on tight while tonguing Betty.
Excitement, arousal made Betty's buttocks flex and tauten with muscular contractions. She moved her hips around, pushing her cunt under Jennilee's kissing lips.
Where Jennilee's kisses had fallen, her tongue followed. She lifted her head up from Betty's loins, and now Howard saw her face.
Jennilee's expression was hot, hungry, lewd-quite advanced in lust for so young and seemingly all-American a miss.
A cheerleading co-captain, yet!
Jennilee's face was wet. Her lips flashed a hot smile, then out came her tongue, which she pressed to Betty's cunt.
Betty moaned her pleasure as the licking tongue massaged her cunt.
Jennilee licked like a greedy little girl lapping a melting ice cream on a hot day. Juices smeared her face.
Betty put her hands on top of the girl's head and pulled it to her crotch, moaning as the tongue penetrated her slit.
Betty pressed the girl's head to her while Jennilee licked her cunt, lapping up juices and swallowing them down.
Unbound by any bra, Betty's tits jiggled frantically, swaying semi-solid globes topped by stiff pebbly nipples.
At last, ' Betty pulled her hips back, detaching her cunt from Jennilee's gluttonous mouth.
Her heavy tits dangled udder-like as she leaned over the girl, hooking her hands under her arms and helping her to her feet.
But not far.
Only as far, or as near, as a wooden bench, one which lay almost directly under the peephole where Howard's eye was glued.
Betty eased Jennilee down on her back on the bench. The girl lay with her legs bent at the knees, thighs spread open, feet on the floor.
Then Betty padded on sneakered feet around to Jennilee's head, at one end of the bench.
Betty straddled both bench and the girl's head, standing facing Jennilee's feet-Not to mention her cunt. Jennilee was hot, too.
Her dark pink nipples were stiff. Moisture shone in her slit. Convulsively her buttocks clenched and unclenched on the hard wooden bench Passion caused Jennilee to arch her back, lifting her hips off the bench, sweaty buttocks coming unstuck from the bench top.
Jennilee gyrated her hips in the air. , Howard was charmed by her tufted bush and slitted sex, which quivered on her hips like a delicacy laid on a pale pink plate.
A delicacy Betty meant to have-
Now!
Straddling both bench and Jennilee's head, Betty bent her legs at the knees, squatting. Muscular bands flexed in her thick thighs.
Jennilee opened her mouth while Betty lowered down.
Suddenly Jennilee was hidden from the neck up, as Betty sat on her face.
Betty issued a prolonged voluptuous moan as her steamy cunt, already simmering from the girl's earlier mouth action, once more met Jennilee's mouth.
Betty crouched down, her cunt covering the lower half of Jennilee's face, her ripe sweaty ass rolling over the girl's forehead.
Betty rocked back and forth, riding
Jennilee's mouth, smearing aromatic secretions all over her face.
Then her own hunger rose up in her, and Betty leaned far forward, causing her cunt to press down even more forcefully on Jennilee.
Betty's head dipped down to Jennilee's crotch, which lifted to meet her.
Then Betty buried her face between Jennilee's thighs, attaching her mouth to the teen cunt, fastening to it.
Betty's parted lips pressed the delicately folded sexlips of the teen, spreading them to the sides, peeling back the petal-like lips.
Jennilee's moans of pleasure were muffled by Betty's muff covering her mouth.
The femmes were now attached mouth to crotch, older woman atop younger girl, both of them nude and gyrating with lesbo passion.
Twin suckings and slurpings issued from between their legs as they rocked back and forth, licking, lapping, loving.
Jennilee came first ... due no doubt to the superior oral skill of the older woman.
Even with her mouth covered by Betty's all-engulfing steamy cunt, Jennilee's moans could be heard.
Her gasps and moans served as the index of her passion, deepening with each passing moment.
Both femmes were now glossy with dripping sweat oiling their flesh, making it cling and sensually slide as Betty writhed atop Jennilee.
Betty applied a wicked licking tongue to the girl's clit. The tongue was a blur of pink motion as it lashed the pleasure button.
Until Jennilee came.
Not even the hot juicy cunt covering her mouth could muffle that cry of passion.
Jennilee was rigid, electrified, writhing.
Her back bowed, her buttocks tautened, her nips lifted off the bench to grind her hot cunt convulsively against Betty's mouth.
When the girl came, Betty stopped licking her cunt, but kept her mouth pressed to it.
Jennilee shuddered with paroxysms of pleasure.
Her orgasm peaked and then her buttocks slapped back down on the bench and the erotic tension ebbed from her flesh.
Bracing her hands on the bench, leaning forward, Betty lifted her cunt off Jennilee's mouth, freeing the girl to gasp for breath.
And to moan her pleasure.
Betty let Jennilee savor the sensation, but not for too long. Impatiently waggling her tail, the gym teacher sat back down on Jennilee's mouth so the teen could reciprocate and mouth her to her own fabulous orgasm.
Which was just what was done.
CHAPTER SIX
Was ever a peeper so punished? So humiliated? So degraded? So scared? Possibly-but Howard Phipps would not agree.
For Howard was that punished peeper, now writhing naked in the high school boiler room, standing with his hands cuffed to an overhead pipe, his mouth gagged.
The boiler room was located in a sub-basement of the school, in a cavernous sunken pit broken up by big bulky machinery.
It had light gray cinderblock walls, dark gray stone flooring, dim yellow lights, and shrouds of thick shadows.
In an alcove the size of a motel room, Howard stood on his toes,' his body pinkly naked and squirming.
His hands were raised over his head. Metal bracelets that were handcuffs restrained his wrists, their connecting chain looped over the pipe. The pipe was of a height such that when Howard stood flat footed, his shoulder joints ached. He rose on tiptoes to ease the pulling pressure.
Jammed between his jaws was a red rubber ball, secured in place via black leather bands buckling closed at the back of his head.
Saliva spilled from the corners of his mouth, making the ball glimmer with wetness.
How had Howard gotten into such a fix, anyhow?
... Hugo.
Hugo, the high school janitor. Or custodian. That's what they called him, the custodian. Hugo was crazy!
Howard had forgotten about Hugo. Watching the passionate lesbian performances of gym teacher Betty Lane and student Jennilee James, Howard had forgotten all but his delighted lust and voyeuristic thrills.
He had forgotten about Hugo, who had returned by night to the school, the school to which, as custodian, he held all keys.
Hugo, who had been the one who rigged up the peephole in the first place!
And Howard had been so engrossed in watching the show through the hole in the wall, that he hadn't even heard Hugo surreptitiously enter.
He'd been too busy watching sweat-soaked, seething Betty Lane demandingly wiggle her tail, and shove her steamy crotch in Jennilee's face.
He hadn't heard the door to the storeroom being opened ... hadn't heard Hugo make his stealthy way across the room.
At the last instant, some sixth sense, some instinct, had warned him he was not alone, but it was too late.
The hairs on his neck prickled and he'd just lifted his eye from the hole to take a look around when strong hands seized him.
One hand clamped over his mouth, while a burly hairy forearm circled his throat, lifting him up.
Fear paralyzed him.
He was bodily hauled out of the spyhole place, knocking over the pile of books he'd been sitting on while watching.
He was lifted to his feet, hugged in the embrace of a huge bearish man.
The hand on his mouth muffled his cry of alarm. Twisting and writhing, he'd managed to glimpse the face of his captor. Hugo!
Hugo hefted him so his feet left the floor and hauled him out of the storeroom without making any more sounds.
His arm across Howard's throat was choking-Howard felt faint as Hugo hauled him out into the hall.
Hugo's mouth was up close to his ear, with the warm breath of the beast.
"Well, well, well! What have we here?!"
Hugo didn't sound like a custodian. His voice was a resonant baritone, a trained instrument rumbling with power held in check, with evil oily insinuation.
"Why, if it isn't Master Phipps!" Hugo murmured, mocking. "Sticking his nose where it doesn't belong!"
Hugo kept his hand clamped over Howard's mouth. His other hand dropped to Howard's crotch and grabbed his groin.
Howard's cock was still stiff from watching the lesbos, though already it was wilting with terror.
Hugo clutched Howard's cock and balls firmly and tightly, letting Howard feel the power in his hand.
"I could squash those balls of yours like eggs," Hugo murmured, "and I will, if you don't cooperate with me, young man!"
Hugo marched him down the hall.
"We need a more private place to have a little chat, Howard," Hugo said.
