Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Dee Does HS 7 By peregrinf

   So much for Mrs.  Devers having some information for me that day.  I
spent the rest of the week -- still naked, of course, not that I minded --
waiting for some word from her, while avoiding my lunchtime friends.  I
knew eating with them would be like being pecked to death by ducks.  They
knew me too well.  They'd be coming at me from every direction, trying to
find out what I knew, what was going on, and I was afraid I couldn't stand
up to their assault.

   Oh, sure, I'd see them during classes that we shared, bump into them in
the hallways, but there was no time for them to gang up and get their teeth
into me during those brief head-to-head encounters.  All of them together
for a half an hour at the lunch table, well, they'd be piranhas in a
feeding frenzy, in the nicest possible way, of course.  The very thought of
it destroyed my appetite.  I brought my lunch, seeking out secluded corners
where I could safely enjoy a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in peace.

   One day I went to the athletic wing to eat by the school's indoor pool,
only it was empty, still undergoing maintenance.  The hollowness really
bothered me, it echoed every little sound.  The comforting smell of
chlorine was missing, replaced by a fresh-paint smell.  I remembered this
was where I'd first met Greg and I wondered if we'd ever have a really good
time together, alone.  The whole world seemed to be conspiring against us.

   Another day, after wolfing down my sandwich in a stairwell, I spent my
lunch period wandering the halls.  As long as I looked like I knew where I
was going, with something like a book in my hand, the hall monitors ignored
me.  With two lunch periods, half the school was eating, the rest working,
so some classes were in session.  I'd pause outside them and eavesdrop,
listen as teachers asked questions, fighting the urge to stick my head in
and contribute when no one answered.

   By Friday I was really lonely, so I skulked my way down the corridor to
the art studio.

   By the way, it is very hard to skulk when you're on your way to being
six feet tall -- yeah, I'm still growing -- and built like a trufula tree.
The Stick kept prodding me to stand tall.

   Anyway, I told myself I was going to see Kathy 'cause I'd promised Steph
to make sure Kathy ate, rather than admitting my cowardice avoiding my
friends.

   Yeah, The Stick got on me about that, too.  She doesn't let me lie even
to myself.

   When I'd made my lunch I'd even planned for this, arming myself with an
extra sandwich and a bunch of fat, juicy green grapes, and I'd fed a
vending machine enough quarters for a couple of milks to wash them down. 
No sugary sodas in this school, no siree, only water and milk (chocolate
and white, both non-fat) and juices that actually came from fruit, with no
high fructose corn syrup or sweetener, other than white grape juice, that
is, used so the bottler could maintain the purity of their 100% juice
product.

   Not that I'm complaining.  I don't like sugary sodas.

   I found Kathy mashing a wad of clay into submission before beginning a
new sculpture.

   "Dee!  Come on in!"

   "I haven't been avoiding you," I apologized in advance, "it's just been
a chaotic week."

   After throwing a damp rag over the clay she gathered me into her embrace
and I could feel the tension just flowing out of me, and I knew I should
have come here sooner.  She was dressed in a tee and jeans, with a big,
floppy, paint stained man's shirt for a smock.  She had that wonderful
scent of art stuff, this time damp clay against the background of oil
paints, linseed oil, and turpentine.  She felt so good against me and I
could tell she wasn't wearing a bra, her firm breasts two cushions against
me, and neither was I -- I wasn't wearing anything, of course -- and if her
hands were smearing my naked back with clay I really didn't care as I
pressed myself against her.  By lifting my chin just a little bit I could
snuggle my cheek to hers, my pulse point to hers, savoring that oh-so
intimate contact, just breathing in her scent.  Her hands slid down to my
butt, cupped my ass, pulling me hard against her for a long, luscious time.


   Then she held me at arms length and looked me up and down in a way that
had me blushing, my nipples enjoying her study.

   "I heard you got put in The Program for mouthing off to Worthington. 
I'm sorry that happened, but I love seeing you like this.  Did you come to
pose for me?"

   "I brought you lunch," I answered.  "It's only peanut butter and
jelly...."

   "Oh boy!  You can pose later, I'm famished.  I forgot to eat again," she
confessed, making a place for us at one of the tables.  "Thanks!"

   For a few minutes all we did was eat.

   "So, I've heard rumors involving you and The Program...."

