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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} NIS: Mrs. Trotter by Rachael Ross ch.00  (M/F, m/F, f/F, Rom, Reluct,  MC, Bond, First, Oral, Anal, Mast, Slut Wife, Teacher, NIS)
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Mrs. Trotter: Naked in School
by rache

Copyright 2010 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for Adults
Only http://www1.asstr.org/~rache/index.htm
Special thanks to: Eager Beaver Lip-Lock Sex Gloss - High Impact Long
Lasting Fruit Flavored Labia Lubricant
Note: All characters appearing in this story are real people; I didn't
even bother changing the names. The author supports sexual
responsibility, moral sobriety, and political insurgency. Try this at
home. Join the Sexual Jihad: S.A.S.E. to P.O. Box rache696@yahoo.com

Codes: M/F, m/F, f/F, Rom, Reluct, MC, Bond, First, Oral, Anal, Mast,
Slut Wife, Teacher, NIS
Synopsis: In the small city of Cotton Falls, high school students
aren't the only ones required to participate in the NIS Program; their
teachers have to spend a week naked in school as well. That's not
going to be easy for the beautiful but sexually repressed June Trotter...
Or is it? This is the story that begs the question, "What are they
putting in the water down there?"

Abbreviated Blog Note: This is basically a stroke story with a plot
thrown in just to appease my own curious sensibilities. This story
consists of ten chapters (including the Prologue and Epilogue) ~rache~
5/15/2010 Manila

Author's Note: I originally planned to write Five Books, one for each
day, but I have a new and different idea that I wish to explore and
that requires a completely different story. So it seems likely that
this story will end with Book One. I apologize for any inconvenience
this may cause. -rr

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Mrs. Trotter: Naked in School
Book One - Monday

Prologue


"Is this too much?" I wondered, posing in front of my husband one
Sunday evening.

"Too much?" Henry raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Meaning too little," I said with a roll of my eyes. I'd been named
June because my mother claimed they reminded her of a summer sky.

"Well, I believe I'd have to say..." he wagged his head from side to
side "...yes."

"Yes?" I frowned. "You mean I shouldn't wear it?"

"If I was a sixteen-year-old boy," Henry said, "and I was once upon a
time, I'd say no."

"No?" I almost smiled. "So, you think I should wear it?"

"But since I'm your husband," he shrugged, "and well past puberty, I
think I'd like to keep that dress all to myself."

"Oh!" I gasped happily as he snatched my hips and pulled me onto his
lap. "Past puberty, huh?"

"Uh-huh...Well past," he said with a grin, finding my bare thigh beneath
the hem of the pleated skirt I wore. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Do you love me, Daddy?" I asked, wanting to hear him say it every
chance he had. We'd only been married four months after a June
wedding.

"I love you, June." Henry kissed me gently on the lips and then deeper
as I turned my body, putting my arms around his neck.

We were a loving couple and we did enjoy some teasing, such as me
calling him Daddy. It meant little beyond our playful opinion of other
people and their silly concerns. I'd married Henry because I loved him
and some people thought there must be another reason for a girl of
twenty-one and a man of thirty-four to stand at the altar. But he
wasn't rich and I hadn't been digging for gold. Most women wouldn't
have called Henry handsome either, although given my feelings I
would've argued the point. I didn't find him unattractive, put it that
way, but what had really turned my head in his direction had been the
honesty of his love.

There are other kinds, as every woman knows - greedy, lustful, and
jealous love, among others - and honest. Henry was an honest man and a
good one, and I'd fallen in love with love, perhaps. I'd given him my
virginity on our wedding night and regretted saving my innocence not
at all. I'd had boyfriends, several of them over the years, and I'd
struggled with their desires and to a lesser extent my own, but it had
been worth the sacrifice to present that small, precious gift to the
man I'd married.

Now we were sitting in the living room, or me sitting on Henry, I
should say, as he sat on the sofa. I felt his hand stroking the inside
of my left thigh as I pressed my straining breasts against his chest.
My nipples felt hot and itchy inside my too tight bra and I'd never
been able to find one that fit me properly. If I bought a C-cup, it
felt too small; if I bought a D-cup, it left too much room to spare. A
man, I'd once decided, had designed the modern brassier and most often
I wore a soft C-cup, the sort of bra that looks like a bikini top. On
this day, however, I'd worn an underwired support bra and it felt very
uncomfortable.

My nose found his glasses and I giggled into his mouth, removing them
and wishing my husband would buy some contact lenses. I played my
fingers through his dark hair, feeling it thinning noticeably and
Henry did have a growing bald spot at the top of his head. I never
mentioned it though, understanding he felt somewhat embarrassed and I
had no desire to make him feel bad about anything. I hadn't chosen the
man because he looked good on the dance floor, and in fact Henry
couldn't dance to save his life, but because he looked good through
the lens of love.