Hugo took him down to the door of the sub-basement. He let go of Howard's groin, reached into his own pants pocket, pulled something out.
Then he pinched Howard's nostrils shut and stuffed the gag in his mouth.
The door was unlocked. Hugo dragged Howard inside, on a rusted steel landing at the top of a short flight of metal stairs leading to the sunken pit.
He hustled Howard down the stairs, half-carrying him. Howard's shoe leather scuffed on the stone floor as Hugo hustled him into the alcove.
Hugo eased Howard down so the lad lay flat on his belly on the floor. Then Hugo mounted him, straddling his back.
Hugo pulled tight the leather straps of the gag, buckling them into place. He was a big man, a strong man, and his weight flattened Howard on the floor, forcing some of the wind out of him.
Of which he had little enough to spare, on account of the gag and mainly on account of his breathless terror.
When Hugo had first grabbed him, Howard had known fear and guilt, his mind lurching forward to a vision of exposure.
He felt sure he would be dragged to the principal, if not the police. He might well be the one blamed for making the peephole himself!
What would his divorced mother say, when confronted with the scandal? Not to mention his teachers and fellow students!
Now, Howard wished that he had been taken to someone else in authority-anywhere but down here, all alone with Hugo.
He had never dreamed what a terrifying figure the custodian was. Had hardly thought of him at all.
"You've been a naughty boy, Master Howard," Hugo said. "A very naughty boy! We shall have to do something about that, won't we?"
Howard's pleas were reduced to muffled garblings by the gag.
"Spying on the ladies, were you, boy? Ah, yes, quite a sight they make! Especially when they don't know someone is watching! Now, what are we to do with you, eh, Master Howard? I know! Since you've so unfairly seen the ladies in the altogether, it's only fitting justice that you be similarly seen!"
Hugo got off Howard. At least Howard could breathe, now. But apart from that, his situation had only deteriorated.
Now he could see Hugo-not a reassuring sight.
Hugo was in his late forties, a large-headed, burly bear of a fellow. He had short black balding hair, showing a high shiny forehead and a large, thick-featured face, clean-shaven. He had broad sloping shoulders, a barrel chest, heavy haunches and hams. He wore a pale yellow short-sleeved shirt and a pair of dark green work pants and thicksoled utility shoes.
Ordinarily, when he noticed Hugo at all-and who really paid any attention to a custodian-Howard thought of him as a dull, simple, laconic fellow fit for maintenance and handy work, a quintessential and unthinking drone.
But it was a very different Hugo now looming over him. it was like he was a different person, as if he'd let slip his mask of dullness. He looked every inch a cunning, clever man-beast-
A predator.
Certainly he could prey on Howard with no trouble, handling the teen as effortlessly as if he had been a child.
He stripped Howard.
Howard's futile struggles were short-lived. Casually, Hugo pinched a nerve, shooting agonizing pain through the lad.
"Ah ah," Hugo said. "Don't fight!"
Hugo stripped off Howard's shirt, then pulled down his pants and shorts, not bothering to open them, just yanking them down by the main strength in those huge slab hands. Underpants came down along with pants, and Hugo pulled off the lad's shoes and socks along with the rest of the garments.
Now Howard was truly terrified.
Hugo must be some kind of sex pervert!
Sure, the custodian had cut a wall to spy on the girls. But maybe he was queer for boys, too!
Howard was hauled to his feet. From his back pocket, Hugo hauled out a pair of glittering handcuffs.
He clapped one cuff on Howard's right wrist, lifted the lad's hands above his head, pulled the other cuff over the top of an overhead pipe, and clicked the second cuff closed on Howard's other wrist.
Howard now stood manacled to the overhead pipe.
Naked!
Hugo stepped back, like a patron at an art gallery moving back from a canvas so that he might better appreciate it.
He stood thoughtfully cupping his big chin, stroking it. The pipe ran across the center of the alcove, allowing Hugo to walk around the lad.
Howard twisted, his handcuffs rattling against the pipes, head craning on his neck as he turned to look over his shoulder.
"My, my, Master Howard, what a cute ass you have!"
Oh, God! It was true! Hugo was a pervert!
"I may just have to fuck that fat juicy ass if you're not a good boy!"
But he didn't put a hand on Howard, just strolled around to the front of him, looking him over, appraising his captive.
Howard was too terrified to meet Hugo's gaze so he looked at the walls, ceiling, floor ... anywhere but at Hugo.
"Please excuse me for a few minutes, Howard," Hugo said politely.
Hugo left the alcove and prowled the sub-basement, out of Howard's sight.
Howard had to fight to keep from pissing himself. Could he escape?
The pipe was a stout one, well reinforced, and could easily bear his weight. The handcuffs were impervious to his struggles.
Perhaps he could slide across the pipe to some place where it had a joint, so he could conceivably break free-
Hugo returned, lugging a rolled up mattress, which he tossed down into the alcove, then straightened up.
"I'll be right back, Master Howard. Make yourself comfortable."
Hugo crossed to the stairs, climbed out of the pit, and exited through the doors at the top of the landing.
Howard was tortured by his imagination, which conjured up mental image pictures of the most fearful dooms and mutilations.
His body shook with fear. He tried to work the gag out of his mouth, but it was as resistant to his efforts as the handcuffs.
His ears were pitched to the keenest point of acuity, listening for and dreading the return of Hugo.
Howard lost track of time. Later, he would imagine he had been hung up in handcuffs for hours. But Hugo was actually gone no more than ten minutes, real time.
Each slight shifting of the foundation, creaking of the beams, gurgle of distant water, threw Howard into new paroxysms of fear.
Hugo returned ... not alone.
"Hello, Master Howard. I've brought someone to meet you!"
From behind a concealing corner stepped the person who had accompanied Hugo back down to the sub-basement.
Tina! Tina Caligari!
"Hi, Howie," Tina smirked.
Tina wore a lowcut red satin shortsleeved blouse, a pair of black designer jeans, and red leather high heeled shoes.
Her face was heavily made up, with dark brows, purple-blue eye shadow, thick mascara, and red paint glimmering on her wide lips.
Her blouse was unbuttoned down to the middle of her tits, showing their milky white roundnesses plumped upward.
Resting atop her tits was the curious medallion of the downturned five-pointed star, secured via a thin golden chain around her neck.
Hugo-and Tina Caligari?!?
Hugo slipped his arm around Tina's wasp waist. Tina had that classic hourglass figure, broad in bosom and bottom and hips, with a small waist.
Her heavy bosom swelled the front of her too-tight blouse, which seemed that a too-deep breath on her part would send all her buttons popping.
Tina was evil ... evil, too, he should say, like Hugo. She leered at him.
"What do you think, darling?"
"He's got a cute little cock," Tina said.
Howard felt like a slab of meat hanging up on a butcher's hook.
"Make our guest feel at home, Tina. Show him your flesh!"
"Anything you say, Hugo?"
"Tina is a most accommodating miss," Hugo smirked, "so very eager to please. And so well endowed by a bountiful Nature! Look at her, Howard, take a good look."
Howard stared down at the floor.
"Of course, Howard, if you'd rather have my cock shoved up your ass instead of enjoying Tina's charms, I'll be glad to oblige."
Howard quickly looked at Tina.
"That's better," Hugo smiled, a mirthless chilling smile.
Hugo attached one of his huge hands to Tina's tits.
"Yes, Tina has some sensational assets," Hugo went on, running his hands over her tits, fondling them.
Tina lewdly smirked and squirmed.
"But don't take my word for it, Howard," Hugo said. "See for yourself! Take off your clothes, Tina!"
"Yes, master."
"Make it nice and slow and sexy. Give our guest a good show. Then Howard will know that we mean him nothing but nice things."
"Can I have some coke? Just to get in the mood, master?"
"You can have some cock, Tina. Some of Howard's cock! Make it stand up nice and stiff and straight and strong!"
"Yes, master."
Hugo unlooped his clutching octopus arm from Tina, urging the girl forward.
Tina came alive, turning the full force of her sexuality on Howard. Tina was another predatory beast, a female animal.
She was seventeen going on thirty. Seventeen years old (young) by calender time, but infinitely older and more experienced.
She was overflowing with female bounty and with the hot juices of youth. Her mane of black hair was dark as a raven's wing. Her body was ripe, womanly. She was a sex bomb, a temptress.
Seventeen-but the sin shining in her eyes was old, older than Solomon, as old as Sodom and Gomorrah.
