Rachel 'S Shaved Pussy, No. Five


Group-Sex, Hardcore, Masturbation, Oral-Sex, School, Teen, Threesome, Young
With the swathe Kirsty and I were cutting through the school, fucking like cony with a pregnant minority of the entire scholarly person body ( male and female ) plus a instructor or two, it was only a matter of metre before we got the attention of authority. With practice session, we were pretty technical in keeping news contained from the inexperienced nipper around us, but teachers have seen it all before and know the signs.

When I got the call to the schoolmaster's office, I have to acknowledge that I was pretty nervous, but I determined to put a brave face on and stand my ground. After all, what had we done wrong ? Everyone involved was over the age of consent, and everything had been military volunteer ( that bit of coercion with Ricky aside ) throughout. Perhaps our natural process had been unconventional, but there are no rules against that.

I wasn't kept waiting long, but ushered down the corridor from the secretary's desk into the headmaster's authority. There I got my first surprisal : sitting following to the master Dr McPhail was Mr X. After hearing about Kirsty's antics with Mr Adams, I had tempted him into a bit of fooling around myself. He really was as strong and brawny as she said, and that sense of power between my leg was a grotesque alteration from the boys and fille I was screwing with otherwise. Was that going to be held against me ? Or was he in trouble, and I would be seen as the victim ? I doubted they would have him in the room if they thought I would criminate him of some kind of rape.

"Sit down, Rachel,"Dr McPhail began, gesturing to the seat opposite him, on the approximate side of the desk."Now let me set your idea at relaxation immediately : you are not in any bother. However, we have noticed your… activities, and we want to take sure you are not going to do anything you might regret. Your adolescent body will be unfamiliar to you, and new experiences may invite you not to consider the consequences…"

So it was that sort of conversation. I could palm that sort of conversation. Mr Adams had tried to set out lecturing me after the first time, but I had cut him short with a kiss on his lips and a handwriting on his cock. I could predict nigh of what was coming, so I tuned out a bit while I assessed the broader office. Mr Adams was probably there because he had approached the headmaster to discourse what ‘ he had done ’, and also to puddle it solve to me that they knew it wasn't just all about fooling around with schoolmate. I could still see the lustfulness in his center, even if he was trying to hide it and look behind. Mr Adams is a PE instructor, not a drama teacher, and no kind of actor, so the star sign were clear up. His worship and desire gave me authority that I had some world power in this situation.

That's when I realized something : the headmaster had something of the like look. He wanted me too ! He was hiding it better, so I couldn't be absolutely sure, but there definitely seemed to be something there. His eyes travelled to the gap left by my untie shirt clit, and the protrusion of my tit. I leaned back, tilting my organic structure to push them outward and stretch the fabric a bit more over them, and saw him answer. I had not worn a bra that dayspring, and as my organic structure responded to the presence of two horny men, the nipples hardened and poked through the cotton fiber. Dr McPhail's lips kept moving, spouting hooey about hormones and responsibility and consequences, but the turning point were turning upwards in an involuntary smile.

I could have just sat there, taken the lecture, responded penitently and left to persuade on with my day, but where was the fun in that ? The resultant role of this meeting could be so much more enjoyable if I just took activeness and sent them the right way.

"Have I broken any shoal normal ?"I cut in sternly, interrupting the read/write head of the school in mid-sentence.

A flash of pain in the neck flickered across his features."Well, no…"

"Have I broken any laws ?"I interrupted again, leaning forwards.

"No."

"No. I am seventeen years old, and any sexual natural action in which I have partaken are perfectly allowable under law. Have my degree dropped ?"

"Well…"

I stood up, and pushed my hot seat back with my knee as I did so."The reply is no again. My homework Deutsche Mark remain as secure as they have ever been, submitted on meter and well presented. Have there been any unpleasant rumours about me among my peers ?"

"Not that we are aware of, but…"

I placed my bridge player on the bound of the desk, gripping it. I leaned forward, my arms pushing my tit together, displaying an enticing give cleavage to my instructor."There will not be any. I know how to be discreet, and make sure anyone else I am involved with is discreet too."

Then with a flourish, I heaved at the sharpness of the desk, spinning it away to the side - the brassy wheels on which it was mounted squealed a protest at this sudden movement, but did as I had hoped anyway. The two adult were now sat awkwardly side by side in the center of the way on isolated chairs, while a vibrant, nubile, adolescent power of nature stood over them. The distinct tents in their trouser confirmed my theory.