"Let's go upstairs," I breathed, licking my lips and staring into my
husband's eyes.

"We could do it here," he suggested playfully, tickling my moist sex
through my panties and I closed my legs against the sensation.

"Henry!" I pouted. "We're not going to have sex here!"

"Why not?" he asked, trying to sound reasonable, but we'd discussed
this before. "We're adults. We're married. We even live here, June. We
can do whatever we want."

"I want to make love in our bedroom," I decided, trying hard not to
spoil the moment. "We need privacy."

"Privacy?" Henry chuckled. "You pulled the drapes, remember?"

"So?" I glanced at the large picture window just to ensure the drapes
were still closed. I hadn't wanted anyone walking past to see me
trying on a brand new dress. "I just don't like it. Sex is for the
bedroom, the living room is for...television."

"Can we leave the lights on for once?" he asked with a sigh, almost
certainly teasing me because I'd already expressed my opinion on that
subject as well. Many times.

"I'm not a slut, Henry." I sat up straight, no longer pressing my
breasts against him. I removed his hand from between my thighs, taking
him by the wrist like a little boy caught sneaking into the cookie jar
before dinner.

"I didn't say that," he said. "You're beautiful. I just want to see
you sometimes."

"You can see me right now."

"You know what I mean."

"Are we going to bed or not?" I asked him. "Otherwise, I have a lesson
to prepare and..."

"Yes," he said softly, putting on a weary smile and I almost felt
guilty that he'd had to surrender again, but how else could it be?

Dogs have sex anywhere, sluts and whores as well, but not a decent,
God fearing wife and her husband. We made love in our marriage bed,
with the doors locked, the curtains closed, and the lights off. Never
mind the fact that we were alone in our house, there was principle
involved and I needed Henry's respect as much as I needed his love. No
man respects a woman willing to spread her legs in the middle of the
living room, or bend over the kitchen table just because she can't
control herself.

Henry had seen my body plenty of times anyway. Not naked of course. I
hadn't let a man see my nipples or most especially my vagina since I'd
been an infant in my father's arms. By the time I'd grown out of
diapers, I'd been taught the difference between boys and girls and
nothing could substitute for modesty, not even love. I let my husband
see me in my bra and panties, but he had no right to see me naked and
I had no desire to expose myself to anyone that way.

After preparing for bed, I changed into my nightie, the sexy pink one
Henry had bought for our honeymoon. I wore the matching panties as
well, although I had to be careful because there was little more than
a string in the back. I'd brushed my teeth and long blonde hair in the
bathroom, washed my face and spent fifteen minutes spreading body
lotion over my legs and arms, my hips and tummy. Even my breasts and
butt, simply because I rather enjoyed the cool sensation and the
pleasant smell of peaches. It made my skin soft and silky smooth and I
admired my body the way any beautiful woman does, I won't pretend
otherwise.

When I walked out of the bathroom and into our bedroom, Henry had
already put on his pajamas and slipped under the sheets. He smiled
when he saw me and I smiled back. I enjoyed his open appreciation for
my tall, slender form. Being 5'10" and naturally thin, I often thought
I could use a few more pounds, but the look in my husband's eyes told
me otherwise. He watched my round hips as I walked slowly towards our
bed, my well-toned and creamy thighs, my flat tummy and full breasts
undulating with promise beneath the satin lace.

Henry wanted to see more of me - all of me - but I turned off the
bedside lamp and slid my body between the cool sheets in complete
darkness. I removed my panties for him and then we kissed, making out
like a couple horny teenagers. He could touch me anywhere and I
wouldn't protest. His hand found my breasts and I arched my back with
pleasure, nursing on Henry's tongue as it filled my mouth. When he
reached lower and found my bare sex, I let him spread my thighs and
stroke me there. I wasn't a complete prude, not at all. I loved sex
and enjoyed making love to my husband, but he did have some desires I
didn't share.

"Kiss it for me," he whispered, a request he'd only started making
recently. "Just try it, June. Please? Just once."

"I can't," I whispered back, holding his swollen manhood in my fist
and I didn't mind touching it, but kissing a penis? "Put it inside me.
I want to make love."

I heard my husband's frustrated sigh and for the life of me I couldn't
imagine a man wanting his wife to do a thing like that. I knew about
fellatio and oral sex. I'd even seen pictures and caught a snippet of
an adult film once in college. I hadn't been impressed, to put it
mildly, and Henry hadn't been the first man to ask me for a blowjob
either. Every single boy I'd gone out with in high school and college
had eventually begged me to suck his cock. I wasn't sure if it was
because all men have a fetish for oral sex, or if it had something to
do with the fact that I had naturally pouting, bee stung lips.
According to some men, they were my best feature, although many others
plainly appreciated my tits or ass, or even my legs more than my
mouth.