She moved forward slowly, aware now of the power in her body. Even doing nothing but standing around breathing, she oozed sex appeal.
But when she really turned it on, as she was obviously doing now, it was like she was possessed by some spirit of dark lust.
She moved with loose-limbed feline grace, breasts straining against the front of her red blouse, wide hips swaying.
Her high heels clicked out a stuttering little tattoo as she moved to Howard. Her overripe body seemed ready to burst the confining bonds of her clothes. So, she took them off!
Performing a seductive strip tease which overwhelmed even Howard's terror at the predicament he was in....
Only, just what was it that he had gotten caught up in, anyhow?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nola Falconer took Luke to the dark side of the moon.
It was night and they were in her bizarre bedroom and Luke writhed in her bed, in kinky bondage.
He lay stretched out on his back on her bed in spread-eagled bondage and dressed in sexy female lingerie.
He mumbled, "If any of the guys at school ever find out about this ... "
"Who's going to tell them?" Nola asked. "You?"
Luke gave a shaky little laugh. "Me?! Never!"
"Well, I'm certainly not going to tell," Nola said. "Not even a teacher with tenure could get away with this!"
"I feel so strange ... "
"You love it."
Luke said nothing.
Nola pinched one of his nipples, really hard. "Owwww!"
Still pinching, she hissed, "You love it!"
"Yes, yes! I do!"
"Of course you do," she laughed, ending the pinch. His nipple burned, throbbed.
"It's freaky ... but I do love it!" He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He muttered, "But sooooooo strange ... "
"You're a freak," she said. "And so am I! That's why you're here now, with me! Believe me, we're not alone. You'd be surprised at how many other freaks there are ... people you would never suspect ... some of them you know."
"Really?! Who?"
"Maybe I'll tell you ... later."
Nola Falconer's bedroom was like nothing you'd expect. It wss located in a small house in a lonely stretch of property on the outskirts of town.
"I like my privacy," Nola explained when asked why she lived in such an out of the way place. Yes, she needed privacy, all right!
The bedroom was located on the second floor. Strange room!
It was painted all in black. Dominating the space was a big bed with a stout frame of dark hewn beams and slats. One wall, to the left of the bed, was painted with blood-red lines, arcs, geometric figures, and symbols. It looked like a diagram out of a geometry book. Luke didn't understand geometry too well, and he was a little hazy about the wall painting. It looked like an astrological chart. But appearing time and again in the diagram was the downpointed star, the same which she wore on a necklace ... which she wore now.
She wore little else. Her face was masked, though, with a domino black eye mask. She'd put it on when she took him into her bedroom and hadn't taken it off since. She also wore a pair of thin black opera gloves which came up past her elbows, secured in place at the upper arms by a pair of leather armbands.
She also wore a pair of thigh-high black leather high heeled boots. And, of course, the pendant, hanging on a chain around her neck. She never took that off.
And that was all she wore.
Her tits, cunt, ass, back, belly-all bare.
By comparison, he wore more than her.
He wore a red and black lace-paneled corset, stockings, and rope.
The corset laced up the back. It was pulled very tight, so his body was constricted from ribcage to waist.
From the bottom of the corset stretched fat frilly garters. Their tabs were pinned to the tops of his stockings.
Nola hadn't any shoes which would fit his big feet, so. they remained clad solely in stockings.
There were four rope loops, each wrapped around one of his limbs at ankles and wrists, binding him spread to the four corners of the bed.
The ropes were tightly secured to the bedposts. Luke was tightly secured to the bed. The chafing ropes creaked from his squirmings.
Flanking the head of the bed was a pair of sombre ebony cabinets, night tables, each of which was topped with candelabra.
Those many-mouthed candlesticks all held red candles, scented candles which perfumed the bedroom with musky incense as they burned.
Light from many candles lit the room, creating a zone of golden light around her bed which was hemmed in with gloom.
The flickering candles and smoke threw weird patterns and shapes on the ceiling. When Nola moved, the flames were all affected.
She moved now, packing a pipe with opiated hashish from a chunk as big as a lump of coal which sat on the night table.
One might well have wondered how she could afford such luxury on a school teacher's slim salary. The answer, of course, was that she couldn't. But Nola Falconer had other ways of getting her money.
Match struck flint and spluttered into flame. Her fellatio lips curled around the stem of the pipe as she puffed the hashish alight.
When she got it going, she put the pipe to Luke's mouth.
"No, I'v e had enough," he said shakily.
"Do it."
He really had had enough, but there was no arguing with Nola. He breathed in the opiated black smoke.
A few puffs sent his head soaring higher. But he really had had enough. Since he came over here tonight, she had plied him with drugs until he didn't know which was was up, which was down.
Dimly he intuited that she'd used the drugs to break down his inhibitions and get him to play her kinky games.
Well, what of it?
He'd never played games like these, but he could see where he could develop a real appetite for them.
Nola Falconer took the pipe from his lips and puffed on it herself. Then she closed the cover, extinguishing the fire gnawing at the chunk, setting down the pipe.
She leaned over him. "My mouth is dry."
She kissed him on the mouth. Her lips fastened to his, forming a pressure seal. Her tongue lanced into his mouth.
As she kissed him, she fondled him.
The corset cups were deflated, since his male pecs could not fill them. Nola had pulled them down, so she could get at his nipples.
She squeezed his pec and pinched his nipple. Both nipples were sore from her hot sucking kisses, her sharp pinches.
His cock was limp, thick. When she pinched with her nails digging into his nipple, his cock jumped and twitched.
Her tongue tasted his mouth, lazily at first, then with rising urgency.
She broke off the kiss.
Luke's eyes were heavy-lidded, glazed, glimmering. His lids drooped, but he wasn't sleepy, not at all.
From the night table Nola Falconer took what looked like a thin slat of leather, one of whose ends had been sliced into long spidery fringes.
She playfully dangled it across his face.
It tickled.
"Know what this is?" she asked.
He shook his head, no. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and he meant to save it for better things than talking.
Besides, he was so high that his tongue tripped over words. Best say nothing at all.
Nola explained, "This is a pussy whip."
"Wow. Far out."
"Or a cock whip," she smirked.
His penis twitched some more.
"I'm going to use it on you," she said.
She rose from her position sitting on the edge of the bed, leather boots creaking as her long legs unfolded.
Those boots rose almost to the tops of her thighs. Like pirate boots, they were.
Standing facing him at the bedside, she bent a leg, placing her foot on his bare chest where it rose out of the top of the corset.
"Do you like to play games, Lucas?"
That was what she had asked him earlier in the night, after she'd already gotten him high and loose enough to not give a damn.
"Do you like to play games? I do!"
She did. She used all her adult sexual wiles to tempt him. Luke was a young stud, but he was raw and undeveloped compared to a cunning predatory seductress such as she.
She'd gotten him so hot and bothered that he couldn't think straight. The stiff rod betwen his legs had done all the thinking for him.
His tyrannical cock knew only that it needed satisfaction, release, pleasure. In pursuit of those goals, it drove the rest of Luke willy-nilly before it.
In her strange bedroom she'd stripped him, straining his incredible tension all the way to the breaking point, never taking, taking him too far.
She'd made it sound like a bit of harmless fun, dressing him in lingerie. At first he'd balked, until she accused him of being cowardly and unsophisticated.
So he'd given in-it was impossible not to give in to her. And so, he'd been corseted and put in nylons.
His female garments were no stranger to him than her hot and kinky leather boots, gloves, and mask had been to him.
The mask looked like an oval shadow banding the middle of her face, with her intense gray eyes peering through the holes of the mask.
No girl of his experience had played such "games." But then his experience in bed, while extensive, had been directed at high school.
One thing led to another, drawing him in deeper and deeper into her web until now, here he was, bound in lingerie with her boot on his chest.
She playfully ground the high spiked heel into his flesh. His cock jumped some more. His heart hammered wildly.
She slid the booted foot up to his face, pressing the bottom of its sharp pointed toe against his lips.
"Oil up your mouth. Kiss my boot."
He kissed it. Sucked it, too, first the toe, then the spiked heel, which she'd put in his mouth and pumped back and forth.
She put both feet flat on the floor, the high heels accenting the muscles of her long legs, arching her rump even more.
She spread her legs and put her hand between and rubbed her cunt.
"Here's something else which could use some oiling," she smirked.
She stopped fingering herself to climb up on the bed, mounting up so she straddled his head and faced his feet.