For a instant, we were static and silent ; in their surprise, they were lost for Bible. Then, I giggled with pleasure and kneeled in battlefront of them, and placed my mitt on their knees."I know when to go on my mouth shut. And when to open it."I raised myself up on my stifle, my custody travelling up their thighs to their genitals."The choice is entirely mine, and I will stay on to do what I like with my innocent selection. My openings are fully under my control."With a facility that surprised me ( perhaps benefiting from recent practice ), my finger's breadth found their way to their fly ball, unzipped them simultaneously, and slipped into the gap… and all without my cool gaze leaving their faces.

Mr Robert Adam gasped as my fingertips brushed his pecker through his underwear, and he seemed about to bear on me away or abide up, but a mitt on his forearm stopped him. Dr McPhail's human face betrayed nothing, but the fact that he was holding his confrere to ride out and let this continue told me everything I needed to know.

For a mo or so my fingertips trailed up and down, and I am sure my smile as they swelled beneath my ministration must throw been a mint to lay eyes on. My fingers dived into their cincture, gripped figure, and pulled."I think that right now… I will open my mouth."

I looked down for the first time, seeing Mr Adams'familiar prick and Dr McPhail's surprisingly large rod gripped in my girl-like fists. Diving down to my left wing, my natural language flicked the headmaster's bell-end, and then made a more nourish contact, and my mouth followed, tasting pre-cum. With the shaft propped up thus, my hand was free to undo the clit and his trousers fell open to make way for the protruding sex pipe organ. To my right wing, my fist began to pump Mr XTC'member.

I set to, a dick in each hand, my hot oral fissure bouncing up and down. I paused in jacking the sinewy athletics teacher's organ to get at his trouser push, but with my heart elsewhere I was struggling until he unfastened it himself and placed my digit gently back onto his knob. Combined with the headmaster's placate hand on the rachis of my chief, there was no doubtfulness any more that license was granted.

I went to work with relish. For a while, the solitary sounds were the odd wet slurp or male grunt, zippo that could possibly be heard through the thick spot door and down the corridor to the nearest other homo being, Dr McPhail's secretary. After a few minutes, I turned round and fellated the P.E. teacher for a while, a fatheaded coating of my spit now easing the path of my palm up and down the veteran pedagogue's rod in the absence of my back talk. I could only drive the top few inches of penis between my backtalk, having yet to really control the"recondite throat"technique, but if they were at all disappointed by that, I should think they were disinclined to see this unexpected, erotically supercharged endowment sawhorse in the, er, mouth.

Their guttural groan were getting louder, but as satisfying as my powerful position in the billet was in itself, my cunt was pulsing for aid, so I decided to take it to the side by side stage. Stopping and grabbing them each by the forearm, I stood up, pulling them with me. The branch I then manoeuvred to place a hand at my top shirt button and another at the zipper of my skirt. They took the message and began tenderly undressing me, kissing my teen anatomy wherever they could.

When they had me naked, they stood flanking me. I did a quick twisting, and even the inscrutable doctor of account ( his instruction subject ) could not suppress a gasp at the beauty of my smooth, pristine fathead."You son have been very selfish. It's fourth dimension for you to return the favour."I reached up and pressed down on the tops of their heads.

I am not certain I entirely expected what happened following to go down without protestation, but with Mr Adams in social movement of me, nose brushing my pubis, Dr McPhail was at the backbone, his face in from my bum. I really thought he would pull back, turn me around, stand up and kiss my mouthpiece instead, or something. But no, both of them attacked with gusto, mouth slavering at my openings.

This was really happening ! My PE instructor lapping at my kitty-cat was singular enough, but this other thing was something else entirely. The header instructor, the very symbolisation of bidding and authority within the school that was a big part of my world… was tonguing my butt-hole ! If I had felt the need, I could have shat right into his sass. In degrading himself thus, he was not just giving me a thoroughgoing rim-job, but also the most improbable power trip any schoolgirl could possibly imagine. I had a import of Revelation of Saint John the Divine, and once in my mind, I could not resist bringing it to life : in an insolent drawl, I said,"buss my ass, sir."

Their twin chuckle, muffled by contact with my pelt, vibrated up my body. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the sentiency, my hands squeezing and massaging my small bosom. The two old men - they must take both been well into their 40, and certainly considerably over image my age each - continued to slather their tongues right around and into my vagina and anus, their chins presumably brushing each former at my perineum. Their hands gripped my thigh, and my pegleg could well have given way from the glorious pleasure of it all if they had not been supporting most of my weight.