At least Henry had waited until we'd been married three months before
suggesting I try kissing his dick, but I wished he'd take the hint and
stop pestering me about it. He didn't say anything else on this
particular night anyway, but fumbled with his condom and finally
covered my body with his. I waited patiently for him to find my pussy.
He still wore his pajamas, of course, and I had my nightie on.
Sometimes we undressed completely, but usually not and I liked it
better this way. I giggled softly as I felt him poking around with the
blunt head of his cock and I wiggled my hips to help him.

Henry wasn't especially large compared to some of my old boyfriends,
at least not down there. I'd jerked them off many times, finding that
to be the best method of safeguarding my virginity. I'm not proud of
that, but they were mostly teenagers anyway and the kissing always
felt so nice. I'd let them play with my breasts through my blouse or
sometimes under it, but I'd protected my pussy and Henry had been the
first and only man to touch me there.

He'd wanted to kiss my sex on our wedding night and I hadn't been too
sure about that, but he seemed so eager that I'd agreed. The
experience had been kind of amazing, to tell the truth, and I'd let
him lick my pussy many times since. Unfortunately, being on the happy
end of cunnilingus seemed to imply I'd return the favor, especially
after Henry found out how easily he could make me cum that way. He
wanted to cum as well, and in my mouth, naturally. What's good for the
goose isn't always good for the gander though and I'd stopped letting
him go down on me for just that reason.

As I said, Henry's full grown manhood wasn't so large as some of the
boys I'd gone out with at sixteen or even fifteen. That never bothered
me though, not if he could make me cum with his mouth, but I'd never
had an orgasm while we made love. I wanted to, believe me. I tried my
best to enjoy it, but it just didn't happen for some reason. I found
that frustrating, but so long as Henry would go down on me afterwards
and satisfy my needs, we were happy enough.

"Ohhh..." he sighed, kissing my ear through my hair as his cock
stretched the mouth of my sex.

"Hmmm..." I smiled and stroked his back through the flannel of his
pajamas, spreading my knees slightly wider and bending them.

I lifted my hips and ass to meet Henry's thrust and his cock was
quickly buried to hilt inside my pussy. It felt nice, I suppose,
although in truth it didn't really feel like much of anything. Never
having fucked another man in my life, however, I had nothing to
compare the experience with. I'd heard my friends talk about sex many
times in college and when I remembered some of their excited stories
and comments about the joys of intercourse, I felt a little confused
and realized they'd probably been lying. You know how braggarts can
be, even the female ones are always trying to top the previous
exaggeration.

Bottoming out? I didn't believe that! And why would anyone want to
feel a cock touching her cervix? I wasn't even sure that was
physically possible. Being stretched and filled and tormented with the
pleasure of a penis entirely too large for the pussy it plundered,
well...My friends had made it sound wonderful, but I couldn't imagine
such a thing. Henry's penis didn't do any of that for me and I closed
my eyes, telling myself his was a perfect fit. We were married. I
loved my husband and even if I didn't find myself screaming in the
throes of desperate climax, as some of my friends had described it, I
felt wonderful.

I lay beneath him as Henry bucked his hips and grunted softly, kissing
my face and holding my shoulders. I rubbed his back and enjoyed the
sensation of my aching breasts being flattened beneath his chest. I
even wrapped my legs around his waist at one point, pulling him into
me with my heels until he groaned three minutes later.

"Ughhhmmm..." He pushed himself up on his arms, arching his back and
tilting his head towards heaven with the urgency of his orgasm.

I imagined I could almost feel his penis as it jerked inside my pussy,
spurting his hot cum into the condom that protected my fertile womb. A
part of me longed to feel that sensation, the warmth of my husband's
semen flooding my vagina and possibly deeper. Every wife wants a baby,
or she should, and I had a difficult time with the waiting. We needed
to think about the future and plan not only our lives, but those of
our unborn children. I understood that, we both did, but having a good
plan didn't make it any easier on my natural desire to get pregnant.

"Are you done?" I asked softly and Henry nodded.

"Yeah," he breathed. "That was great. Did it feel good for you?"

"Uh-huh." I nodded too.

"Do you want me to, um..." He chuckled softly as he pulled his softening
cock out of my pussy. Actually it sort of fell out all by itself.

"Not tonight," I sighed. "I have to get up early."

"Oh." I heard the disappointment in his voice and a moment later he
got out of bed to use the bathroom.

I took the opportunity to find my panties and put them back on. I
wished I could have let Henry go down on me, but I didn't want to feel
guilty about refusing to suck his cock. Like I said before, the entire
oral sex issue left me in a bit of a quandary. I tried to push it out
of my mind as he returned to give me a kiss and I snuggled against him
and went to sleep.

After four months of marriage, this had been a pretty typical night
for us, all things considered.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
end
rache696@yahoo.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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