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Forget about political correctness. When you get right down to it boys will be boys and girls will be girls and both boys and girls are interested in very much the same thing. Each other. When I say boys and girls I suppose I really should say young men and young women, just to be politically correct. After all, the little group I’m referring to were all eighteen and they might be offended if referred to as boys and girls. Well, girl, anyway, as there was only one girl present, Mary, one of the cheerleaders.
We were at school and Mike, George, and I, all had a free period. Now I’m a wizard at mathematics, able to make numbers tap dance on command. Mike and George, on the other hand, weren’t quite so au fait where maths was concerned, but they were exceedingly good on the sports field.
The coach had explained to me that the way I could be of a positive benefit to the team wasn’t as a player, but as a tutor, drilling Mike and George so they’d pass their maths exams. No pass, no play, and they were sorely needed on the field. He also threatened to put me on the team if the boys failed.
Now you might think that that was not much of a threat, but I detest team sports. I’m a gymnast, and quite a good one. I see no need to be running around a field carrying a ball, a moving target for thundering Neanderthals looking for an easy kill.
I’m not saying all football players are Neanderthals. Far from it. To be a good player you need brains as well as brawn, but no school as a sufficient supply of brawny brains. They make up for this by using Neanderthals with a killer instinct, which is a damn good reason not to be on that field. So I was tutoring Mike and George. (Not Neanderthals, just not too fast where maths was concerned. Their other subjects were fine, or so I’m told.)
With our free period we’d gone searching for an empty classroom where I could do some tutoring. Good practice for me, I found, because having to explain something to someone else helps clarify the thing in your own mind.
We’d found a vacant classroom off at one end of the school and took it as our own. We were rehashing the maths curriculum, trying to make sure the guys knew enough to scrape by, when Mary appeared. She didn’t just materialize out of thin air. She actually came out of the storeroom attached to the classroom, where she’d been doing her own private studying.
Mary is a very nice young woman and I’ve got a bit of a thing for her. I believe that the feeling is reciprocated but we haven’t tested it out yet. We’ve been flirting, teasing each other, gradually moving towards each other. I expected that in the very near future I’d be inviting her out and I didn’t think she’d refuse.
With her suddenly appearing in the room like that there was a good chance for a little flirtation and some teasing. I moved over to cut her off when she just nodded and headed towards the door, Mike and George flanking me to give me support. (And to provide themselves with a little amusement.)
“What’s the hurry?” I asked. “You’ve only just got here. Surely you’re going to stop and pass the time of day.”
Mary ostentatiously took out her phone, looked at it, and then looked back at me.
“Three thirty,” she said. “Now that I’ve passed the time of day may I be excused?”
Instead of stepping aside I reached up and stroked her cheek.
“Very soft,” I murmured. “Makes me wonder about all sorts of things.”
She slapped at my hand, but she was smiling. That fool George actually dared to reach for her, drawing his hand back quickly when I glared at him. Mine, that glare told him, and you touch at your peril.
There was a little more give and take between Mary and myself. We sort of had her backed up against the wall and she couldn’t leave until we stepped aside, but she didn’t seem too concerned. She knew damn well that we wouldn’t push past a certain point. At least, she knew I wouldn’t and the other two wouldn’t cross me. I may not be a football player but I was still the alpha dog.
All was fine and dandy and I was preparing to back off and let Mary go on her way when Miss Cherry, the music teacher, showed up. She’d been passing the classroom and saw three boys had bailed up a girl and she was in the room, waving the political correctness banners.
In one short, angry, tirade she accused us of bullying, sexism, general harassment, sexual harassment, sexual misconduct, violation of school rules and political incorrectness. She also managed to insinuate that Mary brought it upon herself, she was no better than she ought to be, she was guilty of sexual misconduct, and should be ashamed of herself.
It seemed to me that she wanted it both ways. If we were guilty of bullying and sexual harassment then surely that meant that Mary was a victim and innocent? If Mary was guilty of sexual misconduct, where did the harassment come in? Ever noticed how politically correct people like to accuse everyone, a wholesale blanket condemnation of other people who don’t bahis firmaları live up to their lofty morals.