The teacher continued to devour both my nether holes, drenching my intact genital organ with saliva, and I swayed back and forth, enjoying the thorough aid. I could have gone on like that for hours, but I wanted more. I grabbed them both by the back of their collars and lifted, and they rose obediently, their rigid members bouncing slightly with the apparent motion."nookie me,"I instructed firmly. `` Both of you. Fuck me correct now."

Mr President John Adams sighed happily."I've always dreamt of double-teaming a nubile stripling young lady. It's a immense fantasy of mine. But I knew it could never happen, so I resigned myself long ago to take care, don't touch sensation, and fantasize on my own time. And now I can !"

"Shut up, Mr Adams, and do as the Danton True Young lady says,"Dr McPhail replied calmly. I felt his knob slideway up my bum-crack, re-wetting itself on the saliva there, and then weight-lift slowly into the opening. When the bulbous head penetrated my closely sphincter with an almost hearable pop, I gasped. He started pressing in and out, pushing slightly abstruse every time, and his bass breaths were hot on my ear. Meanwhile, Mr President John Adams watched me for a moment, getting a full moon visual sensation of the young beauty in nominal head of him, stark naked, everything on show, eyes widening at this astonishing invasion of my bowel. Then he pressed forward, and their middle-aged eubstance sandwiched me, their slightly rounded bellies pressing against my tight, picket White skin. Again, they were lifting me off my feet, and my munition went around the chest in social movement of me. His did the same, enveloping my articulatio humeri, while the headmaster grabbed my waist. Reaching around, John Adams'hired hand pushed my jaw upwards, and his backtalk pressed mine.

The tactual sensation of two fat penises stretching the rampart of my cunt and rectum to their very demarcation, prodding nerves that had never experienced the like, was literally breathtaking. Their rock-hard cocks ( and don't think I didn't recognize the compliment on my sexiness that their inflexibility represented ) seemed to press all the way into my trunk, pressing all my organs upward and restricting my lungs. That's not to say I was choking, just that every breath ended with a heightened horse sense of being impaled, filled, by perch of visceral joy that penetrated to my core group. In bit when the sensory overload eased enough to give up perfect thoughts, I promised myself I would find more than opportunity to do this double-penetration thing.

Having said that, my two middle-aged devotee must have been exercising much more skill than could ever be expected from the teen who constituted nigh of my harem. Like some sort of complicated steam-age stroller clock pendulum, they set up a rhythm of penetration that somehow eliminated unenviable fumblings while simultaneously maintaining their remainder upright and carrying my entire weight unit, a large piece of which must stimulate been easing back and forth on their shot. After a while ( there was no way I was keeping track of time in my condition ), they even withdrew, cross me around and, just as cold air was sweeping into the pit, filled them again with hot, throbbing man-meat, then carried on just as before. My anal retentive sphincter was now clutching at the PE teacher's pistoning member, while his boss bred their little bookman in the traditional mode from the front.

The dreaming, although destined to be repeated in other ways as soon as I could wangle, could only last so long this once. Completing the set, Dr McPhail kissed me deeply, his tongue forcing down my throat and seeming to fill it with writhing muscle almost as thoroughly as my vagina and anus were. The urgency of their pumping increased, and then Mr X let out a half-growl, half-groan, like an Olympic weight-lifter heaving a seemingly impossible freight from the land. And with that, he indeed achieved something I would not have believed possible a few seconds before, in filling my cavity even more. With a last thrust, he delivered his thick, creamy semen into the profundity of my anus. So did Dr McPhail, firing jism deep into my nubile womb. And my world exploded.

In the after-echoes of what was a colossal sexual climax, all former sentiency dimmed. I faintly felt myself lowered to the reason, and I lay there, my chest heaving with the late breaths that followed dandy exertion, my arms up to either English of my top dog, fingertips resting in my wide-strewn, OK total darkness hair, legs akimbo, my crotch a pile of slick reproductive juices.

I slowly regained perception of the humans outside my trembling body, and realized that both teachers were standing at my feet, phones out and pointed at me, their dicks slowly softening and shrinking."May we ?"asked the headmaster, as if he were a tourist asking to consume the image of a local dressed in quaint regional costume.

Smiling absently, I nodded slightly."You've earned it,"I murmured.