   "I can't talk about it," I interrupted.

   She looked at me with a sympathetic smile.  "Then I won't ask."

   "Thanks." I sighed.  "I got myself in another mess.  I thought high
school would be simpler than middle school.  When I got here I expected I'd
get to dive, and swim, and have fun, and learn exciting stuff."

   "Why can't you dive and swim?  Are you sick?"

   "No, but the pool is closed for maintenance for another week."

   "Bummer."

   I nodded agreement.

   "Well, so much for diving and swimming.  I won't ask about fun, but what
exciting stuff are you learning?"

   So I told her about my classes.  I pretty much liked them, though Frau
Blucher was a bit intimidating.  Bio was fun, and I really liked algebra.
English with Mr.  Turner was a joy, lots of interesting reading, like
Shakespeare.

   "Did you know that Juliet was only about my age?"

   She nodded, smiling that wonderful smile of hers.  I told her how I got
to use the stuff I'd learned in language arts last year.  And how sometimes
I'd start to look something up in the dictionary or encyclopedia and find
myself just reading until I'd forgotten what I'd started to look up.

   "Not all the exciting stuff you'll learn comes from books and classes,"
she pointed out.  "There are a lot of lessons picked up just in surviving
this place.  It's a lot like middle school in that way, only more intense."


   "I'm finding that out.  It must have been hard for you." Then I really
felt stupid.  Of course it had to have been hard, she's gay, and she'd come
out her sophomore year, to her parents and the school, both!  "Sorry."

   She wasn't offended.  She smiled.  "Well, yeah, but it wasn't like I
didn't know I was different.  I'd known that for years, but hid it well,
though my parents already suspected.  It was admitting to other people I
was gay that was hard, but keeping the secret was harder.  One thing I
learned from that is that some of my friends weren't the friends I thought
they were, and people I hardly knew became true friends, like Beth and
Carl, and Stephanie."

   "How is Stephanie?  Do you hear from her?"

   "Every day, we email.  She was homesick for a while, but excited about
her music.  She's studying music theory and composition and all sorts of
other stuff besides just flute, and she gets to play every day until her
lips and fingers are sore.  Sometimes she sends me an MP3 of something
she's learning.  She's even sent me parts of a flute sonata she's
composing. It's so beautiful I'm trying to think how to paint it.  How are
Carl and Beth?"

   "They're good.  I miss Carl a lot, but he emails me, and so does Beth,
but not every day.  College keeps 'em real busy.  They haven't said, but I
bet they IM or chat every night, maybe even web cam."

   Kathy's eyes sparkled.  "That would be very interesting to hack into,
don't you think?"

   I had an image of them, in front of their computers, masturbating for
each other and felt a rush.  I looked at Kathy, and it was like she was
reading my mind and I blushed, and so did she.  I knew we were both
thinking the same thing, and it wasn't about posing, but my lunch period
was almost up, so I knew there wasn't time and gathered up the leftovers.

   "Here, before you dash off, take a shot at this." She uncovered the
shapeless lump of clay.

   "What should I do?"

   "Just squish it, push it around, roll it up, flatten it out, punch it,
whatever you want.  It's a great way to relieve stress."

   So I tried it, and wound up whacking the heck out of it before I quit.
She was right!  I felt better.

   "I'll be here, if you want to come by after school," she offered
hopefully as I washed clay off my hands.  "Maybe you could bring Greg."

   That was an offer I couldn't refuse, but the way stuff was, what if I
couldn't make it?  "I'll let you know if I can't make it."

   She shook her head.  "I've got stuff to do here.  How about, if you're
not here by 4:30 I'll figure you won't be coming."

   That didn't seem very fair, like sitting by the phone waiting for it to
ring, and I told her so.

   She her strong hands cupped my cheeks and she drew me toward her.  Her
kiss -- oh, her kiss.  It was so deep, and kind, and loving, and giving,
and sharing, and wanting.  "For you...."

   I was trying to catch my breath.  She didn't play fair, and I told her
so.

   "All's fair," she responded fondly.

   "I'll be here," I breathed softly to her.  "I'll be here.  But don't
wait past four o'clock.  I've -- got something hanging...."

   I was hoping, praying, that maybe Devers would have something for me by
the end of the day, like, as in, she'd tell me to forget the whole thing.