Her folded legs pressed his head. The thick sweet animal smell of leather mixed with the even more animalistic musk of her sweltering cunt.
She leaned forward over him, not yet fastening her slit to his face.
One gloved hand cupped and squeezed his balls, fondling them. She took hold of the root of his cock, twisting and kneading it.
Then she dangled the little cock teasing whip over his genitals, flicking them with the leather tips, sending shuddering sensation shotting through him.
He squirmed, moaned, pulled against the ropes. He liked the feel of the ropes. Something about them was comforting....
Like since he was tied up, he wasn't REALLY responsible for all the kinky numbers Nola was running on his mind and body.
Even though he knew that if those ropes were removed, he'd stay right where he was.
Then she dipped her hips, brushing her soft sticky cunt lips against his mouth, which puckered up to kiss it.
She sat on his face, engulfing him in hot cunt flesh. He shoved his tongue into her and licked and lapped her cunt.
She worked on his .cock and balls with the little whip. It didn't really hurt, though some of her more forceful effects stung.
But it really got under his skin.
She clutched his cock in her gloved hand, squeezing its bulbous head, then playing the little teasing whip over it.
His firing lust was demonstrated not only in the eagerness with which he tongued her dripping cunt, but in the stiffness which rose in his cock.
Now his penis was jerkingly erect, swollen, a bar of hot flesh.
Now Nola's cunt dripped with saliva and vaginal secretions.
Nola raised up, her cunt coming loose from his lips and tongue. She set the genital teaser down on the night table before crawling on hands and knees to his middle.
As she crawled, the white moons of her ass jiggled. Below them, wetness shone stickily in her well mouthed cunt.
Nola turned, straddled his hips, smirked lewdly at his rampant erection.
Candlelight flamed in the black pupils of her gray eyes. Shimmering highlights glowed like neon bars in the black leather mirrors of her polished boots.
Bright spraying sparks of sharp light glinted off her golden necklace, and most of all, off her starry medallion, which lay in the hollow between her pert, pointy breasts.
She straddled his hips, her black boots rubbing and hugging his hips, his stockinged thighs.
Taking hold of the red log of his stiff cock between black-gloved palms, she rolled it, pulled, played with it.
A fist closed around the cock, clutching it so its head protruded from the top of her hand, inches from her dripping cunt.
She dipped her hips down, pressing her cunt lips to his cock, swaying back and forth so she massaged her sex on it. "Please...." Luke moaned. "PI ease what, Lucas?"
"Please fuck me!"
"Ah, ah!" she waved a chiding gloved finger in front of his face, correcting him by saying, "Please fuck me, mistress! Say it, Lucas." He said it.
She pressed the tip of his cock to her flesh, wedged open intricately folded sex lips, and wedged his cock head inside.
Luke's sizzling cock strained with hot lust. He gasped at the pleasure of engulfment, of envelopment.
Still, she teased and erotically tormented him, by so very slowly lowering herself down on his cock.
Her greedy sex swallowed his rod hole, sucking it inside her.
Lust was stamped on her masked face. That lust could never be masked!
She sat on the cock, squirming atop it, wriggling around on it.
Luke wriggled under her, arching his back, buttocks taut, thrusting his cock up in her with frantic lust.
She took hold of both his stiff nipples in her gloved fingers and twisted them like radio knobs, back and forth.
She sat on his cock, pressing him down, forcing him to follow her lead.
And then she rode him.
Even when he came, she was not yet done with him.
Hardly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Back in the sub-basement boiler room of Stevenson High School, Tina Caligari put on a slow and sexy strip tease.
Or, rather, took it off.
Lust conquered fear as Howard watched. Like most other horny teen boys, he'd creamed for the pin-up dreams in the skin magazines.
But Tina was just as hot and fucky as any of those pin-up dolls, with one all-important difference between she and them:
She was no paper doll, no glossy photo in a centerfold.
She was the real thing!
Hot-live-in the flesh!
The flesh, yes, ah, the flesh!
She liked to touch herself. That was obvious. She caressed herself with the masturbatory fervor of the true narcissist.
When her red blouse was unbuttoned, he saw her black bra. Standing behind her, Hugo gentlemanly helped her remove her blouse.
The black bra was too tight, a size, perhaps two, too small. Her creamy tits were plumped up, trembling on the point of overflowing.
She put a hand against the wall and leaned forward, her tits only a hair's-breadth away from popping free from that taut black bra.
She slipped off her high heels, set them down.
Her hands cupped her tits, feeling them through the bra, sliding down her flat belly, rubbing hips and thighs.
Then she reached for the top of her jeans and popped them open, pulling down the zipper.
The jeans were tight and she wriggled her way out of them, tits jiggling, wide hips squirming and shaking and rolling like a belly dancer.
She wore black lace panties ... Once the jeans were down below her knees, they came off easier, as she shucked them off her legs.
"Don't be so distant," Hugo urged. "Fr iend Howard needs the personal touch!"
Howard involuntarily gasped through his gag as she came closer, until the tips of her tits brushed his chest.
"Hi, Howie!" Tina purred. "Do you like me? We're gonna be real good friends!"
He looked down, caught by the sight of her tits.
She leaned into him, nuzzling him with a bra whose black lace cups hummed with straining tension-As did Howard.
She leaned into him, pressed him. His skin sparked where brushed by hers. She was so soft, so smooth, yet so firm. She said, "Like my tits, Howie?"
"Everyone likes your tits, Tina," Hugo laughed.
"Then have a better look at them!" Tina took off her bra, her breasts tumbling out, spilling out ivory mounds with fat brown nipples.
Howard's eyes bulged as he stared down at her naked tits, nipples now stiff.
Tina leaned into him, rubbing her chest against hers. She stood up on her toes so she could press his face.
Howard's gagged face was engulfed in hot tit flesh, buttery smooth except for nipples standing out like pebbles.
Tina pressed him, rubbed, stroked his seething flesh.
Howard was uncertain what this was all about, what he had stumbled into, but he knew this much-
He sure didn't want Tina to stop!
Pulling back, she went flat-footed, running her fingers over his face.
"Too bad you're gagged, Howie," she said. "If you weren't gagged, then you could kiss my tits! Kiss them and suck them!"
Tina cupped her tits and fondled her stiff nipples.
"Would you like to do that, Howie? Suck my nipples? Hmmmm?"
So vigorously did Howard nod yes, that he nearly strained his neck.
"But you can't suck my big fat nipples," Tina pouted, "not with that nasty old gag in your mouth!"
She fingered the ball of the gag, soaked with saliva.
"Can I take off Howie's gag, master?" Tina asked.
"That depends on Howard," Hugo said. "If he's wise enough not to fuss and holler, the gag can come off."
"You won't yell, will you, Howie?" Tina asked.
Howard shook his head, no.
"All right, Tina, you may take out the gag," Hugo said equably. "But I warn you, Howard, if you annoy my ears by shouting for help, it won't be Tina's sugar tits that you're sucking-it will be my cock!"
Tina unbuckled the gag and freed it from Howard's mouth.
"Oh, it's all drippy with saliva!" she squealed in a mock little-girl voice.
"What ... what's this all about?" Howard stumblingly asked, jaws aching and tongue thick from the gagging.
"No questions, Howard," Hugo said. "Just use your mouth for what Tina wants. Presently, all will be revealed."
"But. ... I don't understand ... "
Tina held a finger across his lips. "Shhhh. Let's have a kiss."
She kissed him on the mouth. Her lipstick tasted like warm paint, but her mouth was warmer still, simmering like a kettle on the boil.
He felt her tits pressing his flesh, flattening their masses against his chest as she worked her tongue in his mouth for a time.
When she stopped kissing, she said, "But you really want to kiss my tits, don't you, Howie?"
"Yes ... oh, yes!"
She rose on tiptoe, leaning against him, while he scrunched his head down, snuggling his chin against his chest.
She pressed her fat throbbing nipple to his mouth and he kissed it madly, kissed it and as much of the surrounding tit flesh.
"Gr eedy little devil, ain't ya?" Tina giggled
"And we know all about devils, don't we?" Hugo remarked.
After pressing her other tit to his mouth for kisses, she said, "Suck my nipple."
She fed the nipple in his mouth and he sucked it.
"He IS greedy!" Tina chortled.
"That's good," Hugo said.
Tina pulled away, wetness glimmering from the tips of both tits where Howard had so passionately sucked them.
Howard looked down, below her tits.