As Miss Cherry carried on I started to get really annoyed. She had no idea what she was talking about, didn’t know the situation she had interrupted, and was making accusations based on her wild imagination. She was also making threats that were starting to cause Mike and George to jack up, threatening to have them thrown off the team for misbehaviour.
Part of the reason for my rapidly increasing annoyance was Miss Cherry herself. She wasn’t all that much older than us, being in her middle twenties. A very pretty young woman with a figure that would give a horny man wet dreams. Give any man wet dreams, for that matter. She liked male attention and I’d often seen her flirting with male teachers, and she was accusing us of sexual misbehaviour and sexual harassment.
“Geez, Muriel,” I said insolently, “You’re a fine one to talk about sexual harassment.”
“It’s Miss Cherry to you and just what do you mean by that statement?”
“I mean that you’re a walking, talking, flagrant display of sexual harassment. Look at how you’re dressed. Yoga pants that give you a camel toe so pronounced and so tight that we can see you shave your pussy. You’re wearing a jumper so tight that we can see the outline of your bra, or we would if you were wearing one. As it is we can not only see your nipples but the shape of your areola. And you have the gall to accuse us of sexual harassment.”
I paused then added a little more. “Not only that, you’re a rotten teacher. Why don’t you start giving lessons on a subject you do know, like sex education?”
Miss Cherry looked as though she was going to blow a fuse at that. Mike and George, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious.
“Hey, can we volunteer for sex education with you?” Mike asked. “You’re old enough to teach us things we haven’t had a chance to learn. You’ll find we’re eager students.”
“Geez, yeah,” George put in. “I’d fuck you any day of the week.” (OK, so maybe George was a genuine Neanderthal.)
Miss Cherry was almost gibbering with fury and even Mary looked a trifle shocked. Amused, but shocked. Miss Cherry was invoking the fires of damnation upon us, threatening us with everything from immediate expulsion to the eternal fires of hell. She was, methinks, pissed off.
Unfortunately, so was I. She’d been rude to Mary and, like I said, I had a thing for her. I didn’t like anyone being rude to Mary. I guess I let my hormones and my temper get the better of me.
“George,” I said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear me despite Miss Cherry’s ranting, “I bet if you tugged on those pants she’s wearing they come right down. They’re only held up by an elastic top. And it would be real interesting to pull her top off to see if she’s really going around without a bra.”
George is not great on thinking. He’s quite willing to let someone else do the thinking while he follows instructions or pointed suggestions. At my observation he stepped forward, hooked his fingers into the waistband of Miss Cherry’s pants and tugged them firmly downwards. I’m not sure if he meant to bring down her panties as well, but he managed it.
George also believes that if a job is worth doing it’s worth doing well. With Miss Cherry’s pants around her ankles he gave her a helping hand downward, sitting her on her bottom while he hauled her pants right off. He didn’t forget her top, either, turning to it and providing ample proof that I’d been right about Miss Cherry’s braless state.
“Really, Muriel,” I protested. “What sort of example is this to set students? Rolling around the floor naked? You should be ashamed.”
She was sitting there, mouth opening and closing, face red, arms folded across a bounteous chest.
“Still, seeing you’ve got undressed we might as well have you teach Mary the correct way to get fucked. Mike, would you care to do the honours first?”
Mike was not reluctant to take up the suggestion. He had her legs spread and was kneeling between them in nothing flat, eagerly undoing his trousers. George proved that he knew what a good team-mate should do, grabbing her arms and holding them above her head, leaving the poor woman completely exposed and defenceless.
Mary was standing to the side, mouth open in shock, one hand resting on her mouth. The shock was not stopping her from watching the action, even if she was blushing slightly.
Mike was rubbing Miss Cherry’s pussy while she squirmed about under his touch. Then he was spreading her lips a little, easing his cock into position.
What surprised me was that the fiery Miss Cherry was putting up almost zero resistance. Yes, she was squirming about slightly and, yes, she was protesting, but very weakly. It was as if her clothes were her armour and without them she was helpless.