   "I'll wait all night, if that's what it takes."

   I almost wanted to cry.

   "No, oh no, don't do that.  I want to come, but if I can't make it by
four, don't wait."

   God, it was like some scene out of Romeo and Juliet!  How is it she
could affect me like this?  And how could I possibly affect her that way,
her of all people?  And the chance to be here with Greg?  And how would
that play out?

   Shit!  She was not making life any easier for me, but how could I
possibly hate her for it?

   I fled.

   I wound up dodging an influx of students pouring down the corridor, and
as I fought the tide to get to my next class I collided with Inez.

   "Where've you been?" she asked, her dark eyes stormy.  "The Devil's
after you!  She came to the lunchroom herself, looking for you."

   "Shit!  What'd you tell her?"

   "What could we tell her?  We told her we didn't know where you were! 
You weren't there yesterday, or the day before.  What's going on with you,
anyway?"

   My mind was racing as I plotted a route to German class that would take
me past Devers's office.  "Can't talk now.  Thanks for letting me know. 
Gotta run!"

   "But...."

   I didn't stay to hear what she wanted to say.  I didn't dare really run
-- the traffic patrol would nail me and I'd only be held up longer, in
addition to getting detention -- but I did one heck of a race-walk.  You
know that wacky gait you see only at the Olympics, arms pumping, hips
whipping from side to side, making sure it was one foot on the ground at
all times, heel first, and I was stark naked, remember, zigging and zagging
through the crowd, my tail stuck out and snapping from side to side like a
happy Schnauzer's butt.

   I got some really strange looks, and slipped away from more than one
request -- reasonable or not I didn't take the time to figure out -- with a
"got an emergency, see me later" over my shoulder.  If I got reported to
Worthington for that he'd have me strapped to a bench for a real pasting
with his ruler -- corporal punishment was still on the books, would be
until we got it off, one of the first things on my agenda.  I'd heard he'd
used it on a 10th grade girl on Tuesday when she forgot and used the girls'
bathroom -- by all reports he really enjoyed reducing her to tears, the
perverted creep.

   But I didn't dare pause, even for a quick feel.  I had German class
next, and Blucher was a real Prussian so I knew I had to push it.  I think
Bismarck was her grandfather or something.

   I did one of my slip-skid-squeak stops at Vice Principal Devers's
office. Clinging to the door-frame, I stuck my head in.  "You were looking
for me?"

   "Yes, I've got news.  We need to talk."

   "Can it wait until after school?  I've got German, and I need to pee!"

   "See me after school," she agreed.  "It shouldn't take long.  Now, off
you go!"

   "Thanks," I puffed, relieved she wasn't mad at me, and headed for
German, but before that I had to go to the bathroom.  For a second I almost
forgot and used the girls' room, but caught myself.  Some boys saw where I
was heading and formed a sort of comet trail behind me as I banged in the
door of the boys' bathroom.

   "Here, hold this." I shoved my backpack in one guy's hands.  Grateful I
didn't need to wrestle with pants and panties I dove for a stall, plunking
my naked ass down on the toilet as another guy held the stall door open,
affording me no privacy.  Frankly I was so desperate I didn't care.  As
they watched between my open legs, looking over each other's shoulders like
gawkers at an accident, I released a flood of warm, fragrant piss, sighing
with relief as it hissed and splashed in the toilet.

   Oh shit!  Even this was a turn-on!  I was a total perv!  I even made a
point of being very thorough and careful as I wiped myself, giving them a
tantalizing view of my inner secrets.  I gave them a nice view up my butt
when I bent to flush the toilet, of course.  There wasn't a limp dick in
the bathroom as I retrieved my backpack and dashed out, my anonymous
voyeurs trailing behind, grinning and walking funny, their stiff dicks
tenting their trousers.

   God, if I got my period, would I even let them see me insert a tampon?

   Given my exhibitionist tendencies, I had to admit I probably would. 
Then I thought of disposing of the used one in front of them.  Ick!

   I made it to German just in time, whipped my towel down to sit on, and
managed to reset my mind into Deutsch mode, trying to get my head around
the masculine, feminine and neuter gender of objects I'd always simply
thought of things as "it" rather than as a "he" or a "she."