"Howie's staring at my pussy," Tina announced in a sing-song voice.
"He'll see it better when you take off your panties," Hugo said.
Before taking off her panties, Tina rubbed her crotch through them. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and peeled them down.
She had a bush as black as the hair on her head ... a juicy pubis, with fully fleshed lips ... rounded ivory thighs.
She pressed her front against Howard's, rubbing her crotch into his.
Then she cupped his balls. They quivered in her palm. Her fingers kneaded his cock.
"Can you make it hard for me, Howie? Let's see ... maybe I better help, huh?"
Tina went to her knees at his feet.
Staring at the top of her raven haired head, Howard could not believe that she was going to do what she was going to do.
But she did.
After fingering and fondling his genitals, she said she wanted to kiss his cock.
Her glossy red lips puckered up, fastening on his cock head, smooching it. She kissed cock head, shaft, balls, nuzzling them as well.
She stuck out her tongue to lick his balls. Ball flesh rippled under her gliding tongue, tightening in the sac.
His cock surged, swelled, stiffened. As it hardened, Tina increased her ministrations, licking and lapping.
"Ah ... that's what I wanted to see!"
Tina moved her head to the side so as not to block Hugo's view of Howard's cock, which now rose like a red horn from his hips.
"Most impressive," Hugo said drolly. "Why, his cock is as hard as it was when he was peeking through the hole in the wall! How very fortunate for you, Howard, that I was just escorting Tina into the basement so we might share an intimate moment or two!"
Hugo went on to explain how he had discovered Howard while making a routine check, told Tina to hide and wait for him. Then he had captured Howard.
He did not explain how he came to be in possession of the gag and handcuffs; Howard did not ask, either.
Howard hardly listened to Hugo's explanations, since nearly all of him was absorbed by Tina's toying with his cock.
Her lipstick smudged. Wetness smeared her face as she nuzzled the hard cock. She licked her way up from his balls.
When she reached the top of his cock, she took it in her mouth.
Glossy red lips pressed his shaft while she chewed and nibbled his cock head, polishing it with her tongue.
Then she took it deeper in her mouth, taking virtually all of it.
Her lips were crushed velvet, her mouth simmered, her tongue was a flexing tentacle of live silk.
Thumb and forefinger ringed his cock at the base while she bobbed her head up and down, working out on his cock.
As she sucked him off, her bobbing head movements agitated the pendant she wore around her neck, that weird starry medallion.
It bobbed from tit to tit, shaken by her head as she mouthed his member.
Metal rattled as the handcuffs scraped against the overhead pipe. Howard's plump buttocks tightened up.
His hips clumsily lurched forward and backward, thrusting his cock between her lips, moving with her head.
Her mouth was a hot sucking hole, gobbling him up.
Feverish Howard whimpered from the intense strain of holding back his orgasm, which was close to triggering.
Then he felt like he was tumbling down a whirlpool as-
He came!
CHAPTER NINE
After Luke's coming cock injected her steamy cunt with creamy semen, Nola Falconer returned the favor with a different kind of injection.
"Hey, I don't know about doing this kind of shit," Luke said weakly.
"Oh, don't be such a baby!"
"I mean, I get high, but not off the heavy shit!"
"This isn't heavy. Just a speedball. Just a shot of cocaine with a little morphine to take off the edge."
She stood by the bedside, leaning over the night table, preparing the syringe.
"I dunno, Miss Falconer."
"Mi ss Falconer"--all this night, no matter how intimate or active they got, he had always addressed her as "Miss Falconer." The one or two times he tried to call her "Nola," she told him to call her "Miss Falconer." To tell the truth, he himself felt more comfortable addressing her formally. "Nola" didn't sound right in his mouth ... a bit disrespectful.
But to tell the truth, Luke was finding out all kinds of things about himself.
But now the teacher said, "When we're here, you don't have to call me by my name. 'Mistress' will do fine."
"Mistress."
She wet a cotton ball with alcohol and swabbed it inside his elbow. It tingled coolly.
"Hey, what's that?!" he cried.
"Hygiene. Alcohol sterilizes those nasty old germs."
Now he discovered the true meaning of bondage as she neared him with the needle, ropes creaking as he squirmed.
"Miss Falconer, please, wait!"
"Well, of course if you're AFRAID," she sniffed, "I'll take the first shot myself! But I t hought you had more guts than that ... more balls. Do they still call cowards 'chicken?' They did in my day ... of course, nowadays, 'chicken' has an altogther different meaning ... but that's another story. Are you chicken, Lucas? Yellow?"
She held her gloating face looming over his.
"Are you yellow? A scaredy-cat? Hmmmm?"
"No!"
She patted his cheek.
"That's a good boy. Now just hold still, this isn't even going to hurt. Don't worry, I'm a trained nurse."
Later-much later-he would wonder about that reference to being a "trained nurse." Another mystery in her past.
But now he didn't have time to worry. Her hands were bare of gloves for this delicate work. She hit him up with the speed ball.
It seemed to kick in even before the plunger was all the way down, and after it hit him, Luke Cranach didn't give a damn about anything, he felt so good.
He giggled.
"How do you feel, Lucas?"
"Great! Sensational! Sen-fucking-sational!" She put the works away and pulled on her gloves. Luke didn't know or care that she had not taken a shot herself.
Nola Falconer got out a vibrator and a tube of lubricant.
First she just caressed and fondled Luke with her gloved hands, with the throbbing tips of her tits, with her leather-booted thighs.
His cock got hard right away, harder than ever. It was bright red, shiny, bulging, and wrapped with throbbing purple-blue veins.
So was his face.
She kneaded his cock, stroked his balls, licked them. He moaned continually.
She pinched, tweaked, sucked his nipples. His stiff red cock jumped this way and that. She squeezed it.
Then she put the vibrator into play.
It was eight inches long, bullet-shaped, with a sleek streamlined white plastic casing and a stout shaft.
"What-what's that?!" he gasped.
"A vibrator," Nola Falconer said.
"For-for you?"
"No, for you. You'll like it."
Nola fondled it suggestively.
"It looks like a cock," Luke said...."Does that disturb you, Lucas?"
"Yes. No. I mean, I don't give a fuck. Pardon my language, Miss Falconer."
"Mistress," she corrected.
"Oh, yeah, right. Mistress. I'm sorry, I forgot. Maybe 'cause I'm flashing so damned much. Whew!"
"Let's give it a try, shall we?"
That wasn't a question. Nola flicked on the switch at the base. Within, the vibrator began its battery powered buzzing.
She stroked it like a humming wand up and down the insides of Luke's stockinged thighs. At first he was anxious and tense.
"Wow! That feels nice!"
"So you like it, do you, Lucas?"
"It's great!"
"Even though it looks like a cock, hmmmm That's all right. After all, you're dressed for the occasion."
He really started squirming when the vibrator massaged his golden thighs emerging from the tops of the nylons.
He pumped his hips as she circled the vibrator around his genitals, coming close but then never touching the hard cock, the swollen balls.
She took it away from his groin and he groaned. She pressed his nipples with the vibrator's humming head.
Hot and horny, he jerkily humped his hips, his stiff cock waving like a baton.
Sudden silence fell when she switched the vibrator off.
"You-you're not gonna stop yet, are you?"
"No, Lucas. Here, open your mouth and hold this for me."
She stuffed the inert vibrator in his mouth. Then she pulled off her gloves and got out the tube of lubricant.
She sat down on the side of the bed. When she reached between his legs, he humped his hips, trying to rub his straining cock against her.
She squirted some clear lubricant on her middle finger and reached between his buttocks.
"Hey, what are you doing?!"
"Trust me. Relax! Don't hold your ass so tight!"
Her free hand grabbed his balls and ungently squeezed him. Gasping, he submitted to her ministrations.
Spreading his buttocks, she smeared the lubricant into the folds of his dimpled asshole...."Oh, wow!" Luke gasped.
"I told you, you'd like it."
Nola smeared more lubricant on her finger, coating the full length, then pressed the tip to his greased, pulsating asshole.
"Oh!"
He cried out as she pushed her finger past his sphincter, burying it inside him. She worked it in up to the knuckle.
Her other hand took hold of his cock. She rubbed the ball of her thumb against the most sensitive part of his cock.
At the same time, she finger fucked his ass.
Luke worked his hips, responding. Nola stretched out his hole some more and took her finger out.
She left the tube of lubricant on the mattress between his spread stockinged legs. Then she mounted up at the head of the bed.