Mike was moving in slowly. I assumed that he thought she wouldn’t be physically ready for a cock to come charging in and kaçak iddaa was making it easier for her. I don’t think he need have bothered, as it seemed to me that she was lifting her hips and pushing to meet him.
It didn’t take Mike long to drill into her and then he started work in earnest. I noticed immediately that I’d been right about one thing. Miss Cherry was busy humping her hips and meeting him halfway. Mary was watching, fascinated and shocked, apparently not able to drag her eyes away from the action, no matter how embarrassing it might be. George was watching, also, but he just looked eager.
“George,” I said softly, “when Mike’s finished why don’t you flip her over onto her hands and knees and take her like that. She’ll like doing it that way, especially from a man as strong as you.”
Miss Cherry flicked me an evil glance but didn’t say anything. I turned and looked at Mary. She became aware of my regard and started looking a little nervous.
“Ah, are you going to take a turn as well?” she asked, not looking directly at me.
“No. Currently I’m being faithful to you and I wouldn’t cheat on you, even to teach that woman a lesson. The guys can handle her.”
“Me? What do you mean, me? We’re not even dating, let alone anything else.”
“True, but it’s only a matter of time, and I think we both know that. I can wait until you’re ready.”
She looked and sounded a little disappointed.
“Mind you, I am tempted to peel off your panties and have my wicked way with you right now,” I told her. “Feel this and see how eager I am.”
I pressed her hand against my erection, feeling her grasp it for a moment before snatching her hand away.
“Do you know what’s stopping me from taking you here and now?”
I smiled as she nervously shook her head.
“The audience. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you by taking you in front of them, having them see you like that. That’s the only thing stopping me.”
“Oh,” she said in a very little voice. “Apart from the fact that I wouldn’t agree,” she added, a touch defiantly.
“No, I don’t think that would worry me too much when you’re ready. I’d make allowance for maidenly reserve, but I’d still take you.”
I paused for a moment while she considered this, then I made a suggestion.
“Why don’t we step into the storeroom?”
I didn’t say anything. She knew why.
“But, if I do you’ll, ah. . .” She nodded at where Mike was still entertaining Miss Cherry. Quite some stamina that lad had.
I bowed my head in acknowledgement. If she stepped into the storeroom with me it wouldn’t be under any false pretence.
“We haven’t even dated,” she protested.
“So we do things differently. You know perfectly well I’ve been working around to asking you out. Consider this little interlude a formal invitation to date me and get to know me better.”
“But what about. . .” She indicated Miss Cherry and friends.
“A moment,” I said.
I strolled over to Miss Cherry and crouched down. She turned to look at me, a slightly dazed and lustful look on her face.
“If you tell anyone about this little incident, Muriel, your teaching career will be over. I think you know this. So just enjoy the attention of these likely lads and then forget it happened. I’ll make sure they don’t say anything. OK?”
“Bastard,” she gasped, but she also nodded her understanding. She had to admit I had a point. What school was going to hire a teacher who screwed the male students, willingly or not?
“Mike, I’m leaving. You two have your fun but don’t speak about it. You could get into trouble if you do. Make sure George knows to shut up.”
Mike grunted, but didn’t lose a stroke while doing so. I got up and moved away.
Miss Cherry and her swains were so engaged in what they were doing that they didn’t even see Mary and me fade out of the picture. Not that we faded very far. Just a few steps and through the storeroom door, closing and locking it behind me.
Mary backed rather nervously towards the small table by the wall. She knew what she[‘d been agreeing to when she came in here but now the actuality was looming large and she was having second thoughts.
“I assume that you don’t want me to tear of your clothes and have at you,” I said smiling, inviting her to laugh, and she blushed. Before she could say anything, especially things like, “I’ve changed my mind,” I started talking again.
“Why don’t we leave your clothes just the way they are for the time being,” I suggested. “Instead of me trying to be all over you, why don’t you just get acquainted with my equipment? Just touch it and get a bit of a feel for it.”
With that I moved closer, unzipping as I came. Standing close to her I took her hand, guiding it to where my cock was standing out of my trousers, feeling her hand close over me properly. This time she didn’t take her hand away. Biting her lip slightly, looking at me, not daring to look down, her hand kaçak bahis wandered over me, feeling the length, the thickness, the firmness and the heat. She was breathing a little heavier, getting properly acquainted.