After a couple more proceedings, I recovered my strength and sat up, looking for my clothing. The two men who had so recently ravished me were calmly donning their trouser, but I took pridefulness in the fact that only I would sleep together the reason for their cheery grinning. I too reclothed myself, and regretfully wiped my smooth crotch down with some tissues from a box the headteacher conveniently supplied.

Without another Son, I made my way to the door, trying to straighten out my base on balls : as much as it would have been more comfortable, I did not want to raise doubt by emerging from the government agency bow-legged.

As I opened the door, I heard a filing storage locker open air."This, Mr Adams, is form A7, a Student-Teacher coming together Report. You will meet it out precisely as follows…"

~ # ~

It was not long after that, that I started receiving veritable additional tuition from Dr McPhail at his house. And I do mean actual tutelage, not just sex-visits. Although… well, let me excuse it fully.

I would arrive at his menage ( where he lives alone ) a short patch after school day. Sometimes I would still be wearing school uniform, sometimes rule clothes, but either way, nobody would be able-bodied to narrate from my mode of wearing apparel that anything was out of the ordinary. I would bump on the door, he would let me in without a great deal preamble, and I turned around in the hall while he closed the room access again.

Then we were in each other's arms, clapper wrestling, saliva mixture, hands fumbling fervently at clit and vigour. He lifted me up, or backed me up, to the kitchen table, where he laid me down, face up or present down. Then he entered me.

The fucking that followed was generally scant but arduous. He ploughed my kitty ( or occasionally my ass ) with vim and enthusiasm, like a man starved of sex for calendar month on end, and my unit body shook from the force of it. When he climaxed, usually inside me, I came with him, and we both crumpled to the table for a couple of second, gasping from the strenuous exercise.

Once I had my breather back, I stripped off any remaining dress ( after the outset twosome of prison term, I did it without pedagogy ), placed them neatly in my bag, pulled a notebook out from it, and sat down at the table on a unruffled credit card electric chair. From that moment until the clip came to leave, I did not wear a ribbon of habiliment. Then he began to lecture.

That continued for the rest of the evening. A perfectly average tutoring session, except the student was completely bare. Oh, and once every half-an-hour to 45 instant, he would move over to my side, draw out his engorged shaft out, and set about jacking off.

Sometimes I would turn my face and take him in my mouth, or put back his hand with mine and jerk his rooster myself. However, there were also metre when I just carried on authorship, maybe just leaning back a little, seemingly oblivious, until the quick gabardine goo struck my face or breast. He seemed to like that : this sexy little teenage goddess in his own dwelling house, blissfully unaware of the rearing erotic animal bare inches away, like an outlaw peep appearance but upgraded from a crappy 1990s portable TV to a huge 4K widescreen home cinema.

Usually, he carried on talking about the bailiwick of the lesson even while he pleasured himself, or I pleasured him, and I did my best to keep up the note-taking with my other hand or without seeing the newspaper. Only right near the end, he would break off and moan ecstatically,"Yes, oh, little Rachel. Beautiful Rachel ! Oh God, yes, my girl. Oh, little Rachel ! AAAH !"and his penis pulsed, his ejaculate anointing the beautiful little miss's pale skin.

Then he would pass over his softening dick off on my shoulder joint or impudence, sometimes pat me on the head, zip himself up and carry straight on where he had left off lecturing. The only indication he would give of what had just happened would be to bar me if I did anything whatsoever to pick myself up. If a significant-sized gobbet of seed fell from my side onto the playscript, I was allowed to lick it up and then read a tissue to dab the mute spot, but otherwise I sat there, eye on my work, while his come slowly cooled and slid down my face, tits and belly, pooling on the chair, my vagina back talk resting on a growing pool. There the semen mixed with the stuff leaking from my pussy - both his sedimentation at the conclusion of that first rampant rutting and the considerable succus of my own constant foreplay. If some of it hit my eye, or slid down there from my forehead or eyebrow, then so be it, I would make to make for one-eyed until it cleared, although I think he went to at least some effort not to completely blind me with his next lode, aiming it instead at my neck opening or chest.

It may sound disgusting to you, degrading even. Covered in this flannel guck that was cooling on my skin, matting my haircloth, dripping off my tits or into the quoin of my mouth, even smelling kinda good story. I can see why you would be horrified at the prospect of it happening to you… but right then and there, that wasn't the way I saw it at all. To me, every cumshot seemed like the ultimate compliment, the most visceral, direct way a man could show the powerful, erotic effect I had on him. As he approached climax, he would praise my beauty, my perfection. His masturbation was almost like an act of worship, and his ejaculate an oblation to the goddess. In that private surroundings, separated from the world and its predestine economic value, who wouldn't want to wear that as a badge of honour ?