   In English it's the book, or the pencil, or a book or a pencil.  But,
like, in German "the pencil" is a he, "der Bleistift," and "the book" is an
it, as in "das Buch." The gender is in the article, the.  Die (pronounced
like my name) is feminine, der (sort of dayr) is masculine, and das (dahss)
is neuter.  And a car can be "das Auto" (neuter) or "der Wagen" (masculine)
but Ford or Chevy is always masculine (der Ford, der Volkswagen), and all
nouns are capitalized, not just proper nouns.

   Oh, and the indefinite articles -- a and an -- are also different, ein
and eine and ein, masculine, feminine and neuter respectively.

   There are some rules to clue you in as to the gender of a noun, but
there are so many exceptions -- aren't there always -- you just have to
memorize this stuff.  And, just to keep you on your toes, "girl," which
you'd figure to be feminine, is masculine, "das/ein Madchen," while woman,
single or married, is "die/eine Fraulein" or "Frau," feminine.

   Go figure!  And I'm leaving out the "umlaut" 'cause it's not on my
keyboard -- that's two dots over letters like "a" and "o" and "u" and it
changes the pronunciation into sort of an "eh" or "ee" sound, and I won't
bore you with any more of this stuff.

   After my last class of the day I had to shift back to Devers mode as I
made my way to her office and knocked on the door, entering when she waved
me in, closing the door behind me, and carefully putting my towel down
before I sat.

   "Have you been skipping lunch?" she began, concerned.  "Your friends
said you hadn't been there for a couple of days."

   "I've been bringing sandwiches and avoiding them," I admitted.  "They
know I know something, and I was afraid they'd pry it out of me."

   She looked understanding.  "I'm sorry it took longer than I anticipated.
Keeping secrets from your friends is hard, I know.  Well, on Monday, all
will be made clear, or at least some of it will be.  We got the okay and
we'll announce the program participants for the week as usual, including
Mr. Worthington as the first faculty participant."

   "The first?"

   She nodded.  "It was decided that one faculty member will be in The
Program each week so they can be more sympathetic to what the students
undergo.  We had to get approval from the teachers' union.  That took some
doing, I tell you!  That's why there was a delay.  We didn't want to single
out any one faculty member."

   I tried to get my mind around Frau Blucher in the nude -- she's, well,
rather mature, and built like a fire hydrant -- and decided maybe there
should be some exceptions made.

   "Wow!  Uh -- does Worthington know?"

   "That he's 'it' next week?  Not yet.  Do you want to be here when I
inform him?" she asked with a faint smile, her gray eyes twinkling.

   Would I!  I'd love to see his expression when he learned he'd be walking
the halls naked next week.  Then I thought again.  Would I?  "Uhm -- I
don't think so."

   "Why not?" She looked surprised.

   "If he gets even a hint I had anything to do with him being put in The
Program, he will make my life pure hell," I pointed out.

   "You make a good point.  Very well.  Like the students, he'll find out
Monday morning.  Though the faculty has already been informed of the new
policy so they have the weekend to prepare themselves mentally, maybe trim
some hairs, whatever.  No names were mentioned."

   "Who are the students?" I asked.  "Oh, maybe you can't tell me."

   "Well, in your class it will be Mr.  Collins, as you requested, and Miss
Wilson.  We chose them because they both did the same sex ed you did.  What
did you call yourselves?  The Dirty Dozen?"

   I nodded, thinking "uh oh." The "Miss Wilson" she meant was Missy.  Mike
and Missy in The Program together?  I wondered if it was likely to rekindle
their former relationship, and lead to another psychosexual melt down on
someone's part.

   Poor Missy!

   "There's no reason for you to know the upper-class program participants
in advance," she pointed out.

   "Uh, no," I agreed.  "Have you got the rest of the committee members
picked out?"

   "We're still working on it.  We'll announce the committee sometime next
week, but we had to get The Program participants nailed first. 
Tentatively, the first committee meeting will be week after next."

   "You know there's lots of rumors floating around about The Program," I
pointed out.  "That's why my friends are on my case."

   She sighed.  "Fastest means of communication used to be telegraph,
telephone and tell-a-student, and now we've got texting and Twitter and who
knows what else.  There'll be more news on Monday, I expect, but at least
you'll have a weekend free of all this."

   I was never so glad to see a weekend before in my life!  I checked the
time.  "Is there anything else?  I'm s'posed to do some modeling for Kathy
Powers this afternoon."