"My cunt's cooling off, Lucas. Heat it up with your pretty mouth."
"After I came in there?!"
"So what? It's your come."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Don't expect me to suck your cock if you won't do me."
"I will. Are you gonna suck me?"
"That depends on how well you suck me. And I see you let the vibrator fall out of your mouth after I told you to hold it. You don't follow instructions too well."
"Sorry, Miss Falconer. It was too big, it fell out of my mouth."
"I'm not very much interested in your alibis, either. Unless you shape up, Lucas, you might require a few lessons in discipline."
"I'm sorry, Miss Fal-I mean, Mistress. Please let me out you out. Please!"
"Well, if you insist," she said.
She squatted over his face, black booted legs hugging his head. His face was framed upside-down between her leather thighs.
His mouth gaped open and she sat down on it....
"Mmmmph!"
She rocked and squirmed around on his face, smearing him with his juices, and hers. He licked, slurped, sucked, swallowed.
After he had settled into a nice groove of tonguing her, she pulled her cunt off her sticky face to compliment his efforts.
Before he could reply, she sat back down on his face.
Then she leaned forward, crouching over him, he still tonguing her.
Taking hold of his rampant red cock, she teased, squeezed, nibbled, kissed, and sucked his cock.
Her cunt on his face muffled his continual moans of pleasure.
She sucked him close to orgasm, then took her mouth off his cock.
Which REALLY made him moan!
Ignoring him, she sat up straight, on his face, and greased the vibrator with lubricant from the tube.
After a quick but thorough job of lubricating it, she once more leaned forward, reaching down between his legs.
She darted the vibrator between his buttocks, snugged it to his greased asshole, and pushed it in.
Fleshquakes rocked him as he was anally-penetrated. He was noisy, too. She'd pulled her cunt off his mouth before penetrating him, just in case he was the kind that bites. She was sure he wouldn't, but she hadn't eluded a 17-state police dragnet for years by taking chances.
Luke didn't bite, though-he hollered. For more.
"Oh! Fuck me, Miss Falconer! Fuck my ass!"
"What a slut!" she laughed, delighted.
It was a medium-sized, well greased vibrator and she fed a bit more than half of it up his ass, enough so he couldn't expel it.
Its base protruded past the stretched ring of his asshole, wiggling as he did. Leaving it there, she returned to his cock.
She had to stop sucking him twice to shush him. Finally he bit the inside of his mouth to keep from crying aloud from the pleasure.
Pleasure so keen and sharp and clean that it hurt ... a good hurt.
Just when his cock throbbed and jerked in her sucking mouth prepatory to coming, she flicked on the heretofore inert switch.
The vibrator came alive in his ass.
He came.
She had her mouth off his swollen tomato-red cock and held it aimed out from her, wanting to see how far it would spurt.
The first arching spurt of come fell almost at his feet, his bound stockinged feet. The following spasms did not reach quite so far.
She milked him....
She switched off the vibrator-if she left it on, ropes or no ropes, he was liable to vibrate clear off the bed.
... When he finally slumped back in a semi-conscious stupor of sheer bodily bliss, Nola Falconer finally dismounted.
A moment or two later, Luke was roused from his dreamy daze by a sizzling bolt of white hot light.
Even with his eyes closed, they hurt from the bright light.
The light went away, but his vision was obscured by cascading colored dots which danced and shimmered.
Just as he was able to see, another lightning bolt flashed.
Then another. And another.
Nola Falconer stood taking pictures of him with a flash camera, the kind that develops the photo right on the spot in a few seconds.
"Hey, what are you doing?!"
"Taking pictures. Souvenirs for my collection. I'll put them in my scrapbook."
"Oh. Far out," he murmured.
He was so drugged and blissful and floating ... he didn't have a care in the world. As long as he kept his eyes closed, the exploding flashes weren't too bad.
Nola snapped off a whole roll of film's worth of pictures.
All the pictures included Luke's face. They also showed him in a corset and stockings, with the vibrator coming out of his ass. Only a few of the photos showed his bonds, most did not.
When she was done, she scooped up the pictures and put them in a safe place. They would serve as insurance.
At any point should Luke become balky or rebellious, all she had to do was confront him with the incriminating photos.
The threat of having those pix anonymously mailed to his parents and relatives, or even scattered wholesale through the high school, would bring the most stubborn youngster to heel.
Not that she expected any trouble with Luke ... he was already ensnared.
Caught up in her web, as he would later be caught up in the rest of the webs woven by the small but potent clutch of Satanists in this town.
Nola wanted her tits sucked.
Luke sucked them as long as she wanted.
It was late ... soon she would have to rouse him with black coffee and fresh air and a cold shower.
Then, well, she could send him on his way, home to his parents. But he would be hers.
Still, for now, she could press herself against him, savoring the feel of his fine strong flesh under hers.
Somehow, he got to asking her about the medallion.
"I was hoping you'd ask, Lucas." she smiled. "As a matter-of-fact, it's a badge of sorts."
"A badge?"
"It shows that I'm the member of a group, a very special group. A club, which has very select membership."
"Yeah? Could I join?" he asked.
"You already have," she gloated.
Meanwhile, back at the high school sub-basement, the unrolled mattress was spread out on the alcove floor.
Tina Caligari was crouched down on hands and knees on the mattress, taking it from both ends from Howard and Hugo.
Howard had been taken down from the pipe to which he had been cuffed. No longer did any reason remain to keep him under restraint.
No red-blooded horny teen male needed to be kept in chains when presented with the prospect of fucking Tina.
Grooving both Howard's sore wrists were chafed marks where the metal bracelets had irritated his skin.
He ached in some places from the manhandling Hugo had given him during the capture earlier this night.
But though the time of capture was not much more than an hour or two away, it seemed like a lifetime ago to Howard.
He was now a one hundred per cent enthusiastic convert to the program. He didn't know quite what Hugo was all about, but whatever it was, it was okay for him, as long as he got to put it to Tina.
Like he now did.
The blowjob from her had been unbelievable. ANY blowjob would have been unreal from the horny teen.
But to have sexy Tina's painted red lips wrapped around his cock-
Fantastic!
Now he fitted his hot tool to another of Tina's holes ... Her cunt.
She got down on her hands and knees, thighs spread to flash her fleshy cunt lips and black bushed mound under ivory buttocks.
Looking over her shoulder at him, she invitingly wiggled her tail.
Hugo urged Howard to take up the invitation. An invitation Howard would not have refused, even if he had been dead.
(Which he could well have been, had he not responded properly. Tina was a hot slut, but Hugo was one of the most dangerous men alive, a force as pitiless as indifferent Nature itself. Right down here in the sub-basement was a furnace big and hot enough to incinerate the remains of a victim. But" such drastic methods would not be required, since Howard had come across.)
So, instead of strangulation, murder, and cremation, Howard's lust had won him the chance to fuck Tina Caligari.
He got down on his knees behind her, his cock twitching with anticipation.
Tina crawled backward, pressing her buttocks against his cock, rubbing her creamy buttocks against his penis.
Howard was a bit unsure and fumbling.
Tina reached behind herself and took hold of his cock, pressing its head to her cunt and rubbing it to her.
Then she fitted the rod between her sexlips and stuffed it inside.
Howard was all but overcome by the sensation supreme of having his heated cock engulfed in her slippery steamy sex.
As he entered her, Tina rocked back on her knees, aiding in the penetration, squirming as she took his rod.
Howard fucked her.
His hips slapped her buttocks while his cock pumped in and out with the mechanical frenzy of a pumping machine.
Bliss, pure bliss!
He fit in Tina like a hand in a glove ... rubber glove. Her satiny sheath clutched his cock, a voracious devouring hole.
Tina braced herself against Howard's forceful fucking. Now that his cock had been sucked and he had already come once, the edge was off his arousal and he could go for a much longer time.
Her dangling tits showed stiff nipples, mammaries jiggling, dangling udder-like.
Hugo got excited and joined the fun.
He opened his shirt, took down his pants, his shorts.
His erection was shaped like a wedge. Uncircumcised, with a fat blunt head and stoutly swollen eight inch shaft.
His genital endowment was quite overwhelming, and seeing it gave Howard creeping feelings of inadequacy, as he had felt a few years ago when his classmates were pubescent and hung while he had no hair on his balls.
The sight of Hugo's hard cock triggered other fears, mainly the fear that Hugo would try to use his cock on Howard, as he had earlier threatened to do.