After a little while she ventured to look down, catching her breath slightly as she observed what she was holding on to.
“Men have a significant advantage over women,” I told her. “If we want you to hold it we just have to whip it out and there it is on display. You, on the other hand, have to take off your panties, making it a lot more personal.”
I edged the hem of her dress up slightly, letting my hand slip under it and brush across her panties. Her hand tightened slightly as my hand slid over her mons, down and around, pressing her mound beneath her panties.
Both hands under her dress, lifting it, settling upon her panties. I looked at her, one eyebrow quirked in invitation. Was she going to say no? She blushed and looked away and I started sliding her panties down. No hurry, moving nice and easy, giving her plenty of time to change her mind, which is probably why she didn’t. Rushing would have scared her. Taking it easy and leaving her with a choice is soothing and meant I was more likely to get my way.
Mary was now backed right up against the little table, leaning on it. I leaned over her, kissing her, while my hand delicately explored what the panty loss had uncovered. She, for her part, not only kissed me back but didn’t slow down her exploration of my exposed parts.
It didn’t take much exploration on my part to determine that she was wet and ready, her pussy nicely warmed up, probably helped out by the little display in the classroom.
After a while I pulled back from the kiss, gently freeing my cock from her greedy grasp at the same time. She was watching my face and I could see her catch her breath, knowing what the changes foretold. I eased her legs further apart, at the same time hitching her dress up, tucking the hem into her belt.
I moved a little further apart so she could look down and see what was happening, a situation she took full advantage of. She was curious and nervous, knowing what was coming and unsure if she was ready for it.
Timing is the thing. Too slow and she might think better of what was happening. Too fast and she might panic. Let her think she’s in control and things go a lot more smoothly. I eased forward, my cock now rubbing against her pussy, slowly dragging it back and forth against her, agitating her lips, encouraging them to flower and take me.
Taking her hand once more I moved it down until it was brushing against my cock.
“Help me,” I murmured, putting the responsibility squarely on her.
She swallowed nervously, but her hand closed around me, adjusting my position so I was pressing against her at just the right spot. A slight push and I was entering her and it was too late for regrets.
While touching delicate places I had already found hints that Mary was a virgin but I was still slightly surprised to find that this was really so. There again, my surprise was minor to the shock Mary got in finding she wasn’t one any more. She gave this horrified little yelp as her cherry popped but then seemed to forget about is as the cherry popper continued its advance.
Apart from an inconvenient cherry, easily passed, there was no further delay in my advancing fully into her. I sheathed my sword very neatly, thank you very much, and held it there while we both looked at each other. I was feeling smugly satisfied and doing my best not to let it show. I’m not sure what Mary was feeling as she was also doing her best to keep a straight face, but I thought I detected satisfied interest.
I pulled back and returned much more firmly, my cock knowing what it had to do. Again and Mary gave a little gasp and started pushing against me, ready and willing to do her part.
“You feel good,” I said, softly but sincerely, and she smiled, giving a little extra to her next push.
We were still moving slowly, each getting a feel for the other, but starting to move faster as we adjusted. My hands were rubbing against her breasts, through her dress, unfortunately, but I was not going to suggest she take it off. At least, not this time.
We finally settled down to a respectable rhythm, one that seemed to satisfy us both. Mary was making funny little noises as I drove into her, her excitement bubbling up and unable to be contained. I, being the man, maintained a dignified silence, ignoring the desire to howl like Tarzan and just go wild on her body. (I made a mental note to see if she’d be receptive to me just going wild on her body sometime. It could be interesting.)
We were rather explosive together, lust urging us on, and the nice pace we had established was starting to seem a little tame. I started coming in faster, hitting her harder, and Mary matched me, with me for every stroke. My excitement was rising rapidly, the pressure in my balls increasing as the time to completion shortened, a desperate need growing in me to finalise this. From the excitement and longing I could hear in Mary’s little cries I was willing to bet that she was in a similar state.
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