   Well I call it modeling.  You might call it something else, but Mrs. 
Devers didn't need to know that, or that Greg was going to be there, too.

   She smiled, and it was a wonderful, warming smile, so unlike her frown.
"Be off with you, Dee, and have a nice weekend."

   "Yes'm, thank you." And with that I was off.

   Little did I know what the weekend held for me.  For now, all I could
think of was Greg and Kathy waiting for me down in the art studio, and when
I saw them there it made my heart flutter, my tummy tremble, and my pussy
weep for joy.

   I tried to walk in all cool and mature, and wound up tripping over my
own feet, and I didn't know which of them to hug first.  Greg, bless him,
took over and I was in his arms and he was in mine, and he was even already
naked!  OHGOSH OHGOSH OHGOSH he felt so good against me!  We'd snatched our
little snuggles between classes, but he'd been dressed even when I'd been
naked.  I felt like Eve must have felt in Adam's arms that first day.

   "Okay, you two, get a room or get to work," Kathy finally intruded.

   "To work?" Greg and I asked simultaneously.

   She cocked an eyebrow at us -- and she's got a better eyebrow cock than
I have.  "That is why we're here, isn't it?  Aren't you here to pose for
me?"

   Greg and I looked at each other in dismay.  Obviously, his idea about
how this afternoon would go was the same as mine, with maybe Kathy's
participation, and it didn't include posing.

   She laughed.  "Relax.  You won't be doing anything you aren't already
planning to do, it'll just be a bit more organized, you might say -- more
structured -- and it's probably not going to go all the way today, at least
that's not what I've planned, though I'm sure you'll have a good time."

   She was very serious, and had our attention even as we stood there, arms
around each other.

   "I need a major project to wrap up my senior year here, and to get me
into the college of my choice, and you two are it, if you're willing.  Sit
down over there while I explain."

   She pointed.

   "Over there" was a bench draped with a white sheet, and her tone brooked
no argument.  This was the strong, confident Kathy, Kathy the Artist, with
a capital "A," the Kathy I worshipped, that I'd walk through fire for.

   We sat, a little nervously, side by side, holding hands.  Oh, it was so
good to be beside Greg.  He's gaining on being as tall as I am, with that
wonderful body of his, sleek and muscular with a swimmer's shoulders,
strong and broad, tapering to a trim waist, supported by great legs, and,
right at the intersection of those legs was a super-yummy cock, currently
at full mast, a cock that I had to fight to keep from taking in hand. 
Hell, I had the urge to straddle him and ride him like a horse, and if he
didn't get relief this afternoon he'd be bent over like a croquet hoop! 
Surely we'll have to do something about that before the session was over!

   "First of all, you two, physically, are practically a matched set. 
You're both beautiful young athletes, right on the edge of maturity," Kathy
began.  "Michelangelo could only wish he'd had you two to work from.  Greg
makes his statue of David look like a farm-boy -- which he was, by the way,
a shepherd."

   Greg and I looked at each other and blushed, but she went on.

   "I want to do a series of works, preferably in clay, but I may do some
oils, pastels, even photos as well.  I want to take the two of you through
courtship, to foreplay, to coitus.  I want to transport my audience through
all the stages of young erotic love through you two."

   Greg gulped.  "Coitus?"

   "She means fucking," I explained.

   He growled and poked me.  "I know what coitus means!"

   I giggled.  "Sorry."

   I leaned against him.  He's not the exhibitionist that I am, but I'd fix
that!

   "I figure it'll take close to three months of posing," Kathy went on,
"once, maybe twice a week.  Today all I want to do is block out the first
few poses, while I take some photos.  We'll set up a regular schedule...."

   "It can't interfere with swimming!" I pointed out, and felt Greg nod.

   "It won't, and I'll probably even incorporate some of your swimming, if
I can figure out a way, maybe some underwater shots through the pool
window, or maybe that'll be a separate project," she said.  "You guys give
me a lifetime of ideas.  Anyway, will you do it?"

   I looked at Greg, and he looked at me, and we nodded.  After all, it was
only what we wanted to do with each other, more than almost anything else
in the world.  We were getting a license to screw our brains out, for an
audience.