Thinking about that made Howard's quivering asshole quiver harder.
Suppose Hugo tried to use that cock on him...?
Happily for Howard, he was not forced to deal with that prospect, since Hugo went to his knees in front of Tina's face.
Holding his hard cock upright, he pulled her head down.
Her mouth dilated and Hugo shoved his cock into it, pulling Tina's raven-haired head right straight down on it.
Tina sucked his cock while being fucked by Howard.
Howard tried not to look at Hugo while he put it to Tina, but his gaze kept coming to something shiny bright on Hugo's chest.
It was a medallion identical to the downturned five-pointed star worn by Tina.
Surely this was no coincidence!
But Howard felt his orgasm bubbling up inside him and he didn't bother to think at all. Mindlessly he hammered his cock into Tina.
Again and again he plunged it into her until he could hold back no more.
His hands clutched her hips. She wriggled like an eel, slippery with sweat, hips tilting and rocking.
Howard rammed his cock home, and came.
More fireworks of the flesh, as his cock erupted with lava-like semen.
Spasms shook him as he pumped his load in Tina's hot hole.
The orgasm was wrenching, turning him even more inside-out than the blowjob. Adding to his excitement was Tina's cunt, clamping down on his stiff cock, milking it dry of the last remnants of come.
Tina moaned, moaning around the cock filling her mouth. Hugo's cock, which she slung her mouth up and down on.
Hugo put both hands on her head, nearly covering her face, hiding it under his black-haired paws except for a thin strip in the middle, where the cock fucked her sucking mouth.
When he came, he pulled her head down on his cock, stuffing the cock head into her open throat as he unloaded.
Tina's face was red and shiny, eyes shut, thick mascaraed lashes fluttering, cheeks collapsing on the coming cock.
Jaws and throat flexed as she sucked and swallowed:
Gulp-gulp-gulp....
Then there was a lull, as the threesome rested and recovered.
Tina's nostrils flared. Her mouth widened, sucking in air around the throbbing rod lodged in her sucking mouth.
"Here we are," Hugo said, "one big happy-family! And now you have joined our little family, Howard."
"You mean ... you and Tina?"
"No. There are more of us. A little club, you might say, a little society of like-minded individuals, students and teachers, who share our appetites for such pasttimes and pleasures as this."
"Students? And teachers?!" Howard boggled.
"A most congenial circle of friends," Hugo said. "You'll like them all!"
"That thing you're wearing around your neck," Howard asked hesitantly, "does that have something to do with the club?"
Hugo held his gold chain, dangling the medallion.
"The pentagram? Yes, that's our sign of membership. You know, like a Rotary pin or a Masonic symbol."
"I've got the feeling that your club isn't much like the Rotary!"
"That's very perceptive of you, Howard. You're a very perceptive boy. Quite clever of you to find my little spyhole."
Howard shrugged.
"You're the head of the audio-visual crew, aren't you, Howard?"
"Well, not the main guy in charge, but pretty important in it."
"And you can operate video cameras? Make videotapes?"
"Oh, sure!"
"Marvelous! I know you're going to be a real asset to our little group."
"Uh, this group of yours ... what's it all about?"
"Power. Lust. Pleasure of the senses ... like now."
Howard and Hugo conducted their conversation across Tina's bowed sweaty ivory back, with Howard's cock still penetrating her, and Hugo's cock in her mouth. . Howard said tentatively, "Uh, that star ... "
"The pentagram."
"Yes. Uh, doesn't that have something to do with ... uh ... magic?"
Hugo smiled wolfishly, the sort of smile shown by famished timber wolves as they ring the campfires of lonely arctic travelers.
"You are a very bright boy, Howard!"
Hugo lifted Tina's head off his cock. Her sucking lips clung to his rod, slurping up all the excess come and saliva, swallowing them down.
Pop!-the cock head came free from Tina's face.
Tina moaned dreamily, her tongue swimming in come. Hugo squeezed his cock. A fat drop of come oozed to the head.
Tina licked it up, swallowed it down.
"Yes, it's magic all right, Howard," Hugo murmured. "Magic of the flesh! Power of lust! You'll find out all about it, soon enough. I would say you've already made some interesting discoveries today-tonight."
"Yes."
"Now I want you to tell me just what you saw through the peephole, Howard."
Howard detailed the scene he had witnessed between Ms. Betty Lane and Jennilee.
Hugo seemed immensely pleased with the intelligence.
Mindful of what Hugo had said, how the "club" contained students and teachers, he asked if Betty Lane and Jennilee were members, too.
"Not yet," Hugo said.
CHAPTER TEN
A few weeks later, a Friday night service was held at Stevenson High.
Despite the constitutionally mandated separation of church and state, the ceremony-"ritual" would be more accurate-the ritual was religious in nature, though not a religion that any of the Founding Fa thers would have recognized.
But the high school was perfect for the purpose. It was Friday night. The building was empty of all those but the participants, willing and unwilling. Seen from outside, the school was a huge unlit hulking structure.
Within, the group had gathered on the stage of the school auditorium. The windowless auditorium insured no betraying light would leak out.
Howard, that member of the stage crew, had rigged the search and spotlights to provide adequate illumination on the stage.
Assembled on stage was some equipment which had been borrowed from the gym, and would be returned when the games were done.
At upstage center was a wooden platform with a throne-like chair atop it.
Seated in that chair, presiding over the ritual, was Hugo. He wore a high-collared black silk tunic, trimmed with gold filigree and braid, and a matching pair of baggy, loosefitting trousers.
The rest of the ritualists wore nothing at all.
The lights were low to create the appropriately ominous and shadowy mood. Golden light picked out the fine forms of the naked teens cavorting under Hugo's direction. From a powerful soundbox came drumming-the hypnotic polyrhythms of a snake and devil-worshipping Yoruba cult, transplanted to the Caribbean-
Voodoo drums.
The featured players were the unwilling stars of tonights ceremony: Ms. Betty Lane. And Jennilee James.
Betty Lane stood in suspended naked bondage. A rope dropping down from the overhead stage rigging was bound to her wrists, secured over her head. Her feet were spread wider than shoulder-width apart by a spreader bar, a bondage device consisting of a pair of ankle cuffs joined to the opposite ends of a three .foot metal bar which prevented Betty from closing her legs.
She was not gagged, since the soundproofed auditorium would allow no noises to filter out of the school building.
Nola Falconer, the second in command, directed Betty's enslavement.
Nola wore leather armbands, wristbands, an intricate leather body harness, and her thigh-high hot black leather high heeled pirate boots-
And nothing else.
With her were two naked femmes, Tina Caligari and Susie Fairbush. Their mission:
To turn Betty on despite herself, to fire up her unwilling lust and make her come not once, but often.
Learning from Howard all about the lesbo affair between Betty Lane and Jennilee, Hugo set his trap for the both of them.
By listening through the peepholes, it was overheard when Betty made a date with Jennilee to meet her Friday night at the school.
Only when they arrived, Hugo's group was ready and waiting in ambush.
Teacher and girl were seized, subjugated, stripped, and put in bondage. Now, through their own treacherous flesh, they would be forcibly inducted into the cult.
It was all done under the direction of Hugo, of course.
Only Hugo was not Hugo.
"Hugo" was a fictitious identity, a disguise, a cover, a false front.
"Hugo" was Adrian Baranco.
Yes, Baranco, sadist, Satanist, mastermind. Baranco, who years before had ruled his perverse cult from the church in Dunston until the police had burned him out and smashed the cult.
But Baranco had escaped them, vanishing into the unknown, vowing revenge.
A few years passed. When Baranco returned once more to town, it was under the identity of Hugo, with a complete set of forged ID papers. With them, he had secured his post here as custodian at the high school. In the fullness of time, as his master plan came to fruition, he had sent for one of his trusted aides, Nola Falconer (not her real name, either), who had gotten a job as teacher.
Abusing their positions of trust, they set out to create a new cult, recruited from the high school youth.
Their parents had thwarted Baranco in the past, but already some of their children were under his sway.
With drugs and sex and psuedo-mystical mumbo-jumbo they had been recruited, expanding his circle of domination.
Betty Lane and Jennilee James were lesbians. Already they were outside the confines of normal society.
Baranco would take them into his fold, his flock.
Naturally, none of the teens knew him as Baranco. Only Nola knew that. But it was doubtful that these teens with no sense of the past even knew of the Satanic kingdom once centered in their town.