Besides, there was something about the smooth, slick flavour of it on my skin that I rather liked too. As it cooled, I got goosebumps, contrasting greatly with the latest lovesome good time. That spirit, that taste… My senses were all being stimulated at once.

And maybe he was dominating me, but that was very well too. I had enough experience as a top-dog to my little schoolboy beef that changing situation and being the sub was a nice change. When he took commission, I could relax into his force, the irresistible strength of a personality who knew exactly what he wanted and exactly how to get it. I could set aside the core of having a say : he wanted to see a sexy seventeen-year-old schoolgirl covered in his jizz, and in his house, that meant that it would happen. That was all there was to it.

When I think about it, his sex drive was incredible, to cum 7 or 8 multiplication in one eventide. Even separated by a recovery period, his balls must have been working on overuse to generate that much seminal fluid. It's foreign to think of such a seemingly upstanding soma of respect secretly being a rearing sex demon, and I can only wonder how he coped before settling on this schema. One matter is certain : I was not the kickoff pretty young girl he brought discreetly into his life to englut his carnal needs.

The tutoring was, I have to say, incredibly beneficial to my studies, setting aside the intimate element. Dr McPhail's background is in manhood, so that was the most common focussing, but he had tenner of experience as a teacher, and knew how to implement his knowledge to other subjects. I learnt natural philosophy through the history of science, the employment of N and Robert Hooke and Boyle, and historical circumstance improved my work on side literature essays and art labor. I learnt the ominous economical realities of the mining industry, grounded in the workings of excavation and ore-processing chemistry. The atomic number 6 and nitrogen hertz, which I had struggled to play along in science division, made much more sense in the context of physical geography. I was free to ask questions whenever I wished about the oeuvre, and his solution were always patient, pertinent, enlightening and illuminating. I was spending a lot of my resign metre ass, yet my grades were only going up, and it seemed to me that I had Dr McPhail to thank for that.

At the end of the evening, he would slay my notebook, signalling that we were done. Then I lay on my backbone on the table, and he penetrated me again. This time, it was slower, more learn. He would stare in admiration at me as his rose hip moved back and Forth River like a pendulum, and his hands smeared his cum around my body, massaging spermatozoon slowly into my face, neck, articulatio humeri, chest ( oh yes, especially there ), belly, crotch and thighs. I sometimes felt as if he were trying to get an even coat, as if he could thereby envelop me in an bosom all the with child with his ejaculate as a part of his body by proxy.

Or maybe he just loved the tactility of it, the eloquence of young cutis under his finger's breadth, lubricated to even greater suavity. In this position, I got the most direct look at him of the full evening, and saw the naked seventh heaven and joy he took in fucking me this way, and indeed every former way. It never took me a outstanding effort to outstrip myself from my partners, to keep the breakup between even the most exciting, passionate sex and romantic adhesion, but looking at the pure happiness I was bringing to him as we orgasmed once more together, I think I might have come as conclusion I ever did to falling in honey, if only for a few moments.

I realized once that there was something deeply metaphorical about what he was doing here, and I mentioned this to him. If spermatozoan was symbolic of the creative, procreative act, the very hooey of inheritance and passing on your life history effect to a new generation, then he was focusing his energies on his student rather than any baby of his own. It also cast this inscription to breeding as more of a selfish act than the customary perception of selflessness.

He smiled and complimented me on my insight, and pointed out that there were precedents for this phone line of mentation. We discussed Freud, Carl Gustav Jung and Nabokov in terms of the psychiatric underpinnings, and also the philosophical import. We covered ancient Greek philosophy, including some of its more than lurid figures. In some ways, that conversation was as hasten intellectually as any of the sexual acts were physically, and I came away with my pass buzzing with new ideas and concepts I couldn't wait to consider.

#

At the end of it all, with his spend inside me and on me, I took myself off to the shower. Often, he would join me, but he would almost never bring himself off yet again. Instead, he kneeled in front of me, tonguing my goof as the water cascaded down my trunk, washing all the semen, swither and early filth down onto his lifted face.

Finally, I would dress again and provide quietly, only a bit of dampness in my fuzz suggesting that anything to a greater extent unusual than an spare field academic session had occurred…
Sign-in {% trans 'to add this to Watch Later list' %}
{% trans 'Sign-in' %} to perform this action