   So, right there on the bench, we began posing for her, though it was
really more like making out.  We began by kissing, of course, almost
innocently, while she snapped away with her digital camera.  Then I was
sitting on his lap, which was a bit awkward with his hard-on in the way. 
We wound up with it pressed up against his tummy, trapped against my thigh.


   It was a little frustrating.  Unable to resist it, I wiggled my leg up
and down, rubbing the underside of his dick, until Kathy told me to quit,
in her no nonsense tone of voice, and he pinched me to make me stop before
I made him come.

   "You're no fun," I said, making a face at him.

   "Work before play," he countered.  He can be disgustingly mature
sometimes.  But then, he is a year older than me.

   "Try putting your hand on her breast," Kathy directed, and he did, his
thumb toying with my nipple, which was already hard as a pebble, of course.
OOooo, that revved my engine nicely.

   "Cup his cheek with your hand, Dee," Kathy went on, all business.

   Okay with me, and we kissed again, a deeper kiss, a longer kiss.

   "Okay, that's enough," Kathy said, too soon.

   Greg tweaked my nose and eased me off his lap, complaining that his leg
was going to sleep.  Well, I couldn't blame him, I was pretty much muscle
and bone after all my swimming, and probably weighed as much as he did.

   "Wait, let's go back a bit," Kathy decided.  "Are there any of those
grapes left from lunch, Dee?"

   I interrupted the shower of kisses I was giving Greg.  "In the bag, if
they didn't get smooshed."

   I heard her rummaging in the crumpled lunch bag.  "They'll do," she
announced.  "Dee, sit on the end of the bench and you, Greg, lie on your
back with your head in her lap."

   So we squirmed around, and I bent over to try to kiss him as he lay
there, my hand reaching for his stiff dick, only Kathy interrupted us
again.

   "Put your right leg up, Greg, knee bent.  Here, Dee, feed him some
grapes.  And quit playing with his cock."

   "You're no fun," I grumbled, taking the bunch of grapes from her.

   "Behave, or I'll find someone else to model with him," she warned me. 
She did know how to push my buttons!  "Hold the bunch over his face in your
left hand, and pluck one to make like you're dropping a grape into his
mouth with your right."

   Instead of just "making like" I dropped one, and missed and hit his
nose. The next time I hit it perfectly, and he spit it back up at me with a
sort of popping "foop" sound, bouncing it off my chin to drop in my crotch,
next to his ear.  Kathy scolded us with a grinning "now children!"

   The next one I dropped he didn't spit back.  Instead he slipped it up
between his pursed lips and waggled his eyebrows at me, inviting me to lean
down and take it from his lips to mine, so I did, while Kathy's camera
peeped like a baby bird with every picture she took.  We shared the grape,
our lips and teeth working until we were in a deep, sucking kiss again.

   "Okay, time out," Kathy called.  "Reverse positions, so Dee's head is in
your lap, Greg."

   Oooh!  That put my head right next to his juicy hard on, but Kathy
didn't let us get distracted, making us do the grape thing again, with him
dropping one in my mouth, of course.  But she did let Greg get away with
palming my boob with his dropping hand when it was free, and I squirmed my
thighs together while I looked longingly up into his lovely deep blue eyes.
I rubbed my ear against his dick.  It was wet and sticky with his pre-come,
and made me think of a silly limerick Carl had told me once.  So, while
Kathy did something with her camera, I murmured it to Greg.

   "There was a young man from Nantucket Whose dick was so long he could
suck it.  And he said with a grin, As he wiped off his chin, 'If my ear
were a cunt, I could fuck it!'"

   Greg laughed so hard I thought he was going to fall off the bench and
take me with him, which naturally set me off.  Clinging together the two of
us went off into gales of laughter, while Kathy could only look puzzled and
a little irritated that we'd interrupted her work, 'cause she hadn't heard
me.

   So, of course, when we'd regained control I had to share the limerick
with her, The Stick making me add a little action by turning my head so I
could give Greg's cock some badly needed attention!  Which sent all three
of us off again, only somehow I managed to give his dick some badly needed
attention, and oh it tasted so good, how could I resist?  As I devoured his
dork he slid his hand down from my aching tit to my swampy pussy, and
before you knew it we were going at it, relieving days of frustration, him
turning, moving around, leaving me on my back on the bench, straddling my
head so he could apply his mouth to my willing twat, putting us into a hot
and heavy 69 right there on the bench.

   Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kathy taking pictures of us and all it
did was make me hotter.  I had Greg's cock in my mouth, my hands cupping
his tight butt to encourage him to fuck my mouth while he was muff diving
me like a pro.  He probed into my gushing pussy, licking deep inside me,
even venturing to take swipes at my asshole before burying his mouth back
in my twat, his lips seeking the hot little seed of my clit, his fingers
probing both my vagina and anus.

   I wondered, fleetingly, if he'd been taking lessons from someone.  Maybe
one of the upper-class girls had given him lessons?  Then I had a brief
vision of him making a Program request of Peggy, sweet, demure, petite,
hot-to-trot Peggy, and squirmed at the image if him toying with her sweet
little pussy, his face between her thighs.

   If he'd done that -- oh I should have been jealous of her, I suppose,
but instead I was thrilled at the thought, knowing he'd be so perfect at
pleasuring her as he was at pleasuring me now.  If I was jealous at all it
was because he'd had her before I did, if only she'd let me!  Does that
make sense?

   Oh, never mind.  It felt so wonderful to have his body and mine
entangled, our hands playing over each other's naked flesh as our mouths
savored the hot carnal juices.  I went up like a bonfire, the pleasure
roaring through me.  I tickled his balls and his dick erupted, flooding my
mouth with his hot cream at the same time he was sucking down the juices
gushing from my spasming cunt.

   We finally came down to earth to find Kathy down on the floor on her
back, her camera set off to one side, both her hands buried in her opened
jeans -- she'd gone commando today -- obviously having almost as much fun
as we had.

   Only I wanted her thighs around my head.

   "S'cuse me," I apologized to Greg, untangling myself from him and
crawling across the floor to her.  She helped me drag her jeans down and
off so she could spread those long, lovely legs of hers for me, and I dove
in to her bald cunt.  As I lapped at her delicious pussy I was surprised to
feel Greg come up behind me and begin licking my ass!  Zowie!  And here I'd
thought I'd have to teach him all my perversions!

   Kathy's fingers tangled in my hair, and her legs closed around my ears,
and I was drowning in her delicious juices while Greg's tongue invaded my
butt until I would have screamed if my mouth hadn't been full of Kathy's
pussy.

   Our chain fell apart eventually as exhaustion overwhelmed our lust.  I
wound up with my cheek resting on the inside of Kathy's thigh, feasting my
eyes if not my mouth on her lovely pussy, all pink and aroused, her hand
stroking my head, while Greg was using my ass as a pillow.  When we'd
recovered and began to clean up, we all agreed that this was going to be a
most enjoyable project.

   "But I think I'm going to have to re-think my schedule," Kathy admitted.
"I forgot to allow for extra-curricular activities.  That's one of the most
important lessons you kids are going to have to learn in high school, time
management!"

   I remembered what Mom had said, and nodded my head, looking at the
clock. I should be home, working on my homework.

   "Get your clothes on, guys, and I'll drive you both home," Kathy
offered.

   "I don't have any clothes to get on," I admitted, finding the sneakers
I'd kicked off at some point.

   Kathy was fastening her jeans.  "Well, help me mop up a bit and turn
this from a brothel back to an art studio."

   In a trice -- a nice Shakespearean sounding word that is -- we had
things tidied and were out the door and into her rather beaten and
cluttered station wagon.  It was an artist's car, with easels and stuff in
the back.

   The moment we pulled up in front of my house I suspected I might be in
trouble -- again.  Mom's car was in the garage, and Elaine's -- Doctor
Elaine Smathers's -- was right behind it in the driveway.  It was a bit
early for them both to be home.

   Shrugging my backpack on after giving Greg a warm farewell, I went to
meet my doom, wondering what it could be.  Greg had assured me he'd left a
message on the answering machine that I was going to be late, and why.  My
heart sank, not so much because I was probably going to be grounded again,
but because I'd let Mom down again, somehow.

   Shit!

   When I got in the house the two of them were at the kitchen table,
waiting for me, and there were two letters on the school's letterhead on
the table in front of them.  They couldn't be anything but Worthington's
snot notes.  So what's to worry?  I'd told Mom to expect them.

   But what was with the dog-collar on top of them?
   I felt a strange tingle.