Tonight was a time for fun and games. The girls would break Betty down and bring her in. Jennilee, too, would be taken.
And so the circle would further expand.
For added insurance, Howard had set up the videotape camera to document the taking of Betty Lane, now taking place.
That videotaped record would be added to the files of Baranco, as added insurance that his new recruits would toe the line and obey.
He found delicious irony in the fact that the video recorder was school property, that the ritual was taking place on school property.
Now, Nola Falconer set her subordinates on Betty Lane.
Naked Tina pressed against the bound teacher, front to front. Tina's nipples were throbbing pebbles of flesh.
She rubbed her silky flesh against Betty's front, pressing her tit to tit.
Simultaneously, blonde and lissome Susie Fairbush, no less nude than Tina, approached Betty from behind.
Susie was lithe and slim, with a boyish body, rounded rump, pert pointy tits. She pressed her front to Betty's back.
The teacher's naked flesh was sandwiched between the overheated body of a pair of wanton bi-teen sluts.
Two pairs of lips, Tina's ripe red ones, Susie's pale pink ones, fastened on Betty's flesh with hot sucking kisses, with lascivious licks.
Tina took hold of Betty's bountiful bosom, bigger even than her own, clutching the tits one in each hand.
She nuzzled them, stuffed a nipple in her mouth, sucked.
Susie folded at the knees and went down on them, leveling her fine-boned foxy face with Betty's broad rump.
Susie nuzzled rippling bottom cheeks.
Rope creaked as Betty squirmed and strained against her suspended bondage ... against the passion firing up her flesh.
Baranco was clever. He did not set the boys with their greedy gobbling mouths and hard club-like cocks at Betty.
Not yet.
No, her passion was for female flesh, and it would have been hard to find so luscious a Stevenson High twosome as Tina and Susie.
The things Tina could do with her wicked devil's tongue ... well, Betty was already experiencing them with shuddering pleasure.
Tina sucked one of Betty's fat throbbing nipples, then the other. Then she pushed both tits together so their nipples jutted side by side.
Tina took them both in her mouth, sucking them at the same time.
Susie kissed, nibbled, licked Betty's broad buttocks-. Betty strained against the spreader bar, seeking to close her legs, but metal was stronger than flesh and blood.
While she licked Betty's buttocks, Susie also ran her small delicate hands up and down the insides of Betty's taut thighs.
Then reached upward for her fleshy cunt, her furry bush.
Tina let the pair of stiff nipples pop free from her mouth. Saliva shone on the sticky points of the tits.
Tina pressed her tongue to the hollow between Betty's big breasts and licked her way down the teacher's belly.
Tina bent her legs at the knees as she went down Betty's belly with her tongue, circling the concave navel, stabbing the tongue into it.
Then she, like Susie behind Betty, stood on her knees facing the gym teacher.
Tina nuzzled Betty's bush, then buried her face into it.
Betty gave a choking cry.
Tina attached her gluttonous mouth to Betty's sex. Cunt lips were like a full, glossy, overblown orchid.
Betty shuddered as Tina's tongue lanced inside her, licking and lapping.
At the same time, Susie's small delicate hands fastened on each of Betty's buttocks, spreading them apart.
Betty had a powerfully muscled rump, and small petite Susie might have had trouble in spreading the ass cheeks if Betty made a fight of it. But Betty already was so overcome by what Tina's tongue was doing to her, that she could not resist.
So Susie pulled open those splendid ass cheeks, uncovering the dimpled anal button which quivered fretfully in the bottom cleft.
Like a striking snake, Susie darted her head forward, shoving her face between the cheeks, wedging them in.
Her mouth fastened its hot sucking ring to Betty's asshole, plying it with sucking kisses and wicked licks.
Betty was already undone by Tina's tongue, which was an electric eel of lewd lust wriggling in her slit.
Her cunt bubbled with hot sticky juices which oozed out all unbidden.
Then Susie pressed her viper's tongue to the dimpled asshole and thrust it past the anal ring, penetrating her rectum.
Now Betty writhed at the mercy of not one but two tongues of wicked pleasure. Her resistance dissolved like a sugar cube in water.
Hugo Baranco watched with the satisfaction of knowing he had guessed right again. In recruiting new members, it was best at first to seduce them with pleasure.
Only later, when they were fully under his sway, unquestioningly obedient, could he initiate them into the darker, fiercer joys of masochism and sadism.
He was also amused by the way Howard circled the bound suspended teacher and her two licking seductresses.
Howard had his face buried in the video camera, shooting the scene, capturing all the intimate angles and shots, not missing a trick.
Baranco guessed that Howard was what his fellow students might have considered a "nerd"--such types often made the best recruits.
Just give them a taste of pleasure, access to such as Susie and Tina, and such as Howard would be utterly devoted to the cause.
Now a shrill keening banshee wail erupted from Betty-
Cries not of pain, but of orgasm!
It hadn't taken very long for Tina and Susie to get under Betty's skin and make her shudder with a wrenching climax.
Once Betty was under sway, she would be used to help corrupt Jennilee James, who sat nearby, writhing in naked bondage, watching with wide disbelieving eyes at what Tina and Susie were doing to Betty Lane.
Wait until Nola got hold of Jennilee!
With her wicked tricks, Nola would have Jennilee as her slave in less than an hour.
Later-or sooner-the lads would be turned loose on Jennilee and Betty Lane, allowed to fuck their mouths and cunts.
Their asses would remain safe ... for a time ... until they were more deeply drawn in to the cult.
And this was only the beginning, Baranco knew.
Soon his circle of power would grow ... and grow ... and grow!
EPILOGUE
A man who liked his privacy and was jealous of his administrative perks, Stevenson High School principal Mr. Bolus met with Detective Ohls in his, the principal's inner office.
Due to the ultra-sensitive nature of the interview, Mr. Bolus had sent Miss Steckler, his secretary, off on an errand which would take her to another part of the building and out of eavesdropping range.
When Detective Ohls laid out the first photos on the principal's desk, Mr. Bolus blushed.
"Well! I never...." His words trailed off.
It was mid-morning of a school day. Mr. Bolus was a balding gray man with a receding chin to match his hairline. Watery eyes goggled behind thick-lensed glasses as he peered at the explicit photos.
Like a dealer laying out a hand of cards, Detective Ohls set the photos out face up, turned to the principal on the other side of the desk.
When about a half dozen glossies had been laid down, Mr . Bolus got up and lowered the stand of Venetian blinds over the window.
His hands shook and the blinds came crashing down. Mr. Bolus shakily took his seat.
At his desk, he once more peered at the photos.
They were grainy, of poor quality, having been taken off a videotape. They depicted young girls in various unnatural acts.
The girls were all young, very young, in their teens. Schoolgirls.
In various shots, the girls sucked cock, tongued cunts and asses, and offered up their various body parts to penetration via cock, tongue, and mechanical devices.
Mr. Bolus took out his hankie and mopped his sweating face. When he found his voice, he said shakily:
"I can assure you, Detective Ohls, that none of my students from the school here are involved in ... in this sort of thing!"
"I know it seems hard to believe," Ohls said, "but won't you take another look to see if you can identify any of these girls?"
Bolus looked at the nearest picture, which showed a ponytailed teen miss kissing a furry, black-bushed cunt.
"No," Mr . Bolus said. "Absolutely not! What makes you think that these girls are students, anyway?"
The detective explained that the department's vice squad had confiscated a load of similar videotapes and been supplied with a tip from an informant that the girls in the videos were recruited from a high school in the county.
"Pr etty slim lead, but it's all we have to go on," Ohls said. "We're going around to all the schools in the county to see if anybody recognizes the girls."
"Well, I'm sorry-or, I should say, happy-that I can't help you, Detective. I assure you that none of these girls attends Stevenson High!"
Presently the detective gathered up the photos, thanked the principal for his time, and departed for the next school on his list.
"Whew!" Mr. Bolus wheezed, alone at last. "That was a close one!"
Of course he had recognized one of the girls, Rachel Rivington, a senior here at the high school.
Rachel, with the pear-shaped tits and the ripely rounded rear which she had turned up on command for the principal.
Mr. Bolus would have to warn Hugo to lay off peddling the prono videos for a while, until the heat cooled down.
The high school principal had been crabbed and frustrated, until he was seduced by nubile teen temptresses belonging to the Baranco coven.
Mr. Bolus was yet one more strand in the web of domination and perversion woven by the master, Baranco!
